FICTION - Dora, A love story

Thank you for such a well written story!

groffi said:
Next chapter is in production and should hopefully be published in the next few days. Next weekend the latest. Stay tuned, and thanks for the continued interest.
Click to expand...
 
Yeah, Groffi, you're really great! (ganz super :)...) There was a few more stories on bruestverein, but my german isn't that good though, I'd really like a continuation of some of them...

Torpius
 
Part 31: The Road Not Taken

“So, you are lost.”
“I’m not lost. I just don’t know exactly where we are.”
“Which means… you are lost.”
“Oh, shut up!” Dora had stopped the car at the side of the small road and angled for her phone. “You are just as lost as me.”
“Correct. But I’m not the one driving.” It was just friendly banter. We had spend a wonderful evening at the cinema and were still in high spirits. It wasn’t dark yet, the air was warm and fresh. There was nothing to worry about. Except that we were lost.

In a tiny village somewhere out there, an even tinier movie theater had shown the 1954 Gene Kelly classic “Brigadoon”. It had been… cute, with a lot of singing and dancing, but now I was starting to feel like the heroes of the movie: lost in a timeless wilderness. What a crazy notion! This wasn’t the Scottish Highlands or the Australian Outback. This was the heart of Germany, and just by following the road for another few kilometers, we were bound to hit a town or village sooner or later.

Dora threw her cell-phone back into her bag. “Low battery.” I went for my own phone. “Hm. No connection.”
“Lost!” Dora covered her face in a dramatic gesture. “Lost in a land without phone coverage! Whatever shall we do now?” She restarted the car and, in a more serious tone, said “Though we should rejoin civilization soon… it seems I forgot to refuel.”
We went on. Each intersection we passed was unmarked. Though we took the roads that seemed wider and better kept, they all turned narrow and winding after just a short distance. The country was hilly and wooded. There were no lights on the horizon, no shine of settlements to guide us.

Then, suddenly, there was a light. Just ahead, on the road, beyond the bend or the next. A flickering, orange light. “Aliens!” Dora exclaimed. “Well, I’m not saying it is aliens… but it is aliens.” I chuckled as we went past the bend and the light turned out to car’s hazard lights. Or something similar. A lumpy figure in what seemed to be a dark hooded overcoat was rummaging on the narrow street, and a big white van appeared in the flashing lights.
“No aliens. Crazy axe murderer.” I corrected my girlfriend. “With a car breakdown. We should help him.”

We pulled into the narrow forest track and came to a stop next to the larger vehicle. The menacing figure approached us, periodically lit up by the flashes of light. It did not come from the car, as we could see now, but from a small warning triangle that was set on the nearby road.
As Dora wound down her window, the hooded shadow called out: “You’re the Automobile Club’s mechanics? Oh, that’s fantastic. I had almost given up on you.”
It was a woman’s voice, and as the speaker came closer to our car, we realized that the greatcoat was just a cloak, blazer and skirt combination and the hood just her dark hair. Just a woman, a short and blocky woman in the middle of her thirties.
In the same way, as she came closer, she realized that, even if Dora’s car was the same yellow color, we weren’t road helpers. Her expression sank visibly. “Oh, sorry, I mistook you for the ADAC Yellow Angels.”

Dora got out of the car. “No, sorry. Just two poor lost travelers. But maybe we can help? Any idea what’s wrong?” The woman in black shrugged. “Sorry, no idea. It just won’t start. Might be the battery, but it went fine up to here, so…”
“Oh, I could give you a jump-start!” Dora interrupted.
It was an experience to drive with Dora. She would speed in the city and crawl on the Autobahn. Right-of-way was a privilege of the driver with the biggest tits… that is: her. She could curse like a sailor if a big car got in her way. She could be scathingly condescending if a small car didn’t acknowledge her primacy. But you had to give her that: she wasn’t afraid to get her hands dirty and make sure her little vintage FIAT was always in top condition.

So even if she only had had her license for a couple of months, she knew perfectly well what she was doing. She maneuvered her car to the front of the big van, jumped out, opened the hoods and went for the starter cable. She checked the contacts and correctly placed them in their assigned positions. She made sure that every electricity consumer was turned off, the gears were in neutral, had me step on the gas just a bit and gave the go. By the book – her driving instructor would have burst with pride.
“Now try it. Start the engine!”

The van’s motor made funny noises, but did not connect. Five seconds, ten seconds. Nothing. After a short pause, a second attempt. Nothing. Dora rechecked the contacts – they were fine. Third try. Still nothing.
“So, it doesn’t seem to be the battery. I’m sorry, but that is the end of my knowledge.” Dora sounded even a little depressed. She had so much wanted to shine and help.
The woman only shrugged. “I’m grateful for your attempt. Well, I have already contacted the roadside assistance. I just have to wait.”
She glanced at her watch. “Wait some more. I may have to call them again. So, thanks for your help, and travel safely!”

I spoke up: “Perhaps you might be able to help us instead. We are kind of lost.” Dora gave me an angry look.
The woman laughed. “That happens quite frequently here around. These roads are a maze. Sure. All you have to do…” and she continued to give us a detailed description of how to get back to the main road.
“That should get you back to civilization in no time. It was nice meeting you.”
She turned to get out her phone and went into her van.

We crawled back into our tiny vehicle. “A pity we couldn’t help her.” Dora sighed. “But now we have confirmation about the direction I would have taken anyway.” I kept my silence on that, while Dora started the car. Tried to start the car. Somehow it didn’t want to.
“I can’t have drained my battery in this! Impossible!” The FIAT’s motor made funny noises. Second, third, fourth attempt. Nothing. I looked at the fuel gauge. “The battery may be fine, but we are finally out of gas.”

Feeling a little embarrassed, we went up to the big white van and knocked on the side. The door slid open.
“Oh, you’re still here?”
Dora blushed: “Yeah, well, you wouldn’t be able to spare a little gas for us? It seems I ran out.” – “Diesel?” – “No, just standard petrol.”
“Sorry.” The woman was apologetic. “Can’t help you there. It seems we are stuck here together until the service arrives. Which may take a while. I just called them, and they told me it might be another hour. A lot to do tonight, it seems.”
She sighed and winced. “And I have been waiting for an hour already. I should be home by now. I must… I need to… well, doesn’t matter.” She looked decidedly unhappy, but for the first time she took a real good look at us, especially at Dora.
She sighed again, this time in resignation. “Well, yes, so it seems we’re stuck. I have some tea and cookies, if you care to join me? But if you’d rather stay with your car…”

Dora was quick to accept the invitation, though not without some last reservations. “No, we’ll gladly join you. Say, you don’t have an axe in that car, do you?”
Our host laughed in surprise: “An axe? No, why, do you need one?” – “Oh, never mind, just a silly thought. “ Dora blushed.
We introduced ourselves to our new friend, explained where we came from and why we were here tonight. Her eyebrows went up when we mentioned our hometown, but without further remark she did the same in return. “Martina. Martina Müller. I was checking with some farmers around here. I’m a representative for a local dairy cooperative.” For some reason, it was her now who blushed.

In the back of her van, the reason became obvious as she removed her costume jacket. With coat and blazer on, I would have pegged her as stocky, chubby, heck, let’s be brazen: short and fat.
The additional layers of clothing removed, she was still short, but not fat. Not at all fat. Not slim, no Twiggy. But by far not as obese as the bulk under her coat had lead me to believe.
She was just stacked. Enormously stacked. She looked as if she had a pair of beach balls stuck under her blouse. The wonder of modern structural engineering that was her bra pushed these monumental mountains of flesh up on her chest, and still the lower slopes of these gigantic mounds reached down below her waistline. Working for a dairy corporation? She must have heard every stupid cow joke a million times.

I had the weirdest feeling of déjà-vu. For a moment, I could see her without the shirt. I could see her in her bra, a massive contraption of shiny black fabric, extra strength weave, broad bands, Velcro and reinforcing wires. It was uncanny.
Dora must have felt something similar, or she was just dumbstruck by the presence of a woman with such an imposing figure. She had gotten used to being the biggest and bustiest girl around. Her fantastic tits had surpassed even our friend Andrea. But even her sizable flesh mountains would have disappeared in these cups. The very thought left her speechless, but there was no sign of envy on her face. Just sheer marveling… and perhaps a little bit of something else.

