Rachel The Weekend Model (Chapters 1-4)

BakersDozen101

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Chapter 1

Rachel was a big bust model who was on the verge of leaving the industry. She was 28 and having trouble with privacy, piracy, and motivation. When I offered her a month's wages to spend a weekend with me, she accepted. I liked her for two reasons. She had size 30M boobs and was nervous. The first thing I had her do was change into my shirt. It was a thin white tank top with spaghetti straps that had my website logo across it. Underneath was a black bra that was only straps. It was specially made. There were no cups so wearing it was effectively like braless but you still got the look of black straps protruding under the tank top and digging into the shoulders. "How does it look?" I asked.

"Okay."

"Excited for the warm weather here?"

"Yeah. It's really nice," she faked.

"Let's walk around and get some looks," I said.

We went to a park near my house. It had a track and a gazebo and plenty of people. Rachel's chest swung freely. Every person turned their head. Within ten minutes, 50 people had given us stares and five had stopped in their tracks. I directed us to a seating area with tables and a many people. She looked uncomfortable.

"Ever been in public like this before?"

"No..."

"What is your hometown like?"

"It's small. Everyone knows everyone. I wouldn't wear something like this."

"Don't they know you're a model?"

"No. To them, I'm a hairdresser."

I pointed at a guy seated a few tables away. "See him? With the red hat? I think he's filming us. Look at the way he's holding his phone, propped on the table."

Rachel looked.

"The lady behind you is looking, too. Do you think you can see your breasts from the back?''

Rachel touched herself self-consciously. "Maybe."

"I love this," I said, waving my hand at the crowd. "I love the power you have over people."

"It's strange power."

"It's attention power, the strongest power in the world. Everyone is mesmerized."

Rachel looked unconvinced. "What do other girls say when you make them do this?" she asked.

"Depends. Some are carefree. They walk around dressed like this in their normal life. Other girls, like you, are more in their head. It takes until the end of the trip for them to feel comfortable," I paused and let assumption that she would eventually be comfortable sink it. "Put your breasts on the table," I said.

Rachel did so.

"Play with this water bottle." I rolled it to her. She tossed it from hand to hand lightly across the table. "Perfect, use it like a rolling pin across yourself. Be casual like you're mindlessly doing it."

Rachel stiffly tossed the bottle in the air and clumsily caught it.

"I didn't say juggle it. That's not until tomorrow. Nevermind. Hold the bottle still. I'm trying to put on a scene for people. I want them to see a girl as gorgeous as you in the wild, sitting casually."

"This outfit is not casual."

"I know. That's the magic part. That's what makes this extraordinary. You seated in a park for a cup of coffee is normal. Your outfit and what you have underneath is extra and that's what makes this a spectacle from people."

"Why do you like doing this?"

"I like feeling like Santa Claus."

Rachel didn't know what to say to that.

"Put your fingers over your nipples. Play with them and don't pay attention."

It took Rachel a minute or so before she could stop thinking about the fact that she was rubbing her nipples in public and simply rub them. That freedom went away after a few seconds and she went back to being self-conscious but for flashes, I saw it. After a half-hour at the park and more small talk, we left.

"What is an udder? An udder is when a girl can bend over and have her breast hang to her waist. They take up a fifth of her body, at least. This bent-over position is especially comfortable for the cow because the breast weight transfers to a different place on their upper back. Most cows have back problems not because of the weight but because of how it's placed. They stand for most of the day and that means the weight is pulling straight down on the shoulder muscles with the back muscles hardly helping. Anyway, in this position, you can come underneath a cow and attach a hose easily. This is when the breasts most resemble teardrops."

Rachel nodded. "Interesting."

"How does it feel to be a big breast model who doesn't have a big breast fetish?"

"It's weird. I don't know why I can't get into it."

"Did you have a tough childhood? Were you made to feel self-conscious about your breasts?"

"Yeah, high school was rough."

"What about the internet? Have the fans made you feel welcome?"

"Sometimes. I've had stalker issues. The business is full of difficult people, too."

I put a finger on her.

"How about sensitivity?"

"I'm not that sensitive."

"Would you like to be sensitive?"

"I think it would make life easier."

I pulled a pill out of my drawer. "This will do it."

"What is it?"

"It's a vitamin. It'll make your breasts sensitive for about four hours. It takes a half hour to kick in."

