BIMBO TALE by MichelleLovesTo

“Ms. Pavlovski, this is a special surprise,” said Donahue.

Liar.

He stood up, but took his time. It no longer cut it that her father had liked him – she didn’t. If all went well, the condescending prick would be out of her life shortly.

She glanced around a room that seemed more like a salute to masculinity than the office of a professional. It was a moose head short of being an utter cliche.

“I was in town and decided to stop in and discuss with you something rather... curious. Since there was nobody out front, I let myself in.” She paused. “Mind if I sit down?” She was tempted to punt the red remote control car idling in front of the chair, but instead used the toe of her navy pump to push it aside.

He picked up a remote and aimed it in the general direction of the toy. “Come to papa” The car disappeared around the desk. “Of course. Please have a seat; you own it anyhow.” His laugh had an edge.

“Yes, I do,” she said, enjoying the tightening around his mouth. “Feel free to sit in the other seat I own. Mr. Donahue…”

“Mike,” he interrupted. He sat down once again. An average sized man, he was the type to spread out and take up extra space. She, on the other hand, had opted to sit with her legs crossed. Had they not been crossed she would have kicked herself for losing in the body language contest. She was aware of him staring at her legs.

“Mike, it’s not my norm to interfere with the daily running of the offices any more than is strictly necessary, but I was speaking to Arthur Hodgins the other day and he pointed out that you have a secretary on the payroll for an exorbitant sum. A woman by the name of ‘GiGi’. I’ve spoken to GiGi before and the pet rock I had as a child had more brains. I’d figured there was nepotism going on somewhere and wondered how Virginia tolerated the little idiot but, as the office is profitable and my father had such high regard for your acumen, I looked the other way. Then, Hodgins told me her last name was the same as Virginia’s—Gerard—and I assumed more than ever that I was right about nepotism. I figured this GiGi was Virginia’s little sister and I asked for both of their personnel records. It appears that there is no GiGi, only Virginia, and Hodgins just assumed upon looking at the file that it was a nickname.”

“Hodgins is right.”

She didn’t understand why this man commanded so much loyalty. “I’m positive I don’t understand.”

“I said, Ms. Pavlovski, that the man is right. Technically, we’re only discussing one woman.”

He’d slowed down his rate of speech an almost imperceptible amount; still, she got the message. She wondered if he’d lined up a job elsewhere. “Are you intending to explain? Has there been malfeasance?”

“Big word. Impressive. We’ve determined that Virginia can do her job in about ten to fifteen hours a week. Since she used to spend a great deal of her time talking about the schools she attended and the awards she’d won, nobody in their right mind wanted to work for her, so I made her her own secretary.”

“You’re not making sense. Virginia is in MENSA, we recruited her because of her brilliance...”

“So she said... often and in a quite penetrating tone. That happens to women some times – they mean to be heard and instead sound like yippy little dogs. This is fine, except they shouldn’t compete with the big dogs. I was tolerant of her for a long time because she earned her way, and now she certainly does.”

Christiana made sure to regulate her own voice, deepen it. “It’s unrealistic to believe she would lower herself to do what you suggest.”

He smirked, seemed to remember something which particularly amused him. “You’d be surprised what Virginia — well, GiGi — does willingly,” he said.

“And I’ve spoken to this secretary person—she’s not a member of MENSA.”

“When you call and speak to GiGi, does she ever transfer you to Virginia?”

“Why, no, I usually catch her out of the office...”

“Right, with her only being Virginia for a few hours a day, and that usually being first thing, you would.”

Now she laughed. “You’re telling me Virginia Gerard is playing games...”

“No, she’s still as dry and boring as ever. GiGi, however, plays wonderful games.”

She was going to throttle the dick weasel. She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “My patience is drawing to an end.”

Donahue moved in closer, no quarter given. “Mine, too—Dear.”

Christiana Pavlovski was silent for several moments. “I’d suggest you watch the way you speak to me.”

He smirked. “My apologies,” he said.

“Perhaps I need to speak to Virginia.”

Did the man realize his days here were numbered? If so, he didn’t care. “She’s off for the day. Would you like to speak with GiGi?”

“Yes, that would be superb.” At least she would get to the bottom of this ludicrous situation.

Donahue picked up the phone. “Locate Geege and send her plump little ass into my office.”

Christiana raised her voice. “I don’t care who this woman is, or how stupid she might be, it’s inappropriate...”

“Her ass is both plump and tiny. What I said was apt.”

“Mr. Donahue!”

“Master.”

“Mike, I don’t think...” Wait, did he say master?

“That’s a lie—you think too much. Don’t you agree?”

“What? Have you lost your mind?”

“Peekaboo!”

Christiana turned to see a vapid looking strawberry-blonde woman peering around the edge of the doorway. A good portion of her hair was pulled up into a ponytail atop her head, not unlike a Yorkie’s topknot. Full lips, big blue eyes and a rainbow assortment of cosmetics constituted her face.

“Okay, Geege, no time to play. This is Christiana Pavlovski—your boss. Do you understand?”

“Yes, she’s my boss, and you’re my boss, and sometimes I’m my boss, and every week there’s new bosses, and that excites me!” She spoke as I she was remembering a complicated set of rules and, when she was finished, she gave a wide grin as if waiting for her gold star.

“That’s right. Be a good girl and come in.”

GiGi was five foot six inches of bimbo and four inches of lucite shoes. Her body filled a mini-dress of psychedelic-looking daisies in bright shades of pink, orange, and green. The collar was v-neck and button down, and it picked up the color of the orange flowers. Apparently she took the “button down” term literally, as it certainly wasn’t buttoned up, creating a valley between the twin mountains of her breasts.

She stopped about a yard away from the desk and knelt on the carpet, angling her body to show deference to both of them. Christiana forced herself to stop looking down this woman’s top, but not before GiGi looked up and gave her a big smile, like Julia Roberts after Richard Gere snapped the jewelry case at her.

Oh my God, it can’t be...

She remembered the first time she’d met Virginia.

Her father had sent her on the recruitment trips; unspoken was that he was not only too sick to do so himself, but that he needed to know soon if she had what it took to take over after he was gone. What she’d reported to her father as his scion was that Virginia Gerard would be an asset to the company – she was smart, astute, and driven. Christiana urged him to pursue her as an ideal candidate, even while admitting to herself that she didn’t much care for the young woman.

Underneath the utter politeness was the sense that this woman thought she was too good for her father’s company or the entry level job they were willing to offer. There was no point in telling him this, but he most likely wouldn’t have minded that. It didn’t mean Christiana had to like it. Or her.

The other thing she hadn’t told her father, because it wasn’t relevant and reminded him that she was a daughter and not a son, is what she’d noticed as a woman observing another woman. Virginia didn’t mind being viewed as attractive, providing you also noticed her skills. It was okay to take note of her legs, which were long and shapely, as long as you were aware of the professional length of her skirt. The cut of her suit told Christiana something else as well; Virginia was uncomfortable about her large chest, even to the point of also playing down her tiny waist. If her jacket was more cinched it would have, by contrast, drawn more attention to the feature she wanted to downplay, and so she’d made a decision to obscure something she probably liked a lot about herself in order to hide another feature that embarrassed her.