If Martina noticed anything, she didn’t react. She must have been used to people’s stares, even if she wasn’t comfortable with it. Still, she seemed nervous. She sat down on one of the benches that lined the side of the van’s hold, then jumped up again. “Tea! You said you wanted some, yes?” Rummaging through a box at the front, she returned with a Thermos bottle and some plastic cups.
She took her seat again, handed us the cups and poured the tea. But just after a few seconds, she was up again, pacing the narrow space, mumbling to herself. “No use. I can’t…”

I looked at Dora, she looked at me. Would the woman go for the axe now? Instead Martina stopped and turned to us. “I apologize. It’s… weird. Awkward. See, I need to express myself. I hope you will understand.” She looked at Dora.
Dora blinked. “Sure, yes, whatever you want to tell us.”
The elder woman offered a small nervous laugh. “No, you don’t understand. I need to express these.” She seemed to be close to tears as she gestured at the double gallon jugs on her chest.

“See, ever since I had my baby, a few months back, and these blew up, I could not stop lactating. I’m constantly leaking. I need to pump three times a day. I was on the road since early this morning, and didn’t pump. I left my pump in the office, and couldn’t pump at noon. And now I should have been home for an hour and now I am stuck here, and stuck for who-knows-how-long and I am so full it hurts!” She sobbed and looked at Dora again. “I hoped you would understand. Surely you will understand, right?”

Dora hesitated for a second. “Well, I am not lactating. My boobs are just… they just are that size.” Her voice was completely sincere, but I could see the impish gleam in her eyes. “How can we help you?”
Martina gave a sigh of relief. “Oh, I won’t assault you. It’s just… I don’t have a pump, and I don’t have any containers, and I cannot spray milk all over the car. I thought I would go out and… well, just let it run.” She paused at the embarrassing thought. “But if there’s someone to see me. If the mechanic comes and sees me milk… doing… I would die of shame! So if you could keep a watch?”
I felt that Dora was willing to do a lot more, and I wouldn’t have refused either. But this poor girl was so ashamed. Dora nodded. “Of course we can do that. We’ll help you as best as we can.”

“Oh, thank you so very much.” The dairy girl started to babble from relief. “I have always been quite big, you see, and nothing of that kind happened with my first baby, but now they just exploded, getting so big and heavy and full all the time.” She had started to unbutton her white starched blouse. “It’s not that I mind a lot, even if they raise a lot of attention and jokes, but they can also be a lot of fun at…” She stopped for a moment, dropping this inappropriate line of thought. “Still, you wouldn’t guess the offers I get, especially in my line of work, but it’s also quite funny, when you think about it. I even had the idea of starting a little advertising campaign, with pictures and such, nothing too risqué of course. “
She paused again, not noticing us staring at her chest and her fingers undoing button by button.
“Buying clothes is horrible of course. Hard enough to find something fitting when you are a “small” all over, but an “extra-super-special large” in the chest. And for bras, don’t ask me about bras…”
She had finished with the buttons and we saw the thing we shouldn’t ask her about. It was a massive contraption of black, shiny fabric, extra strength, with broad straps, hooks and Velcro reinforcements.
“… it’s almost impossible to find bras of this size, even most seamstresses cannot do them, but then I was told of a little shop, why, in your very own town, run by the sweetest woman, called…”

“Andrea” we interrupted in unison. “Oh, you know her?” A lot more relaxed now, she took her shirt off and looked at Dora again. “Why, of course you would know her.”
Dora laughed. “We do not only know her, she’s a friend of us, and we work with her, from time to time. I think I have seen her working on that beast you are wearing. Do you need help getting it off?”

Martina had fallen silent, and only now seemed to realize that she was standing shirtless in front of two strangers she had just met on the road. “Yes. Err, no. I mean, no, thank you, I can manage by myself. Alone.” She tried to use her arms to cover up her front. An ironic gesture, considering that the huge bra covered up more of her than what you could see on a completely decent beach.
The broad straps, ten centimeters wide or more, already hid most of the side and back of her torso. The gigantic cups covered the majority of her huge bosom. They started high and went on and on and on down to her hips, completely hiding her stomach. The bra curved outward to the sides, so that you couldn’t see her arms anymore. It enveloped her massive chest monsters almost completely, in a sports-bra fashion. And even then, the amount of cleavage shown at the unrevealing top edge was longer and deeper than an average girl would show stark naked.
Both Dora and I stared in utter disbelief. After what seemed an eternity, Martina cleared her throat and broke the spell. “I know. Incredible, isn’t it. But I need to get it off, so if you could…” She hinted at the door and we took our exit.

We took a short walk, to give the big girl enough privacy to get rid of her confining bra and leave the van without being observed.
Dora shivered. From excitement, I knew, because the night air was still mild. “Wow. Have you seen these? I cannot believe how huge they are! Have you ever seen tits like these? Would you even tell me if you had seen tits like these?”
“Well… I once knew a girl with tits almost like these. Don’t know what became of her. She might still be around somewhere, if she hasn’t killed herself with her reckless driving.” I responded slyly and immediately received my deserved punishment in form of a punch in the ribs.
“I could leave you here, go home without you, if you don’t like my driving.” she teased me, snuggling close to me. “But you’d like that, wouldn’t you? If I’d left you here, with Martina and her ginormous bra?”
Two could play this game. “Leave me here? Leave me to explore what’s inside these huge cups, and you get nothing, all alone on your way home? You wouldn’t dare!”
By now, we were entwined in a close embrace. Her hand moved down to my crotch, to feel the hardness that was pestering me for quite some time now. My hand was pushing up into her shirt, her bra, to feel her erect nipples.
She didn’t come up with further snarky replies, as her mouth was busy covering my face with hot kisses.

Suddenly, there was a noise and a light. A car passed on the road beyond and Dora flinched. “Shucks, we are supposed to be on the look-out.” She giggled. “Imagine if the mechanic had caught us in the middle of… having some fun.”
I tried to reestablish our previous comfortable position. “Admit it… you’d like that. But didn’t they say it would be another hour? Time enough for… having some fun.”
Dora pushed me away. “Not out here, where anyone might see. I’m a modest girl, don’t you know?
She looked over to the van, and beyond into the woods, where Martina would be “expressing.”
“I wonder how she’s doing. If she takes her time, we might take over the van, perhaps?”
She took a few steps towards the forest. “I’ll go and check on her. You stay here. I’m a girl, and I am big… she’ll know I understand. But you stay put. Or at least don’t get seen!”

Off she was, driven by curiosity or lust, or both. I paused for a second, undecided, then I followed her. I’d have to stay behind the van, to stay hidden in the flashing lights, but I could still listen in. And maybe steal a glimpse or two.
“You all right?” Dora asked, and I could almost hear Martina give a jump. “Oh, it’s you. Yeah, fine. Service not here yet?
I slowly inched around the back of the car to get a better view… any view!
“Not yet.” Dora said. “I just wanted to see how you were doing. All alone in the woods.”
Martina stood facing away from the van. She had gotten rid of her shirt and bra, and also her skirt… to keep it safe from getting wet, I supposed. She stood there, only in panties and silk stockings, her arms crossed in front of her torso, to hide the mass of her breasts from view. The sheer size of these things made it impossible, and gave me a fantastic backside view of her gargantuan tits spilling out to the sides. Still I envied Dora for the sight she must have had.

“I’m fine, thanks.” Martina responded. “Better, anyway. Still leaking all over the place.”
She dropped her useless attempt at modesty and resumed her activity. With both hands, she took up one of her heavy tits and with practiced motions pressed into the soft flesh. In the orange light, a spray of milky droplets sparkled.
“It’s just so much. Too much.” Stroke. “Of everything. I’m constantly leaking milk.” Squirt. “I cannot even breastfeed my baby with these things.” Stroke, squirt. “And my husband… he’s… it’s just too much.” Spray. “Oh, sorry.”

“No problem.” Dora used a finger to wipe the milk from her face and licked it clean. “So, your husband doesn’t like your boobs?”
“Why, yes! Or… I don’t know. I don’t think so. He seems to be… overwhelmed. Doesn’t know how to handle them. Doesn’t understand how it… hey, what are you doing?”
Dora had placed her hand on the enormous big bloated dairy tank. “Nothing. Just helping out. Does it feel wrong?” She started to knead the gargantuan mass of Martina’s heavy hanging milk-filled tit.

The sound of an engine rose behind me, and I flinched. Quickly retreating back to the street, I found a car had pulled into the small track. The co-driver wound down the window and addressed me: “Trouble?”
“Had a breakdown. Everything’s fine. Just waiting for the service. Thanks for stopping.” – “Anything I can do to help?” – “No, thank you. Nothing to do but wait for the tech.”
The car went on. That had been close. Time to end this naughty game and clean up. Dora had had enough fun for the night… well, for now. I passed the van and my good intentions vanished in an instant.

