"Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the final day of our General Exhibition. If you are looking for the sculpture 'Ann's Breasts of a Happy Woman', please follow the signage picturing two female breasts. Please be aware that long waiting times may be necessary as this piece is particularly popular today."
"Uh-oh, I think the masses are about to hit our little booth! Good luck Ann. And remember, just enjoy yourself! That weird, bow-tied man will be on the watch the whole day to make sure everybody is behaving. It's just a few hours to the contest anyway."
"Oh god, I hope this doesn't go sideways." whispered Ann.
"Shh, your new watchdog is approaching. You have to shut up for good now if you don't want to be found out."
The manager pushed two large hand sanitizers mounted on metal stands just besides Ann's two breasts and smiled, "This should do it. I think we are ready. Ah, the first visitors are coming. Here, people, follow the signs and queue up. Yes, like that. Everybody is allowed to touch this fascinating sculpture, just be gentle. Experience the superior materials! The stunning texture! The fantastic tactile properties of this controversial work of art! Touching, kneading, kissing, pulling is all fine. No slapping, no hitting, no punching!"
Swaths of people longed to get their hands on Ann's work, wanted to see with their own eyes what the fuzz was all about, and soon the artist's exposed breasts got thoroughly massaged, played with and examined by many, many curious visitors.
The manager continuously repeated his new trademark sentence, "Listen all you lovely people: Touching, kissing, pulling is fine. No slapping, hitting or punching please!" and watched over the masses of people like a benevolent mother over her kids. And Ann had no choice but to endure this ongoing torment, this attack of the many hands.
Kendra patiently waited in line to get her chance to inspect that disgusting 'sculpture' again. Yesterday, those boobs had clearly been fake and she had made sure that the stupid foam thing became unusable. It had been surprisingly easy to sneak into the exhibition hall at night and inject a little ink into the soft material in the hope that the damage would force that stupid girl to show off her real udders once again. And had she been right! The 'sculpture' was already up for public inspection and didn't show any discolorations. That bitch was back in the column showing off her tits again! And because of that silly publicity stunt that this stupid whore pulled off yesterday evening, everybody and their dog now wanted to get their dirty hands on those bloated milk bags.
But Kendra would make sure that this nasty fraud had no time to enjoy the attention. She smiled as her fingers brushed over the contents of her purse. A simple, well-planned attack should be enough to force that cunt out in the open for good!
Ann soon could tell the differences of the hands that groped her. Some were eager, excited, almost obscene; some were taxing, testing her resilience; some were investigating, curious; some were envious, resentful. She could distinguish the male from the female hands, the young, inexperienced from the old and experienced. To distract herself from the irritating sensations, she tried to imagine how each person looked, how they felt and what they thought.
And then, all of a sudden, there was pain. So much pain that tears welled up in her eyes and she had difficulties not to scream. Something was searing through her tender breasts, inflaming her sensitive skin. Ann could barely keep herself from crying out loud.
"Knock, knock. Who's there?"
Oh no! It was that nutter again!
"Did you miss me? Do you enjoy my little gift? Don't worry, it's just a bit of itching powder and some chili paste and whatnot, made into a nice, sticky fluid. Nothing to be afraid of. But I do wonder how long you'll be able to stay in there, with your udders on fire."
Ann bit her lip. Oh god, where was Sue? She needed Sue! Now!
"You see, I even had to use gloves just to hand over this present to you, so please show some appreciation!" Kendra giggled massaging the taut, bloated tits in her well-protected, gunk-covered hands, "By the way, those handles... I think they're all wrong again. They have to point downward, right?"
Ann gasped as she felt the awful metal jaw clamp down hard on her left tit again. Sweat was dripping from her nose.
"Hey Miss! Don't do that! The handles need to point up! You might damage the work!"
Thank god, the watchdog was paying attention. That way that evil monster couldn't go too far.
"Aehm... I think the young woman is actually right. The artist intended the handles to point downward."
It was that Journalist! What the hell did she do here?
"Sir, I'm Ms Shinozaki, a reputable art reporter. I interviewed this artist earlier and the lady personally gave me this picture of her sculpture. Look here, the handles are clearly pointing downward in this image!"
Ann heard Sue joining the quabble and arguing for her case. But the evidence of the photo was again so overwhelming that whatever Sue said to convince the site manager just didn't work.
"I have to admit this is quite an obvious case," muttered the manager, "The lady is right, we have to respect the artist's intentions down to the very detail. Therefore I declare that those handles shall always point downwards!"
"But you can't..."
"Miss, I have decided. It is my duty to keep watch over this lovely piece of art and have authority over how it is protected."
"I still believe this is a big mistake!" complained Sue.
"Don't you worry, young lady, everything will be fine. Now just go back to your video art and let these lovely people have a look at Ann's wondrous work. This case is closed. Please step back and let the audience have their chance."
He shushed them away and went back to telling people what they can and can't do.
Everybody had to use the hand sanitizers before they were allowed to touch Ann's now awfully constricted boobs and the young artist was about to lose her mind over the intense stimulation. Thankfully, the sanitizing fluid slowly washed away the itching mess, but not before heating her glowing orbs up to the burning point.
Ann couldn't remember just how she was able to withstand this constant attack of the many hands, but somehow she made it through. The worst part had been that evil girl, who apparently queued up time and time again just to torment her boobs as often as she could. And whenever she had made it to the top of the queue, she would massage Ann's bloated orbs feverishly, covering her tits in this vile, itching fluid again while pulling and twisting her flesh around, whispering words of hate and contempt.
After each attack of that mean woman, Ann's breasts burned and itched like hell. That vile, sticky fluid her determined foe smeared on her twins again and again made Ann's exposed flesh ever more alert to the following touches and greatly amplified the sensation of being reduced to her tits only.
Kendra enjoyed this play tremendously. She couldn't wait to get her hands on those fat tits again and again, torturing this wanton 'artist' with whatever idea she could come up with. Sometimes she would squeeze those nasty udders, sometimes she would punch them, smack them around, turning those bloated balloons into red, hot balls of flesh.
Thankfully the manager kept a close eye on Ann and sent the angry girl away whenever she got too violent.
All those nasty words were still echoing through Ann's head when the manager called for Sue and said, "I think it's time to prepare for the ceremony. Will the artist be able to join this event?"
"I don't think so," she heard Sue reply, "Would be very surprised if she turns up. She's way too shy for this kind of thing."
"Really? That's a pity. She has to work on this, otherwise she will never be successful. Now lovely lady, would you lend me a hand to get everything arranged? I will call the maintenance team to get the column over, but you need to get your video equipment into the ballroom, too."
"Sure, I'm ready when you are."
Ann heard the manager telling the annoyed crowd that the exhibition will now be closed and that it will unfortunately not be possible to experience this masterpiece any longer. She heard people booing and complaining but the man didn't budge an inch and sent everybody off to look at other works. Then she heard some male voices she remembered from earlier.
"You want us to carry this thing to the ballroom for the contest?" one asked.
