Boobs that dreams are made of (part 2 of 2)

Tags: hyperbreasts, breast expansion, supernatural growth, nymphomania

Continuing from Part 1

<Tape #3844 Side 2>

Alicia: The thing is, Freya—can I call you Freya?

Officer Barker: No.

Alicia: Ugh, well the thing is “Officer”, all of what I’ve told you so far was really just the honeymoon phase in all of this. The concerts and everything, that all happened weeks ago. I did continue after that to spend quite a lot of time seeking out places to get myself off—finding ways to insert me and my tits into crowded places and have my weird little perverted orgasms. I still loved to imagine what people must have been thinking about me as they inadvertently felt me up. But after a while, it wore off. I enjoyed the thrill of how public it all was, but it was just too impersonal. I never got the feedback or the reactions I wanted. People were just too ashamed.

Also, there was another thing that complicated all of this for me. As you rightly pointed out earlier, my boobs didn’t stop growing there. By the next week, they had doubled in size again. They had gotten so big in such a short space of time that I no longer even recognised my body in the mirror. I kind of didn’t look human really. They were a stupid size. If I didn’t support them with anything, they would hang clear past my waist and basically swallow up my entire lower body whenever I sat down.

Clothing was just hopeless—the only thing I could think to do was to make these sort of hammock things for them out of long pieces of fabric I found in the studio. I’d scoop up as much of my boobs as I could and then tie the fabric around my neck to support them. It made it easier to walk, but also made my boobs stick out so much you couldn’t even get near me without touching the things. And that was the problem. My breasts were beyond any sort of reasonable size that a healthy woman could have grown. They were now very obviously a medical issue. And as such, people steered clear of me altogether. I was untouchable in a way. Sort of in the same way that people wouldn’t stand too close to a disabled or elderly person, for fear of harming them. I could sense that that was how people saw me, and the fact that I was also very poorly clothed cast the whole thing in poor taste I suppose.

Officer Barker: Right, I see. That makes sense. I’m sorry you went through that. But I have to ask: why didn’t you go and see a doctor then? What you’re describing sounds completely debilitating. How could you live like that?

Alicia: Oh I’m aware of how it sounds. It was debilitating. Well, almost. The thing I did struggle with was just the volume of the things. I couldn’t get my arms around them anymore, so putting on my homemade bra caused me to waste at least 15 minutes every morning just juggling my own breasts around. They also made it a serious manoeuvre getting in and out of those seats on the bus. Getting through any tight or crowded spaces in general took a heroic effort. But saying all that, I didn’t really mind it. I actually loved it when I found myself caught in a narrow space in say a store cupboard in the studio. I’d pretend to get all upset so that some charitable person nearby would come and help pull me out. But still, the thing that actually worried me was that despite knowing keenly just how stupidly heavy they were, I never really suffered from their weight.

Officer Barker: What? That doesn’t make sense. They must have weighed, what, 100 kgs each, and you yourself can’t weigh more than 40. How could someone your size carry around breasts five times the weight of the rest of your body without any pain? It doesn’t make any sense.

Alicia: I know it doesn’t, and as I said, that’s sort of how I knew something was going on in my brain. Like the adrenaline was causing me to not fully feel what was happening to me, if you want to give it some scientific explanation. But in my opinion, well… it wasn’t that. I knew that whatever it was, something was going wrong much deeper down, I knew it from the beginning in fact.

Officer Barker: You’ve already hinted at this. What exactly are you talking about?

Alicia: Well, you remember the dreams right? All of those vivid dreams I would have about people touching my boobs, and then I’d wake up and see that they’d grown bigger? Well all this time, the dreams never stopped. Every time I had another growth spurt, it would be preceded by a night of intense dreaming. They were the same sort of thing usually. I’d see the walls of my bedroom dissolve and make way for some familiar setting like my studio, or my high school, or a busy public street. I’d almost always be naked, and my breasts would be on display to the world. Quite often they’d be sort of hovering in the air in front of me, like I was floating in space or underwater or something. But as they grew beyond any sort of reasonable size and became the monstrous things that dwarfed the rest of my body, the dreams became more twisted and hallucinatory to match.