The other thing she noticed was that Virginia’s make-up was beautifully done, particularly for a job-seeker. Other than eyeliner to play up striking blue eyes that glittered with shrewdness, Christiana would bet that most men would think she wasn’t wearing cosmetics at all. They would use her as an example of a natural beauty, but it was just quite understated – befitting an office environment. Virginia knew, as most women with a little knowledge of make-up would know, that this young woman had selected the neutral lipstick for a reason that went beyond trying to be subtle and into an attempt to camouflage what she saw as a flaw.

Virginia had full lips. The type that made interested male parties feel a little tight in the pants and celebrities paid good money to imitate. But one star who came by the feature naturally, Angelina Jolie, was rarely photographed wearing bright shades of lipstick — most likely because it would look ridiculously over-the-top whorish.

GiGi’s lips were painted a bright pink and slightly parted.

There was no denying that this woman was either Virginia Gerard or her twin sister. Christiana didn’t know what to say, would have fallen down if she wasn’t already still sitting. At last she found her voice.

“What did you do to her?”

“I was explaining that when you interrupted me—that’s a bad habit, Christi. I forgot to show you her ass, you really need to see it—you’ll just want to take a bite out of it.”

She stood up and straightened her spine. “You can clear out your desk later. Get out for now,” she ordered. She waited for the still-smirking man to leave and thought she heard a laugh as the door closed. She looked at the kneeling woman. “Virginia, can you tell me what’s going on? Virginia?”

Large blue eyes gazed up at her. Limpid pools, Christiana had heard eyes described as ‘limpid pools’, but that wasn’t the right term to describe these—vapid pools. There was none of the quick intelligence dancing there that she’d come to associate with Virginia.

“Virginia isn’t here,” said GiGi, “would you like to leave her a massage?”

That was the voice all right—the one who’d taken “massages” before. “No, GiGi, can you tell me about—” What? What was she supposed to say? Ask? “Can you tell me about you and Virginia.”

Christiana’s voice sounded compassionate; indeed, she was truly horrified at the change in Virginia. It wasn’t the whole truth, though. There was the burning curiosity to know what had happened, how a brilliant woman had come to this. And still, there was more. She felt something darker rise up in her at the thought of the proud young woman she’d met that first day kneeling on the floor, barely recognizable.

GiGi blinked a few times rapidly. “Oooo-kay! Noooobody liked Virginia, really. She was really stuck-up and no fun. She had zero people skills. People here, men, were always playing tricks on her, but the money was too good for her to leave, and she didn’t want the bastards to get the better of her. She complained to Mr. Donahue and said she would go to his boss if he didn’t fix things! She had the pushy nerve to tell him she would have his job one day! It made him kinda mad, she could tell, but he told her he would call a meeting with the...” GiGi paused for a long moment, clearly trying to recall. “A meeting with the responsible parties. I don’t know what that means,” she said with a shrug.

“When Virginia came in on Monday she was sent to a board room, but was the only one there. She was so mad: they were playing tricks on her again. She would get even... She would make them all pay, even if she had to go to that stupid cunt Christiana.” It was as if GiGi was a medium channeling a long gone spirit. Her face scrunched up with a memory of an anger that wasn’t her own anymore. The emphasis was in all the right places—that stuuuupid! cunt! Christiana!, but there was something a little off, as if she was nothing more than a good impressionist.

Christiana wondered what she should think about Virginia calling her a stupid cunt. It certainly wasn’t the most pressing matter and lost a certain sting coming from GiGi who she’d just noticed was trying not to stare at Christiana’s legs just as hard as Christiana was trying to avoid GiGi’s cleavage.

“Then Virginia noticed the music playing and the whispering voices that she couldn’t quite understand, not yet. She went to let herself out of the conference room, but it was locked!“ Was there a flicker of real emotions just then? “They’d locked her in. They were playing a trick on her again. She knew it was only a matter of time before they let her out, and she would be hiring an attorney. She picked up the phone, but there was no dial tone, and then she...oh, right...she tried her cell, but the calls wouldn’t go through, and those voices kept talking and whispering to her, and they just would not stop! And she hated those voices so much.

“She sat down at the table and she waited, and waited. She waited so long that she began to understand what the voices wanted. At first, she told off the voices. Sat there and told them that they were sad, no, pathetic, little fratboys and scared little cheerleaders. She could feel the tears coming, and she fought them, because there was no point in crying. They were going to humiliate her if they could, and her tears would be the start of the end. She’d fought all her life to be taken seriously, she was smarter than all of them, and still, every time she spoke, she could feel their eyes on her mouth, on her breasts. Yeah, she knew what the voices wanted.

“The voices were their filthy little minds set free. The price of freedom was a lot higher, a lot more intimate, than an apology.

“The sun moved across the sky and still she waited. They weren’t going to let her out until she gave up, but they didn’t know just how stubborn she was. Her daddy always said, ‘GiGi, you’re just about the most obstinate child ever!’ There was a big problem though—she’d brought in a ginormous cup of coffee and just finished it in the room. Not too brainy for the office brain. She was NOT surprised to find the door to the bathroom locked, too. Virginia was smart though; she understood that if she called herself a filthy little fuckwhore and said it loud enough that at least that door would unlock. She knew what the voices wanted.

“Still, she sat down again and waited—she didn’t want to disgrace herself, but she needed to disgrace herself in order not to disgrace herself. You understand, right? So, Virginia got up, stood as close to the center of the room as she could, and said LOUDLY, ‘I AM a Filthy Little FUCKWHORE!’ She expected something to happen, but she didn’t expect what did happen—she felt the words right in her pussy. She felt them and she liked it, so she said it again, even louder, ‘I am a filthy Little FUCKWHORE!’ This time she fell on her knees. And then she said it again, and she was crying this time... and the next time she said it she stuck her hand up her skirt and rammed her little panties into her fuckwhore cunt, only she didn’t know what had happened to her pantyhose.”

“Oh!” moaned GiGi, and then she giggled when she realized that she’d been mirroring her own story, except Christiana could see that she wasn’t wearing panties.

“What happened next?” Christiana asked as the young woman, the beautiful young woman with the big, slutty pink lips told her story and touched herself. She needed to hear this story to understand and to help her—that was, of course, the only reason she needed to hear it. She only stared at her because she couldn’t believe what she was seeing, and if she got any secret satisfaction out of it, that would remain a secret.

“Does it turn you on, too?”

She cursed herself as her voice came out defensive. “What, no, Virg...GiGi, of course not—what happened is terrible and I’m going to make them all pay! And … and we’re going to make you better.”

“How do you know which me is better?” GiGi giggled again, but it was throatier before, as she moved from her kneeling position and spread her legs wide. She grabbed one of her large breasts and began to knead it, while her other hand rubbed rhythmically at her now exposed pussy.

I can’t watch this woman do this,” Christiana thought. No matter how horrible she’d been. She looked away. “Continue.”

“No, you have to tell me to play with my shaved pussy!”

“P...play with your shaved pussy, GiGi.” Even though she wasn’t looking, she could imagine it.

“Okay! Virginia was waaay stubborn still, so the silly thing made herself stop jilling her snatch, because she knew they were watching, and she’d paid the price! She crawled to the bathroom door and it was unlocked, just like she knew it would be. She knew they were probably watching her there, too, so she made sure to cover herself with her skirt, and she hoped they didn’t know that part of her wanted them to see that—wanting to open her legs wide and fill her fuckhole with her fingers.