Martina had lifted up her massive right tit. She needed both arms to cradle this fat oversized whopper. Greedily, she was suckling on her own teat. My girl was kneeling in front of her, heaving up the other gigantic udder with both hands, burying her face in the huge brown areola, drinking her fill.
The look on Martina’s face was one of pure bliss, but it shifted to surprise and shock as she saw me approaching. She dropped the weight from her arms, almost burying Dora under an avalanche of tit-meat. They almost toppled over from the impact.
A flicker of hesitation crossed her face, of doubt, of fear, a finally, decision. She sighed and reached down for her wobbling heavyweight monster tit again, raising it in a gesture of offering. “Tea’s gone cold. Want some milk?”

I couldn’t resist. I went to my knees right next to Dora and dove right into the soft creamy flesh. Sinking my hands into the malleable mass of breast flesh, hiding my face in the dinner plate sized areola, searching around with my tongue for the engorged nipple.
I sucked the thick teat into my mouth and began to drink her sweet tit milk. Martina started to moan softly. “Oh, that’s so good. That’s how it should be. Suck me, little calves! Milk me! I’m a dairy cow and I need you to suck my fat udders dry.”
We went berserk on her nipples. Sucking, licking, nibbling and kissing. The milk continued to flow, dripping over the slopes of her quivering meat mountains. She was a quiet one, this gorgeous milk maid, and only a shivering and a little squeak announced her ultimate orgasm.

When the wave of pleasure had ebbed, she stumbled back, depriving us of our suckers. A look of sheer terror was on her face. “This… what have we done? This isn’t…”
Before we could say or do anything to calm her, there was a voice coming from the street. “Hello? Is there anyone here? ADAC breakdown service! Hello?”
Martina froze in panic. She stood there, half naked, her massive tits still dripping with milk that mixed with other fluids further down. “I have to… my clothes. They… in the van. He mustn’t see me. Go! Stall him! Talk to him! GO!”

Dora and I rushed to the street to intercept the mechanic before he could circle to the back of the van. We were just in time. “Oh, there you are. Sorry, it’s late, I know. Lots to do today, you know how it is.” The man looked tired, but tried to put up a friendly face. “So, what’s the problem?”
From the corner of my eye I could see Martina scurry into the van and close the sliding door. Dora kept the mechanic busy. “Not sure what’s up with the van. This here is ours… and we are just out of gas. The van…” She shot a short glance towards the big white vehicle, but nothing moved yet. “The owner had to take a short break in the woods. Can we deal with our problem until she is decent again?”

It didn’t take long to fill up Dora’s little car, but it was enough so that Martina could clean and cover herself up again. She joined us, only a little tousled, and explained her car’s problem. Only now the serviceman seemed to notice the combined volume of titflesh that he was surrounded with, but I quickly led him over to the van’s engine and left the girls to wrap up whatever was to wrap up.
At first, the man continued to glance over to the two women, but soon he was buried deep in the entrails of the van. It didn’t take him long to identify and eliminate the problem.

He continued to stare while we settled the financial questions, but when there was nothing more for him to do, he left as quickly as he had arrived.
An awkward silence settled until Martina broke it: “Well, that’s that. It was…” She hesitated. “… it was a stroke of luck meeting you two. Unexpected. Strange. Still… thank you!” She turned to go, paused and returned for a quick hug and peck on the cheek for both of us.
Then she jumped into her van and was gone.

Dora looked at me, a look full of longing and lust. Sighing, she went back to her car and I took my seat next to her.
She drove carefully, following Martina’s descriptions. We left the woods and hills and rejoined the main roads. For a while, we drove in silence.

“I wish I had a van like that right now. You know, I love this car.” Dora suddenly said. “But the backseat is just too small.”
 
Gotta love getting milk out of a pair of giant tits! Too bad we couldn't get a full on threesome. Would have loved to envision milk flying out of her titties as she bounced on his cock. Amazing chapter regardless.
 
What might come? Dunno. *WHO* might come? Pretty much anyone reading this story. @groffi, thanks for the latest installment of this wonderful epic tale about an incredibly lucky guy who gets some epic tail.

groffi said:
;)

Who knows what might come?
Click to expand...
 
These stories usually tend to start with a single idea, a single scene, a single point. It takes time to construct a story around it, an arc that is consistent, makes sense and leads to a conclusion. It's an effort.

But sometimes it just flows. Sometimes it all just comes together, especially if it doesn't have to be consistent, make sense or have a meaningful conclusion. When there is no narrative, just narration.

Already when I was writing part 31, I considered what would happen if the meeting of the protagonists lead to an even more physical encounter... but it didn't fit the narrative I had in mind. But the thought was there, always there. I don't write these stories from a point of clinical objectivity.

So this is what happens when I let my imagination run free without any reins. It's fiction, meta-fiction, fiction within fiction. It has no consistency, no sense... just pure fun.

I hope you like it.
 
Last edited:
Part 32: No escape from reality.

Sunday afternoon. Dora was lazing around on the couch, flipping through a fashion magazine. I, on the other hand, was hard at work.

We were with Andrea, and she was teaching me the finer points of correctly measuring breasts of the size common in her shop.
It wasn’t helping that my teacher and study object was a gorgeous women in her mid-twenties with a set of massive veiny hanging tits.
It wasn’t helping that my teacher and study object had a tone that could cut through skin if she thought I did something that was unprofessional and potentially inappropriate.
It also wasn’t helping that my teacher and study object was constantly trying to get into my pants.

“All part of the training, boy. You think you could take liberties with a customer? Hah, some customers will try to take liberties with you!” she chided me, as I simultaneously tried to keep the tape measure in place, my hands away from her nipples and her hands away from my crotch. Being a tailor sure wasn’t easy.

“Speaking of customers!” She got momentarily distracted, so that I was able to professionally ask if Madam would be so kind to lift her mighty udders so that I could measure her underbust.
“I got a call from a customer regarding you two. A woman called Müller, Martina Müller. Weird. She isn’t from around here… I can’t see how she knew you.”

Dora looked up with interest. “Martina? What did she want?”
“Oh, she said she met you, didn’t know how to contact you, but understood we knew each other so she called me. She said to tell you that she was sorry-not-sorry about what had happened, she hadn’t meant to impose on you and if you could give her a call sometime.”
Andrea stared intensely at Dora. “So… what did happen? How do you even know her? Come on, you can tell me everything. You must tell me everything!”
Dora chuckled. “I don’t have to tell you anything. A girl can have her secrets.”
“Secrets between you and my biggest customer? Not a chance. Not in my shop! Spill the beans!”
So Dora began to recount…

…

The lonely country road winded through the wooded hills. Night was falling. Wisps of fog blew across the cracked asphalt. The couple was lost. “I’ve told you to take the other turn!” the gorgeous buxom redhead chided the driver.
Suddenly, there was a light ahead on the road. A flashing orange light the wavered through the thickening mist. The engine stuttered and died. “Oh my God, it’s aliens! What are we going to do?” cried the boy.
The car rolled on for a few meters before it came to a halt. Ahead, the mist parted to reveal a metal object sitting like a fat bug in the middle of the road. Blinking orange lights ran around the oval shape, their stroboscopic flashes illuminating two small spindly surreal humanoid forms. They were dragging with them a third figure, taller, rounder, more human shaped.
“It’s really is aliens!” the beautiful redhead called out. “And they are abducting someone. Quick, we got to help them!”
“Wait! It could be dangerous.” the young man whined, but his intrepid girlfriend had already jumped out of the car and was valiantly approaching the nefarious space kidnappers. “Oi, you! What do you think you are doing? This is our planet, ET scum!”

The two grey-skinned aliens looked up from their evil business. The orange lights reflected in their large, black, jewel-like eyes, giving them a Luciferian appearance. They were unfazed by the heroines approach and turned back to their helpless victim. A young, well-build woman, who called out to their prospective rescuers. “Help me! Please, help me!”
“Don’t lag about, Brad!” brave Dora called out to her reluctant boyfriend as she charged forward. “Let’s get these alien gnomes!”
The aliens looked up again at their plucky assailant. One of them raised his hand, and a high-pitched, piercing sound filled the ears and mind of the valiant girl. A terrifying darkness engulfed her as she collapsed on the hard pavement.

Dora regained her consciousness in a cold, gloomy metal room. Small lights flickered and glimmered in the semi-darkness. Monitors displayed erratic curves. Strange metal arms with threatening claw-like mechanisms dangled from the ceiling.
She tried to move, but found that she only barely turn her head. She was half-lying, half-sitting in some sort of examination chair. Her legs were fixated in a spread out position on the cold metal braces. Her arms were likewise held in a fixed position. She could wiggle her fingers, but if she tried to raise her arms, she found it impossible to lift them more than a centimeter. There were no physical bounds, clamps or straps to be seen. She just couldn’t do it.

