BOOBALLOONS: 45-26-33
The next few weeks were some of the hardest waiting I've done. I had to get on
with all the normal business of the company; I had to cope with a new secretary
settling in, and everyone telling me what lousy luck it was Jennifer just taking
off like that, and she always seemed such a sensible girl; I was having trouble
covering up the expenses of Project BB. I knew that Fibe had to take his time.
After all, this wasn't just any girl: Bouncy Booballoons was going to be our
showpiece, the walking, bouncing, wiggling sample which I hoped would make our
prospective clients reach for the cases of laundered bills. She had to be
perfect.
But it was tough just to wait. When I finally found a memo from Fibe in my
in-tray, I pounced on it like a winning lottery ticket. It said simply:
"45"
I buzzed my new secretary. A lovely girl, blonde, curvy, normally I'd have been
dreaming of getting in her pants by now, but I had only been able to think of
Bouncy. "Jane, I have to go out to a project. Something just came up." I
realised that was no lie; when I looked at that figure on the memo, and imagined
what it meant, something definitely came up.
I'd set up Project BB in a small lab unit in an industrial estate out of town.
Bouncy's room was down the end of a corridor, with two heavy doors that were
supposed to be for fire control but which also made pretty good security and
soundproofing; there wasn't any way she was going to run. Fibe added that he
had told her that the implants in her breasts were keyed to the transmitter in
the remote, and if she got out of range of its signal they would fire and keep
on firing. They weren't really that sophisticated, of course, but she wasn't
going to risk it.
"I hope you haven't over-used that zapper," I said as he opened the second fire
door. "I don't want her scared into a nervous breakdown."
"Don't worry, she's a strong girl. She's coped." I began to notice a rhythmic
creaking noise from the room ahead, and shot him a puzzled glance. "I've set
her an exercise regime," he explained, "to trim down her waist and set off her -
h'm - assets more dramatically." He unlocked the door. "And to protect her
from brooding on her situation."
Bouncy was lying on the bed, her feet fastened to the bottom rail by padded
hospital restraints. She had her hands clasped behind her head and was doing
painfully slow sit-ups; as we came in her eyes locked onto us fearfully, but she
didn't stop. I realised she was doing them to the ticks of the wall clock:
halfway up, hold for three ticks while her belly muscles quivered, up, tick,
halfway down and hold for another three ticks, down, tick, and repeat. The
windowless room was hot, and her naked skin was running with sweat. It was a
routine to scare the Marines, and I wondered how long she'd been doing it.
"You can stop, Bouncy," said Fibe, and even as her face went slack with relief,
she brought her hands quickly round and cupped and joggled her breasts. Then
she sat panting, watching me apprehensively, while Fibes unstrapped her ankles.
"What do you think?" he asked. His tone was smug: he could already see from my
face that I was floored.
"Awesome," I said sincerely. When I'd said fortyfive, I hadn't really thought
about the proportions. A fortyfive inch chest on a girl as slight as Bouncy
meant a lot of tit. They were the size of California grapefruit, and too wide
to rest separately: even naked they pressed together with a lovely little
cleavage. I'd been worried that she'd end up looking like a cartoon girl with
bowling balls glued to her chest, but their shape was still natural, with the
same lovely swooping curve down and out from her collarbones and over and down
again to the nipples. Only bigger. Much bigger.
The skin of her amazing new bosom seemed to be paler, with a translucency like
expensive bone china, threaded here and there with faint blue veins. The
aureoles had stretched as well and were a good three inches wide. Without even
deciding to I found myself standing by the bed fondling and kneading them,
marvelling that they could still squeeze and bounce so deliciously. Her face
was screwed up with what might have been shame or pain. "Are they sore,
Bouncy?" I asked her.
She nodded dumbly, at the same time as automatically joggling herself with both
hands. I glanced at Fibe.
"Her last inflation was yesterday," he said. "The pain passes off after the
first few hours, but they usually remain sensitive for two or three days."
There were tears of anguish running down Bouncy's cheeks as I mauled her
inflated titflesh. I decided that Fibe, like most doctors, used "sensitive" to
mean "the patient isn't actually screaming".
"And how long between inflations?"
"Two days seems to be a safe margin." I pictured the last few weeks for a
moment: every couple of days, when her breasts had just about stopped hurting,
Fibe had strapped her down to the bed and pumped them up to the point of agony
again. No wonder she looked a bit subdued.
"But they won't be harmed by rough handling at this stage?"
"Not at all," he said confidently. "You can do anything to them that you could
do to natural tissue. Except stick pins in them, hahaha!"