“She was so mad. They’d tricked her. Saying those words made her start to change. It wouldn’t happen again! She sat at the table and she tried to think smart people thoughts and ignore the voices, but it was getting so hard to focus, and she was so, so horny. She wanted to use her brain, but her pussy wouldn’t leave her alone, the voices wouldn’t leave her alone, and she was getting hungry, and so she started thinking about food, but even that was really mixed up with sex, with fucking.

“Like, she started to think about the salad she brought for lunch and was just on the other side of the door and how sometimes she wondered if the mean people played with, no, tampered with her food. She remembered this story she’d read about this lady who was controlled by a teenaged girl, and how they went to a restaurant and the woman had to pour out a used condom over the salad.

“And Virginia’s mouth began to water.”

“Did it?” asked Christiana. Of course she felt sorry for GiGi, but “voices” couldn’t make people be something they’re not. She hated herself for it, at least a little, but she was getting the feeling that this babbling idiot couldn’t be fixed – that trying to make her right would fry her remaining circuits. Donahue, damn him, had saved the company a lot of money. Maybe this could be turned to their advantage. Besides, the way lawyers were these days, she’d probably be on the hook too. Why should she suffer for a man her dead father had hired?

“Yes, and she stuck her hand up her skirt again. It was getting dark in the room, and so she thought there was a chance they couldn’t see her, but the idea that they were watching, like you’re watching, sent her over the edge. And she called herself more names as she came. She cried, because she knew she was going to lose, and then she fell asleep and let the voices do the hard work.

“When I looked up later, the lights were on and the salad and a glass of water were on the table. My hand was up my skirt and my fingers were all wrinkly. The salad was normal for the last time ever —you see, they... talked to me later, and I told them. I wanted to tell them.”

“My God!”

“After I ate, I crawled up on the big old table and played with myself—Virginia’s panties were missing—but she wasn’t there so it didn’t matter. I played with my slutty little pussy, and talked with the voices, made them promises, told them how I couldn’t wait to get out. I lied a little because I knew, just knew the door was already unlocked, but I kept playing with myself on the table and coming until I couldn’t come anymore.

“I went to pee and when I came back they were all there around the table, waiting. We talked and I apologized for Virginia, even though what she did was so not my fault. We all knew that we still needed her to do things, think things, but other than that it would just be me, GiGi. Virginia made way too much money for the work she did, but she does think hard. They figured out how much I should really make when they blended Virginia and me. It saved the company oodles of money. I only need money for clothes and make-up, so I make just enough.”

“What about rent, Vi…GiGi?”

“Call me something else—something dirty!”

Christiana tried to get into the spirit of it. It was surprisingly easy. “D...don’t tell me what to do. I’m still your boss, you fucking cunt. Nobody can fix you, can they? You’re toast. You tried to hide those big, fat lips, but no matter how— “

“Oh, mmmm, thank you! God, yeah! I gave up my apartment. Some of the guys, the no fun ones, got fired. The fun ones brought their wives and girlfriends to a special party—a party with the voices. They have to do it so they won’t be mad when their men come home with lipstick rings around their cocks from my dick-sucking-lips. Now I live with them each a week at a time, and they take care of me. Now all the women are whores — I mean, they’re not hiding it no more, because all women are whores anyhow. I’m the best slut though—I know more tricks and will do anything, anything at all, because I was the first one. The ginny pig. That’s why all the men want me to stay with them, why they share me and pass me around, and make me lick their wives and girlfriends. I know things the other sluts don’t know yet. The other ones are learning though—when one of the masters is up for review and he does a good job, he can pick from a list of tricks for his whore. The guys test out all the options when it’s my week to be with them.

GiGi looked at Christiana with her slightly-smarter-than-your-average-lapdog look. Christiana knew she couldn’t hide the fascination and, yes, lust and she felt ashamed of it. What kind of sick bitch would get off on this? She shook her head. “Do you even understand the implications of what you’ve said?”

“Boss-lady, I don’t even understand half the words. You know what else? What’s superfun to do?”

Christiana swallowed hard. “What, cunt? Don’t stop playing with your cunt, whore. I want your slutjuices all over the carpet.” Oh, she could so never tell anyone about this.

“A guy will come in and be new and Mike will tell him how we work, what I am, and the new master has the option of bringing in his slut to hear the voices or have me take care of it. The guy tells her some sad story about me doing something stupid like forgetting to pay the rent and that his new boss wants me to stay with them for a few days, and that he thinks the boss is banging me, because I’m super-dumb and have no skills, but what can he do? Then I take that time to, what’s the word? Seduce her? I’m super good at it.

“Aren’t I?”

“What?” said Christiana.

“You want me and they didn’t even need to do the voices.”

Pavlovski knelt down and whispered. “I don’t know what you mean. You asked me earlier if I would like to leave a message for Virginia. I…I think I would, yes. I think she, you, are truly screwed and that nobody is ever going to fix this mess. How did someone so smart allow something so damned stupid to happen?”

GiGi continued, completely ignoring her companion’s words. “They will, anyhow. They hafta and even I know it’s too big of a deal to let you leave. But you’re so wet for me right now. It’s okay, I’m a pure sextoy, and not good for anything else other than a couple boring hours a day. The fact that you didn’t need the voices just made this more fun. I’m super-wet for you, too.”

Christiana stood up, her heart pounding as she headed for the door she knew would be locked. The voices began and she understood she wouldn’t be going anywhere for a while. She turned to see the smartest woman she’d ever met writhing around on the dirty carpet, violating herself as she moaned...

I am a Filthy Little Fuckwhore.

And she wondered what Mike would have in store for Christi, the spoiled cunt daughter of his mentor, who stole the Big Promotion right out from under him, and decidedly didn’t know her place. She had a suspicion that before the day was over, before the door opened again, there would be two Filthy Little Fuckwhores in the room.

She sat down in a chair and watched GiGi use the stone of her class ring, given to her by one of the most prominent business schools in the country, to rub her clit a little harder.

The End

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"Little" Sister

BIG TITS THEORY PART 9 OF 9 by Pan

Monday Morning

When Dr Lorne came into the office to find me there, a chagrined look came upon his face. I’d used a fake name, being fairly sure that he wouldn’t agree to see me if I’d known who I was. He tried to back out of the room, but when I whispered in a sultry voice that it was an emergency, his hippocratic oath had meant that he couldn’t leave, not if he wanted to still call himself a doctor.

As I’d started to strip, he’d stared at my mammoth new titties in shock. I wasn’t wearing a bra—I think I was still growing, but more than that…I just didn’t need one. No matter how large they grew, my tits provided miles of cleavage in every top, standing firmly, proudly, advertising my slutty status.

I’m pretty sure he was starting to work out that this wasn’t a strictly professional visit, but he couldn’t walk away, and as I watched, his cock began to rise. I subconsciously licked my lips, and told him my problem.

“You see, doc, I’ve realized that it’s the role of a woman like me to get knocked up as quickly as possible. I need you to prescribe me some fertility meds—as many as you’ve got.”

“I can’t just do that,” Dr Lorne replied with a weary sigh, his eyes never leaving my enormous tits. My nipples had already begun to harden at the attention, and I saw his hand twitching, like he was having trouble stopping himself from reaching out and grabbing them. “Fertility medication can only be prescribed after you’ve been trying for months without any results…”

Standing up, I watched with satisfaction as he involuntarily moaned at the slight bounce of my tits.