She was naked. Of course she was naked. Her beautiful fantastic oversized breasts were exposed to the cold, oily atmosphere of the alien craft. She shivered at the thought of the humiliating treatments she would have to endure.
Turning her head slightly, she could see another figure lying right next to her. It was the woman they had come to rescue. She, too, was lying, naked and fixated, on a gleaming, evil-looking metal chair.
She was older than Dora by several years, a little chubby, with pitch-black hair and the biggest pair of tits that Dora had ever laid eyes on. They were so big that they completely covered the woman’s torso. They were so massive, that they overflew her chest and sagged down to the sides, hiding her arms. They were so full, that even lying down, they came together in the middle, forming a deep valley of pliable flesh. They were so gigantic, that they flowed down to the crotch, hiding the private parts better than the tangle of thick black hair down there. They were so fat that even the dinner plate sized areolas seemed small in relation to the expanse of unblemished gleaming white skin.

A lot bigger that Dora’s own pair, the objects of marvel, envy and desire for everyone who knew her. Despite her desperate situation, she felt a wave of rising lust. Her constantly erect nipples grew even harder. She looked over to the prone woman, noticing a small steady dribble of white fluid from her engorged suckers.
She felt terrified and angry and confused… and in desperate need of relief.

Brad? Where was Brad? She cursed herself for almost forgetting about her poor boyfriend. Turning her head, she spotted his slumped, unconscious form near the wall. He was naked as well, and presented a pitiful sight. An involuntary sob escaped her dry throat.
The woman on the other chair was awake now. She whimpered. “Where are we? What will they do to us?”
Dora struggled to answer: “I don’t know. Be strong!”

Were they all doomed?

The sound caught the attention of the two small grey alien figures scurrying about the room. Their black mirror eyes fixated the buxom girl. Suddenly, over the whirs and clicks of the room’s machinery, Dora could hear a voice, cold and clear, directly in her mind.
“Female form awake. Condition acceptable. Proceeding procedure.”
A second voice penetrated her thoughts, cold, alien, identical to the first one yet clearly different. “This female one appears ripe. Form indicates maximal fertility. That female seems to be defective. Chest sacs are leaking. Biological growth in the genital area. Still acceptable parameters. Proceeding insemination procedure.”

The other woman wept softly: “What are they going to do? Surely they cannot think…”
Dora shivered in dismay, but she needed to keep up the façade, to keep the older woman from panicking. “Don’t worry. I’ll get us out of here. I’ll think of something.”
Her mind was racing. The spindly tentacles hanging from the ceiling looked threatening, but their claws, hooks and blades didn’t appear to be suited for the announced procedure. The two small greys didn’t seem to be equipped for this task either.
Her resolve faltered when a part of the wall disappeared and two new figures entered.

The newcomers differed vastly from the small frail-looking grey aliens. These were towering hulks, massively build. They had no recognizable necks, and their heads were just small cupolas over their torso, without any recognizable features. Their shiny, glistening skin was obsidian black. Like the greys, they didn’t wear any kind of covering or clothes.
The rest of their bodies was a featureless as their faces. Smooth pitch black skin, like a marble statue. It made the single distinguishing attribute just the more prominent. Between their legs hung a penis of tremendous dimensions. It was crisscrossed by a web of pulsating veins, leading down to a head the size of a man’s fist, glowing in a dark angry red color. The whole huge thing hung at an angle forward, revealing a set of coconut sized balls behind it.

The voice in her head sounded again. “The drones are primed and ready. Let the coupling commence.”
The huge titted woman next to Dora whimpered quietly. “No, no, no, this can’t be happening. It’s so big. It’s too much, too much.”
The courageous young redhead on the other hand threw her defiance at the closing menace. “You think this impresses me? Bring it on, you wimps! I’ll swallow you whole. I devour you and spit you out again.”

She felt a little tinge in her mind. A wave of lust and anticipation threatened to overwhelm her. Part of it she recognized as her own desire to feel these huge horse-dongs inside her… but most of it came from the little greys, who had turned their big eyes to observe every detail of the scene in front of them.
“So you are just a bunch of filthy little peeping toms. Creeps. And no shlong to jerk off, right, you little losers?”
The greys seemed to flinch under the intensity of her accusation. Dora felt her confidence rising again. They might be in her mind… but she was in theirs also. She didn’t know what to do with that knowledge yet… but it could prove to be an advantage.

The cock-drone had almost reached her. With a mixture of revulsion and desire she watched the fat rod, pulsating as if it was the only piece alive on this monster. The balls behind in swung with every step. An oily liquid oozed from the tip.
She would have recoiled from that sexual nightmare, if she could. Certainly she would. Most likely. Maybe.
The tip pressed against her swollen labia, stretching them, almost tenderly. She could feel the heat emanating from it, singeing her.

The woman next to her yelped. The second drone had inserted his gigantic cock with a single deep push, skewering his helpless heavy-breasted victim.
“It’s too big!”, she panted. “So big. So deep. Splitting me.”
Slowly, mechanically, the drone began to thrust. Under his pounding, getting faster and ever faster, the woman’s huge floppy tits began to jiggle. Waves rippled through the soft flesh, and with every thrust the udders were flung higher, into the woman’s face, only to come crashing down with a heavy slapping sound. There was nothing she could do, nothing to control it. Her hands were still immobilized by the grey’s telekinetic lock. Milk started flying out of her titties as she bounced on the drone’s cock.

Dora’s attention was returned to her own ordeal as the first drone pushed his thick penis deep into her tender pussy. The mega-busty girl had never in her young life been fucked that deep, with a cock that big. It felt awesome. It felt like ten centimeters more and she could give it a deep throat from the other side.
Like his twin occupied with the huge lactating woman, the drone in Dora started his mechanical pumping routine. In and out his tree-trunk-sized dick went, spreading her tight cunt wider and wider with each thrust. She felt the huge balls hitting against her crotch. Her own massive teen boobies started to wobble, bouncing heavily up and down and hitting her in the chin. She loved the feeling of her heavy melons slapping around, but instinctively, she tried to steady them with her arms.

She could move her arm! A little unsteady under the drone’s constant heavy pounding, she looked over to the greys, who were getting a little wobbly themselves. Their bodies twitched in the rhythm of the two drones fucking, in accord with the dance of the massive tit mountains. The greys watched enraptured, and Dora knew that they were feeling what she was feeling… and what she was feeling was losing control.

She gathered her breath and called out to her fellow prisoner. “Let lose. Let go. Enjoy it. It’s fine. It’s great. Don’t worry.” The cow next to her didn’t need her encouragement. Udders shaking, milk spraying, she only panted. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me. Oh my God, fuck me harder.”
Dora felt a wet hotness inside her. The first drone had released his load inside her womb. But the busty redhead wasn’t done… everything depended on her going on. “Oh, no, big boy.” she panted “you’re not going to stop now. Keep on fucking!”
To her surprise, it worked. The drone pumped on, getting even faster, his massive dick inside her even bigger.

She was close, so close. She felt her control slipping as a massive orgasm approached. She felt the greys’ control slipping. She felt… she felt… she felt… Stars and exploding suns and galaxies collapsing and planets colliding as she reached to biggest and best climax she had ever had. Next to her, the lactating woman screamed out her own orgasm… and then it stopped.

The drones stopped. Not a twitch, not a single movement. Dora recovered first. She could move. The telepathic net was gone, she was free. She crawled out from underneath the lifeless drone, his cock no longer big and erect.
The greys had collapsed on the ground, their bodies convulsing in the throngs of the biggest feedback orgasm they had ever encountered.

Still a little unsteady, the plucky girl went over to their pathetic wrecks. She needed to act quickly. Reaching out with her mind to regain the link, she knew what to do.
“Release us, at once, you slimy bastards! Bring us back to earth, that moment. Or, I swear, I will break your scrawny little necks.”
The voice in her head was weak and unfocused. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” it went. She shook the thin form with all her might. “Fuck as much as you want, ET. But first, you let us go!”
“Fuck, yes, fuck, go, leave us, spare us, fuck, fuck, don’t kill us.” was the response.
The walls of her prison disappeared like mist around her. They were still on earth, she recognized to her astonishment. They hadn’t moved at all. Over there was the road and their car and freedom.

She shook the blissfully sleeping woman awake. Together they managed to support the young man who only just now was coming back to his senses, freed from the mind control of the greys.
“Oh, Brad.”, the young heroine whispered. “I’m so glad that you didn’t have to witness my… humiliation.”
The three of them made it back to the car and fled this scene of horror as soon as they could. The shivering boy looked up to the determined girl at the wheel. “You have saved me. You have saved us all!”

