Breasticles

Author's Note: Warning! The following is the first chapter of a new story, which features; Futanari, Breast Growth, Unnatural Sizes and Dick Nipples (Penises into of normal nipples). If these are a turn off to you, do not read on. Those who read on, please be aware that it does take a while to get to the action.

*****

I hummed along to the track playing as I waited. My foot tapped to its beat, working to keep in time with the fast paced rock song, while my hands mimed playing the snare and hi-hat, using my knees as surrogates. I've always been interested in rock 'n' roll, even owned a drum kit when I was younger. It was a shame that I had to leave it with my parents after I moved out, though understandable given the small apartment I lived in. That isn't to say I've given up the hobby.

I visit my parents at least once a week. They insisted on it and I liked to make sure my kit wasn't being swallowed by filth and rust, so it was a win-win. It didn't hurt that my mum was a fantastic cook, though I wasn't a chef so I couldn't say for a certain, but nothing beat my mother's cooking. A testament to how much I adored the meals she made was my 'adorable pudgy tummy' as my mum liked to call it. She still babied me when I visited, though I don't really mind.

Although I enjoyed a generous helping of her food, I was in near perfect health. I didn't exercise as regularly as I should do, but my metabolism was high enough that I only had to exercise a little bit a week to maintain my figure. My years of playing drums have given my arms and legs a nice tone, though it was hard to see any muscles when I was relaxed due to the soft layer of fat I had. It wasn't a detriment to my appearance in my opinion.

"Gale Chambers?" Someone called my name. Fortunately, their voice made it through my earphones and I looked up. A nurse was gesturing for me to come up, "Doctor Blare will see you now." She told me as I paused the track on my iPod. I looked at her with a frown of confusion.

"Doctor Blare? Isn't this Rick's clinic?" I asked. Rick Steele was a good family friend and had been my doctor since I was a young girl; I trusted him, and so did my parents.

"He called in sick today, I'm afraid. Don't worry," She added upon seeing the worried look on my face, "Doctor Blare is good friends with Doctor Steele." I relaxed somewhat, but it was hard to when I thought about some random stranger, probably a man, looking at my body. I was there for a routine check-up, make sure everything is working as it should, and that meant having my weight and measurements taken. All the same, I followed the nurse down a short hallway until we came to the examination room.

The clinic was small. Made for people with small ailments or couldn't afford a hospital, and had an intimate client base. I would see Rick greeting patients as if they were old friends, and vice versa. It was a warm place, despite the common association of medical facilities being cold and sterile. I hadn't met a single person who didn't feel relaxed here.

The nurse gave me a small grin and opened the door.

"Gale Chambers for you Doctor." She said. A faint 'send her in' came in reply. To my fortunate surprise, it was a woman's voice. The nurse turned to me, nodded for me to go inside. I took a deep, steadying breath and walked in. At a small desk, sat the doctor. She was stunning; long, silky blonde hair, luscious legs encased in fishnet stockings and a mini-skirt, and a large bust concealed - barely - by a low-cut shirt. For a moment, I thought I'd wandered onto the set of a porno given the amount of cleavage shown.

She was writing away in a notebook. When she finished, she looked up at me with a wide smile. Her face was just like her body; gorgeous and alluring. Far from befitting a medical professional.

"Shocking, I know." She said. I realised I'd been staring at her - for how long? Minutes? Hours? - and promptly averted my eyes. She gave a small chuckle at that and extended a hand to me, "I'm Doctor Blare, pleasure to meet you Miss Chambers." She introduced herself. Her voice was warm and held the same quality as Rick's; soothing. I could imagine a screaming child with a scraped knee calming down instantly after listening to her voice.

"Uh, call me Gale... that is if you'd like to of course." I said eloquently enough, somehow managing not to tumble over my own words. She gestured for me to sit down and I took the offer quickly. It was impossible to not feel self-conscious in the face of this bombshell. She seemed to realise this and, when I wasn't looking, covered her chest a little more.

"Right, so you're here for a check-up, correct?" She asked, smiling warmly even as she read through what was no doubt my file. I shook my head free of any thoughts of inadequacy, or tried to. I could feel them at the back of my mind, nagging at me.