“Please, doc…” I said, my huge blue eyes staring at him sadly. “You’re my only hope…surely there’s something that you can do for me…”

There was a pause (longer than I think Dr Lorne would have liked) before he shook his head, and turned away.

“I’m sorry my dear, but there’s nothing I can do for you. Now I think…I think you’d better go.”

I quickly moved between him and the door, and he just stared hopelessly at my tits. I took his hands and placed them on my breasts, and as his shoulders slumped, I knew that I had him—he would be putty in my hands.

I walked out of his office a few minutes later with three new prescriptions in my pocket (with the opposite effect of the last medication Dr Lorne had prescribed me) and an ass full of cum. Tempting though it was to have him fill up my cunt, I knew that if I wanted my brother to get me pregnant, he had to be the only one who could cum inside me there.

Speaking of which, it felt like it had been days since he’d last filled my cunt up with his seed—in reality it had only been a few hours, but I yearned for the feeling of his cock inside of me, filling me up with his little swimmers. After I’d gotten these prescriptions filled, it would only be a matter of time before he knocked me up—perhaps with twins, triplets…

As I drove, my hand moved my miniskirt aside, and I started slowly stroking my clit, picturing myself full of babies. I could be the new octomum, growing eight babies inside myself, expanding so quickly that I’d have to shop for new clothes each and every day…or better, lay around the house naked, spending all my time servicing my brother and taking his cock inside my various holes.

I wanted nothing more than to be a pregnant cocksucker, a dirty knocked up anal slut…even as I slipped a second and third finger inside my swollen cunt, I felt empty, wanting to serve my purpose as the world’s biggest slut. I’d gone eighteen years without having a baby inside of me, and in the future I never wanted to be without child for more than a few months…

BIG TITS THEORY PART 8 OF 9 by Pan

Saturday

I couldn’t believe it when I woke up.

I mean I literally couldn’t believe it. I stood and stared at the mirror in absolute shock. My stunned brain didn’t even notice the other changes - my hair was twice as long as it had been at the start of the week, my waist was somehow even thinner than it had been before, and in contrast, my hips had widened. My ass was plump and around, and my legs were toned, despite the fact that I wasn’t really one for exercise.

No, all that I could see was my breasts…

They’d grown.

If I had to guess, I’d say I was an F-cup, but I was in completely unknown territory here. I could have been a G, H…do they even make “H” cup? I’d spent the first eighteen years of my life as an A, I’d never expected to have to know anything about the larger sizes.

What’s more, they seemed to be completely defying gravity. A chest as large as mine, you’d expect a bit of sag…anything this large that stood up proudly would look fake, but somehow my breasts managed to be large, perky, and completely natural-looking.

I couldn’t understand it at all.

My brother came looking for me when I didn’t come downstairs. After filling my ass with his seed the previous night, he’d told me that he was going to cook me breakfast, and that I could wash it all down with another milkshake. He knocked on my door, and when I didn’t answer, came in to find me standing naked in front of the mirror, staring in absolute shock.

“Wow,” he said, reaching out to cop a feel of my new, huge chest. It felt incredible…each time his fingers brushed across my nipples was like a mini-orgasm, but even when my pussy started to drip, I still didn’t move.

What now?

When Marty had first told me the Big Tits Theory, I’d understood it immediately. It made so much sense…but he’d only explained what happened up to an E-cup. E-cups were porn stars, freaks who fucked their brothers, who got off from sleeping with anyone and everything. For some reason, I hadn’t even thought about tit-sizes larger than that…

…but now, I was an I-don’t-even-know-what-cup. What did that make me?

Marty led me downstairs…he didn’t even bother putting clothes on me. I guess that meant we were going to be fucking sooner rather than later, a thought which excited me without altering the blank look on my face.

What was I?

As I mindlessly ate the bacon and eggs that Marty served me, and sipped on the milkshake he put into my hands, he began to explain.

F-cups, G-cups, H-cups, and everything above…they were special. Precious, he said. C-cups were a dime a dozen, D-cups were everywhere you looked (which was why he’d managed to take a different one home each night last week), and anyone could open up a browser window and find dozens, hundreds, thousands of E-cups, fucking and being fucked online for everyone’s amusements.

But F-cups? F-cups were incredible.

F-cups were property.

I sat there as his words washed over me. Everything he was saying made sense - he explained that F-cups had no free will, no mind of their own. F-cups exist to be fucked, to be owned; if you let an F-cup out on the streets by themselves, they’ll just latch onto the first man who glances at them sideways, the first man who shows any kind of attraction.

F-cups exist to get men off…and literally nothing else.

And when you grew past an F-cup, that’s when you were really something special.

Where E-cups would say yes to anything and F-cups needed an owner to tell them what to do, G and H-cups went even beyond that. They got off on the sickest, most perverted things they could think of. They’d sit in a room for hours, just to come up with dirty things that they could do…and their orgasms were stronger than every other cup-size put together.

When an G-cup gets aroused, Marty told me, she’ll do things that ordinary people would never dream of…and get off on it. They’re extraordinary, he assured me, and then sat back to let me process what he’d just said while I finished my milkshake.

I found his words extremely comforting. I’d panicked, more than a little, not knowing what I was going to do, but as I sat there and sucked up the last of Marty’s latest delicious milkshake, I realized exactly what I was going to do.

I was going to embrace my life as an G-cup. H-cup? It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered, just getting fucked, getting off…and being owned.

Marty jumped as I stood up suddenly, turning to him, grabbing him by the hands, and pulling his face toward mine.

“Come here,” I said seductively, before making out with him, letting his hands roam all over my new, hot body. His every motion sent shivers down my spine, and I swear I had a small orgasm just from him grabbing my butt.

He followed me as I marched into the bedroom…he was curious, no doubt, as to exactly what I was going to do. I thought I sensed a hint of fear, as well, but you know what they most likely say: Nobody gets in the way of an G-cup and her perversion.

Throwing him down on the bed, I pulled his jeans off, and took his cock deep down my throat, choking slightly and slobbering all over it. His eyes opened wide in shock as I reached around behind him and put a finger up his ass, but he soon relaxed and even seemed to enjoy it.

When he was as hard as he was going to get, I sat on top of him, and slowly guided him into my pussy.

“Marty,” I purred, “I want you to put a baby inside of me…”

God, just saying the words was the hottest thing I could think of. I knew that I had more than lived up to the G-cup challenge: being knocked up by your brother was, by far, the most perverted thing I could think of, and I was getting off just at the idea of it. I imagined how swollen my tits would be, how sexy my extended stomach would look…I’d be walking around with my brother’s incestuous spawn inside of me.

I wanted my brother to own me. I wanted to be his, in the most extreme way possible. I wanted to be owned, fucked, knocked up…I was my brother’s property, and I wanted to be a vessel to grow his incestuous babies.

And when the image of myself being fucked in the ass while nine months pregnant came into my head, I began to orgasm, bucking and thrashing around on top of Marty’s cock, screaming his name with pleasure.

We didn’t leave the house that day, or the next. I don’t even know if Mom even came home that night, I was so engrossed by the idea of getting knocked up by Marty. As much as we both loved anal and oral, we agreed that until I was definitely pregnant, it was safest to stick to vaginal sex. I threw away the prescription that Dr Lorne had given me, thanking the stars that I’d never bothered to fill it.