…

“I’m sure I am thankful for that.” I said with only a hint of sarcasm. “But seriously… ‘Brad’? Sure about that?”
Dora was sure. “Why not? I always thought you had something of a young Brad Pitt. Don’t you agree, Andy?”
Andrea spit out my dick and snorted. “No idea. I’ve never sucked Brad Pitt’s cock.” She considered continuing her blowjob, but then asked instead “Ok, that was a nice story. You should write it down and sell it. But I still want to know what happened with Martina Müller. Your turn, lover boy!”
“Not with this unfinished business still between us.” I retorted, pointing at my hard cock waving in front of her face. She needed less than a minute.

She lounged into the sofa and had Dora lick my semen off her huge titties. “Now out with the story, boy. Without any aliens, please.”
I gathered my breath and started to tell her how it had really happened, in the real world of reality.

…


A lonely road though a wooded, hilly, forlorn landscape. Night falling. A heavy fog rising, drawing eerie shadows in the failing light. The couple was lost. The girl in the driver’s seat angrily told off her companion. “You could have helped me a bit.”, but the stoic young man knew better than to say anything. Yea or no… both would be wrong and only annoy the driver even more.

Somewhere ahead, the fog began to glow. An orange glow that came and went in regular intervals, flickering like the entrance of hell itself.
“Go slow, there could be people ahead. You might hit someone.”, the good-looking young man remarked. Just in time. From the fog, a looming figure appeared. Imposing, towering, black and hooded, holding some sort of staff in his hands. Light glinted on a metal edge.
The shrouded figure did not flinch as the couple’s little car came to a screeching halt, just centimeters in front of it. From the dark depths of his cowl, something like a grin could be seen… crooked, broken teeth between thin, bloodless lips.

And then he was gone. Swallowed by the fog, vanishing as sudden as he had appeared.

“Oh my God, did I hit him? Did I hit him? I didn’t mean to!” the girl babbled in panic, jumping out of the car. The street ahead was clear.
She jumped in terror as a hand reached out to touch her through the thick fog. “Calm down, dear, it’s only me.” her boyfriend assured her. “No roadkill here, but that light has to come from somewhere. Perhaps there is someone who needs help. I’ll go and check. You can stay with the car if you want.”

The timid little redhead shivered. “All alone? I’ll go with you. As you said, someone might need help. And it might be me.”
They didn’t have to proceed far to find the source of the flashing orange glow. A big white van rested haphazardly in a track branching off from the road. “Hello?” the man called out into the gloom. There was no response. All noise other than the clicking of the cars emergency lights was swallowed by the thick blanket of the dirty grey mist.
“No one’s here, see. Let’s go.”, the girl pleaded as she clung to her companion’s side. The stalward young man refused. “Perhaps someone’s hurt. We cannot leave people in need!” He knocked at the side of the crashed vehicle. “Is someone in there?”

The door opened, just a bit, just enough to see a pair of eyes peek out. “Do you need help?” the young man asked again, and the door was thrown open. Inside was a scantily clad woman, some years older than the poor girl now hiding behind the young man’s strong back.
The woman in the van was dressed in a short mini-skirt and a white shirt. The surprised couple did a double take. The low-cut blouse revealed the deep canyon of an impressive cleavage. It was formed by the most massive pair of tits they had ever set eyes on. Like oversized beach balls they hung braless under the skimpy white blouse, reaching down to her thighs. Dark shades could be seen through the thin fabric, revealing hubcap sized areolas, crowned by fat engorged nipples. Wet patches had formed where these sensitive teats pressed against the cloth.

The fat udders wobbled as the woman took a step forward on her high stiletto boots. They threatened to throw her off balance, but she was rescued by the muscular chest of the gallant young man.
“Oh, thank you so much.” she whispered raunchily as her impossible boobies engulfed him. “I was afraid it was him, coming for me.
“No worries, my dear!” the hunky lad assured her. “You’re safe with us. Tell us what happened.”

“I was on my tour, visiting customers. When I passed the bend, he was standing directly in front of me. He was tall and had a hood… and an axe! I could only just evade him, almost crashing my car into the trees. He was gone when I looked, but he’s certainly still around, and I am soo frightened and my car won’t start, and the roadside assistance has staved me off, and I just don’t know what to do. And then you came.”
Tears were streaming down her face, tears of fear and of relief. The young hero kept her safe in his arms, drawing her as close as her mountainous chest would allow. “You have nothing to fear as long as I am here.”

Wetness spread through his t-shirt. “Oh, I’m so sorry.” The big-titted woman exclaimed. “I fear that I have another small problem. I work for a local dairy company, but today I haven’t yet been milked. I am getting so full that I am leaking. You wouldn’t be able to help me out with that?”
She looked up at the tall young fellow with big pleading eyes.
He wasn’t opposed to give his assistance to a woman in such dire need. A quick glance to his shy girlfriend showed that she was just as eager to get her hands on a pair of truly big tits.

They both nodded in agreement. “Of course we can do that. We’ll help you as best as we can.”
The big woman started to remove her strained shirt, revealing ever more of her enormous globular tits. “You two might want to undress as well” she said. “It can get a little messy.”
The young man pulled his t-shirt over his head to reveal his chiseled chest and the tangle of thick masculine hair to the appreciating eyes of the girls. His girlfriend was a little reluctant to present her own assets to the direct comparison with the much larger woman, but simply couldn’t resist the temptation of the fat full sagging udders right in front of her. The older woman, still not finished with the sheer endless line of buttons on her oversized blouse, commented on the revealing of the teen’s own not too small breasts. “Nice titties, girl. When you grow up, you might want to consider my line of work.”

Finally, under much anticipation, she was done with her shirt and revealed the full glory of her immense bosom to the attentive young couple. They were speechless in the face of these marvels of modern dairy farming. The gargantuan danglers hung down below the waistband of her tiny skirt. Thin light blue veins ran across the well-tanned, freckled skin, going down to the huge round areolas where milk was steadily dripping from the nipples the size of a Champagne cork. The white liquid ran in tiny streams over the lower slopes of these monumental dairy factories, spilling on the black mini-skirt.

“Oops.” The black-haired hucow more felt than saw the mess she made on her clothes. It was impossible for her to see beyond the swelling curves of her protruding milk buckets.
She bend over to pull down the skirt. She didn’t wear panties, revealing her shapely round backside and her smartly shaved pussy. Her weighty udders swung heavily under her narrow torso, making her lose balance. She fell forward into the receptive arms of the eager young hero.
Her naked tits pressed against his manly chest. The steady dripping of milk from her teats turned into a spray, soaking his trousers.
“You’d better get rid of these as well. Wouldn’t want to get you all wet.” the buxom milker smiled and proceeded to open the offending garment. Instantly, the young man’s impressive hard instrument of sexual pleasure sprang up. She looked in anticipation at the huge, pulsing erect cock. “Seems I am not the only one in need of relief.” She went to her knees, starting to lick the fat purple helmet with her little tongue.
The young teen girl had finally given in to her temptation. She went for the hanging udders, almost reaching down to the floor now, and started to knead. Milk shot out of the fat nipples, spraying through the air, dripping to the floor and gathering is small, white puddles.
The older woman looked benevolently at the young girl. “Soft and steady. Keep going, sweetie. You might learn something for your own use. Now you can suck me.”
She went back to engulf the throbbing cock in front of her, while the shy teen took one of her heavy whoppers in both hands and guided the dripping sucker into her mouth.

After a while of enjoying the tender intimacy, the big-titted woman stopped her administrations. “I apologize if I have to impose myself even further. I always get so horny when I am milked. Would it be too much for me to ask you to fuck me?”
How could a true gentleman refuse such a polite request? The women turned around, leaned forward and offered her dripping wet cunt to the proud manhood. The fit young man drove his steely rod deep into the cow’s love cave and began to pound. Her gargantuan udders started to swing wildly under his thrusts. Milk was flying out of her titties as she bounced on his cock.

The young teen girl couldn’t keep up. The inertial force of these swaying beach-ball-sized cow udders made it impossible for her to keep sucking. Disappointed, she sat down in a corner and started to play with her own, only baskedball-sized, tits.
Then, suddenly, she heard a noise from the door, just about noticeable over the sound of grunting and slapping flesh. In the door’s window, the face of a man could be seen, pressing against the glass.
A pang of terror ran through the young girl, but it was instantly replaced by a push of overbearing horniness. A man was a man. She opened the sliding door, and a middle aged man in a mechanics uniform fell in. His trousers were at his ankles, and even as he fell forward, he kept jerking his puny dick.

The man was like in trance. He just glanced at the girl and started to crawl towards the wildly swaying monster mammaries. But the young teen was having none of that. “Oh, no, you won’t!” She grabbed the man by the ankles, turned him around and started to mount him, leaning forward to push her own pityfully small Q-cup boobies into his face. “Don’t tell me these are not enough for you! And now fuck me, you nasty little peeping tom!”

