Dr. Tolliver's Bosom Balm

Bronagh emerged from unconsciousness amidst such deafening cacaphony and blinding daylight that her first thought upon waking was how she had managed to sleep through it at all. Hissing, splashing, chugging all further served to disorientate her and delay the process of recalling how she had come to find herself in her present situation.

She was wearing faded striped pyjamas, too long in the arms and legs, too tight in the hips and most definitely too tight in the chest, where one button particular was fighting a hopeless battle against the outermost expanses of her firm, round melon breasts. How had she ended up wearing a gentleman's pyjamas? And whose...?

'Aha, Miss Kelly. You are awake. Breakfast?'

Tolliver. The chaotic events of the previous night returned to her, not all necessarily in the correct order. The chase, the shots fired at them. The promotional masturbation contest in the deserted old town. Her breasts escaping the green dress and grabbing hold of Tolliver's erection as though charmed with a life of their own. The endless quantities of seed with which that erection had so copiously festooned her huge bare bosom. The headlong crash into the river. The fact that she had given her maiden name of Kelly, and not her married name of O'Shea. Donald, unconscious on the floor of the O'Shea homestead, having walloped his head against the stove. The pewter wedding band, cast aside in the twilit dust of old Cannon Town.

Bronagh swung her pyjama-clad legs from the sofa and stood, then lost her balance and tumbled to one side. At first she thought that it was dizziness borne of fainting, but it soon became clear to her that the entire room was, in fact, moving. 'What's going on, Doctor Tolliver?' she asked. 'Where are we? And why am I wearing your pyjamas?'

Tolliver, standing in the open doorway in rolled shirt sleeves, with the morning sun blazing behind him above the swaying horizon, grinned and extended a hand to help Bronagh steady herself. Bronagh took his hand with reluctant suspicion.

'Come and take a look,' Tolliver said.

Stepping with trepidation borne partly of caution, partly of being unaccustomed to a moving floor, Bronagh followed Doctor Tolliver out of the door and into the harsh daylight.

Although she hadn't moved from the spot, she was now, it seemed, on a boat. The vast river was retreating at a slow but steady pace, rotating paddles to either side sending two noisy trails in their wake. The forested riverbank passed far away to either side. Where once a couple of steps had led up to the rear door of the cabin, there was now a wooden gangway that led left and right and around the deck.

'Something, isn't it, Miss Kelly,' said Doctor Tolliver with pride.

'You loaded the carriage onto a boat?' Bronagh said in hazy confusion.

'In a sense,' Tolliver said, enjoying the enigmatic situation. He led Bronagh, still in partly-oversized-partly-undersized pyjamas, athwartships around the deck, past one of the powerful paddles, towards the stern. 'The carriage and the boat are two halves of the same whole. That jetty you saw through the periscope was the framing mechanism which allows my transport to be amphibious.'

Bronagh stared at him.

'I can travel on both land and sea,' Tolliver explained patiently. 'We did not drive onto the jetty, nor did we collide with it. We merged with it, the wheels folded and stowed safely beneath us, and now we are being propelled along the good river by means of steam power. You are safely aboard my good little tugboat, the Areola.'

'And the horses?' Bronagh asked.

Doctor Tolliver shrugged. 'Never mine to start with, I am sorry to say. I, eh, I borrowed them.'

Bronagh frowned. 'Well, then I hope they found their way back to their owner, who will have missed them, I am sure. They must have been frightened half to death.'

'As were we,' said Tolliver. 'Your fellow townspeople nearly had themselves a lynching party right there. It was a narrow escape.'

Bronagh nodded.

'Now, Miss Kelly. Breakfast?'

A wooden table was set for a simple morning meal, bacon was sizzling atop the stove which, it seemed, was also powering the paddles that drove the Areola forward, and two chairs were waiting.

'Doctor Tolliver,' Bronagh said. 'Where, if you please, are my clothes?'

Tolliver extended a hand past Bronagh's shoulder. 'Behind you, Miss Kelly,' he said.

Bronagh turned. She hadn't noticed until now, but indeed a washing line had been erected on two poles, and her green dress and underclothes were pegged to them. The sight of her frilly bloomers billowing in the wind sent the colour back into Bronagh's cheeks. 'Well, I...!'

'I took the liberty of laundering your clothing, Miss Kelly. I hope you don't mind.'

'You undressed me!' Bronagh turned again to fix Tolliver with a freckled scowl. 'While I lay unconscious in that scientific cabin of yours! You stripped me fully nude, and no doubt had your foul way with me once more! I suppose when I remove your pyjama top from myself I will find my bosom decorated in yet more of your thick seed?'