Marty took me in every possible position, and we both grew extremely familiar with the sight of my swollen pussy lips being parted by his thick cock, over and over again. We only stopped to take pictures.

I swear, there are now more pictures of my cunt-lips oozing cum online than there are of my face.

BIG TITS THEORY PART 7 OF 9 by Pan

Friday Afternoon:

Until recently, I’d always thought my big brother was a bit of a dweeb. Not irredeemably unattractive or anything like that, but certainly not the kind of guy who could bring a different girl home each and every night. And he continued to surprise me—I certainly didn’t have him pegged as the kind of guy who gotwomen, but as if the rough fuck he’d given me that morning wasn’t enough to prove it to me, when I returned home that afternoon, I discovered that he’d bought a DSLR camera, just to take photos of me.

What a sweetie!

I immediately dropped to my knees to thank him, of course—he snapped off a few test shots of me sucking his cock, and that just made me blow him with more gusto.

It’s probably, I thought, as my brother unloaded into my mouth and I swallowed it down gratefully, his knowledge of the Big Tits Theory that makes him so great with women. One look at her bra-size, and he knows exactly how to treat them…

Take me, for example. I’d woken up that morning an E-cup—the sluttiest of the sluts, the kind of girl who can’t even say no to her own brother. Hell, as I’d proven, I was the kind of girl who would seduce her own brother…poor Marty hadn’t stood a chance against what I was newly carrying around on the front of my chest.

After swallowing his seed, my brother presented me with a milkshake.

“We forgot, this morning…” he said, and I took it, immediately placing it on the bench beside me.

“Oh did we?” I asked, an innocent look upon my face. “Well, maybe we could…forget…again.”

He resisted my attempts to lift his shirt up, and gestured to the milkshake once more.

“Please,” he said, “sis…”

I pouted in protest, and it wasn’t until he leaned in close and whispered “I came in it” that my face lit up. Next thing I knew, I was guzzling the milkshake down as fast as I could—I swallowed most of it, but a tiny bit spilled onto the copious amounts of cleavage that I had exposed.

“Whoops,” I said, and he just smiled in response. If he was telling the truth, and he really had cum in the milkshake, that made 5…or perhaps 6…no, 5 loads that I’d swallowed that day. Not to mention the eight I’d taken in my cunt (including Marty, that morning) and the five that had cum in my ass (again, including Marty).

It had been a busy day.

After arriving at school, it hadn’t taken Patrick long to find me. He’d given me an appreciative look, and that was all I needed—a few seconds later, I was following him to an empty classroom and letting him pound my cunt for the first time.

Once he’d cum inside me, I admitted to myself that I wasn’t going to be spending much of the day learning, and set myself a few challenges. Less than half an hour later, I was fulfilling the first—I’d managed to convince two boys to accompany me to a disused janitorial closet, and after kneeling before them and sucking one cock and then the other, I engaged in my first ever double penetration.

I suppose in a sense I’m quite sexually inexperienced—I had only lost my virginity two days earlier, after all. But “inexperienced” though I am, I can tell you that the only thing that even compares to DP is having my brother’s cock up my ass. They’re both such taboo acts, and I feel so used…I don’t remember the boy’s names, but though they were reluctant to share me at first, as soon as I pulled my top off and had them sucking one glorious breast each that they agreed…at that moment, I think they would have agreed to anything.

I came and came and came. It was almost too much, to be honest, and I spent the rest of the day “taking it easy” by only having one guy at a time. Teachers, students, even that janitor who caught me in his closet…I made sure that each and every one of them walked away happy and satisfied, and when the final bell rang, I felt like I’d done a good day’s work.

After my brother took some photos of me licking the last of the milk off my own teats (there’s something you never hear about! Did you know that girls with massive tits can suck their own nipples? Honestly, I struggle to understand how any of us get anything else done…) Marty took me upstairs, and I had my first full photo-shoot.

E-cups want to know that they’re pleasing men everywhere, all over the world…it’s hard to explain to anyone who isn’t so well-endowed, but it’s a bit like having a great gift. Beethoven knew he had a gift, and wanted to share it with as much of the world as he could…girls like me, we’re the same way. Our body is our gift, and we want to share it not only with people in our immediate vicinity, but everyone, everywhere…if you’ve got a cock, I want to know that I’m helping you get off, and if photos are the only way I can do it, then I’ll take as many photos as I can.

I don’t know where Marty got the money for it, but he’d gone out and bought dozens and dozens of costumes…cheerleader outfits, Sailor Moon costumes, a French maid apron and skirt…he’d even found a latex outfit that managed to be snug around both my waist and my tits—knowing my new dimension, that seemed like no easy feat.

The shoot felt like it lasted half an hour, but when I looked at the clock, I realized that it had taken us late into the night. By the time we were done, I was so wet you could have fit a whole battalion of men inside of me without effort. The last round of photographs (before the camera’s battery ran out) were the ones that I was most excited to see…not because of the costume, which was a run-of-the-mill “sexy alien” outfit, but because I was so sure that you’d be able to look at the photos and hear me sloshing.

I begged Marty to fuck me, but my brother’s surprises weren’t over yet. He slapped my hands away from my pussy, and when I objected, threatened to tie me up.

The look on my face told Marty that it wasn’t the threat he was hoping it would be.

Reaching into the bag he’d taken from the adult store, Marty pulled out another gift to me—a collar.

“An E-cup like you,” he told me, “needs to belong to someone. And you, little sis, belong to me.”

My heart melted, and I’m not going to lie—a single tear of joy trickled down my face as Marty put it on me. I belonged. What’s more, I belonged to Marty, my older brother—the sexiest, loveliest, hottest man I’d ever known.

“You can’t let anyone see it,” he said, “especially not Mom…but when it’s just you and me in the house, I don’t ever want to see you without it.”

I nodded solemnly—as well as the hottest thing I’d ever heard, I knew that what he’d just said was a sacred pact, and I was determined to uphold it.

“Good girl,” he said, and then gestured to his lap. “Now come here…”

* * *

We didn’t sleep much that night. Mom was out, for some reason, and so I stayed collared until we eventually got to sleep in the early hours of the morning. When he’d gestured to his lap, I’d assumed he wanted another blow-job, or perhaps even a fuck, but instead he laid me across his lap, and proceeded to spank my bare bottom.

I didn’t understand at first, but as the pain slowly turned into pleasure, it dawned on me that this was just another case of my master knowing me better than I knew myself. He knew what an E-cup needed—I’d never before had any interest in spanking, but of course until my chest had grown, I’d never had any interest in becoming my brother’s personal sex slave, or having naked photos of myself spread as far and wide as possible.

It wasn’t about me, not any more. It was about my tits.

He spanked me until tears sprang from my eyes, until I begged him to stop, until my ass was raw and red…he only stopped, finally, when his spanking had made me cum. I tensed up, my hips thrusting uncontrollably forward, crying out in both pleasure and pain, but he didn’t stop spanking me for the entire duration of my orgasm.

Finally, as I collapsed onto my master’s lap, exhausted, he let up, and I looked up him with watery, exhausted eyes.

“Thank you,” I said, and he smiled back at me, and pulled my cock out to suck.