Soon both couples were heavily engaged in coupling, until…

…

“Until what?” Andrea pulled the dildo from Dora’s pussy, who was protesting loudly. “Until what? What happened then?”
“Wouldn’t know.” I replied with an evil grin. “That was the moment when the crazy axe murderer stormed in and killed us all.”
Andrea threw up her hands in desperation. “You’re worse than her! Aliens! Axe murderers! You have an evil, filthy mind, the two of you!” The stark naked girl angrily waved around the dripping rubber cock.
“I’ll tell you a story! A true story! Martina Müller is coming over next week for a new bra. And I will make sure that you two little perverts won’t get anywhere near her! Hah!

She stormed off into her office. It would have been a much more effective exit if the room had had a door to slam shut.
“I guess this time we broke her.” Dora grinned even more broadly.

I shifted over next to my evil, filthy minded, really-not-too-small-breasted girlfriend, and we amiably continued the session without the sulking shopkeeper.
 
Last edited:
Part 33: Graduation, gratification, grounding

Dora was livid. I had retreated to the kitchen, fearful of being caught in the female fury rising between my girl and her mother. I couldn’t escape their raised angry voices though.
“But why? It’s unnecessary! Completely useless! It’s just for this one occasion, and I won’t need it ever again!”
Her mom was just as angry. “It’s a special occasion, and you won’t attend wearing that. I won’t let you. Enough is enough. I have not said anything concerning your… growth, but you won’t shame us all in this!”
Dora wasn’t having any of it. “If you want it, then you should buy it. Why should I pay for something you want, just to please you.”
“You claim to be an adult. Behave like one and not like a spoiled child! It’s time you took some responsibility for yourself. You have the means, now use them in a way that shows you really are as mature as you claim.”
“But just for this show? Just for this one event?” Dora’s tone had become pleading.
“Yes, exactly for this one ‘show’, young lady. It’s an important point in your life, and I will see that you act with decency. Afterwards, you can go naked, if you want to. So, yes, you will dress properly, for this occasion. Consider your wedding. You wouldn’t want to do that in jeans and t-shirt?”

Dora had to concede that point. All she had left now was haggling. “But I wanted to save something for a vacation. If I pay half? Would that be O.K.?”
At some point, agreement was reached and peace restored. Her parents would take on half of the cost. Dora would behave as it was fitting for a student at an esteemed catholic institute of education.

What was that all about?

Andrea had been true to her word and had kept Martina’s visit to herself. Not that we really cared. Would I have liked to see the massive milker again, and use my new knowledge of measuring on her bombastic babyfeeders? Why, yes. But I didn’t need to. I often wondered how Andrea managed to keep her professional attitude and private desires separate. She couldn’t hit on all of her busty customers like she had done with Dora.

Still Martina had somehow managed to wrest Dora’s number from our sulking friend. She had contacted my girl about an offer for a photo shooting, for a new advertising campaign. They had had a lot of fun and Dora got paid handsomely.

Then Dora’s mom demanded that she spend the money on a new school blazer. Tailor-made for her outstanding figure. I had seen her old blazer, and I could understand her mother. Dora, in the jacket she could no longer close over her massive chest, caused a riot wherever she appeared.
But this would be her graduation ceremony, the bishop himself would attend, and all the official photos would be taken, perhaps even the local press would be there… no, mom would make sure that her over-endowed daughter would be the model of a demure maiden, at least for that day.

I could see the wisdom in her actions. My own graduation had been only two days earlier. In our public school, it was a lot less formal, but still it was a solemn ceremony, fitting for that important day in our young lives. Even my father was there, a duty as the head of the school’s alumni organization, or perhaps just because my mother had managed to tag him along. Dora had been there as well, dressed very modestly in skirt, high collared blouse and one of her properly fitting private jackets.

It was a highly choreographed ceremony, musical introduction by the school’s orchestra and choir, the graduates marching in, songs and, mandatory, a formal address.
Our “Rex”, our rector, was a very good public speaker, but he had an unfortunate tendency to drone on and on.
Not this time though. He had almost reached the point where people got impatient and bored. Coughing could be heard, and still Rex went on to tell about the new world waiting for us. Then he faltered. Lost his line of thought. Started again, stuttering, distracted. Looked directly at me. Or rather, right next to me. I turned slightly to discover the source of his confusion.
Dora, as bored by his monologue as most of us, had unwittingly started to play with the buttons of her blouse. She had managed to open the four topmost buttons, and her prominent bosom was making an appearance. From Rex’ point of view up on the stage, it must have been a truly amazing view.

Members of the choir standing behind Rex on the stage tried to get a glimpse at these objects of mass distraction. A murmur run through the ranks, while Rex was desperately trying to regain his posture.
I nudged Dora. “What are you doing?” With a jolt she returned to the present from whatever place her mind had been. “What? Oh!” She noticed the state of her clothing, the awkward atmosphere, the gaze of the orator resting on her, on her cleavage. “Oh, sorry!” she smiled up to the blushing headmaster and pulled together her open shirt.

The Rex carried on, but his heart wasn’t in it anymore. He finished quickly, which might have gotten him an extra cordial applause. The choir had to be called to order for their next interlude. From their position in the back of the stage, they hadn’t had the best angle on Dora’s most dominant features, and some had tried to get a better view. The choir mistress soon had a semblance of order restored, and the program continued.
Another speech followed, by some guy from the ministry, who seemed more interested in exploring what the previous speaker had found so fascinating. I saw Dora had still not closed her shirt and she was getting a little fidgety. “It’s too tight. I would have to stand up to close it. You don’t want that, do you?” she responded under her breath to my questioning look. Mercifully, the government guy kept his speech short.

Then, finally, it was time for the main event, the presentation of the degrees. Grouped by our main classes, we were called to the stage, got out diplomas, a handshake from Rex and the ministry guy, plus a rose for the girls. I noticed that the groups slowly crowed to the right side of the stage, where Dora was sited. When the call was on my class, I got to see the whole scenario from a different angle. Even if just the topmost bottoms of Dora’s blouse were undone, from this heightened point you could see straight through her cleavage. Some of my male classmates crowded on me, trying to sneak a peek and whispering short questions. “Who’s that? – She’s with you? – Where did you find her?”

With Dora sitting in the front row, most of the audience hadn’t had a chance to fathom what caused so much excitement on the stage. Then the official part was finally done, all students attended to, the closing song performed, the last words of congratulations and good wishes spoken. The audience rose to gather their sons and daughter, grandchildren, nephews and nieces, and quite a number of them managed to cross our path. Faces contorted in surprise and disbelief. Dora blushed heavily as we made her way through the crowd, so that she could at last get her clothing in order. “I’m really sorry”, she explained with a look of utmost sincerity, “I didn’t mean to disrupt your ceremony.”
I couldn’t blame her. “It’s not your fault”, I comforted her. “You will draw the eyes of every man, wherever you go. Though you might try to wear looser clothes on occasions like this one.”
She smiled at me, and I could see the little imp show up in her eyes.

So I agreed with Dora’s mother. Having her innocently causing a small disturbance at my graduation was an amusing incident. But having her ruin her own ceremony by showing up in inappropriate dress would only lead to trouble with her family.
Dora grumbled a bit about my “treasonous stab in the back”, but it turned out that she was in luck after all. Her school’s regular provider had a blazer of a larger size on stock that he could easily and quickly adapt to fit Dora’s uncommon size. She got away quite cheap, and she already only had to pay for half of it.

Dora’s own graduation was only a few days later, and it was a much more elaborate event. Her school, St. Agatha’s, had prime connections to the cathedral, so they had gotten the cathedral choir to perform for them and the bishop himself to read mass. Of course, we had to sit through mass, and I wished I had Dora’s method to spice things up. But she was just sitting next to me and her parents, dressed perfectly modest in her new blazer which covered up and even somewhat camouflaged her oversized assets. She had been a sweet little angel all through the day, and now she stood, sat, sang and responded just like the liturgy demanded. I took my clues from her, followed her lead. I noticed her mother beaming with pride at her model daughter. I even saw her wipe away a tear as Dora went up to receive the host.

After that, there was the obligatory speech, quite similar to the sermon, more talk about the responsibilities of young women in the world. Song and music followed. Their choir was better than ours, I had to admit. The matron, a tiny wizened old nun with a face like sour milk, held another speech about the dangers that awaited a girl out in the world. Somehow I had the notion she was looking directly at me.

