The following is a story first published on another web site under a slightly different nom de plume. I decided to post it here as well since there have been several mentions of it in posting for other of my stories. I'm trying to make sure that all of my works are posted here. Please note that aside from this foreword I have made no changes in any way. I hope the reader enjoys the story.
All characters are 18 or older.
*
A continuation of Abigail's life.
She woke that morning as she had for the past many months: with one hand clenched between her thighs and the other clutching the distended nipple at the tip of one breast. She woke feeling refreshed and alive, eager to face the new day. The sex dream was fading rapidly and then gone as she rose.
Striding to her three-sided, full length mirror she stretched like a cat. Arching her back, hands clasped, arms upraised, lifting up onto her toes , her breasts rose as she stretched. She admired her reflection complacently. The magnificent pink mounds trembled only slightly as she breathed but they quivered heavily as she relaxed to stand flat footed. As they came to rest they settled firmly in place, high on her rib cage.
So large, she marveled once again. So magnificently large. Some women were embarrassed by the size of their breasts. Not her. Not anymore. Not since that day in finishing school! She had, she thought, the largest breasts imaginable. They had been the largest in her school by far. Probably, she reflected, the largest in town. She had never met, never seen, any woman as well endowed as she was. She couldn't imagine larger breasts on a frame her size. And she felt nothing but pride and self admiration now. She no longer tried to hide her endowments under layers of clothing. Of course, it was impossible to hide breasts the size of hers. And why make the effort she felt?
At five foot nine inches, she was taller than most women although from a distance you would have thought her shorter than that. Most women her height were not nearly so abundantly blessed, she knew. The massively curved mounds sat proudly, high on her rib cage. The outer curves swept beyond the width of her shoulders by several inches. The bottom of her breasts rested just below her navel! And they were so fully fleshed! They swelled out almost immediately below the start of the cleavage that separated the immense mounds.
Women who were blessed with anything close to her proportions tended to be less than five feet, two inches. Something to do with puberty and hormones she had read somewhere. She was the lucky exception, she felt. And no woman, tall or short, had the same over-abundant curves, she knew!
Swiveling from side to side she watched as the immense, softly rounded mounds swung back and forth. At each extent they slapped softly against her upper arms, together, and then rebounded in the other direction. When she cupped a hand against the outer sides of each breast to stop the swaying the curve of each breast was almost unnoticeable to the touch, they were so large. Pressing inward, pressing hard, using her hands and forearms, elbows pointed straight ahead, she caused her breasts to surged forward, seeming to almost touch the mirror several feet in front of her.
As usual her aureoles puffed up a bit from the internal pressure. During periods of arousal they would also become more prominent, more noticeable, more sensitive to the touch.
Making fists of both hands she squeezed each aureole and pressed inward and upward. Her breasts crushed together, pushing outward and surging toward her face. She was imitating a pose that she had seen on the internet. She remembered the happy smile of pride that the model had had on her face. Her own face in the mirror was just as pride-filled and she was certain that her breasts were larger than the cover model's. Her chin was just visible above the rounded swells of her breasts, her shoulders completely concealed while her navel was hidden between the lower, inner edges of her melons. Her elbows held akimbo, her breasts filled the complete expanse between. From below her navel to her chin, from outstretched elbow to outstretched elbow she was all breast meat, her clenched fists almost sunken from sight in the warm pink and tan flesh.
Her legs clenched tightly together, she felt a shiver of arousal at the picture she presented in the mirror. What a body, she chortled to herself!
Looking at herself in the mirror every morning this way had become a part of her awakening ritual. She enjoyed posing, imitating the photos of girls that she had seen on the internet and elsewhere. She knew that she was the envy of other women everywhere she went. And the object of the lust of all the men. And she relished the attention.
Smugly she watched as she released the pressure and her magnificent globes jellied back to their normal position, held high and thrusting forward in defiance of gravity. Her nipples slightly aroused from being handled.
She cuddled each awesome breast to her self, caressing and kissing one and then the other in self appreciation. Then, reluctantly, she turned and moved to the bath.