We stayed in that position for a while, me suckling on his penis, totally drained. It wasn’t the energetic blow-job that I’d normally give (and that my brother deserved)—it was more relaxing than that. It was almost like a form of meditation—as I sucked on him, like a baby animal at its mother’s teat, I let my mind wander and drift, and thought about my new life.

I was a slut. I was my brother’s slut…hell, more than that. I was my brother’s property. Even as I lazily blew him, he began sorting through the pictures that we’d taken, deciding which ones to upload, which ones to sell and which ones to put online for free. A part of me wanted him to upload all of them for free, just so that as many men could jerk off while looking at me as possible, but even in my sex-crazed state, I was still capable of rational thought.

Marty deserved to make money from my body, if that was what he wanted. He could do whatever he wanted with me—if he wanted to film me being taken by a room full of men, I would have let him, just to make him happy. Not, of course, that I wouldn’t have enjoyed it…

Finally, just as he was hitting “send” on the final picture, my energy perked up slightly, and I began giving him the full blow-job that he deserved. I knew I must look sex, in that moment—on my knees in front of my brother, my ass beginning to bruise from the spanking he’d just given me, wearing a sexy outfit and the collar that my brother had given me…

I thought that he was close to coming, but my brother…my master…had even greater self-control than I’d expected. Instead of blowing his load in my mouth, he grabbed my hair and roughly pulled me off his cock, practically throwing me across the room, and standing over me with a smug look on his face.

There was fear in my eyes as I looked up at him—he could do anything to me at that moment and I wouldn’t complain. I wanted to be fucked…no, I needed to be fucked, but if he’d told me to lick his boots clean, I would have done it. He had complete control over me…and I loved it.

As my brother came toward me, I glanced down at his cock, entranced. It was so beautiful…I wanted it inside of me. I wanted it in my ass, in my cunt, in my mouth. I wanted it between my huge tits…but most of all, I wanted it to go wherever Marty wanted it to go.

He chose my ass, that first night. Fucking my ass when it was still sore from a spanking was a particular turn-on of his, and the soreness combined with the pleasure in such a glorious way, it soon became a favorite of mine as well.

While my brother came inside my ass that night, I glanced down at my huge, E-cup breasts. I had no idea why they’d grown so huge, so suddenly, but I’d never been so glad of anything in my life.

BIG TITS THEORY PART 6 OF 9 by Pan

Friday morning:

I woke up with two worries: I was afraid that my holes would still be sore, and that my tit-size would have grown once again…

I was half right.

The D-cup bra that I’d bought yesterday was already too small for me, but my ass and pussy felt great. I pirouetted in front of the mirror, admiring my ample rear—had it, too, grown?—and wondered why I wasn’t sore. Maybe Marty would be able to…

Marty.

The second that my brother’s face popped into my head, my pussy grew wet, and my nipples perked up. I was an E-cup now, at the very least, and that meant…oh god.

I was a freak. I was the kind of girl who’d sleep with my brother without a second thought. Hell, I’d only been awake for a few minutes, and already the idea was incredibly appealing…

Collapsing backward onto my bed, I tried not to think about my brother in a sexual light. He was just my brother, I told myself, and just because my breasts were one size bigger was no reason to stop thinking of him as a sibling…all I had to do was remember that he was just my sexy older brother, and nothing more.

Wait, no. Not sexy. That wasn’t what I was trying to…

I shut my eyes and took a deep breath. Here was what I was going to do: I was going to get up, go downstairs, and sit down in front of my brother. I was going to try to ignore the way he’d inevitably stare at my tits, or the way that my body would respond…I wasn’t going to let his long, lingering glances at my chest affect my behavior.

I certainly wasn’t going to pull my shirt up and let him have a look. My body was not there to please my brother, and when I saw the outline of his erection pushing against his jeans, I wasn’t going to get down on my knees and fish it out, wrap my lips around it, and let Marty fuck my face until he was shooting his precious, precious cum deep into my throat…

Somehow, while telling myself what I wasn’t going to do, my hand had slipped between my legs, and started stroking up and down my sensitive pussy-lips. At least, I thought, my other hand was just resting casually on my breast, and not pulling at my nipples…although, of course, my new E-cups were apparently so sensitive that just resting there was enough to get me excited.

A few seconds later, I was cumming around my hand, wondering if my brother liked going out with D-cup girls so that he could take their asses. After Patrick and I had finished up in the empty classrooms, I’d managed to persuade two more footballers to sneak away with me and take my ass, and then when I’d gotten home, I’d noticed my forty-year old neighbor staring at me as I walked down the sidewalk.

Staring was rude, but somehow if felt like it would have been more rude not to take him inside and make him fill my ass up with his seed. Twice.

After that, it had been a relatively quiet evening. I’d spent slightly too much time experimenting with various phallus-shaped objects around the house, and had quickly discovered the delight of double-penetration. Believe me, you haven’t known masturbation until you’ve had a cucumber up your butt while slowly sliding a glass rolling-pin inside your freshly-shaved pussy…

I shook my head. I was getting distracted. I’d had a nice morning masturbation session, and that, surely, would be enough to ensure that I could hang around my brother without getting fixated on the long, smooth cock that he was hiding beneath his pants…

Just as I’d expected, Marty stared at me as I descended the stairs. I was wearing a vest—normally it would be worn over a shirt, but none of my clothes would fit over my enormous new bosom, and so I’d decided to wear the vest by itself. It didn’t expose anything…unless, of course, I moved.

(I was making sure to move as much as possible.)

At the back of my wardrobe, I’d managed to find an insanely short skirt…actually, I believe I may have bought it to use as a belt. Whatever the original intent, it really showed off the curves of my ass, and my pussy mound. It went really well with the platform shoes that I’d borrowed from Mom’s wardrobe—I don’t think she’d worn them for more than twenty years, but luckily for me, she never throws anything away.

Marty gaped at the sight of me, and when I was at the bottom of the stairs, I wrapped my hands around his torso, pulled him toward me, and passionately kissed him good morning. For all his smooth moves with his nightly dates, he didn’t seem to have anything to say to that, and it was only when I pulled out of the kiss that I remembered that a few minutes of making out wasn’t our standard sibling greeting…

Crap.

Reluctantly removing Marty’s hands from my mostly-exposed ass, I sat down on the stool, and tried to think of what I’d have done on any other day. My tits were interfering with my thinking, however, and making it hard to remember what was normal and what wasn’t. A nice, normal, sister-to-brother blow-job? Did he normally spank me, to break the ice? Or did we just skip the formalities and go straight to him sliding that cock inside his sister’s cunt, pumping in and out until I was full of his cream…

I shut my eyes and tried to remember what Marty’s cock tasted like. I could imagine it easily enough, but I couldn’t remember the flavor, and that was the clue that I needed—I didn’t normally blow him.

When I opened my eyes again, I realized that my vest had flipped open, exposing my pink nipples to Marty’s touch. He was standing in front of me, caressing them in awe.

“Are they…” he said, and I just nodded.

“So you’re…”

I whimpered with need.

“Should we…”

He didn’t need to say another word. His careful fondling had brought me almost to a peak, and I knew that I had to have him inside of me. I barely cared which hole he used, falling desperately to my knees in front of him, unleashing his cock…I was an E-cup, and that meant that I didn’t say no to anything, anyone…I needed his cock, and I needed it now.