"What will it feel like?"

"It'll turn your breasts on. Yours are off. You don't know what it feels like to have big breasts."

"Don't I?"

"No. You know what it's like to carry around weights. Having big breasts is about pleasure."

"But am I going to like it?"

"Every girl does."

"And it only lasts for four hours?"

"Yep."

Rachel swallowed it. We chatted and I showed her more pictures from my porn files. On schedule, a half hour later, I asked if she felt anything and she said, "Yes."

"They feel like they are moving."

"They might grow a little."

"Grow?"

"Two cup sizes max. It's temporary."

We kept talking. I could see her zoning out. More of her mind was shifting to her breasts. At this point, they were feeling like extrasensory organs. They picked up the wind, temperature, and even noise. Anything could stimulate them.

"Want to step into the sun?" I asked. I led her to the balcony. We open the glass door. Rachel reflexively put her hands to her chest like a teenager putting their tongue on their teeth after their braces were removed.

"Oh," she said.

"Good right?"

"Really good." Rachel tugged at the bottom of her shirt.

"You can take it off," I said.

Rachel did so. I loved introducing women to this drug. For a woman with big boobs, it was the best drug in the world. We sat down. Rachel looked into the backyard, a multi-acre landscape of topiary bushes and fountains. I put my hand under one of her breasts and gently lifted. Her eyes fell into her head. "That weight is nice right?" I asked.

"It's incredible. I feel like you're holding me in the air."

"Everything feels like your boob, right? Women tell me it's like your breast becoming clits except -

"Even better."

"Yeah. They say it's like having your heart and your brain, and your soul, in your boobs."

"Exactly. I feel like I'm small enough to fit in your palm but also too big to fit through the door."

I laughed. "I like that explanation." I got behind her and lifted both breasts with both hands. I aimed them into the backyard.

"Don't you wish you could lactate?"

"I would love to. I have never wanted to before and I'm dead scared of getting pregnant and growing but right now I would give anything to lactate. Do you have a pill?"

"I do. It'll take 6 hours to work though. Your body needs to make the milk. Want it?"

"Yeah."

"You sound eager."

"Lactating would be an amazing thing right now."

"I agree. You're going to have the best weekend of your life."

I changed my hand from a flat palm to a grip. Fingers stood into action and massaged.

"Can you make me cum?"

"Easily. I've made women come with one finger. If I had lotion and was lathering quickly, you could cum for a half hour."

"Have you ever done that?"

"All the time."

"This is trippy. I never thought this would happen."

"Welcome. Now you know why women come back for free."

I popped the lactation pill into Rachel's mouth.

"It feels good to swallow."

"That's one of the fun side effects."

"What are the other fun side effects?"

I pulled my pants down and walked my cock into view.

"Oh shit," Rachel gawked.

"Penis obsession."
 

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Living out a fantasy of mines :shock: Can't wait to see where this goes!
 
Re: Rachel The Weekend Model

<t>Rachel Aldana... milky and horny?<br/>
please more!!</t>
 
Chapter 2


"Ever had a tittyfuck like this?" I asked.

She shook her head. "I can feel your penis pulling my skin." She rubbed her hands across her chest, from the rib cage to the collar bone, squeezing my penis in the process.

If I paid attention, I could thrust my cock so it stayed center and pulled her tits with it. There is a place in the deep part of a girl's cleavage that holds dick perfectly but sometimes you pop out if the girl isn't holding her breasts tightly or if you're getting too wild. For a proper titfuck, I had to concentrate.

"You're eyes are intense," she said.

"That's what big boobs do to me." My cock tip surfaced above her cleavage. "Can you lick that?" I asked.

Rachel bent her neck. Her lips opened over my head. I increased my speed and reached as far into her throat as I could. There was too much tits to push through though. "If these tits disappeared, I'd get in your throat," I said.

Looking at how my hips jittered, she said, "These tits are my shield."

"They are. Can you feel them growing?"

"Definitely."

"Good feeling?"

"Great feeling."

"My task is to push my sword all the way through."

She opened her mouth, tongue out, waiting to catch cock. I got half of my head through. "Almost," she said.

Another pump pushed my full head through.

"You're turning my tits into oceans."

"Jiggle, jiggle. Have you ever had breast expansion fantasies?"

"Not especially."

"Take a few more pills and you'll get so big that you could have five guys sexing your breasts and still be able to make all of the cocks disappear."