I was no longer just being fondled by strangers in art galleries now, I was hunting people, sprinting after other artists I knew and slamming them into the floor with my breasts. I loved to terrorise people, wander into busy crowds and just start flailing my breasts around, knocking their lifeless bodies over like skittles. Other times, I would seek out groups of beautiful multi-limbed supermodels who had the faces of girls I remembered from high school. I’d ask them to molest me, and if they refused, I would turn my nipples into nozzles like on a vacuum cleaner and suck out their souls.

And I kept finding myself wanting to fuck people, like anyone I could see, men, women, whoever was around. But none more so than those strange angel-like creatures. I started to see them a lot more often. I found them frightening at first, they looked so awful, with their blank featureless faces, but after a few more dreams, I started to appreciate the beauty in them. They were definitely embued with an intoxicating femininity. Usually, they would appear to me completely naked, except for these heavy iron chains that they always wrapped around themselves. They all had women’s bodies, but very lean, muscular-looking ones, with six breasts, and huge wings made of white feathers emerging from their backs.

After a while, I would start to seek the angels out, lifting up concrete slabs in the pavement, or ripping the stumps of dead trees from the ground, hoping they’d pop out—places like that were often where they’d come from. But I was never able to force them to appear. Instead, they’d find me. One or two would show up every night, but once in a while, a dream would be riddled with them, up to hundreds at a time.

Those nights it would feel like I had stumbled across one of their nests—they’d all start swarming around me. They loved my breasts so much, always exhalting like they were some holy artefacts for their species. They’d grab hold of them, cling onto the flesh with their muscular arms and legs and massage me with a calming, repetitive motion. Although they had grown to the sizes of regular women now, somehow they weighed next to nothing. I could easily carry several of them around at once if I wanted, letting them penetrate themselves with my teats and suckle my milk out through their vaginas. I liked doing that. I could see it made them happy, and over time I realised that it was what was making them grow larger and stronger too—whenever my breasts grew, so did the angels.

As I grew more familiar with them, I started to recognise the different ones, tell them apart. I discovered a few that I thought looked especially nice. It’s hard to describe why, because they didn’t have faces, but some of them had very impressive bodies and other features. Most of them had white or brown skin, but a few came in other colours. Some were jet black from head to toe, and there was one who had mottled orange and blue skin like a poisonous frog. The majority had six breasts, but some had only two or four, and a couple had as many as ten, hanging down in pairs along their torsos. A few even had multiple pairs of arms as well.

There was one in particular though who was my favourite. She was taller than the others, with a bulky physique and her six udders slightly larger than average. What I loved most about her though was this explosive mane of silky blonde hair she had. It must have been over three metres in length but she was able to control each individual strand at will, and use it to whip up a hurricane made of hair and encase me in it like a cocoon. I loved the feel of it against my skin. If I was in the mood, I’d seize her and force her to fuck me. I discovered that all the angels had the ability to conjure up these penis-like organs that emerged like thick fleshy rods from inside their vaginas. I’d ask the angel to nestle herself in between my breasts and stick it inside me, and I promise you, the satisfaction was like no man has ever been able to give me. Sometimes I’d even seize several of them and—Uh, Officer? Are you okay? You look a little…

Officer Barker: What…? Oh… Yes, sorry. It’s just all very… well, nevermind. Look, Alicia, I confess I’m a little confused… These are dreams you’re describing, right? You actually dreamt all of this?

Alicia: Yeah yeah, I can remember it all like it was yesterday.

Officer Barker: Right, well, it certainly sounds… vivid. But where were we again? You were supposed to be telling me why you thought you felt no pain from all of the growth you had suffered.

Alicia: Ah! I remember. Sorry, got a little distracted there. Yes, the reason I brought up the angels was because I was—still am really— more than a little convinced they are real. Not like real real. But definitely symbolic of something. I knew they were responsible for my growth, for example. Every time I grew overnight, they’d always show up in huge numbers to worship my boobs. And from the way the angels grew bigger and stronger alongside me, I knew they had to be related in some way. I suspected it was thanks to them that I became so strong. Every time they made my breasts inflate some more, I could feel them energise the rest of my body too—shore up my muscles or something, give me the ability to not just carry the things, but carry them effortlessly. And I did. When I awoke, apart from the inconvenience caused by their colossal size, their weight was really not an issue in the slightest.