"Yeah, that's right." I replied. I must have given her an incredulous look at some point, since she felt the need to address the fact that she certainly didn't look like a doctor.

"Trust me, Gale, I'm a fully qualified medical professional." She told me, nodding to a framed certificate she had brought with her.

"I know. It's just..." I trailed off, glancing her up and down and mouthed the word 'wow'. She laughed at that, the action causing her chest to shake enticingly. I was bi-sexual, though I had a heavy leaning towards women. I preferred softer looking people and, while most of her body looked trim and fit, her breasts seemed like the perfect pillows. A part of me wanted to ask her out, but I doubted she wasn't in a relationship. And she probably wasn't a lesbian given her lack of interest shown in me.

"Thanks. Now then, shall we get on with this? I'm sure you've got things to do." She said, to which I nodded, "Alright, please remove your shirt and bra." She told me. For about twenty minutes, I did as was told and let her weigh me, measure me, poke and/or prod me. I was sure I had a perpetual blush on my face as she did so, but if she noticed it, she didn't say anything.

"Okay, 5'4", 132lbs, and 36C-26-34. No deviations there." She noted, continuing to look me over, until finally she stopped. A concerned look fell over her face. Naturally, it worried me as well.

"Something wrong?" I asked, despite the answer being obvious.

"Nothing serious, but a little disconcerting. Would you mind if I gave you a shot?" She inquired, looking me in the eye to gauge my reaction. I had never been afraid of needles, even as a young child, and that hadn't changed now. Doctor Blare seemed trustworthy, she hadn't said or done anything to earn my distrust and she seemed genuinely concerned for my health. As such, I nodded my consent. She spent a minute searching for the correct syringe, already prepped and filled with the correct fluid. I offered her my arm. She shook her head.

"I need to inject it into your breasts." She told me. I frowned, not knowing of any injection that required such a specific area, but placed my trust in her. If anything happened, I could sure her quite easily.

"Oh, okay." I said and lowered my arm. I arched my back slightly, puffing out my chest. I was modestly pleased of my bust, my mounds supple yet firm and sitting proud on my torso, capped with cute, pink nipples and the surrounding areolae the size of a silver dollar. She smiled comfortingly, and carefully pushed the needle into my right breast, depressing half of the fluid into it. The sensation was odd, causing me to gasp at the weird feeling of liquid going into my boob. It wasn't altogether unpleasant though. Just strange.

She repeated the same for my left breast and took a couple of notes.

"Okay, we're all done. Come back if you experience any discomforts, particularly in the chest area. But other than that, you're in tip top shape." She told me with a warm smile. I returned the expression and let out a small gasp as she put a plaster over the injection sights on my breasts. Strange, I thought, they weren't normally so sensitive. Although, one didn't normally receive injections in their tits either, I reasoned.

"Thanks, Doctor. I, uh, guess I'll see you later." I said, after putting on my clothing. Oddly enough, my bra felt very faintly tighter than I remembered. It was probably the liquid Doctor Blare injected into me, I told myself.

"Maybe. Hopefully, Rick gets better soon. But if not, then I'll be here if you need me." She told me, still wearing that warm grin. I smiled back and walked back to the reception area, wherein I made my next appointment. I usually got checked out once every 4-6 months. Though, after the small scare, I decided to schedule my next for 3 months down the line. Just a precaution.

With that taken care of, I headed back to my apartment. It was all I could really afford, being a customer assistant at the local music shop, though I liked it. I had bought it 3 years ago, when I was 18, and for a steal at that. Granted, it had been a fixer-upper, but overall I saved money on it and even enjoyed the time my dad and I spent working on it. He was a part-time handyman and worked at a hardware store. I felt a certain attachment to the place now.

Walking in, the kitchen was directly to the left of the door. A granite counter bordered it off from the rest of the place. Approximately ten feet from the door, sat my couch. In front of that was a small coffee table and before that stood the near daunting monument that was my TV. It was a 42" monster. My parents had insisted on buying it for me as a sort of housewarming gift, no matter how much I protested.