"What do you mean?"

"We'd all be trapped under you. Six guys is my record. I had a girl with O-cups take four pills and she grew massive. We were sexing her tits: two in the armpits, two into the nipple, and two sharing the cleavage."

I pulled Rachel off the porch and onto the bed where two rings hung from the ceiling. I held them and planted my feet on the mattress. She knelt. With this leverage, my dick poled straight into her chest. "This is when a breast fuck feels most like sex," I said.

"It feels better than sex. I feel like my tits are vagina lips and I'm closing them on you." Rachel mashed her breasts together. She scrubbed my dick. "I'm having a pillow fight with you."

I laughed. "You have two pillows and I have none."

"You have a stick that won't quit." She kept scrubbing. "Do you ever cum?"

"I've had a lot of practice keeping control."

"Well, I'm going to try." Rachel took her tits and mashed them different direction. She covered me top to bottom like a sandwich and then twisted them around. "I'm strangling you." Sex games seemed to be Rachel's new instant hobby.

I said, "Let's eat dinner."

"But you haven't cum and I'm still horny."

I got off the bed and opened the door.

"I'm still buzzing." Rachel grabbed her chest. "Look at me. I'm glowing."

"You are. Actually, maybe we can have dinner up here?" I knelt on the bed, picked up a breast, and shook. "I hear sloshing." Rachel put her ear to her breast. I eked a speck of white from her nipple. "There's dinner."

I took Rachel's face and made out with it and then pulled her nipple in and fed us. Our tongues mashed the milk as it ran down our chins.

"Slurp, slurp. Keep drinking." I held the breast in her mouth with one hand and used my other one to push the back of her head. The first time a woman drinks her own milk is magic. You can see in their cheeks how instantly connected they are. We stayed in bed another two hours. I laid Rachel down and directed her breasts like a puppeteer would. I picked them up and held them a foot off of her body. "You're loving this," I said.

"I am."

"Your lips are quivering. That's the drugs. They're giving you obsessions. What are you thinking about?"

"Milk."

"Close your eyes, you'll see all white."

She did.

"Good God...this is beautiful."

The drugs made her hallucinate. With her eyes closed, she'd see an ocean of milk. She could stare at it for hours. It's hypnotized women. I've heard it described as, 'being inside a bottle of milk' and 'being buried by milk.'

I shook her breast. "Hear that sloshing?"

Rachel purred. Drops of milk leaked from her nipples. They poured down her breasts, the foot-long slide of jello-flesh and onto the mattress around her, creating a white silhouette.

This went on for six hours. By the end of the drug's effects, she was spent. Her body turned all of her food into milk and few of the nutrients went into her system. Her sleep was similar to a coma.

The next day, I brought Rachel to my computer. In the desk drawer was a bra and several pieces of lactation equipment.

"To start, we have a maternity bra. It's industrial: two-inch-wide straps, thick-style hooks, and weighs two pounds. Then there are two milk bottles, one for each breast. They have a suction cup that goes over your nipple and a harness that attaches to the bra. The harness is a light-weight bra that goes on top of the first bra so the milk bottles stay on your chest without you having to hold them. You can walk around and do housework while you lactate. A tube runs between bottles in case one overfills. There is a belt that holds the milk monitor. This controls the suction intensity, speed, and keeps track of the amount milked. Finally, I have a half-gallon jug that clips to the backside of the belt and connects to the bottles. With this, you can milk for two hours nonstop. I'll feed you pills that make you milk all day and you'll wear this from breakfast to dinner, changing the jug a few times. How does that sound?"

I hoisted the contraption onto Rachel's shoulder. The bottles suctioned on. I started the monitor and we heard the magic voosh noise. Drops of milk dripped to the bottom of the plastic bottle and made tic-tic sounds.

"My friends are coming for lunch. We need you to wait on us: keep our drinks full, bring out the food, and make sure everyone has everything they need," I said as I slipped the belt loop through a metal clasp and tugged in around her waist. I clipped the jug on and gave it a pat for effect.

The door bell rang. I welcomed my friends in. "She's in the living room, boys." Rachel stood with a glass of wine in her hand, a pair of jeans on her legs, and the milk vest hooked to her shirtless body.

"This is Rachel, whom you guys know from the internet. What do you think of her outfit?"