Officer Barker: Well that’s very nice to hear, I’m glad you’re not in pain. But I sense you’re aware yourself that none of this is really what happened, right? To have grown breasts that size, it had to have taken a toll on your body. Perhaps your mind was yet to catch up, protecting you from the trauma of it all somehow.

Alicia: I dunno. Maybe you’re right. I mean, I was definitely losing my grip on reality by that point. My real life and this dreamworld were much more mixed up than I was ready to admit. I never really felt like I was getting sleep anymore. I’d just come home from the art gallery, after spending the day being stared at, and return to my bedroom, ready to slip away into the dreamworld again.

As I repeated this routine day after day, I started to realise that I looked forward to my dreams more than my real life. In a way, the two worlds were oddly similar. People stared at me like a giant-titted freak of nature in my real life, and so did the people in my dream, only in the dreamworld I was capable of so much more. I could take on anyone, smother them to death in my cleavage, whole groups of people if I wanted. I could use my tits like cannons and fire breastmilk all over the place, flooding the city and drowning everyone in it. Even if I didn’t have any ideas that day, I was so lucid in the dreams now, that I could sculpt some insanely hot man or woman out of thin air and just go to town on them. But even then… It’s funny, for some reason, I always just went back to the angels. They were strong and powerful like men, but also tender and sensual like women. Their muscular arms, multiple perfectly sculpted breasts, and their huge retractable penises… I felt like they were the ideal creatures, purpose built for sex… But I knew that my feelings for them were not good. I was definitely slipping away.

Officer Barker: Well, you’re here, Alicia. We’re in the real world together, right? And you’ve been quite cogent with me so far, albeit a little scattered. So I would have no problem arguing the case for your sanity, as long as you know that these are just dreams.

Alicia: Well that feels good to hear, but I stress that I’m only here now after trying my hardest to remain on the side of reality. Even though I was enticed by the dreamworld, and the way it gave my ever-enlarging breasts superpowers or whatever, I was fully aware it was just a fantasy. I knew I couldn’t keep going on like that. Just wasting my days so that I could go back home and fuck the angels.

So I sought to make my real life more satisfying. I’m sure it’s obvious from everything I’ve said so far, but I can’t emphasise enough just how freaking horny I was. All the time. I suspected that it was this sexual frustration that was making the dreamworld so exciting to me. Every hour I spent in my studio during the day, I would just imagine all the new ways I could defile the angels when I got home. So I needed to bring some of that satisfaction into the real world. But as I mentioned, what I really wanted was becoming even harder to attain, now that each of my breasts alone had approached a size that exceeded the rest of my body. They were truly gigantic, a scale that made little physical sense. Even after my strategy of hoisting them up and hanging their supports around my neck, they still only cleared the ground by a few inches.

Officer Barker: Surely people would have intervened by this point. How did you even get around looking like that?

Alicia: Not very easily. I’d stopped wearing normal clothing by that point. I’d just put on a skirt or hot pants, scooped the ginormous floppy mounds up in two pieces of fabric that used to be bed sheets and called that a wardrobe. It was winter by this point, and I was getting frozen whenever I went outside, but I didn’t care. I no longer even really took notice of the continual stares.

People would come up to me a lot and ask if I was okay, if I needed help lifting myself up off of seats, or worrying about whether I would be able to fit through a doorway. Occasionally I’d get bold and ask for assistance in cramming my body into things. I’d recruit sorry-looking passengers to push or pull on sections of my flesh to get them through the aisle of the bus. Or get a group of people to help give me one last shove to get me inside of a cramped elevator. I found these moments mildly exhiliarating, but they still weren’t enough. I needed more.

Officer Barker: How!? That sounds humiliating, for everyone involved. What exactly were you looking for?

Alicia: I didn’t know at the time, or at least not how to communicate it. But the thing I was looking for was a real physical connection to my breasts. By this point, I was well and truly in love with the things. All my free moments I spent caressing them and squeezing them. The artists I sat next to in the studio even allowed me to sit around topless so I could rub lotions all over myself and keep the skin free of blemishes. And I desired that kind of attention from someone else. Not just people touching the mountains of flesh because they were in the way, but really touch them, and acknowledge what they were.