Tolliver raised his hands in the hope of quelling Bronagh's rapidly escalating ire. 'Yes, Miss Kelly, I did undress you. You had fainted, and it was my duty to loosen any constrictive garments and relieve you of them. Such is the size and firmness of your - very beautiful - bosom, and the generous curvature of your hips and, uh, posterior, that meant undressing you entirely, head to foot. In any case, your dress was stained with dust, dirt, and my already-spent reproductive fluids.'

Bronagh gasped in wordless anger.

'On the other hand,' Tolliver said,' I assure you that you won't find any trace of thick seed on your chest or anywhere else on your lovely body.'

'Well,' said Bronagh. 'That's something, at least.'

'Because,' Tolliver went on, 'In addition to washing your clothes, I also took the liberty of washing you.'

'Pig!' shouted Bronagh over the noise of the steam paddles. 'I hope that in doing so you spent yourself unconscious!'

'In fact, I did,' Tolliver said, shame-faced. 'If that helps absolve me. While running my soapy hands all over those extraordinary pink bosoms I spent into my pants repeatedly, over and over again. There is only so much a man can take when confronted with a physique of such erotic magnificence.'

'Compliments will get you nowhere,' said Bronagh, although deep within, years of romantic neglect from her husband had left her a lot more vulnerable to the admiring looks of a gentleman than she cared to admit. And the tall, dark Doctor Tolliver, well, he was irritatingly easy on the eye. 'I would like to point out that my dress was not constrictive at all. My bosoms, as you were of course aware, had already fought their way out of the only tightly fastened part of it. And underneath I was wearing neither corset nor girdle.'

'So I discovered,' said Doctor Tolliver. 'In fact it was this discovery upon unfastening your dress that sent me headlong into my first throbbing climax...'

'Please, spare me the details!' winced Bronagh.

'... You naturally possess the kind of body that other women spend money, a lot of money, trying to simulate by means of expensive support garments, ointments, pills, diets...'

'Lucky me,' said Bronagh coldly. But her mind returned to the jealousy of her peers. Tolliver was right. The belated burgeoning of her bosom and bottom had transformed her from a merely pretty girl to a confrontationally alluring specimen of fair Irish womanliness. Donald had, she was deciding, simply too ignorant to appreciate this. Doctor Tolliver, on the other hand... well, perhaps he was a little too enthusiastic in his admiration, both verbally as well as physically.

'Yes! Lucky you! Most certainly, Miss Kelly!'

The button holding the pyjamas closed at the outermost jutting extremity of Bronagh's large bust chose that moment to give up the fight and popped open. The buttons above and below held on, and those naughty pink nipples stayed just about covered under the panels of striped fabric, but a large diamond-shape gaped open between them, a tight, deep cleft separating two expanses of firm, rounded breast flesh.

Doctor Tolliver's eyes began to glaze over again. 'Oh Miss Kelly,' he gasped. 'Oh those bosoms! Those glorious bosoms! Oh how I long to insert myself tenderly between them...'

'Control yourself, Doctor!' snapped Bronagh.

'Yes, yes, I know,' Tolliver muttered. 'I'm already fiercely erect, just at the sight of a mere portion of bared bosom...'

'Well, you won't be inserting your erectness anywhere near it today,' Bronagh said, then turned to make her way back to the cabin, snatching her knickerbockers and dress from the line as she went.

'Tomorrow, then?' Tolliver pleaded after her.

In the cabin, away from the glare of morning light and the intense scrutiny of the obsessed Doctor's eyes on her body, Bronagh sorted through her clothes. She saw a sleeve of some kind of shirt hanging out of a clothes chest, opened it, and rummaged through the items within for something more appropriate as seafaring attire. She had once read a dime novel about a girl who stows away aboard a ship disguised as a cabin boy, and she was beginning to feel very much like that fictional heroine now.

She opened the remaining buttons of Doctor Tolliver's pyjama shirt, putting them out of their overtaxed misery, and let her bare chest spring forward and shudder to a quivering upward pout. She gazed down on its twin-domed, freckled porcelain vista with a mixture of pride and nervous awe. The naughty, softly pink nipples looked back up at her from their vantage points atop those gently conical upswept peaks of snowy bosom.

'Miss Kelly, I just wanted to... oh sweet mercy!'

It was Doctor Tolliver, who had opened the door and was now standing in the doorway once more, seeing her in all her bare-breasted loveliness.