My friend circled her. Having seen this many times before, they were veterans and, rather than jump on her, crossed their arms and meditated on her appearance.

"Looks good. She's got a strap twisted though," my friend, Christopher said.

I gave Rachel a knowing look. She untwisted the strap.

"Please, introduce yourself, Rachel."

"My name is Rachel. I'm a hairdresser. I'm a 30M and - " Rachel sat on the couch suddenly.

"She's getting used to the milk drugs. I think they're hitting her hard," I said as I grabbed Rachel by the tit bottle and pulled her spine straight. "3 ounces already. That means she'll need to milk nonstop to keep from hurting her breast. Sound good, boys?"

They nodded. Rachel poured us drinks. She had trouble balancing. Her breasts were likely 30P-cups. Plus, the drugs messed with her vision. Things looked stretchy. My big white couch, for instance, looked like a milky water-bed. "What does it look like when you look down?" I asked.

"Like my chest is a city, covered in highways."

The guys laughed. "Yep, the drugs are working!" one said.

"Do you like the carpet?" one asked. He turned Rachel's milk machine knob to the High setting. Pressure doubled on her nipple which sent too much pleasure to her brain and made her knees shake. She fell to the floor. On all fours, she wobbled, unable to balance back onto her feet.

"She's grazing already," a friend said. He stuffed a broccoli stalk in Rachel's mouth.

Another came around her back and gonged the milk jug. "Is this the fastest we've seen a girl lactate?"

The guys debated.

My friend, who we called, "The Woofer" had a big dick and he loved showing it off. While we debated, he snuck up behind Rachel. We quieted down. He tapped her ear with his meat. She flinched as if a fly landed on her. "Wait, Rachel, don't move. There's a bug on you."

"Where?" Rachel spun her head and got Woofer's rod in her jaw. He thrusted instantly. He was too wide for her to take it so his meat jammed up.

Christopher clicked his glass. "More apple juice, please."

Stanny, another friend, pulled up porn on the TV. It was a video of Rachel being interviewed. Her hangup as a model was that she never had sex. She photographed her breasts and that was it. No guy on girl action. The interviewed asked, "Would you ever do a sex scene which was not penis and vagina? Would you give a blowjob on camera?"

"No. I have a boyfriend. I would never be okay with that."

The Woofer played with the milk machine knob. He turned it up and then down and this sent confusing messages to Rachel's brain. She couldn't think well which meant Woofer was stuffing his penis into a hole that had no control. She slobbered while he pulled her lips open. Eventually, he got his head in.
 
Chapter 3

We ate breakfast while Woofer got head. He pulled Rachel into the corner of the room and used her face. The milking equipment rattled as he went. I saw Rachel from the back and the added weight of equipment made her breasts swing farther out to her sides like coat flaps. When we finished breakfast, Woofer turned Rachel around and put his package on her shoulders. Was she crying? Yes. Was she leaking milk? Yes. Was there a cum-stained smile on her face? Yes. The drugs made any fluid that touched her feel like moisturizer. This included cum on her lips. The sound of milk being pumped, for her, was The Beatles. On her entry questionnaire, I asked her if she had ever given head and she said "less than ten times and never with a 'deepthroat.'" She put deepthroat in quotations as if it was a act practiced by space aliens. What a delightful, closeted girl.

I went behind her and took the jug off of her back. I opened the lid and poured the milk down her forehead. She pranced. We laughed. I stuck the neck of the bottle into her mouth and watched her throat gulp. What next? Games. First, actually, more pills. We wanted her to be a Z-cup. Then we could play 'Photographer,' a game where we pose Rachel next to funny things. Number one: her elephant tits next to a comically small teacup. "Hold yourself up, Rachel. Fill the cup with milk and the saucer. Oh, and the countertop." Number two: her boobs on top of the computer keyboard, covering it completely, with the mouse lodged in some breast-flesh nook. Number three: this was sort of cruel. We sat her on the couch with two buckets at her feet. We took off the milker and tied her hands behind her back. Within ten minutes, her breasts were full to bursting. She had to milk but couldn't. After ten minutes of this, Rachel fell into limbo. Her nipples leaked which created painful pleasure behind her tightly-knit nipples. Milk drops ran onto the couch and into the buckets. This was a snapshot of her downward slide from clean, everyday girl to hucow milktoy. Number four: cleaning glass surfaces with her boobs pressed against them. This was fascinating. It was like watching a screensaver. Your eyes got lost in the appearance of breasts smooshing against glass. Even better, her nipples leaked. The milk flowed in 360 degrees and fell like rain. This also meant the windows were perpetually milky and in need of more cleaning. She gave herself a mean milking by rubbing against the glass. She jammed her elbows under her boobs and that made the right support for the window pane angle to milk her. It was quite a technique.