"Just take it, Honey. We don't mind honestly." My mum had said when I complained, waving off any objection I could make. They really did do far too much for me. Even now, my mum would send me back home after I visited them with plenty of leftovers. We're talking enough to feed me for a good two or three days.

By the kitchen was a short hallway. At the end of it was my cosy bedroom, and across the hall from that my bathroom. Cosy was the best way to describe my home. My mum and I had painted the walls a comforting, turquoise colour. On the wall behind the couch, hung a family portrait, done when I was very little. I almost couldn't believe my eyes whenever I looked at it, seeing myself as a toddler in my mother's arms. It was another gift from my parents, though they had an updated one in their home.

I was happy where I was in life. I was good looking, in a cute and kind of curvy fashion, slightly above average in the IQ department, and I enjoyed my job, a rarity. My parents loved me and I was able to live a comfortable life. There was one thing I would change though. That being my relationship status. I hadn't been with anyone for quite some time, going on four months now, and I hadn't really found anyone I was particularly interested in. Well, Doctor Blare was right up my alley. Too bad she was in another league entirely.

I had nothing to do for the day. Although, even if I did feel like going out and about, there was little to do. The town I called my home, Littleton, was small to put it mildly. A single mall stood at the outskirts, built near to a highway as a stop along the way, but even then it was fairly out of date. I contemplated going to see a movie, but remembered that I had splurged a little on clothing that month. Money was pretty tight until my next paycheque came.

As I stepped into my apartment, I made myself some coffee and sat on the couch. I turned on the TV and let my mind wander as I flipped through the channels, looking - in vain - for something to watch. Eventually, I gave up and let an episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer play while I booted up my laptop. The rest of my day passed like that. I surfed the internet for something to do, but found nothing. I flipped through more channels and still nothing. My parents had guests round that day so I didn't particularly want to visit them. Fortunately, the day came to an end and I went to bed.

When I woke, I went through the usual morning routine. Shower, clothing, breakfast, teeth and eventually heading out for work. I rarely deviated from that regime. Something I did note that morning was my bra, a silky white one that I favoured above most of the others, felt tight around my chest. I pushed the thought aside and headed off to my place of employment.

It was the local music store. Within its walls, we sold instruments, CDs, instructional videos, whatever any music lover needed really. My co-workers were all friendly, and my managers were understanding. Not a thing wrong really. I even got to play on the drum kits during my breaks.

There was one issue that had cropped up recently. The owner of the store, a locally successful businessman, had decided to punish his daughter by making her work at the store for a while. As one might expect, she was insufferable. She complained about any form of manual labour, rarely listened to instructions, and took several times as many breaks as the rest of us. She also had no qualms about lording her father's position when any of us attempted to knock her down a peg. Then there was the other issue with her; she was a bitch through and through.

She was the typical bully that one saw in any poorly written movie. And I mean every little part of her character seemed straight from a teenage rom-com, as if she had read a book called 'How to be a Total Bitch Just Like in the Movies'. There were only a few redeeming qualities to her, and all them physical. She was every man's fantasy; long legs, flared hips, a curvaceous ass, trim waist, large breasts and a smile that made men pop of a stiffy in an instant. Not that it made up for her horrible personality.

I, and many of my friends, avoided her whenever we could. Fortunately ,the manager had given her the simplest and out of the way job he could, even if he had to make it up to placate her; she was now in charge of greeting customers. It was the only thing she was good at, with her stunning figure and beaming smile. It also put her near the store entrance, allowing her to leave easily. Something we were all too happy for her to do.

Even with her there, I still enjoyed my job. Not only that, but one of my co-workers was a pretty cute young lady, and I'm pretty certain that I've caught her staring at me on more than one occasion. With any luck, there was the beginnings of a spark there. I made her laugh, she made me laugh and we generally got along pretty well. I hadn't asked her out yet, since I couldn't say whether she was bi or a lesbian. It should be obvious that I'm hoping she is interested in me.

That day went by quickly enough. Even Jennifer, the owner's daughter, didn't bother me. Though, I could feel my bra digging into my bust throughout the day. Must've shrunk, I thought. A shame too, since I liked this bra. When I got home, I sighed in relief as I unclasped the undergarment and relaxed on my couch. I looked down at my breasts, frowning as I studied them. Were they bigger? No, couldn't be. I was almost certain that I had stopped growing about 3 or 4 years ago.