Marty looked down at me with a surprisingly smug look on his face as I slurped and slobbered all over his cock. He’d had so many bimbos in the past few weeks, I really hoped that I could compete…one of his hands was still fondling my breasts, and while I desperately wanted to pleasure myself as I blew my sexy older brother, I wanted to make sure to give his hardness my full attention.

Without breaking eye-contact, I slipped his cock into my mouth, further and further. Just like in my fantasy that morning, I took his member deep into my throat, carefully suppressing my gag reflex, letting my brother fuck my face, use me as his little cum-slut…

To my surprise, he didn’t unload into my mouth as I’d been expecting, instead ordering me to turn around. He didn’t take my skirt off—there was no point—and I hadn’t worn any panties, so nothing got in the way as he slowly sunk his hard dick deep into my dripping wet pussy.

“Oh, Marty…” I moaned, as he continued to play with my nipples while fucking me over the kitchen counter. “Oh, big brother…”

With every stroke, my toes curled, and I could feel my pleasure building. As I came, Marty continued to fuck me, as if my spasms of pleasure were completely irrelevant. The thought that I was being used just served to turn me on even more, and my first orgasm had barely passed when I felt the building of another.

“I’m going to cum inside you,” he muttered, and I smiled broadly in response. I could think of nothing better than to be a cock-slut for my big brother—after all, I was an E-cup. I was good for one thing, and one thing only: servicing men, getting them off, and it didn’t matter to me who they were. If 92-year old Mr Richards across the street had even so much as hinted toward wanting me, I would have been on my knees so fast it would have made his head spin.

That would have been dirty, but it was nothing compared to this—this truly proved what a depraved little tramp I was. My own flesh and blood was inside me, fitting so snugly into my velvet pussy, one hand on my nipples, the other hand between our bodies, playing with my puckered asshole.

At the thought of Marty taking my ass, another wave of arousal crept across my body. I was sweating, now—we both were…and I loved it. I wanted him to spit in my mouth, I wanted every one of our fluids to intermingle. I wanted him to cum in my ass…for some reason, that held a greater taboo appeal than anything else.

I considered asking, begging him to, but I quickly realized that wasn’t my place. I was an E-cup—I got told where to take the cum, I didn’t get to decide. My genetics had conspired to make me nothing more than a little sex-slave, and I certainly wasn’t going to try to fight it any more. Anything, anywhere, any time…

My second orgasm triggered Marty’s, and I moaned with pure pleasure as I felt him filling me up with his warmth. I’m never going to shower again, I hazily thought, and even that was enough to turn me on a little more—the idea of spending the rest of my days covered in Marty’s sweat, full of his come…

Fortunately, I quickly worked out that never showering again would severely cut down the number of men willing to fuck me, and Marty joined me in the shower. It was there that he took my ass for the first time, while holding the shower-head against my pussy and flattening me against the glass wall. A part of me wished I could see what we looked like at that moment, and it didn’t take me long to work out that was the other part of my E-cups thinking for me, the part that wanted to be a porn star…

It was that thought that filled my head as I came: I imagined men all over the world were watching Marty fuck me, getting off while voyeuristically observing our incestuous pairing. God, I wanted to be a porn star almost as much as I wanted my brother to fuck me, and as he pounded my asshole, I climaxed again and again at the idea.

I wanted to be watched, I wanted to make men everywhere cum…after Marty had filled my ass and left me to clean up, I decided that I’d need to find a manager, someone to take care of the business side of things. God knew that I wouldn’t be able to—I’d say yes to any offer that involved getting a cock inside me, and probably more so if they offered to film it.

I left for school in a daze, dressed in the clothes that Marty managed to find me—an outfit that one of his various bimbos had left at the house. It was important, he’d emphasized, that I didn’t get expelled for turning up to school practically naked—the clothes were tight and slutty, but they’d probably pass dress-code…

…and if they didn’t, I was sure that I’d be able to wrangle a meeting with the principal, and “persuade him” to let me off the hook, just this once.

BIG TITS THEORY PART 5 OF 9 by Pan

Thursday afternoon:

It had been surprisingly easy to seduce Dr Lorne. He was a professional, through and through, and I suspect that most attempts to make him act so improperly would have failed…but there are few men in the world who can resist a horny topless 18-year old girl who’s throwing herself at you, and Dr Lorne certainly wasn’t one of them.

My mouth descended on his, and after a few seconds of struggle he allowed himself to melt into the kiss, wrapping his arms around me and running his hands up and down my back.

“Oh, Doctor…” I moaned, and he tried, briefly, to distance himself from me.

“We really shouldn’t…” he said, but I took his hands, placed them onto my plump breasts, and writhed in pleasure as he allowed himself to enjoy the feeling of two huge, teenage tits in his hands.

A few seconds later, his pants were around his ankles, and my hand was on his cock.

His cock…despite my first ever sexual activity being less than twenty-four hours ago, it felt like it had been familiar since I’d had the familiar feeling of a nice juicy cock in my hands. I wanted to taste it, I wanted to play with it…but more than anything, I wanted it to fuck me. I wanted to be fucked by my doctor, for the first time…he was there when I was brought into the world, and somehow, in my head, that made it okay for him to be the man to take my virginity.

The idea was only in my head for a few seconds before I was frantically pulling my panties down, bending over the patient bed, and looking back at the doctor.

“Please,” I said as sweetly as I could. “…don’t be gentle.”

Dr Lorne’s eyes widened, and I reached behind myself to guide his cock into my entrance.

It was everything that I’d dreamed it would be. His firm cock slowly pushed against my lips, parting them, finding the wetness inside of me. He kept on pushing forward as fireworks exploded in my head—I felt so full, I felt so good…I felt so useful. I was a D-cup, and that meant that I couldn’t say no…not, of course, that I wanted to.

Finally, his cock was inside me, all the way. He stayed still for a few seconds to let me adjust—I’d never felt anything like it. I squirmed at the sensations that his member caused in me, and sighed with pleasure as he started pulling out of me again.

“Oh, Doc…” I said, and looked behind me to see if he was enjoying himself. His eyes were closed, and if his hands hadn’t reached around and started pulling and tugging on my tits, I would have worried that it was because he didn’t find me attractive. But then he pushed forward again, and I stopped worrying…about anything.

It didn’t take the good doctor long to cum. As a medical professional, I was slightly surprised that he wasn’t more concerned about protection, but I suppose he wasn’t the type to put a condom in a gift horse’s mouth, or however that expression goes. I orgasmed just before he did—every time he thrust into me, I clenched, and my clit went wild with delight. I couldn’t believe how good being fucked had made me feel, and I think that my clenching pussy and gasps of pleasure were what set Dr Lorne off as well.

After we were done, he pulled out, and started to stammer an apology. I wasn’t really listening—I was sitting up on his bed, legs spread, looking at my pussy. If I squeezed in a certain way, cum dripped out, and it was one of the most beautiful things that I’d ever seen.

“Are…are you on the pill?” he asked when I didn’t respond, and I just shook my head and giggled.

“It would probably be a good idea, though,” I said in reply. “Because I’m planning on doing a lot more of that.”