'You again!' shrieked Bronagh, hands flying to cover up what they could of the abundance of bosom that protruded from her slight frame. 'Have you no shame whatsoever?'

'I am sorry to intrude while you're dressing, Miss Kelly, but I just wanted you to see this.' With that, Tolliver, opened his pants and let his iron-hard erect penis leap forth with the same spring-loaded yearning for liberty that Bronagh's breasts had, moments earlier.

Bronagh couldn't believe what she was seeing. The man was clearly a crazed perversion of nature. 'Doctor Tolliver! If, indeed you are a doctor at all! Will you please get it into your deranged mind that however much you desire to see my private parts naked, I have no desire whatsoever to see yours! Yes, I can see it is very big, yes, I can see it is very purple, yes, I can see it is exceptionally hard. But it's nothing I didn't see several times last night, so please, for the last time, put your... thing away!'

'But you did this!' Tolliver's facial expression was one of pathetic subservience. His moustache was wilting, its sprightly erectness having seemingly been drained by the requirements of the tumescent organ that rose from between his legs. 'Don't you understand?'

'I understand only too well the effect that the naked female form has on the weak male mind,' Bronagh said, fingertips still shielding her soft nipples from view. With frustration she felt them stiffen a little, and this she decided to attribute to the draft from the open doorway. She tried to tear her eyes from Doctor Tolliver's erect manhood, but it was so freakishly long and stiff that it remained in her peripheral vision.

'But my organ has never responded this way to any woman! Please understand, Miss Kelly, that, beautiful though you are, I can't help but be overwhelmed by the scientific, biological implications of this level of arousal!'

'Of all the ridiculous excuses...!'

'Please, Miss Kelly, in the interest of science, just remove your fingers from your nipples and let me see those breasts entirely nude.'

Bronagh rolled her eyes. 'Fine!' she snapped, and withdrew her hands, spreading her arms and striking a sarcastic showgirl pose.

'Oh sweet mercy!' Doctor Tolliver declared as Bronagh's bare bosom filled his field of view. 'Oh sweet mercy, look, Miss Kelly, look at my manhood! It's happening. Oh sweet mercy it's happening and I'm not even touching it. You're not even touching it! Oh my sweet dear Lord!'

A plume of seed left the tip of Doctor Tolliver's convulsing, completely untouched priapism, sailed through the air in a thickly-congealed white rope and draped itself lovingly from Bronagh's right shoulder diagonally down to her left nipple. Before Bronagh could even utter a protest, a second garland of liquid admiration criss-crossed over the top of it.

'Look, Miss Kelly!' Doctor Tolliver beamed in helpless delight as his tool pumped seed at those exceptional breasts from several feet away. 'Look at what your bosoms, and your bosoms alone, are doing to me!'

'Make it stop!' Bronagh spluttered through a strand of sticky white issuance that had just hit her on the lips.

'Even if I could stop this,' Tolliver wheezed as his freely pulsating manhood continued to pelt Bronagh's bare chest with ejaculate, 'I do not think that I should wish to.'

Bronagh reached for the nearest item of clothing and made to raise it in front of her. 'Then I shall simply cover myself up! Or turn away!'

'Then you will leave me only partially purged,' the semen-shooting scientist explained, raising his hands in caution. 'The orgasmic urge within my loin will simply lie dormant, clouding my judgement and compelling me to exploit any opportunity to resolve it.'

'So you're saying I need to wait here for as long as it takes for you squirt that stuff all over my bosoms?'

Tolliver shrugged, his shoulders shuddering as a surprisingly voluminous bolt of sperm chugged into the air in a long but, judging by the ambivalent look on the man's face, clearly not entirely satisfying rope that joined the latticework of white cream across Bronagh's ample nude breasts. 'You could, of course,' he said with a meaningful look, 'help to speed me to full completion.'

Bronagh's reaction wasn't quite anger. Tolliver was giving her a way out of this situation, which now looked like it may never end if she did not participate. But she did not want this lewd interchange to proceed upon his terms. She thought of the acts which the women of Cannon Town had performed on him in the interest of challenging the stamina-giving powers of his mysterious tonic. 'Under no circumstances am I letting you... enter me,' she said, an inch or two of seed-string hitting her left nipple and dangling from it stickily.

'I assure you, Miss Kelly, that nothing could be further from my mind.'

'Nor am I taking that monstrous thing in my mouth.'

'Neither of us would enjoy that.'

'Frankly, Doctor Tolliver, I cannot even bring myself to touch it with my fingers.'