Officer Barker: Okay, you’ve lost me. What could that possibly entail that couldn’t just be achieved by someone feeling you up in the bedroom? What happened to Candace?

Alicia: Well that was my dilemma. I couldn’t think of how to get my kick. Candace loved my tits sure, she’d often come down to my end of the studio to feel them and check how much they’d grown. Sometimes I'd let her rub the lotions on me which always made the other artists roll their eyes. It was fun to watch her enjoy them, but I needed the attention from someone else. I needed it to feel wrong. I wanted to find people whose desire for my breasts was in conflict with their own sense of decency.

At first I tried massage parlours. I thought I would be able to convince a masseuse that my boobs ached and force her into massaging them. The first one I visited did make an attempt to feel up one, before she lost her nerve and asked me to leave. Then the next few kicked me out of their establishments before I could even explain what I wanted. After that, it seemed I’d made a name for myself. Someone had let on to the others that there was a pervert with giant breasts far too large for her body roaming around town asking to be groped. I was barred from even stepping into a massage parlour from then on.

So my next port of call was a doctor. I knew that their duty of care would mean they’d have no choice but to fondle me if I needed them to. But I was still somewhat afraid of them. I guess I knew deep down that the second I walked into a doctor’s office, they’d seize me and force me to get the boobs I was now in love with surgically removed from my body right away. So I couldn’t do that, but then I had a lightbulb moment: a mammogram.

Officer Barker: What? You mean like screening for breast cancer?

Alicia: Exactly. It was perfect. They’d have to inspect my breasts, and spend a great deal of time and care doing it too. It was the perfect way for the attention of an unsuspecting victim to be fully focused on my tits and my tits alone.

Officer Barker: Hold on, hold on. I’ve had a mammogram, the machines are nowhere near big enough for… someone like you. How the hell did that work?

Alicia: Hey, now you’re catching on! That’s exactly what made it so brilliant. The second I showed up in that office, with my giant floor-length titties in my stupid homemade bra, the place went into absolute pandemonium. Obviously, they had never encountered a woman with breasts as large as mine—no one in the entire world had—and unfortunately for them, that woman was there for a 10 o’clock appointment. Of course, they had every intention to refuse me service initially, but here’s the catch, I was obviously a woman who was at serious risk of breast-related problems. If anyone needed a mammogram, it was me. So I was brought around to see the doctor at once, who nearly fainted when she saw me. For a long while they didn't really know what to do with me, so while the doctor and her nurses discussed amongst each other, I just innocently wandered over to the puny mammogram machine, looked at it and then down at my chest, and began to cry.

Officer Barker: Okay, Alicia, seriously? You said you were an honest person.

Alicia: Hah! I know, I know. I hadn’t planned to. It’s just in the moment it seemed appropriate. And boy did it work. The doctor and all of her nurses rushed to my side, offered to sit me down and rubbed my back to calm me down. The chair they put me in was this thing with high armrests, and obviously I wasn’t able to sit on it without my tits flopping all over the place and landing on one of the nurse's laps, which just made everything more hilarious. But after a while, I made myself calm down. I was still there with a purpose, after all, and it was one that every medical professional in the room was on board with: I needed a breast scan, stat.

Officer Barker: Good grief. So, what did they do?

Alicia: Oh it was fantastic. The doctor and the team of three nurses cancelled all of their appointments for the day and hatched a plan. You see, you don’t necessarily need a mammogram, they can detect tumours and growths with ultrasound too. So the first item of the day was for me to lie down on an operating chair, extended on either side by several rolling tables to rest my breasts on, while the nurses lubed them up with unholy quantities of that ultrasound gel. And at precisely that moment, I realised I had done it. The sensation of the six hands of those masked nurses rubbing me all over was heavenly, and reminded me so much of the angels. I had an orgasm almost instantly, but fortunately, I managed to reignite my arousal again soon enough. Then the doctor got to work. She scanned every corner of my overgrown mountains of boob and tried her best to determine what was inside of them. I was never sure if she found anything out of the ordinary, it was all just fatty tissue and inflamed mammary glands I think, but I was too focused on the way she was examining me to care.

Officer Barker: This is ridiculous, what a waste of their time, Miss Nguyen. All just so you could get off on people fondling your tits!