After these games, Rachel took her second wave of drugs and mentally checked out. This was the perfect time for our gang bang. We took the Polaroid pictures and threw them across the room, making sure Rachel stepped on them, milked on top of them, and would see them as she bent over.

"Position yourself," I said. Rachel crawled to three buckets, each full of breast milk. She put her breasts into two and her mouth in the third. I entered from the back. As I humped, her breasts sloshed in the buckets and her mouth garbled in the milk. My friends stood and masturbated around like dogs murdering squeak toys. Taking turns, they put their dicks in the buckets and fucked Rachel's breast milk which, with her her breasts churning the mixture, felt like a wet sandcastle of milkshake and bovine tongue.

We flipped her onto the carpet and entered her from the vagina and face. Two guys grabbed a breast each and sexed the nipple. Watching Rachel became important. With this much stimuli, her brain might short-circuit. It did. After twenty minutes of orgy, I saw her arms fidget. She grabbed at my ankles and looked at me, with cock in her mouth, like a person looking at a slow-motion bullet coming for their face. Cum spurted from her mouth and crammed through the edges of her lip and cock. Her toes curled. She grabbed her breasts out of my friend's hands, almost like she had snapped out of the drugs and realized what was happening. We had seen this before. We let her go. She rolled, knocked over a bucket of milk, got to her feat and instantly fell again. She crawled and collapsed, eyeballs searching for a goal. Her breasts crushed under her and rubbed against the carpet. She might have well been magnetized to the floor because her breast weight prevented her from getting up.

"What's the matter?" I asked.

Rachel tried to crawl.

"Rachel, you're in my house. You flew her yesterday. Remember?"

She panted.

"Do you want cock, is that why you're worried?" I pulled my meat into view.

She nodded. I knelt down and gave her my sucker. She took to it like a baby. My cock was her safe place. I stroked her hair. "Rachel, everything is good. We're having a swell time. Keep sucking and relax." I turned to me friends and gave a maybe-we-should-give-her-less-drugs look. They were lustily drinking from the milk buckets, paying no attention.

I watched Rachel's breast inflate. We carried her to bed and let her rest for an hour. When I came to wake her, the sheets had soaked with milk.

"How are you?" I asked.

"What day is it?"

"Day 2. You just served breakfast. Do you remember?"

"Did you have friends over?"

"Yeah. They're in the living room." She couldn't remember a thing.

"Bring them in. I feel embarrassed that I left." Rachel's cheeks were swollen with oil from her tears. She looked like a girl who had slept through her birthday party and needed to make up for it by inviting everyone back, re-filling the pinata, failing to do so, and then getting fed up and hanging herself from the string.

"You want them to come in and finish what they started?" I asked.

Rachel nodded, biting her lip. She lifted the blanket and saw her breasts. "Oh..."

"You've grew a bit." Her breast were pillow-sized and then some. They could squish all of our dicks. "You might have trouble walking." I put a hand on her breast and shook gently. "But doesn't it feel nice?"

"It's too much."

I kissed Rachel. "Think of it as just right." I kissed her between each word. My hands smoothed over her breasts. I pushed with rhythm and relaxed her. "Before I call them in, let's have a moment - you and me. We've done a lot in a day and a half. This is your first time experiencing things like this, right? Let's take count of what going on. Number one: your breasts are really large - much larger than when you came here. What size would you guess you are?"

"I don't think there is a size any more."

"That's true. You could guess Z-cup but the truth is that they're much bigger. You're about four times bigger than when you came. You're as big as Chelsea Charms. Do you know who that is?"

Rachel nodded.

"Now you know how it feels to be that big with natural breasts. No plastic. You can feel every tingle, can't you? My hand on your areola, what does it feel like?"

Rachel closed her eyes and her tongue came out involuntarily, like a cash register drawer. "Intense. Like sex."

I pushed my finger down into her areola. "This feels like sex?"