They faced each other for a few moments, the silence only broken by the wet splat of a strand of sperm hitting the lake between Bronagh's breasts. Bronagh cast her mind back to that fateful first encounter which those marvellous breasts had had with Doctor Tolliver's erectness. 'But,' she concluded, 'It makes a certain perverse sense for the cause to be the cure.'

'Meaning?' said Doctor Tolliver, still trembling in unresolved orgasmic limbo.

'I will let you insert your member here.' Bronagh pointed to the long, tight abyss that cleft her bosom so deeply. 'And you may treat my bosom the way a husband would treat the intimacy between his wife's thighs.'

'Thank-you,' said Tolliver, as thought it were what he had been hoping she would say all along. He took a step forward and let out a groan of sheer bliss as his throbbing sword passed between Bronagh's semen-lubricated bosoms like a hot knife through butter.

Bronagh looked down reluctantly, just in time to see the purple plum head of that extravagant manhood re-emerge into view just below her chin. The rest of the shaft was swallowed up entirely by her extensively projected breasts, which, again seeming to have minds of their own, did not part to admit that column of pink gristle but if anything seem to close in on it. Her fingers fumbled with one another behind her back as the Doctor withdrew, then plunged in again, out, then in, out, in, making sordid, impassioned love to her buxom chest. His hips collided rhythmically with her protuberant pink nipples, but her breasts were so dense, so firm, so proudly unyielding that the repeated pressure only compressed them very slightly inwards, sending gentle wobbles towards her throat, bulging the flesh upwards then releasing it to quiver back to its natural, sloping form.

'I feel a second wave coming,' Tolliver gasped. 'Brace yourself!' He placed his hands tenderly on the semen-frosted sides of Bronagh's breasts to steady them while his hips began a steady gyrating action that caused his thrusting turgidity to jostle the mountains of breast flesh from side to side as he passed in and out between them.

Before Bronagh could even turn away she was confronted with the close-up spectacle of several unexpected fountains of white cream sailing vertically upwards right in front of her nose while their issuer wailed in delighted relief.

'Yes!' he cried. 'Yes!'

Those first eruptions from his bosom-crazed member had, it seemed, been a mere prologue to the main act. If his capacity to produce semen of sufficient force and volume to hit Bronagh's bosom from a distance had been, in its way, impressive, the prodigious display that Doctor Tolliver gave now was nothing short of awe-inspiring. Bronagh found herself unable to look away. As vulgar as the Doctor's pride in his own depravity struck her, she found - and tried inwardly to deny - an uncomfortable satisfaction at being the object of his lust and the cause of this spectacular relief.

Eventually, looking several pounds thinner, Doctor Tolliver ceased ejaculating, and staggered backwards towards the open cabin doorway, his penis finally wilting back to semi-flaccidity, a long, thick strand of white semen stretching from between Bronagh's bosoms - both bountiful globes now almost entirely concealed beneath layer upon layer of that viscuous bodily issuance. 'I think,' he panted, 'I am finished. My compliments on a most viscerally attractive bust, Miss Kelly.'

Bronagh looked down at her thickly creamed opulence, lost for words.

Tolliver gestured to a basin and faucet in the corner. 'Boiled running water, and soap of my own making. I will leave you to wash up. Help yourself to any clothes which you find and which fit you.'

With a bow, the spindly, smartly-dressed figure went back out on deck, stuffing his tender manhood back into his long-johns as he went, then shut the door behind him, finally affording Bronagh some long-overdue privacy.

***

Bacon and eggs were sizzling when Bronagh, scrubbed clean, returned to the outdoor living area to join Doctor Tolliver for a late breakfast. She was looking every bit the stowaway in disguise from her adventure novel, although she did not recall young Pirate Pearl having to find room for two melon-sized breasts beneath a frilly shirt and suspenders. There being no support garments in Doctor Tolliver's clothes chest, Bronagh was once again thankful that her bosom, despite its generous size, was firm enough to be entirely self-supporting.

'I hope this manly attire will keep your desires at bay,' she said by way of announcing her presence.

Doctor Tolliver looked up and his eyes bulged. 'Your comely breasts look as though they might tear their way out of that shirt at any moment,' he gulped. 'And your hips and... feminine intimacy are outlined and accentuated by those pants in a way that not only leaves little to the erotic imagination but actively feeds it.'

'I see,' said Bronagh, looking down at herself. She clearly still had more to learn about Doctor Tolliver's sexual tastes than she thought.