Author's note -- this is my first time writing on this site, so please leave lots of feedback. This story is the consequence of my mind being gradually warped by japanese hentai, and contains scenes of futanari, lactation, breast expansion and cum inflation. It is the first in a series which I currently plan to extend to 5 instalments.
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In a large town in the midlands of England, Hannah walked up the stone steps to the heavy wooden door and knocked three times. She had been brought to this door by the quest for a perfect body. Many would say that she was already in possession of a flawless physique, and indeed when she stood in front of the mirror she was proud of how she looked. She ate well, mostly fresh food, and went to the gym regularly, so her body was toned, with just enough fat in the desirable places to give her a feminine roundness, and just enough muscle to add a pleasing amount of definition. She knew how to dress herself, and apply makeup, to achieve an elegant and desirable result. Her straight dark hair was smooth, the tips spreading lightly on her shoulders. But when she looked at her body, she was never able to completely appreciate these positive attributes, because her eye was always drawn back to one shortcoming that she couldn't ignore. She wanted large breasts, and nature had endowed her with barely anything at all.
At the gym, every time a girl walked past with pert round breasts packed into a sports bra, Hannah couldn't resist a sly glance at her cleavage. She'd look down at her own flat chest, the sports bra more for modesty than support, and feel a great jealousy. Even most of the guys at the gym had bigger breasts than her, be they podgy middle-aged men sweating away on the treadmill, or ripped meatheads with pecs that bulged and glistened.
She'd spent a fair amount of time on the internet, window-shopping for perfect breasts. She'd seen all manner of magnificent bosoms in various sizes and colours, but for her she felt that a DD would be ideal. Of course, size was only a small factor. It was essential that they sit right on her chest, not up high like two inflatable balls underneath stretched skin, nor sagging low, but in between. They must curve smoothly away from her body, not sticking out abruptly, they must bounce gently when under the influence of external forces, and they must drop only slightly when her bra is removed. She knew that it sounded like a lot to ask, but she knew that there were women out there who had been naturally blessed this way, because she'd done her research.
She'd done research into augmentation surgery, and ruled that out. Her quest for perfection meant that only the finest surgeon would suffice, and there was no way that her budget could stretch that far. With what she had, there was too great a risk of ending up with a bust that looked like two pineapples in a pair of socks, and then she'd be worse off than when she started.
Alternative enlargement methods had also been attempted. Hannah had expected them to be a load of snake oil, and her prejudices had been confirmed. Pills, creams, and even some utterly ridiculous propositions -- everything had been a total waste of time and money. But she had never given up the search, which is why she found herself now standing before this door, hearing footsteps approach from inside. She'd seen a tiny advert in the newspaper, no flashy images, just text in one consistent size. It promised breast enlargement, totally natural, and to any size. The price was in the mere hundreds of pounds, it gave absolutely no detail as to how the process was carried out. To any sane individual it looked like a scam. Even to Hannah, it looked like a scam. But she called the number, took down the address, set a dead man's handle on her mobile phone (she was quite proud of herself for thinking of this -- the app would track her location, and unless she cancelled it within 2 hours, it would send it to her friend Abi, from the IT department at work. As soon as she was back on her home wifi connection, it would be automatically cancelled, which made it less likely that she'd forget) and walked to the given location.
It was mid-evening, and the light was beginning to dim. She was dressed in blue denim jeans, a dark grey cotton t-shirt with a light grey fitted cotton jacket over the top. Nothing flashy, but it fitted her well, and was appropriate for a dry, cool evening.
The door opened a crack, and through the gap Hannah could see the left half of a face and a slender arm. They belonged to a woman, taller than Hannah, with a slightly darker complexion, dark hair, and piercing blue eyes. Behind her, the room was very dark.
"You are Hannah?"
"Yes."
"Follow me. Close the door."
With that, the face was gone. Hannah stepped inside into the gloom. The figure was already moving away into a corridor, so Hannah quickly closed the door behind her and rushed to catch up. The woman's voice sounded severe and had an Eastern European sound -- it wasn't the same voice that she'd heard on the phone, which was bubbly and effusive.
In the corridor, the light was slightly better and she could see the woman from behind. She was very slender, wearing a short-sleeved black t-shirt. Her legs were naked, but around her waist she had some sort of silk scarf or sarong tied. She walked with a seductive sway in her hips. As she turned a corner into a room, Hannah could see that there was something tied up in the scarf, something fairly large and heavy-looking.
Inside the room Hannah looked around. It was decorated in autumnal tones, browns and reds, every bare patch of wall covered with a hanging rug or an abstract artwork. The room was lit softly, the light coming from behind bookshelves and lamps on low tables. Curtains were drawn across all the windows. There was another door leading through to what Hannah thought might be a kitchen, with a slightly worn-out looking sofa next to it, and in the centre of the room was an unfamiliar piece of furniture that looked a bit like a large footstool -- it was about 2 feet high, 5 feet square, and upholstered in dark brown leather. The tall woman was standing beside it, fixing Hannah with an intense stare.
"Welcome. I am Maria." She spoke with a very flat tone, little warmth in her voice.
"Hi."
"You have payment?"
Hannah took the money out of her pocket. She had brought no more than she needed to, and counted it out beforehand.
"On the table."
Hannah was still standing just inside the doorway. There was a chair and table next to her, upon which she put the money. Maria looked at it for a few seconds.
"Looks about right. So, to business. Show me what you have."
Hannah stared blankly for a few seconds until she figured out that Maria was wanting to see her breasts. She slowly took off her jacket and hung it over the back of the chair. Then, feeling a bit more awkward, she pulled her t-shirt off over her head and slung that on the chair as well. The room was comfortably warm, for which she was grateful. A few seconds passed, Hannah watching Maria watching Hannah. Eventually, Maria nodded, but said nothing. The silence grew and Hannah was compelled to break it.
"So, how does this work?"