But then, at long last, came the presentation of the degrees. St. Agatha’s was a smaller private school and the number of graduates was less than a quarter of my school. But here, the matron took her time to exchange a few words with every girl and they all received the bishop’s blessing along with their degree. At the end, a line of burgundy and green stood in front of the altar, an indistinguishable wall of proud shining faces. Even Dora didn’t stand out that much, to the great relief of her mother.

Next I knew, it was over. A wave of applause filled the church as the girls filed through the pews, back to the great hall, where now, after the ceremonial part, some light mingling was about to commence. And things were about to change.
Now freed from the restrictions of the formal setting, and now officially no longer a student of St. Agatha’s, Dora had removed her blazer.
Dora, the obedient daughter, had submitted to her mother’s wishes and covered her swelling curves with a layer of heavy cotton fabric.
Dora, the rebellious teenager, had dressed under that blazer in a shirt much too small for her bulging chest. The buttons were barely holding up, leaving large gaps. Through these it was glaringly obvious that she had chosen one of her older bras as well, pushing up and out her massive tits in the most enticing fashion.
Dora in her old blazer would have caused a riot. Dora in this outfit was a riot.

The hall being full of students, parents, teachers, assorted externals and a whole flock of nuns and priests, not many noticed at first. Karin, who had found us in the crowd, just remarked “Full battle stations, huh?” Mika gave a longing sigh. “One year. Only one further year.”
Other folks started to notice Dora’s outrageous outfit. Some were taken aback, some, mostly students, gave a thumbs-up.
But now Dora had sighted her prey. It was completely unaware of its fate. It invited it.

“Oh, there she is! Your Excellency, let me introduce you to our best student.”
The matron had noticed Dora’s redhead approaching through the crowd and had guided her companion towards the girl. She had prided herself on turning this poor girl back to the right path, back from the moral ambiguities of the world, back to the light. And now she found herself faced with the biggest teenage tits in town, urging their way out of their overwhelmed confinement. Too late to turn back now.

Dora had put on her sweetest smile. “You’re too kind, Reverend Mother. Just a former student now” she fluted. “I am so grateful for having been a student here.” The intonation was subtle, but clear. It said: “I’m no longer under your thumb.” I swallowed a rising laughter.
Before the old nun could come up with a response, Dora had turned to the bishop, who stared speechless into the youthful opulence. “Your Excellency!” She only hinted at a curtsey, but it was enough to make the masses on her chest wobble wildly. “I am truly grateful for all that I have acquired here. I have gained so much…” She inhaled and the straining blouse creaked over her swelling bosom. “… knowledge and wisdom.” The bishop’s face turned red and he seemed to have trouble breathing.
“I will never forget the attention I experienced for the well-being of my soul… and body.” Another deep breath was enough to finally pop on of the poor buttons, and it went flying into the room. “Oh, sorry. Don’t know what happened to me. But I see my mother calling. It’s been a pleasure to meet you.”

With that and a quick turn that almost released her boobs from their cage of cloth, she left the dumbstruck clergy folk standing. I hastened after her.
In a quieter corner, Dora stopped and released her breath. “Hah. Take that, you autocratic bitch! I spend hours getting the trick with the button to work.”
“Talk about burning your bridges. I don’t think you will be welcome at the annuals.” I interjected dryly.
“Good riddance!” Dora foamed. “If I have never to see a nun or a priest again in all my life, I will die happy. May they all choke on their authoritarianism, their false piety, their bigotry and self-righteousness!”
She started to giggle. “Did you see his face? Do you think I gave him some impure thoughts?”
“If anyone can, you certainly would.”
Dora smiled an evil smile. “Good. I hope it added some decades in purgatory. But come on now, I have to recover my blazer before mom catches me. Oh, shite!”

Too late. Her mother was descending on her like an advancing army, holding out the blazer like a battle flag. Dora tried in vain to cover up her half-naked breasts.

“We are going to have a real good talk about that, young lady!”
 
darkblazer said:
anything new in the making?
Click to expand...
I did take a little time off over the summer, I have some other (non-breast related) projects that take up my time at the moment, but, yes, there is something new in the making. It will still take some time to bring it to a publishable state... so please be patient.

Dora will continue. ;)
 
Part 34: Barrel roll

“Oh, that’s cute! Come and look at that!”
We were sitting in Dora’s room and reevaluating the options for our vacation. The “real good talk” with Dora’s mother has resulted in a drastic cut in her financial support, and so the exotic far away destinations we had dreamed of had become very far away again.
But we were young, liberated from the bounds of school, looking for fun, action and independence, and we would find that in our own country just as well.

Dora had found the perfect spot. “Vacation in a barrel. Camping. At a lake. We could go by bike. Three days there, a week to stay, three days back. And it isn’t expensive at all.”
The “barrels” were little cabins, round like a hobbit hole and looking very cozy. Small, but comfortably equipped, suited for a group of four. For the two of us, it would be perfect… especially with the king-sized bed.
“There’s only one free at the moment, we have to make a reservation and it is main season. So, what do you say?”
Action, sun, beach and Dora in a king-sized bed. Seemed perfect to me. We quickly finalized our reservation and started to prepare for the trip.

We were sore and tired when we pulled in for the night of our first day. Cycling was fun, our route was gorgeous and not that difficult, following the river all of the time. But this trip was longer than most of the tours we usually took, and we were also packed with all the necessities we needed on the road.
Dora had had the great idea to send most of our luggage ahead to my Uncle Paul, the photographer, who lived just a short distance from our destination. Still we had enough to lug around, especially my overdeveloped girlfriend.

“Ow, I am done for!” Dora gasped as she dropped onto her cot in the youth hostel’s dormitory. “My boobs hurt!”
“How about a little massage?” I offered eagerly. “No! Don’t touch them! Don’t come near to them! They’ve been massaged enough… a whole day of constantly smashing my knees into them. Ouch! Tomorrow I’ll try the real bra.”
She was exaggerating. The sports bra she had worn that day had not offered enough support for her big hanging globes, but even her enormous tits were not big enough to reach to her knees. Not constantly, at least.
It had been quite a sight, seeing her huge breasts sway and swing in rhythm with her pumping legs. Not to mention her nicely shaped bottom wiggling on the bike saddle. Dora on a bike was poetry in motion. Dora after a day on the bike was a pathetic heap of misery.
“It’ll be all better tomorrow. You’re just not used to these distances. Your muscles with adapt soon… and your boobs will, too.” I tried to cheer her up.
But, truth be told, I was spend as well.

The next day started with aching muscles and stiff joints, but soon got better. Dora’s breasts had recovered a little, though she had decided against wearing a bra at breakfast. She drew the eyes of the all the other guests, her ponderous hooters wobbling unfettered in her capacious t-shirt.
A loud clatter rang through the room as a young boy, his eyes fixated on the bulging curves, ran into the guy in front and both dropped their meal trays. Dora, the well brought-up girl, went down to help them recover their stuff. Her fat heavy tits dangled down and almost grazed the floor. It didn’t make the task any easier, drawing the attention of the two unlucky boys away from the plates, cutlery, bread and jam cups shattered around.
Finally they managed to clean up the mess and the red-faced guys retreated hastily to a table at the far side of the hall. The bulges in their trousers were evidence of the power of Dora’s aura.

“Tease.” I nudged Dora as we took our own seats. “I was just helping.” she smirked. “It’s not my fault if they can’t keep their eyes on the task.” She barely refrained from resting her bosom on the tabletop. “Feeling frisky this morning, I see. Good.” I grinned. “We have still a distance to go today.” Dora stuck her tongue out at me.
The second day of our trip was a fine as the first. We travelled along a great canal, through woods, fields and villages. At a small restaurant, we go our lunch and took it sitting at the bank of the canal. Ships passed, a few small private vessels, a big freighter and a sleek white cruise ship. Dora waved at all of them. Many people waved back, some took out their cell phones to take pictures of this friendly young girl with the biker shorts and the basketballs under her shirt.
Fortunately, no embarrassing accidents happened.

Both of us had an easier time than the previous day, but still we were happy when we reached that day’s destination. Uncle Paul was already awaiting us and greeting us with an enthusiastic hug.
Dora winced at the embrace. “What’s up, girl? Getting shy?” Paul joked.
She grimaced. “It’s that stupid bra. It worked well for keeping my girls from shaking all over the place, but now I’m all sweaty and chaffed. Frigging stupid udders!”
As soon as she was inside, she pulled the shirt over her head and released the clasps on her heavy duty brassiere. Her heavy breasts slumped downwards. Angry red welts showed where the supporting wires had cut into the glistening skin.
“Perhaps you should ride the next leg topless.” I tried to joke, but my distressed girl was not in the mood. “Ha, ha, very funny. I want to see you carry these stupid juggs around all day. You’d adjust your attitude very quick, I bet. And now excuse me, the babies need a generous application of skin lotion.”
She walked out of the room, and we could see that she was by far not as peeved as she had sounded. Her hips swayed markedly and her huge boobies swung from left to right. Maybe she even considered the idea of riding topless. Paul and I shared a wordless masculine moment of understanding. Women!