Alicia: It was not a waste of time! You’ve seen my tits, they’re huge! It absolutely served a medical purpose, the fact that it also turned me on was just a bonus. And look, it wasn’t like it lasted all day, just until the afternoon. It did take a while though I admit, because they eventually realised that the ultrasound wasn’t able to penetrate deep enough. After that, they decided to go the old-fashioned route.

Officer Barker: Which is?

Alicia: Well I nearly leapt out of the chair in excitement when they told me, apparently the only other option was to feel for lumps hidden deep in my breast tissue. Again, because of the size of them, this was a task for four people, two nurses on my left breast, and the third nurse and the doctor on my right. They warned me that they were going to have to really squeeze me to properly inspect them. With a tremble in my voice, I told them it was okay—concealing the part where this was exactly what I had been waiting for all along. And yeah, I lost it. I had to grit my teeth, even bite down on my tongue at one point to stop my legs from writhing around from the pleasure. All I wanted to do was ram a couple of fingers into my pussy just to complement the magnificent feeling of having those four poor medical professionals all fully occupied in the examination of my breasts. God, the dismay in their eyes, it was so beautiful…

Officer Barker: Right… well I hope you enjoyed yourself. Please tell me they didn’t clock that it was all a ruse.

Alicia: Oh I have no idea. I think they were so exhausted that they just wanted me out of there by the end. I’d had a magical time, of course, I’d had more sequential orgasms than I could count. Still, it was bittersweet, I knew I wouldn’t be able to do that again for a while.

Officer Barker: I’d hope not! You can’t go recruiting a team of medics every time you feel horny. You really need to find a more sustainable way to get off.

Alicia: I knew that! And I did go in search of other ideas, for your information. You see, what I loved the most was the hands. The groping hands. The intention to touch me, and their inability to handle my enormity. I loved when my breasts were the centre of so much focused attention. I wanted more of that, but there were really very few situations where that sort of behaviour would not be considered explicitly sexual. And I needed the involuntary aspect too, the awkwardness ensuing from people being forced into acknowledging the two monumental symbols of sexuality that lay before them. That’s what I craved. So I thought and thought, trying to find something, but then it hit me. I mean, how could I have missed it for so long: I’m an artist!

Office Barker: So…? What does that mean?

Alicia: Well the thing is, my studio is constantly encouraging us to try and come up with interactive art. Stuff that those philistines who spend their Saturday mornings at the gallery think is daring and inventive. I hate that kind of art. It can be done well, but the stuff we have is always nauseatingly mawkish, like big blank walls that people are supposed to write emotional messages on for their dead pets, that sort of crap. But anyway, once I had the idea, I couldn’t get it out of my mind: I was going to do one of those pieces.

Officer Barker: I think I see where this is going…

Alicia: So the day after I had my breast exam, I went to the studio and found the director to pitch her my idea. I’m not sure how closely she’d been following my growth but the sight of me squeezing my breasts through the glass doors of her office definitely seemed to alarm her more than I expected. I explained to her, leaving out quite a few important details, that I'd had an idea for an interactive piece. She was enthusiastic, though still regarding me with cautious eyes, like most people did around me on account of my bizarre appearance. I said that all I needed was a wide circular stage, a few spotlights, and several buckets of paints in various colours. I told my director that I didn’t even need much set-up time, and that the piece could be unveiled the upcoming weekend. And she was sold.

Officer Barker: You know… I think I read about this… did you—

Alicia: Don’t skip ahead! I’m getting to it alright?

Officer Barker: Excuse me? Alicia, you can’t talk to me like—

Alicia: So anyway, I was excited. The studio director was so desperate for these sorts of pieces she didn’t even check any of the details with me, just asked me what help I needed. So I asked for the stage to be set up in the centre of the gallery and encircled by several long tables holding trays full of paint. The public was going to get the opportunity to paint something, and that alone was enough to get her as excited as me.

So soon enough the day arrived, and I was to show up at 8 am to enlighten the gallery about what my installation was all about. But there was a problem. You see, that night, I got visited by the angels again.