No sense in worrying about it for the time being, I decided. If the tightness persisted, or - god forbid - worsens, I'd get in contact with Doctor Blare. My thoughts naturally turned to her, recalling that buxom, yet sleek, figure, and that face which I knew could light up a room. Under the assumption that said room was occupied by heterosexual men of course. I felt a heat suffusing my body as I pictured her in a state of undress: my dildo collection was going to see some action tonight.

On that subject, I was actually kind of proud of that collection. I'd spent much of my later teens amassing it, hiding them from my parents in the most cliché, yet effective, way possible; a shoebox in my closet. Thankfully, I was on my own now and didn't have to fear the prying eyes and hands of my parents. Fortunate, since my borderline obsession had only expanded since moving out. It now filled several boxes, all labelled in sizes. E.g. Size 1 is nice and easy going, whereas 12 is the somewhat more... extreme part of my assortment.

People would be curious as to what I considered extreme. Assuming I got close enough to someone for them to find out about my collection. Sad to say, my relationships seemed to refuse to last long enough for me to share my toys. That might change though, if I was lucky with Fae, my cute co-worker. In the meantime, I was alone to enjoy all that I had gathered.

On a whim, I had laid out each of my boxes on the floor in front of my couch. From left to right, Sizes 1 to 12. I tended to do this when I was unsure what mood I was in. Some days I would be interested in a slower build-up to the inevitable climax, so I would use the smaller sets, usually sizes 1 to 3. Other times, I'd go for a more mid-level session; sizes 4 to 7. And then, when I was a touch worked up, sizes 8 to 10. 11 and 12 were reserved for special occasions.

Such as when I had fantasies of a particular woman swirling like a maelstrom in my mind. Deciding that tonight would require special attention, I put away the other boxes until only 11 and 12 were left. Now the final question: How much of stretch was I looking for? My thoughts turned to Doctor Blare, of her flawless pornographic appearance, imagining her in all manner of suitable positions; legs spread, a man at her head, another under her shapely ass, and a woman eating her out. Definitely needed a stretch. Size 11 was put away and left 12 all alone with me.

"Hey there," I said, "Long time no use." I never feel awkward talking aloud despite being on my own. Everyone did it after all. Granted, I doubt they talk to their box of adult toys. It was the middle of October, as such the sun was setting not long after I got home. I ate dinner fairly late most of the time, setting aside the time between coming home and my supper to 'relieve' myself of any stress from the day. As I looked upon the sole box before me, I took a deep breath.

It was common for me to feel trepidation before this. Summoning up my courage, I opened the box and gazed down upon the prized pieces of my collection. I pulled out the centre piece, a massive black rubber cock. I've heard people use the word 'massive' to describe their dildos, or boyfriend's penises, and often times it equates to an 8" phallus. I don't take the word so lightly. I stared down at the pitch black dong, taking in its 13" length and 10" girth.

I set it down on the floor beside the box and reached in to pull out its roommates. The next one was a set of anal beads, each ball progressively becoming larger the further down the string you went. Around the halfway mark, they reached tennis ball size. After that, a set of bullet vibrators. They may not seem like much, but these are customised, made with almost triple the power of their normal counterparts. Then there was the final piece.

The black dildo is just a starter. I removed a panel that hid the true beast of the size 12 box. Describing it as a beast was more than adept, as it was shaped after an equine phallus, though it may have been slightly oversized. I pulled it out, letting it flop free from its curled up position I was forced to bend it into, gazing in awe at its 2' length and 14" girth. I'm almost certain I'm the only woman in America who owned such a monstrous toy.

Stuffed in beside it was a bottle of lubricant. I was rather prolific in my secretions during orgasm, however there was only so much the body could assist with taking such a cock as 'The Beast', as I occasionally referred to it. I had all of them laid out before me, daunting in their own way. For a second, I thought about putting them away. Even for someone like me, who enjoyed being stretched quite a bit, this was somewhat of a stretch, no pun intended. As it was, I had only used the contents of this box a few times before.