And I did. After pulling my panties back on, and waltzing out of the doctor’s office with a prescription for birth control in my hand, I meant to head straight for the pharmacy, but a particularly attractive construction worker caught my eye, and after I’d approached him and asked why he hadn’t cat-called me, a few minutes later we were tumbling into a half-built room, his pants around his ankles, and my bra in his hand…

After the construction worker, it was a businessman I passed on the street, then a man selling hotdogs who knew where the nearest public toilets were, and then taxi driver who I’d hailed because I thought he looked cute. Finally, when I got the taxi-driver to drop me off at school (leaving him my extremely damp panties as a tip), my pussy was starting to feel a tiny bit sore.

Another side-effect of having big boobs, I thought with a sad shake of my head. Small-chested girls have no idea how easy they have it…

When I arrived in school, lunch was just wrapping up, and I couldn’t help but notice, as I wandered into the cafeteria, how many stares I was drawing. The uncharacteristically short skirt, the ruffled sex-hair, the unrestrained breasts…(I’d offered the construction worker a blow-job in return for getting my bra back, but he was exhausted after our two quick, messy fucks. He’d offered to just give it back, but that didn’t feel like a fair transaction to me, and so I’d let him keep it.)

I’ve got to tell you, it put a bounce in my step, and as my heels clacked across the floor, I found myself heading straight for Patrick and his friends.

“Hey,” I said, sitting next to him and putting one hand on his leg. “Can I ask you a favor?”

The huge footballer looked at me with a half-smile on his face, and glanced around at his friends.

“This is…uh…” he said, attempting to introduce me, but I dismissed the formalities with a wave.

“It doesn’t matter. Could I speak to you? Alone?”

He was already getting up, but I wanted to make my point, so I leaned over and whispered in his ear.

“I don’t really want to talk…it’s about sex.”

A few minutes later, Patrick had found us another empty classroom with the lights off, and my arms were in his hair, his tongue halfway down my throat.

“I want you…” I moaned, and knelt down in front of him. “I need you…”

This time, however, I didn’t take his cock in his mouth—though God knows I wanted to. Instead, I just jerked him off. I’ve never actually done this before, I realized as I stared adoringly at his cock, while my small hand pumped it over and over. It was beautiful, in many ways—seeing his veins pulse and the head of his cock intensely throb as he got closer. Finally, recognising that he was close, I turned around and aimed him at myself, hitting my own rear entrance with his seed.

“What was that about?” he asked as I smiled with triumph. I looked up at him, and told him what I’d really brought him here for.

“I want to you to take my ass…but I’ve never done it before. Can you help?”

His cock plumping up again in my hand was all the reply that I needed. From my conversation with Marty that morning, I knew that anal sex was something I was expected to do a D-cup, but that wasn’t why I was so interested…honestly, it just seemed exceptionally practical. My pussy was exhausted, after all the men I’d taken, but I wasn’t ready to stop yet—I wasn’t even close.

The ass was new territory, which excited me in itself, but more importantly, it meant that I could probably take another four or five men before having to call it a day…at least.

In retrospect, I’ve no evidence that Patrick knew what he was doing, but if it was his first time as well, he certainly hid it well. He didn’t just shove it in, like a lot of men would have—he turned me around, kissed me, and then reached down between my legs and played with my clit for a few minutes.

My pussy was sore from the day’s pounding, and my clit was slightly desensitized, but his fingers running over the slick nub still felt amazing, and when his other hand started gently twisting and pulling my nipple, the combination sent ripples of pleasure through my whole body.

He leaned in and started talking directly into my ear:

“You like that? You like your little body being used by a big, strong man?”

I just nodded, and gasped as he roughly pulled on my right nipple.

“You’re such a dirty little slut…I can feel that I’m not your first man of the day, you know that? You’ve had someone else cum inside you, haven’t you?”

I nodded again, unable to think clearly enough to lie. A part of me was worried that he’d be grossed out, knowing that he was touching another man’s seed, but when he didn’t seem to react, I threw my head back and took another ragged breath as I realized what a slut I’d been that day.

“More than one man?”

I nodded.

“How many?”

“Five,” I croaked, and felt Patrick bite my neck at the answer.

“God, what a dirty little whore you are…and now you want to be fucked in the ass, by a boy who you only met yesterday. You’re a filthy little tramp…and I’m going to use you like one.”

Without me realizing what he was doing, Patrick had turned me on and utterly relaxed me. He kept talking dirty to me as his left hand moved behind me, lubricated a few fingers on his own cum, still wet on my ass, and slowly slid a finger into my one remaining virgin hole. I was too horny to resist, and after a few seconds, a second finger joined the first.

“I’m going to take your ass,” he said, and I nodded, pleading with my eyes, too turned on to even speak.

Running his cockhead up and down my pussy a few times, catching some of the cum that was steadily dripping from my slit, Patrick waited until his cock was well lubricated, and then placed it at the rosebud of my asshole.

“You’re mine,” he whispered into my ear, and all I could do was agree…

It didn’t hurt, not nearly as much as I’d worried that it would. It was more like an intense pressure—I could feel my own ass expanding to accommodate his girth, and it felt amazing.

Honestly, everything about the situation was turning me on, and it all combined to leave me panting with pleasure after just a few seconds…I loved being Patrick’s schoolgirl slut, I loved having him take my ass…I especially loved the small moaning sounds he made, showing exactly how he turned he was by his girth slowly filling up my ass. He never let up—he just kept on slowly sliding forward, fucking his own cum into my ass, as I moaned and shook.

I’d never felt so full in my life. I was almost having trouble breathing, so intense was the feeling. It took more than five minutes before he was finally all the way inside me, deep within my rectum, and he leaned forward and whispered in my ear again when I felt his balls bouncing against me.

“And now,” he said, “you’re fucked.”

It would have been easy to be scared, but my nervousness just turned into arousal as he pulled almost the whole way out, and then plunged his thickness inside me, again and again. He didn’t go easy, and I didn’t want him to—at one point, he put his hand over my mouth, just to stop the wailing of pleasure and dirty words that I was emitting.

The stimulation was unlike anything else I’d ever experienced—it wasn’t like being fucked, although it certainly contained the same elements of being repeatedly filled up and empty. The rubbery feel of his cock on my ass was nice, but it was the pure dirtiness of what we were doing that was really getting me off.

I was getting fucked in the ass. I was a little schoolgirl ass-slut, and I was loving every second of it.

It was less than a minute before I felt my first orgasm beginning to build—as if he knew my body as well as I did, Patrick increased the stimulation on my clit. He’d never stopped manipulating it, not for a second, and now he could feel that I was getting close to cumming, he rubbed it faster.

“Are you going to cum?” he hissed in my ear, and I nodded frantically. “Are you going to cum from having your first cock in your ass?”

“Oh god, Patrick…” I said, the second his hand pulled away from my face. “Please…”

“Cum, my little slut,” he spat, and it was all that I’d been waiting for—my climax seemed to go on forever. Patrick didn’t let up, he kept ramming my ass as I saw stars, and when I was done, I realized that he’d been filling my ass with his seed as I came.

I collapsed onto the floor of the empty classroom with a smile, and when I opened my eyes, Patrick was looking down at me. I could imagine exactly what I looked like—skirt bunched up around my waist, my huge D-cup tits exposed to the world, cum dripping out of both my holes…

Patrick, in contrast, hadn’t even gotten undressed. He didn’t say anything as he left, and it was a few minutes before I had the energy to get up and return to class.

Now that I knew what I was doing, I wondered how many more men I could take in my ass before I got too sore to continue…

I truly loved being a D-cup.