BOOBALOONS: 36-28-34
Jennifer woke slowly. She was bound to be a bit groggy, we'd kept her asleep
while she recovered. She blinked up, trying to focus. "Mr. Hyatt? Doctor
Fibe? Where am I?" She took in the white room, the medical equipment by the
walls, the hospital bed. "Am I - have I been ill?"
Just lying in bed, she looked lovely. Tumbled masses of auburn hair framed a
round, slightly chubby young woman face, big hazel eyes, a sweet little snub
nose, kissable lips. Very clear skin set off by a scattering of freckles over
her cheekbones. "You've had an operation," I said, "but you're fine now. You
can get up if you want."
Her almost invisible brows drew down in a cute frown. "Operation? But why? I
wasn't..." She began to realise where she hurt. "What...?" She started to
throw back the sheet, realised she was naked in bed, and settled for lifting it.
"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?"
Her face was now blazing with rage and embarrasment. "Doctor Fibe, if you -
you'll fix - I'll sue -" I decided she had ranted enough, and pressed the
button on the remote in my pocket.
Of course I hadn't been able to test the system until she woke up, and I was
interested to see how it worked. It worked even better than I'd hoped. In the
middle of an unladylike word her protests turned into a throat-ripping scream,
and she clutched her bosom through the sheet and stared at us with huge
horrified eyes, her face suddenly white. "Wha..." she wheezed, dragging air
back into her lungs. "Wha... happened?"
"What will happen every time you disobey or displease me, Jennifer." It seemed
best to drive the lesson home right away. "Get out of bed."
"What?" She turned red again. I was starting to enjoy her colour changes, I'd
never seen her go through so many shades in the years she'd been my secretary.
"I can't -" Another scream; her nipples had just turned for an instant to
white-hot bullets of pain. She stared at me with tears running down her cheeks.
"Get out of bed, Jennifer," I repeated in my most reasonable tone. She was a
quick study, I'd always appreciated that. She moved stiffly, her body language
shouting 'Under Protest!', but she slid her legs out the side of the bed,
swivelled and sat up, forcing herself not to grab the sheet, and stood. "You
may sit," I told her, indicating an armchair in the corner, and she took jerky
steps across and dropped into it. Without thinking, she folded her arms across
her breasts, and I shook my head. "Hands by your sides."
Fibe and I stood on either side and admired her. She sat rigidly, trembling
with shame, shooting us deperate looks from tear-filled eyes. "Wonderful,
Doctor," I breathed. "They're all you claimed. Never mind brilliant, you're an
artist."
Jennifer was petite, and though slightly plump, she had never had much to speak
of in the way of breasts. Now a perfectly shaped, incredibly pert pair of C-cup
globes stood out from her chest without the benefit of lingerie. They wobbled
gently to her jerky breathing, but showed not the least tendency to sag. I
bent, tucked my fingers under one and lifted; Jennifer gasped and froze as I
inspected the long healing cut that had been hidden in the undercrease. "You
won't need to reopen this?"
"Only a little nick in the middle," said Fibe happily. "A cut you'd close with
a band-aid."
"Marvelous." I dragged up a stool and sat in front of Jennifer. "Since this
concerns you very personally, my dear, it's only fair you should have an
explanation. You're aware that one of my company's main concerns is prosthetics
for cosmetic surgery." She looked down at her newly enhanced mammaries, then up
again, still puzzled. "Patience, all will become clear... Now a few months ago
the Doctor here came to me with a very interesting possibility. You're probably
aware that it's considered unsafe to use gasses in prostheses - risk of a leak
causing bubbles in the bloodstream, embolism, you know the kind of thing. But
he has developed a mixture of gasses that is only stable when perfectly dry; on
exposure to water it reacts to become a much smaller volume of harmless liquid.
Hence, safe in containers in the body.
"At least that was the theory, but he was afraid that despite all the wonderful
possibilities, we'd never get FDA approval - you know how conservative these
people are. But when he explained some of the more - extreme - possible
applications, I saw other potentials. I saw possibilities that would appeal to
buyers who aren't bothered by such legalities. So I gave him a free hand to
develop his idea: and you, my dear, are the first beneficiary."
Despite the bewildering situation, her curiousity was piqued. She cupped her
new endowment, feeling their unnatural lightness. "These are full of - gas?"
"Not just gas!" Fibe's glasses flashed with pride. "Gas in a special polymer
prosthetic form, multiple chambered to keep its shape, and enormously elastic!"
He beamed at her. "You see, that's the most enlargement that was possible in a
simple prosthetic insert. But once your incisions have healed, it will be
possible to pump in more gas..."
She clutched herself in instinctive protection. "NO!" I thought she should
learn that that word was no longer in her vocabulary, so I made her scream
again. This time she slumped forward till her head touched her knees, and I
amused myself with the thought that before very much longer she wouldn't be able
to do that.
As she sat up and stared at me I explained "This was my contribution to the
project. When I was starting up the company I designed most of the medical
electronics myself, and I haven't lost the touch. Inside each of those forms in
your breasts is a little radio controlled unit which, whenever I press this -" I
showed her the remote and feinted at the button, and she cringed most
satisfactorily - "will deliver a hefty shock right up against the nerves of both
your nipples. I strongly advise you not to do anything that might make me press
this button, is that understood?" She nodded dumbly. "Any questions?"