Rachel nodded. I jiggled my finger. "Do you feel like my finger is fucking you?"

"Uh huh...."

I put three fingers into her areola, around the rim. "Does this feel like being fucked with multiple dicks?"

Rachel was not used to crude language like this. She purred anyway. "Mhmmhm..."

"How do you like it?"

"Good."

"Does your husband know about this trip?"

"No..." Rachel took the sheets into her hands. She wrestled with a pillow case and put it over her mouth.

"Why not?"

"He wouldn't understand."

"Does he not like big breasts?"

"No. He's scared of them."

"Scared? How can he be with you then?"

"I don't know."

"That doesn't sound ideal. Are you happy to enjoy a weekend with big breast lovers?"

"Yes."

"Is this the most incredible experience of your life?"

"Yes."

"What about your wedding night?" Rachel bit into the pillow case. I played with her breasts casually and enjoyed how much it controlled her body. I could pull her chest and see the lobes of her brain activating behind her eyes. A pinch to the nipple was as good as truth serum. "I don't think he performed very well. I bet you always knew, in the back of your mind, that having big breasts was a good thing and that those school bullies and scared boyfriends were wrong. Do you agree?"

Rachel nodded. Her cheeks were flaked in cum. Her wrists trembled as if all of her body's energy was supporting the growth of her chest and the rest was left to fend for itself. "You look beautiful right now," I said. "You are actually a little girl who is only beginning to understand her body and sexuality. These giant breasts should be your natural size, this is what you were meant to enjoy but never knew it. Tell me, do you enjoy being massive? Taking up a whole mattress sheet?"

Rachel gave a slow-motion nod.

"Do you like the idea of spending all day milking? Making this heavy, creamy stuff? I know it feels complicated on the inside. You can feel your body making the milk, draining it through your tits, and storing it outside your nipple. It's quite a process."

I put my dick into Rachel's cleavage. "Big size means you can fuck any size penis. Your little vagina could never let you experiment with hung men, or multiple men, but now you have a sex organ that can take penis from any angle."

"Don't tell my husband, please."

"I won't."

"Don't tell him about my fetish. I think I have a big boob fetish now," she said. (It was just the drugs.)

"I won't tell if you won't. What makes you nervous?"

"I don't think I want to go back to being small or go back to him. I think I need this."

"You are a true big boob girl but never knew it."

"I remember what happened in the living room. I had so many dicks in me."

"Six."

"Why did it feel so good? Can you bring them in, please."

I fucked her chest harder. "First, hold these." I brought the rings from the ceiling down to her. She reached to grabbed them.

"I'm too big. I can't sit up."

"Try again."

I hefted Rachel. Leaning forward, she crushed her breasts into her lap. I mounted her. My dick flashed inside the cleavage, popped out, and flashed into her mouth. Back and forth I went, spreading saliva. Rachel yelled. "Steven, I'm sorry!" (Her husband.)

"Give him a chance. Show him your new shape."

"He'll hate me!"

Feeling pure joy, I slapped Rachel's breasts like drums. "Ripple, ripple. We're going to take you in public tonight. What do you think about that?"

"No!" Rachel's protested. The noise came out of her mouth so quickly that she barked it, hoarsely, like a man. "I can't be seen."

"We'll dress you up nice and go to a local bar. There will be lots of dicks available."

"Please, no."

"Imagine a bar full of men. You'll have a lot of friends."

"Fuck me here. Do everything you want but let's stay here."

"It depends on how you behave. I'm going to bring my friends in here and I want you to be doing lots of self-milking. Drench us."

Rachel nodded furiously. "Bring them, please." She grabbed both nipples with her fists and shot milk across the room.
 
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Chapter 4

Our orgy ended with Rachel and my friends sitting on the balcony naked, letting the sun dry their sweaty, milky bodies. One by one they left. Before going, they complimented Rachel about how giving she had been. She took these to heart and felt proud of herself for becoming sexually liberal. She treated us to orgasms that made us cry. My friends humped her breasts like jackhammers. We were thoroughly spend and, once the last men left, I took Rachel by the hand and massaged her palm with my thumb.

"Ready for the boardwalk tonight?"

"What?"

"It's your last night. Let's have a nice evening by the shore."