She didn’t want to go topless. Instead she had decided to wear two sports bras at once. “Let’s see how this works.”
How it would work remained to be seen. How it looked… topless might have been less obvious. The two bras lifted her massive mounds up, smashed them together, even made them look bigger, heavier, more predominant. But Dora didn’t care. “Comfort first. People will stare anyway.”
She did some little skips and jumps. Her heavy chest followed her movements, but stayed in place more or less.
At least we didn’t have to worry about our luggage. Uncle Paul had offered to bring them over with his car.

The route for this day wasn’t as easy as the previous ones. The canal turned eastwards, but we had to continue south. The landscape got hilly and densely wooded. Using small side roads and forest tracks, we kept both away from traffic as well as in the shade. Getting into a nice steady rhythm, we made good progress, and Dora’s contraption seemed to work.
We had started early and it was still some time before noon when we got the first glimpse of blue through the woods. The air had changed as well. It smelled of water, of freshness, coolness… fun. With renewed energy we hit the pedals and almost raced the last kilometer to the lakeshore.

“Oh, finally. Water. And a pause.” Dora panted. “So, where’s the campsite? Left or right?”
“Over there.” I pointed across the expanse of the wavy lake. “Right on the opposite shore.”
“No! Come on. We have to circle all around that! I’m exhausted and hot and sweaty all over.” True, her front was soaked under the triple layers of two bras and shirt.
“I’ll just collapse here and you find a boat and carry me over, will you?”
“We can cross right here. See? There’s a causeway, and then it’s just a tiny hop. Two kilometers, at most.”
Dora straightened her bike and moaned pathetically. “I’ll be melted by then. I need a shower. Or a bath. A shower and a bath. And a cold drink.”
I handed her my water bottle and she drank greedily. Drops ran down her chin and added to the moisture on her chest.
“Ok, two more kilometers. Last one there is a lame duck!” And off she went. I had to struggle to keep up with her pace. So much for exhaustion.

She did beat me to the entrance of the camping site, but she didn’t have enough breath left to gloat about it. Still she was smiling as we entered the building that served as reception, office, cafeteria and shop. She dropped down into one of the chairs and waved me on. “I won the race. So you can do the check in.”
I stepped up to the counter where a spotty teenager grinned a bracery grin at me. “Welcome at Seaside Camping!” His eyes went past me, to the busty beauty reclining in the chair.
“Hi, yes, we have a reservation.” I managed to draw his attention back to me. For a moment. Dora was using a flyer as an impromptu fan, directing air into her steaming cleavage.
“We have a reservation for one of your barrel huts.” I tried again.
“Barrel. Yes. Lovely barrels, they are.” Dora had leaned forward letting her heavy front-load hang as much as the double-bra allowed.
“Can you sign us in? And show us around?” I started another attempt and finally the boy snapped out of his boob-induced trance.
“Oh, yes, sure.” He took our data and handed me the keys. Dora straightened up in her chair and his eyes glazed over again. He fidgeted. “I cannot go with you. I… I… have to stay here. But you can’t miss it. Outside lane. First barrel from here. Power is switched on for you, cooking area is in the big building in the middle, as well as the showers.”
“Showers!” Dora jumped from her chair, sending magnitude 6 earthquakes through her vast frontage. “That’s what I need right now. Thank you very much!”
“YourwelcomehaveanicestayIhavetogosorry.” the spotty boy rattled off, turned and fled into the employees’ washroom.
“Sheesh, you would think he gets to see lots of pretty girls in this job.” Dora teased as we left the poor guy to his business.

We walked our bikes through the nicely kept lanes, passing tents and trailers of all sizes, aiming for the central building. Dora grabbed her small pack from the rack and pushed her bike on me. “You go on. Shower. I need. Now. Meet you there.” and off she went. Now pushing two bikes, I turned to the outer lane where a line of small, brightly painted wooden buildings could be seen next to the surrounding trees.
The barrels were indeed extremely cute and cozy looking. Slightly higher than me, round like, well, a barrel, with two small windows and a door to the front. A square door. Even so I got a very hobbity feeling.

While Dora was busy with her ablutions, I checked on my Uncle Paul, who had promised to bring the rest of our luggage. I caught him at only five minutes out. Together we stowed the stuff and Paul admired the round little hut with its benches along the walls and the big double bed in the back. “Cozy. And sturdy looking. Fitting for young folks’ energy, I hope.” And then he took off again. “Have fun. And give my best to Dora.”
I grabbed my washbag and went to meet my sweetheart at the showers.

When I came around the corner, I saw her just exiting the building, using a fluffy towel to dry her hair.
Together with the bag around her arm and the rest of her cloths she was trying to carry, she had a hard time watching her steps. The two elderly gents on their way to the showers stood no chance – Dora crashed headlong into them. Bags went flying. Bottles rolled over the ground. Curses rang through the air.
“Can’t you see where you’re going… oh!” Dora’s victim had noticed that his assailant was a beautiful young woman. His gaze wandered. A very well developed young woman.
“I’m sorry, miss. Should have watched my step. Here, let me help you.”
“Oh, thank you. No, totally my fault.” Dora was frantically trying to gather her dropped stuff. This time, it really had been an accident and not one of her flirty games. I saw her blushing as she picked up one of her oversized sports-bras. She was now obviously aware that the man was staring at her massive chest and the state of her clothes did nothing to hide her forms.
She hadn’t bothered to don her bras, not even one of them. Her huge tits pressed against her t-shirt. The remaining moisture on her skin turned the thin fabric almost translucent, clearly showing the outlines of her areolas.

I rushed in to assist her. Together we managed to clean up the mess, and Dora apologized again before quickly turning away. “Don’t worry, miss.” the man assured her. “Nothing happened.” He smiled as he and his companion turned back towards the showers.
“Are you ok?” I inquired. “Yeah, yeah. Everything’s fine. I was just surprised. I hate being clumsy.”
Her smile returned. Holding the mess of her belongings to her chest, she still managed to push me on.
“So. Your turn. You take a shower and then hurry back. Lots to do! No time to waste!”
“Why the hurry? What is it you have to do?”
“You have to ask? Why, the beach, of course! A bath. I had my shower, now it’s time for a nice swim. And I have a new bathing suit I need to show off. I think you’ll like it. Now go already!”

I put my clothes in one of the lockers and entered the gents’ shower. Only at the touch of the cool water on my skin did I notice how hot and sweaty I was. At first, I just stood there. When I started washing myself up, I noticed that I had snatched Dora’s shampoo in the mix-up.

From the other side of the separation wall I could hear voices.
“Seems that tart made a big impression on you, I see.”
“You just have a dirty mind.”
“Hah, that horse-cock of yours tells me something else. Never understood why you are so into fatties.”
“She… she wasn’t fat. Couldn’t you tell? She was just big in the chest.”
Laughter. “Kidding me! No girl can be that big. She’s just a fatty. So what? Your missus wasn’t a slender reed either, was she?”
The two men turned to the exit. “And neither is your sweet little granddaughter, right? No reed. Good German oak. She’s taking care of your trunk now the old woman is gone?”
I glimpsed around the corner, just in time to see the old men Dora had run into turn around. “Now you shut up! My Sylvia is a good girl and not someone for you to bad-mouth!”
His colleague dodged the angry words and hand of the old man. “Can’t deny it? Hah, I knew it! Well, have fun chasing your fatties.” He drew a hasty retreat to the locker room.
The remaining senior calmed down. I went back behind the wall before he could detect me, but not before I noticed why his friend had teased him so.

The old guy was hung like a mule.
 
Last edited:
You must log in or register to reply here.

Similar threads

Y
Mei's Macromastia Vlog - A realistic BE fiction
Replies
5
Views
2,072
Y3S
Y
B
Fiction - Big Tits Slob Abused
Replies
0
Views
444
BlueberrySolo
B
B
Fiction - Red-Headed Rookie: An Unwelcome Flight of Fleshly Desires [BE, Lactation, Abuse, Psychological]
Replies
5
Views
1,028
BlueberrySolo
B
C
One In Four Billion (Fiction)
2
Replies
24
Views
9,016
HugeNaturalsOnly
HugeNaturalsOnly
BoobbleGumCrisis
REQUEST Missing Big boob fiction thread
Replies
1
Views
376
BoobbleGumCrisis
BoobbleGumCrisis
Top