Officer Barker: Oh god…

Alicia: It was probably the busiest night I had experienced yet. There were over a hundred of them that time, all of them crowding around me in a vast silent audience. They had all grown taller than me by that point, and they loomed high like statuesque amazons with their blank faces and six plump breasts rubbing up against my body. Eventually, I got lifted up onto a high marble plinth, and the angels, one by one, made offerings of unidentifiable exotic fruits to me and my breasts. I took them all, and found that I was able to dislocate my jaw like a snake to swallow them whole with ease. With every offering I consumed, I felt my chest grow a shade larger. I thought it would be manageable at first, they swelled and rippled outwards only a centimetre at a time, but the swarm of angelic women was so numerous that it wasn’t long before my breasts had grown out of control.

I started to scream. For the first time, I felt I had gone too far. I tried to will myself out of the dreamworld, to stop myself from consuming any more fruit, but only when the final angel approached me did I feel full at last. And then she made a sound. For the first time, I heard them. Despite the fact she had no mouth, she sang to me a meandering lullaby in some muffled language I didn’t recognise. She was much taller and more muscular than before, but I could tell from her endless mane of shiny blonde hair that it was her, my favourite, the one whom I had made love to on so many nights before. When she finished her song, I asked her to take out her penis and fuck me, but she refused. Instead she simply parted my breasts, pried open the folds of my vulva, and climbed inside. And it was over. The angels were gone.

Officer Barker: Alicia, I sense we’ve gone off the rails again. Can we get back to your exhibition?

Alicia: No but you don’t get it, that really was it! That was the last time I saw them. I haven’t seen the angels again… but, you know. Look at me. This is the state they left me in. You see how big these things are. By the way, I don’t know why you insisted on cramming me into this interrogation room because I’m a little concerned I won’t be able to get out now.

Officer Barker: I-I know Alicia, that was unwise, we just weren’t sure…

Alicia: Whatever, I’m used to it. I’ve lived with these things like this for a bit now. Apart from getting through tight spaces, I can basically manage. I sort of have a system: once I have them covered up, I usually find I can just walk backwards and drag them along the floor behind me.

Officer Barker: Yes, I remember seeing you doing that when I arrived. I can’t even fathom how much that must hurt.

Alicia: It’s not so bad. As long as people don’t force me to go inside places I’m obviously too big for—hint, hint—I'm actually quite content to walk like that. But anyway, back to that day at the gallery. The point of telling you my dream was to explain that I had a new dilemma on my hands. I showed up to the studio that morning with breasts which were now perhaps 20 times the volume of my body each, and at a weight that was probably not even possible to measure in quantities not involving elephants. I could still move them somehow, using a source of strength that was not from this world, but unfortunately, that also meant that it was really only me who was able to move them.

I was running a bit late after freaking out about the size I had grown to, so all I could really do was drape a large sheet over them, lie a soft carpet underneath them to protect the skin, and then just drag myself the 30 minute walk over to the studio. I saw best not to worry the bus driver with them that morning, so you’ve got to give me credit for that at least.

Getting inside the gallery took the effort of me and several of the nearby assistants, but after a series of forceful shoves and pulls we managed to get all of the flesh through the glass doors. From there, it was just a simple exercise of me dragging my masses up onto the central platform and lying down. It wasn’t quite how I imagined it, my breasts now being so much larger than when I had formulated this idea, but I found a relaxed position to lie down in, with only a minimal amount of boob drooping off of the stage.

So there I was: mostly naked, lying down on my side with the two colossal mountains resting uncovered beside me, one half on top of the other. Amusingly, there were only a few angles where an onlooker could tell that there was actually a small woman attached to them, but in a way, I felt that only added to the experience.

Officer Barker: Okay, so one thing: where exactly is the supposed “art” in all this? Sounds to me more like a strip show.

Alicia: Ah ha! It’s all about setting my dear! Let me explain, because that’s exactly what happened next. My director, seeing this naked woman brandishing her two room-filling breasts for all to see in the middle of her gallery, rightly came sprinting over to ask me what in God’s name I was doing. I then explained to her the plan. The installation was going to be all about Shame, the Female Body, and Unspoken Desire. All total hogwash mind you, but I’d been to art school, so I knew the right words to say.