I convinced Rachel to haul herself into an outfit. It was a giant piece of fabric that wrapped under her breasts and around her shoulders so she carried her boobs in the same way she might carry a broken arm with a sling. After a near panic attack in the car, I finally got Rachel to the boardwalk. I said, "We're going to sit on this bench and wait until someone recognizes you."

We sat down. A man came to Rachel eventually and said, "Are you Rachel A.?" Rachel said, "Yes" and began small talk. The fan was amazed. I offered for him to sit down. He cozied up to Rachel.

I said, "I'm Rachel's manager. How would you like to participate in a make-a-fan-happy video? We have a room in the motel across the street." As I say this, the man puts his arm around Rachel.

"Is this for real?"

We nod and take him to the room. Rachel has caught on to what's happening and is shocked but taking it well. I give her a cue card of questions to read.

"How long have you been a fan?"

"Since you were eighteen. That makes ten years."

"How many times do you think you've masturbated to my videos?"

"Hundreds. You're the most beautiful model with the biggest breasts."

"Are you ever frustrated me not doing any sex scenes?"

"I do wish you would explore more. There's so much fun to have with breasts as big as yours."

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

"I have a wife. She would be okay with this. She knows I'm a fan of yours."

"She knows that you watch my videos?"

"Absolutely. I have 500 gigabytes of you. In fact, let me call her." The man pulled his phone out and dialed. "Hello, dear? I'm at the Pluto Motel by the boardwalk with a special friend. Want to guess? It's Rachel A, the model. The girl with the really, really large breasts? She was walking around with her manager and they want to shoot a make-a-fan-happy scene with me," the man said and turned to Rachel. "Can my wife watch?"

I took the phone from the man's hands and put it to Rachel's ear. His wife blurted through, "Rachel? I'm Caitlin, Scott's wife. Are you the real thing? He's a fanatic about you."

"Um...yes."

"I'll be there in five minutes."

Scott's wife arrived. She opened the door and ran to Rachel and knelt and put her head underneath Rachel's breasts. "They're real. They're much bigger than on video."

"What is going to happen tonight?" Scott asked.

"You're going to have your way with Rachel's chest. You have free reign," I said.

Rachel turned to Caitlin. "Are you sure you don't mind?"

Caitlin removed her face from Rachel's nipple. Milk ran down her face. "Scott, she's lactating. Get over here."

Scott got to his knees and the happy couple suckled on Rachel.

"She's a real life goddess," Scott said.

The couple kissed with milky lips. Caitlin unzipped Scott's pants and inserted him into Rachel's cleavage. He came in less than ten minutes. A milky, cummy mess squirted across Rachel. The happy couple collapsed, smiling, fondling Rachel's with their wandering hands. After we left, I cleaned Rachel and brought her back to the boardwalk.

"See how much power you have over people? That man's wife was crazy about you."

I took Rachel to the most crowded part of the board and sat her down in the middle of the walking lane. I put two buckets in front of her. One said, "Breast reduction" and the other said, "Breast enlargement."

"Ladies and gentlemen, my friend Rachel and I have an issue. Neither of us know what do about her tremendous body. Have a look and cast your vote with a dollar donation."

Instantly, people donated. The first ten people gave their money to, "Breast enlargement." The second ten people did. The third ten, too. People stopped and said, "You're beautiful. You have a gift. Keep growing."

I kept the crowd occupied. "My client is Rachel A. Look her up on your phones and see how well-loved she is. You can see that she is already endowed. Where should she go? Bigger or smaller?"

Every person encouraged Rachel to grow. Husbands with their wives gave happy words. Husbands were in awe and plead with Rachel to led them have a squeeze. Wives gave permission and were, sometimes, more curious than the men. Some women broke into rants about how good looking Rachel was and how they wished their mothers had been more busty and passed on those genes.

A ring of people sat around Rachel, enjoying the spectacle and hoping to win a moment of Rachel's attention. After a half hour, the, "breast enlargement bucket" was full. I pulled out a fistful and cheered. "The people have spoken. Rachel will get bigger."

People asked, "How? Right now?"

I nodded. The pill I gave Rachel in the motel room worked. Her eyes glazed and she leaned her head back onto the shoulder of a stranger. Her breasts grew. They wobbled under her shirt. They grew so much that, with her on her back, her breasts covered her shoulders, arms, and stomach. They stuck a foot and a half in the air. The man whom Rachel laid on, used his hands to block her breasts from covering her face. She squirmed in public ecstasy.
 
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