Heavy Heather: Training Camp

A statue of three war heroes greeted Heather as she walked into the McIrving training camp, 20 miles outside the capital. The statue was of a unit that served in the Great War that ended less than a decade ago.

One of the gunners stood tall, behind a portable tripod machine gun. The other was dropping into a kneeling position, pulling a rifle out of her basketball-sized bust. The ammo girl was kneeling, hands bracing her enormous bosom. Heather thought the statue must be exaggerated, but it was completely possible to have breasts five feet with nearly four feet of cleavage, and who knows how much volume could fit in there. There was probably as much metal in her chest as there was in the entire body of the gunner standing upright. The ammo belt for the machine was feeding out of the cleavage of the ammo girl, and by the look of it, she had many many more rounds hidden in those overfilled jugs.

Heather eyed the ammo girl's bust with envy. She was never the pretty girl, just cute and short. Her arms and back were strong from helping out on her aunt's farm. Her real asset was her ass. It jiggled like a bowl full of jello, and when she sat down in a window seat on the bus to the training camp, her booty filled her seat and squeezed into the one next to her, while also filling the space between her seat and the side of the bus. She had barely had room for her duffel bag. Her hips were broad, and swayed side to side as she walked, giving her walk a sort of swagger and shake that filled her self confidence.

There are a few combat roles in the Army of Sien. The most obvious are the ammo girls. They use the "natural" abilities of the women of Sien to hold things in their cleavage and expandable busts to transport and store large quantities of ammunition and weaponry. These girls are often shorter than the other soldiers, and develop remarkable proportions as a result of their work. There is the general infantry as well, and they often get teamed with ammo girls, one for each breast.

Then there are the B.U.S.T. They are amazons, rarely below 6 foot 3, always above a natural G cup. They work in pairs to perform missions of high importance and high skill. Their well-packed busts are full of weapons, ammo, food, and survival gear. As a necessity to mobility, they never fill up past beach ball size, because even with their intense training, once their flesh melons swell past that point, there's way too much wiggle and jiggle to make running possible. They're survival experts, and often get dropped behind enemy lines with nothing but their tits and their wits to get them home.

Heather made it to her assigned barracks and dropped her duffel off on her bunk. Exhausted, she laid on her bunk and closed her eyes.

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The next thing Heather knew she was being shouted at. She sat bolt upright and slammed her face into something soft. "Oh shit I'm so sorry!" The voice belonged to whomever's tit Heather had just smacked into.

"No, you're good, I ran into you," Heather rubbed the sleep from her eyes. "I'm Heather by the way."

The girl smiled. "Jasmine," She said, "but I usually go by Jaz." Heather stood up, slightly dizzy.

"Nice to meet you Jaz," Heather said, and the commanding officers rushed them out the door, yelling the whole time.

Heather and Jaz ran with the rest of their cohort to across the camp to the med hall. Jaz was taller than Heather, at about 5'10". Her chest was impressive, filling a sphere in front of her about 10 inches across. I got to find out where she gets her bras, Heather thought. As Heather ran, her ass shook with each step. Between all of the 38 girls running across the camp that morning, there was enough jiggle to make jelly jealous.

The recruits formed a line outside the office of the head medical officer's office. Nearly all were in nothing more than a T-shirt and shorts, some of them not even that. Heather noticed one girl with beautiful dark skin who's bare breasts nearly hit her in the jaw with every step she ran. They bounced from her belly button to her neck, and they must have been so sore after that run, Heather thought. The same girl now, Heather noticed, is leaning up against the wall, cradling her boobs in her arms, making them look even bigger.

When her turn came, Heather stepped through the door with some hesitation. The nurse there had her take off her T-shirt and started measuring. "Shoulders... 30... Bust... 39... Hips... 42... Booty... 51... Wow. Damn girl." The nurse marked everything down and left. Heather waited in the cold room. She looked at the posters on the wall, showing two body types. One picture looked kind of like she did, pear shaped, and a little shorter. The other was tall and busty. The B.U.S.T. body type probably, Heather thought.