In essence, what I wanted was for members of the public to touch my boobs, and good god was there a lot to touch now. The ruse was quite simple really, I was just going to get them to paint me—I’d have them wander over to the tables full of trays of various coloured paints, let them dip in their paintbrushes, sponges, or hands, and then use my breasts as the canvas for whatever their hearts desired. It was a fabulous social experiment and was certain to force countless nervous hands into molesting me.

Officer Barker: So, did it work then?

Alicia: A little too well if you ask me. Sure, they were shy at first, most people baulked as soon as they saw the gigantic disembodied boobs sitting in the centre of the gallery. After a long initial period of inaction, I had to start calling people over to me, encouraging them to touch  me all they wanted, splatter me with paint if they saw fit. Eventually, a group of young ladies, who’d obviously had a few too many mimosas at brunch, were the first to give it a go. They slathered their hands in paint and made a cute sisterly collection of handprints on one section of my left breast close to the nipple. I couldn’t see any of this of course, but I had the CCTV cameras filming me the whole time so I could watch a bird’s eye view on a nearby  screen.

After the girls, the floodgates opened. Everyone wanted a go. Soon the whole gallery was crowded around my breasts, with up to 20 people at a time doodling and wiping paint all over me. Eventually the word went around the neighbourhood, and more and more people flocked in. I even began to worry that all these new people wouldn’t realise what was going on, perhaps they would miss the memo that these really did belong to me. So I started to have some fun. Every so often, at random intervals, I would shift my body around. Lie back and flop the breasts over to the other side. This would usually cause everyone around to gasp and go “ooooh” at me.

People then started to test me—men would attempt to lift up part of a boob, finding that they were simply far too heavy and shapeless to budge. Then people started to come up and lean their weight into them, getting their clothes covered in paint in the process. At one point a very short woman who was built like a gymnast decided to mount me and sat cross-legged atop the summit of my left breast, the flesh rippling beneath her like a water bed.

Officer Barker: This all sounds rather exciting for them at least. Did you enjoy it? Was it everything you wanted?

Alicia: Yes and no. I loved the attention of course, the excited giggles from members of the public as they placed their hands on me and marvelled at the softness of them. I even enjoyed the nervous whispers as groups of women tested just how much of me they could touch without me saying anything. I never opened my mouth once though. Even after Candace and her friends showed up and started to playfully rub and twist my engorged nipples, I just laid back and enjoyed the titillation.

But as I expected, it was the people who were reluctant to touch me that excited me the most. The nervous teenage boys hiding their erections, the men with their frustrated wives, the flat-chested girls. Somehow the more insecure the toucher, the more excited I felt—as if I was able to peer into their psyches through the pores of my breasts. I actually felt telepathic in a way. However, it wasn’t all as exciting as that. There were people who were enjoying it too much. Perverted men who went back for more, or touched me far longer than the others. I found their attention interesting and somewhat amusing, but the sexual feeling wasn’t there.

Officer Barker: Well, I’m sorry to hear that.

Alicia: Meh, it was a ride. I was happy for the most part. And I did manage to get myself off a few times. It helped also that I was able to creep my hand under the breasts and slip a few fingers in, just to give myself a bit of an extra rush while I watched the public groping and touching my—

Officer Barker: Right, well hold on a second. There it is, you just admitted it. Public masturbation, Alicia.

Alicia: Oh come on Freya. No one even knew! Sure, my face probably let on a few times that I was enjoying myself a bit more than normal, but no one could have seen me actually fingering myself.

Officer Barker: I’ll look past it for now… But tell me, what happened then, how did we get here?

Alicia: Well… yes. And that brings us to now. At last… But it’s a bit of an anticlimax I’m afraid. Essentially, two of the attendees, a wealthy-looking man and woman wearing really nice designer clothes, approached me as the event was winding down and asked me to come to their place to “discuss my art”. I declined at first, thinking it would be impossible for me to get there, but they told me they owned a moving truck for transporting large pieces of artwork around, and that there was probably enough space for me as well. There was, surprisingly, though I had to take a brief humiliating ride on a pallet crate lifted by a forklift to get in it.