"Hehe," I agreed, digging my fingers in and marveling at how deep I could push
them into the resilient globes. "Well, I'm glad you said that, because that's
the next thing I need to check. But first another question. Can you apply your
system to padding out other areas?"
"No reason why not. What did you have in mind?"
"Stand up, Bouncy." She jumped to her feet with an automatic smile and
tit-shake. "See, big tits, fine, but the sort of people we'll be dealing with
may want more. In the Middle East and Japan, particularly, they like a bubble
butt as well." Fibe's exercise routine had sweated the puppy fat off her waist,
but it had also tightened her rump. "Could you..." I sketched curves with my
hands round her hips, outlining a Rubenesque shape. Fibe's eyes lit up.
"A challenge. The implants would have to be more delicately shaped - and there
isn't a natural fold to lose the incision in. On the other hand, the buttock
crease is always defined even when it's flattened - if I was careful -"
"Good man. How long would it take to have that done and blown up a bit?"
Bouncy made a desperate little choking noise.
"I'd have to design the implants... Say four weeks."
"No sweat. It'll take me that long to set up the kind of appointments we need
to start selling. Which reminds me - lie down again, girl. You better strap
her down, Doc."
She stretched out obediently on the bed, but her eyes were asking me frantic
questions. "She's not saying much, is she?" I noted.
Fibe fastened the soft restraints on her wrists. "I got tired of her
complaining, so I told her to keep quite unless she was actually told she could
speak. After a few shocks she got the idea."
"Sounds good to me." He had certainly done a good job; she was obviously
longing to ask for explanations, beg, protest, anything, but nothing came from
her pretty lips but a wordless little whimper of fear. We both admired her as
she lay. It was now that her breasts showed their more than natural perfection:
real ones that big would have been in her armpits, but these just settled a few
inches outward and stood there, huge and proud and sexy.
"What I'm thinking," I explained, "is that if we're intending these for whores
and suchlike, they're going to have to take more than the usual amount of rough
treatment. Are you sure they're up to it?"
"I'm staking my reputation on it," said Fibe confidently. "Anything you can do
to real ones, and probably more." I backhanded the right one as hard as I could
hit, so that it bounced across and smacked into the left before rebounding into
place. Bouncy shrieked at the top of her voice.
"Looks good," I admitted, and smacked the left one even harder so that it
bounced back and forth twice. Bouncy began to sob hysterically.
"Okay," I said, "time for a serious test." I unbuckled the heavy belt I had put
on in the car on the way here. "Are you sure about this?" I asked Fibe, hefting
the belt. "Remember, it may be her tits on the line, but it's your ass." We
both laughed over that, while Bouncy started to howl in terror.
"Worry about your electronics, if you're going to worry," he assured me. "My
work will hold."
"So will mine; that's why I put them so deep in the implants." I swung the belt
with a full overarm down onto her right boob. The effect was amazing: the whole
mass of flesh seemed to half flatten while the belt sank a good inch in for an
instant, before everything rebounded and Bouncy screamed. I inspected her
breast. There was a hot crimson track across it, and no other sign of damage.
But the angle was awkward, so I knelt up on the bed and straddled her hips while
she looked at me with enormous horrified eyes. "Brace yourself, honey," I told
her as I doubled the belt, "this might sting."
I lashed her boobs with all my strength, left, right, left, right, trying to
mark them from every side. The great globes of woman-flesh bounced, squashed,
rolled, shook, while Bouncy howled incoherent pleas for mercy between screams,
and Fibe gave up even pretending to be only looking and squeezed his dick
urgently through the front of his pants.
When at last I dropped the belt the breasts were every shade of red from chilli
to burgundy with stripes of violet; and though Bouncy's shrieks died away to
hopeless sobs, her agonised face showed that they were two burning masses of
pain. "Final test!" I gasped, dragging open my fly. Shuffling quickly up the
bed I grabbed them and crammed them together with my rigid boner between them.
The feeling was beyond belief. Any tit-fuck I had ever enjoyed before had been
less than a hand-job by comparison. My dick was completely enclosed and
squeezed in soft, hot, suffering breast-flesh, and I fucked them with brutal
force, lying with my full weight on them, crushing and mauling them till Bouncy
screamed afresh, until with a shuddering cry I shot a scalding explosion between
them.
I climbed off the weeping tit-raped girl and put myself away. "Perfect," I
breathed. "Doc, we're going to be rich... Doc?" He blinked at me, embarrased,
and I laughed.
"All yours," I told him, indicating the glowing red, cum-smeared breasts. "And
make sure her butt can stand as much. See you in four weeks."