The door clicked and Heather's head turned. "Okay recruit, name, date and place of birth, the doctor said. Heather told the doctor. "Excellent. This won't take too long." A few tests later the doctor simply said "I'm marking you for AG training. Yard 3, 1400 hours."

Heather went to the mess hall after getting a grey-green jumpsuit-like uniform. "This will help you," the nurse had said, "it'll stretch with you and take some of the weight for you." She grabbed a tray and waited in line. One of the older women preparing food caught Heather's eye.

The women behind the counter was sitting in a chair reading a book. On the table in front of her rested two huge "sacks" of potatoes, onions and carrots, best Heather could tell by what was being squeezed out of them. Her breasts bulged over the sides of the table, with each big, tan nipple at least five feet from the rest of the woman. Occasionally the woman would laugh, sending ripples down her breasts as if a rock had been dropped into a pond made of pudding. The woman had her back to Heather, and on the back of an unbuttoned uniform Heather could make out "Designated Vegetable Distributor." The woman must have had a hundred pounds of veggies in each breast, and the cook staff would squeeze her over-sized nipples and then put what was milked out into the appropriate pile for chopping.

After eating, Heather went to Yard 3. There she lined up with 8 other similar-shaped girls. She took a quick peek at the other girls, and saw that she probably had the thickest booty there. She smiled a little bit as something came into her field of view. All of the girls gasped as they realized what it was. A fully loaded ammo girl.

Two huge orbs moved towards them, partially covered in dark green fabric. As they neared the line up, Heather was able to make out two small feet just visible underneath the mounds of flesh. "How the hell..." she wondered aloud.

"No idea," said the girl to her left. The titanic breasts stopped moving, and then dropped about a foot to the ground. The two of them were about six feet high, ten feet across, and nearly perfectly spherical.

"Listen up, and listen good! I am your training officer, and you will address me as ma'am, commander, or Commander Maam!" The voice was coming from behind the gigantic tits. Two other soldiers came out from behind the mountains. They were fairly normally proportioned, and started to climb. They used little bits of fabric, purpose placed, to climb the overstretched garment. When they reached the top, the voice of Commander Maam called out again. "These are my friends, Corporal Pearson and Corporal Kent. They will be assisting us today." Each nodded as their name was said.

The assistants reached into the tight canyon of cleavage, and started hauling and throwing out 20 pound sandbags. After 40 or so sandbags had been removed, the commander had shrunk down to where the corporals could stand on the ground. They continued to remove bags as the commander spoke again. "By the time you are ready for active duty, all of you will be able to carry about as much as has been removed from my bosom so far. More will come in time. When I left training my record was 640 pounds of gear and ammunition. Today, I came to you with nearly 1600 pounds of sand tucked between my tits."

"How could I walk with funbags that heavy? Well let me tell you. The uniforms you are wearing have an enchantment on them so that you only carry one fifth of the weight you all are holding. That means that my three-quarter-ton titties only weigh about 320 for me. Still that's no easy feat. But that's why I'm here." The assistant had finished unloading the sandbags, and Commander Maam's unloaded breasts still were quite large. Heather could barely focus on anything beside the M-cup mammaries of the commander.

"Thank you corporals," Maam said, "Today, all of you will attempt to load 10 sandbags into your chest. I doubt any of you will break six, maybe eight if you try very hard." The girls looked at the piles of sandbags around the commander. "You will work in pairs. The corporals will assist you. Good luck." The commander sauntered off, her tits swaying back and forth, brushing her belt loops.

Heather paired up with an excited girl who called herself Blossom, and stood next to her pile of sandbags. Blossom gave her tits a little bounce. "Let's get this party started!" she said. Heather grabbed the first sandbag, and fed the corner into Blossom's bosom. Blossom's DD chest easily accepted the first sandbag, and once it was in Blossom bounced her girls once more. "They do feel a little heavier!" she exclaimed.