"Wh... Why me?" she pleaded, and I smiled.
"Pertinent question! As I hinted before, this system - I call it the Booballoon
process -" Jennifer blushed again - "will be of immense interest to people who
operate on the... hmmm... fringe of the law. Pimps, pornographers, sex-slave
dealers..."
"Imagine!" said Fibe, his face alight with enthusiasm. "Huge breasts that never
droop or soften! A dancer with breasts the size of melons - who can dance
naked, and neither knock her eyes out or have them swing to her knees! Women
with enormous breasts firm enough to..." I clapped him on the shoulder, and he
gulped and shut up, a bit embarrassed. "Well, you can see..."
"It'll be beautiful," I told him. "And they'll be all your wonderful work." I
turned back to Jennifer. "But you can see that people like that, to pay the
prices we'll ask, will need convincing. We needed a model to show off just what
Booballoons can do. We have plenty of photos taken when you were first on the
operating table, to show how small your breasts used to be." She bit her lip
angrily. "So when we've pumped you up to - what do you think, Doctor? A
seventy-inch chest?"
"Eventually," he said, eyeing her front, torn between creative fervour and
professional caution. "We must go slowly, you understand, to give the tissue
time to adapt. It wouldn't do for her breasts to have stretch marks like a
pregnant belly."
That image finally stung her. "You can't do this to me!" she flared. "I'll -"
I didn't reach for the remote, just gave her a warning look, and she subsided.
"You'll do nothing," I told her, "and neither will anyone else. Which answers
your question: why you? In the time you've worked for me I've learnt all about
you. You've no family, not even a serious boyfriend. It was easy to arrange
for you to disappear without making waves. You're no longer my secretary
Jennifer: you have a full time, permanent career as "Bouncy" Booballoons, our
first model." She looked blank with shock. I picked up her chin and caught her
eyes. "What's your name?"
"J- Jennif -" she began dully, then screamed and sagged. I pulled her head up
again.
"Silly girl!" I said fondly. "You haven't been listening. What's your name?"
She thought frantically. "B-Bouncy! Bouncy B- Booballoons!"
"Very good! But -" I considered - "it needs emphasis. Whenever you say it,
you should cup your hands under your boobs and bounce them a little, to make the
point. Got that?" Her eyes were streaming tears again, but the nipple-shocker
was a fast teacher; she nodded. "Show me. What's your name, girl?"
"B-" She hastily cupped her lush globes. "Bouncy Booballoons." She joggled
them enticingly, and Fibe groaned in sheer bliss.
"When those are bigger," he said reverently, "that will look beautiful."
"It looks pretty good to me already. What's your name?" I repeated, and Bouncy
performed to order, sobbing with shame. The combination of those tits being
shaken at me, and the sight of a lovely girl in such anguish - OK, I admit it,
I'm a bit of a sadist - was turning me on like crazy. I made her do it a few
more times, making me more excited every time.
If only, I thought, and then, hell, why not? "Could she stand some tit
fucking?" I asked Fibe.
Bouncy jerked her head up to protest, then choked it back. Fibe looked almost
as upset as her, lust warring with professionalism. "I really wouldn't," he
said reluctantly. "Not till they've had at least another week to heal."
"Too bad. Then you'll just have to give me a blow job," I told Bouncy. Her
colour came and went in waves, but she didn't protest. "Say 'Yes, Sir,'
Bouncy."
"Y- Yes, Sir."
"And -" ideas were coming to me all the time, the way they do when I have a new
product to launch - "whenever anyone says your name, you give a big smile and
bounce your boobs. It'll be a cute touch, the clients'll love it. Understood,
Bouncy?"
She hastily forced a ragged grin and cupped her tits. "Yes, Sir."
"Very good, Bouncy." Another painful smile, another joggle of two handfuls of
enhanced woman-flesh. She was sobbing openly now. I had planned to humiliate
her some more, but I couldn't wait; I stepped quickly up to stand against the
chair. "Do it."
"Yes Sir," she snuffled, undoing my fly. I was so hard I nearly tore my way out
of my shorts before she got them down. Then her mouth slid round me, unskilled
but desperate to please, and I bent down and grabbed a handful of each tit.
They even felt real, not with a lump in the middle like silicone jobs but softly
springy. They must have been still a little sore from the operation, because
she moaned round my cock, and in sheer bliss I kneaded them till the pleasure of
that did what her clumsy tongue couldn't, and I shot my load into her mouth and
then, as she recoiled in reflex horror, all over her face.
She slumped down weeping, spunk trickling down her cheeks and drooling from the
corner of her mouth, a picture of defeat. I tucked myself away feeling very
happy. This was going to work.
"All yours, Doc," I told Fibe, handing him the remote. He licked his lips,
breathing hard; I had a feeling that Bouncy was going to be improving her oral
technique real fast. "Keep her safe, don't play with her more than she can
take, and start pumping her up as soon as you can. Call me when she gets to
fortyfive inches."