As she entered the shower she recalled when her breasts had first started to become the massive globes that they were now. It had been long before she entered finishing school. At the time of her first brush with puberty. She had at first been delighted as she grew quickly to sport a firm pair of B-Cuppers. Then she had grown somewhat embarrassed as the continued expansion had turned into an on-going, ever increasing, expanding bust line. Other girls in the convent school had picked on her and made her feel unattractive, a "freak".
It had taken a kind and understanding teacher at her finishing school to get her to consider herself attractive and blessed, rather than cursed. While he had never taken advantage of the teacher-student relationship, she had often fantasized of what might have happened if he had done so.
With his help she had discovered pride in her appearance and had begun to learn of the power that her incredible pulchritude imbued her with. Power to command the attention of any man. Power to reduce other women to insignificance, unnoticeable to men while she was nearby.
Realizing that she was repeatedly sudsing her breasts and no longer just washing Abigail reluctantly rinsed off and turned off the shower.
As she toweled off she inspected her vast globes. There were no stretch marks, her breasts were continuing to grow, to expand further outward, further forward! Lifting each in turn she patted them dry, enjoying the towel's rough texture. Rubbing briskly she brought each nipple to prominence. They quickly blossomed into firm pegs, almost an inch wide and slightly longer. While much larger than normal they were almost lost against the bulk of the breasts that supported them. The weight of each breast was considerable and her supporting hand sank almost from sight as she lifted each breast to towel under it. The vast globes quivered as she patted the sides and tops. She enjoyed the feelings of movement. The reassuring massive weight of her breasts as they hung so solidly in front of her made her feel so womanly!
She was very proud of how large she had become. And the growth was continuing. Only last week she had received another supply of bras. Larger than the last group, a collection of sport and practical with a mix of what she thought of as entertainment bras. It was from this selection that she picked the lingerie she would use this day. A pair of high cut French bikini panties were pulled snugly into her crotch. A matching pale blue bra was cinched around her waist with the clasps to the front. Unable to see the clasps because of her immense breasts, she worked by feel to close the hook and eyes then shifted the bra around and, leaning over, pulled the straps and cups up and over her breasts, shaking each into it's cup. Then, standing upright again, she pulled and tugged, shifted and caressed to snugly encase each breast in it's lace and spandex container. Even though each cup contained enough fabric to make a complete bra for any other woman; on her the cups just barely covered the nipple and left almost the entire upper half of her breasts uncovered. She smiled contentedly at the cleavage she presented. The bras straps were connected to the cups on the far outside presenting an epic sweep of snow white breast tops separated by an extravagantly long cleavage.
A short, snug skirt that ended a fashionable distance above her knees was next and then a white sweater top that zipped up the front was stretched over her upper body. She had a doctor's appointment before she headed to her first job interview and she did not want to have too much to struggle with. A short jacket was the last touch - it was a brisk spring day - then she grabbed her attaché case and was out the door - her flats clacking on the stairs as she descended.
************************ The Doctor's Office
The doctor's office was a familiar stop for her. Once a month she arrived early in the day and was measured and weighed. On alternate months blood was drawn. She seldom saw the doctor himself. Usually the nurse took down the statistical data and recorded it in the log book. There was no explanation of the continued growth yet, all of the tests returned normal results and yet the phenomenal growth continued. Some times a fraction of an inch increase. Often an inch in a month. Her weight kept increasing, but this was expected. Her thighs, waist and hips remained slender, almost unchanged. Her chest measurement had increased slowly; mostly due to an increase in musculature across the back and pectorals. The examining physicians had been astounded at the way she was able to carry her breasts with no discomfort. And the fact that the hugely swollen breasts remained almost defiant of gravity was also remarkable. Examinations had suggested, but been unable to determine conclusively, that she had developed additional ligature support which allowed her breasts to continue to jut forward so dramatically. She didn't care why it was, she was just pleased that it was.
As she entered the doctor's office the receptionist looked up and with a smile told her to enter examining room 3. Dropping her attaché case on the floor beside the chair in the examination room, she hopped up on the examining room table and waited. It was only a few minutes later when a nurse entered.
"Abigail deWinter? Hello, I'm Nurse Sweeney. I'll be taking your measurements today." She did not recognize the nurse.
"I don't think I know you", she said.
"No, I'm new with the doctor. I must say, having read your records I'm quite anxious to do this work up. You have created quite a stir in the profession young lady."