But once inside the truck, the couple drove me like some pregnant cattle over to their place, somewhere up in the hills. It was a huge space, a warehouse conversion that was more than big enough for me—once we had gotten my breasts through the double doors that is. All they told me before we got there was that they wanted to chat to me about the exhibition, and maybe take some photos of my breasts which were now covered on all sides by a headspinning collage of multicoloured patterns, shapes, handprints and written messages. However, it became pretty clear after witnessing the overly-enthusiastic way they helped me get my breasts into the building, that what they actually intended, was to have sex with me.

I humoured them for a while. They took some nude photographs of me which turned out very nice and allowed me to admire what the public had done to me, but eventually I just asked them to get to the point. And they named their price. Now, before you get all policewomany with me, yes I admit it: I went along with it, full well knowing it was wrong. But that mixture of built-up horniness and sordid curiosity just made me need to know what it was they wanted to do to me.

So I let them have at me. I allowed the man access to my nipples while his girlfriend buried herself inside my cleavage to eat my pussy. I was afraid to make any sudden movements, so I simply laid back and let the pair explore my body like rodents scurrying around two painted elephants. It didn’t do much for me sexually, but I was being paid for it so who cares, I thought.

But after they’d had a bit of fun just investigating my breasts up close and trying to pleasure me, they started to grow restless. They told me that what they really wanted was to experience my weight. I sensed it was going to be a bad idea straight away, and sure enough, they then explained that they intended to have me lift my breasts on top of them so they could feel how heavy they were first hand. They asked and asked, they even tried to get under there themselves, but they knew that only I was strong enough to move their weight. That should have tipped them off that this was a bad idea, but still they kept on, and they doubled and tripled the price.

So, well, in the end, I did it… And that’s how it happened. With all of my strength, I extended my back as far as it would go and slammed my breasts down on the couple, crushing them between a wall and the floor. Even before I made impact I knew it was not going to end well. Then I heard the crackle of their bones shattering into pieces. And that was the end of it.

Officer Barker: So you’re saying, after all this time, those two are being treated for critical injuries because they asked to get crushed by your boobs, and you did it?

Alicia: Well yes, if you want to summarise, but you see—

Officer Barker: You know that’s really not so bad. They were consenting adults. And clearly trying to make you into a prostitute. Some would even call you the victim in this… Why did you tell me all of that story just now?

Alicia: Because you wanted to know.

Officer Barker: I wanted to know about the couple, you could have just led with that.

Alicia: But you enjoyed it, didn't you?

Officer Barker: What?

Alicia: Well, I can tell, Freya.

Officer Barker: That’s Officer Barker to you, and what are you trying to say?

Alicia: Oh, y’know. I’ve seen the looks you’ve been giving me. I saw the way your eyes glazed over when I described all the chicks I’d been fucking. You wanna piece of the action, don’t you?

Officer Barker: Watch it, Miss!

Alicia: Don't think I haven't seen you staring at them all this time. You can't get your eyes off of them.

Officer Barker: Well they take up the whole goddamn room, Alicia, it's a little hard not to—

Alicia: You know, most people are horrified when they see me, but not everyone. Some give me the same look that I give myself when I look at my boobs in the mirror. You love me. You love them.

Officer Barker: Alright, that’s enough Miss Nguyen. I have been very patient with you. For starters, I am a police officer, and you are treading a very dangerous line here. But even besides that, I’m straight I'll have you know!

Alicia: No you’re not! Admit it, you imagined it all. All the disgusting sex, the molestation, I could see the sweat bead up on your lips as I described my dreams to you. You’re as dirty as me, just admit you’ve been waiting to get your hands on my tits!

Officer Barker: Alicia, stop!

Alicia: You know, you kind of remind me a bit of the angels. Big lady, nice and strong. Even so, I bet I’d be able to crush you into dust just like that couple.

Officer Barker: What are you saying!? That you did that intentionally?

Alicia: Well they did ask for it, but of course I did it intentionally. I may be massive, but I don't think you realise just how strong I am too. It was the ultimate expression of their glory, it was what I'd wanted all along. And you're next, Freya. I know you want to worship them, so just do it. Go on: have a touch, feel how huge I am.

Officer Barker: That’s it, I’m putting a stop to this.

Alicia: Oh yes. Please do. I’ve been a very bad girl officer, these giant boobies have made me behave all funny. I think I need to be apprehended. Now let’s see you try.

<Tape ends with the sound of women screaming and laughing>