Not the brightest, this one, Heather thought, as she fed the second sand bag into Blossoms waiting cleavage. A third and a fourth went in without too much protest, but once the fourth had disappeared, Blossom was wobbling under her new chest weight. Her breasts now weighed an extra 160 pounds, for a total of about 30 pounds of carried weight. "One more," Blossom said, supporting her swollen mammaries with her hands. Heather lifted a fifth bag, and poised it over Blossom's bust. Blossom shifted her hands, and spread her cleavage apart for Heather. The bag slipped as Heather was lowering it, and it slipped between the melons with a faint pop.

Heather tried to steady the tilting girl, but the sudden addition to her bust left her unsteady. Blossom wobbled back and forth, and eventually crashed backwards. When she hit the ground, her basketball sized breasts stayed firmly on top of her, held tight by her uniform. "Can't.. Breathe.." she managed, as Heather reached down and loosened Blossom's uniform. Her breasts rippled out and splayed upwards, flanking her head like a set of flesh pillows.

Heather helped the girl up, then helped her tuck her tits back into her uniform. The objects absorbed cannot be removed unless there is cleavage present to pull them out from. Once Blossom's chest meat was back in place, the sandbags were removed with the help of Corporal Kent.

"I guess it's my turn now," Heather said slightly nervously. She readied her C-Cup cleavage for the first sandbag, as Blossom lifted it into position. As the bag started to slide in, Heather felt a tingling that reminded her of helping to harvest peaches from her aunt's farm. When the bag had fully been absorbed, Heather's formerly small bust had filled out to a pair of half moons filling the space between her collarbones and elbows.

Three bags later, and Heather felt bigger than the watermelon harvesters on her aunt's farm. He breasts had ballooned in front of her, the weight of them necessitated her to lean backwards to counterbalance. Her prize-pumpkin sized booty helped with this, and it started to jiggle as her her legs started to shake. Her breasts each weighed eighty pounds, and she was starting to feel it despite the assist from her stretching uniform.

I can keep going, she thought to herself. She looked at Blossom, who was staring intently at her breasts, mindlessly groping for the next sandbag to feed Heather's waiting melons. Heather could have sworn she saw Blossom mouth the word "bigger" as she lowered the fifth bag.

After the eighth sandbag had been absorbed by Heather's ever-growing , her breasts started throbbing. "I..." she panted, "I don't think I can do another!" Heather's funbags now hung down to her knees, partly because she had leaned over to take some of the weight off of her back.

Blossom's focus shifted from Heathers chest to her face. "You can do this Heather! You're so close, and you're so big.." Blossom fingers traced along the surface Heather's deep cleavage as Heather stood up again. Heather steadied herself, then used both hands to brace her whopping bust.

"Fill me up," Heather said, with a determined smile on her face. Blossom grabbed the next two sandbags, stacked in her arms for ease of delivery.

Blossom lifted the pair of sandbags to just above Heather's immense rack, and abruptly dropped them in. Heather gasped, partially with surprise and partially with pleasure as the sand disappeared. Her breasts bulged outward, hitting Blossom and causing her to stumble backwards. The impact sent ripples through Heather's overdeveloped bossom and caused her to stumble backwards as well. Unfortunately for her, she was not used to the extra flesh she was now carrying, and fell to the ground, landing on her ample ass with two bathtub-sized breasts before her.

Commander Maam walked over to the seated trainee, "You're more tit than soldier," she said with a smirk. "All ten bags?" Heather and Blossom nodded in unison. "You've got a lot of potential kid." Maam slapped Heather's bust and laughed, "Oh I remember when I thought this was big." She continued laughing making her own impressive bust shake as she moved onto the next pair of trainees.

Heather smiled, still feeling the tingling handprint on her breasts where the commander's hand had hit. Blossom looked down at her. "I suppose we should empty you out now, but it'd be such a shame." He fingers trailed along the edge of the exposed skin against the fabric of Heather's uniform.

"I suppose we must," Heather replied. She looked at Blossom, and breathed in slowly as the tingling feeling radiated from where Blossom was touching her. "You know Blossom, both you and I could use a little more practice." Blossom blushed and turned to look at Heather. "I wonder where they keep all these sandbags after training..." Heather winked at Blossom, who giggled and turned a deep shade of pink.