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Message-ID: <36292asstr$1019970604@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: vickietern@aol.com (VickieTern)
Subject: {ASSM} New TG Breasts by Vickie Tern 1/10 femdom F/m etc
Date: Sun, 28 Apr 2002 01:10:04 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

Synopsis: A wife urges her husband to get breast implants just 
like hers.

The following story is a bit more fantastic than my usual, if 
only because the breast procedure it describes isn't yet 
generally performed, because it isn't yet anywhere known (at 
least not to me), and may not even be feasible.  I aim for 
plausible truths readers might wish to believe at least while 
reading.  We all have plenty of actual truths, but if this 
story helps us uncover a few more about what we like, that's 
good too.

The are scenes here depicting plausible if not also actual sex 
between consenting adults.  If not inclined or entitled to read 
them, don't.

(c) 2002 by Vickie Tern.  May be freely copies to free archives, 
but I'd appreciate knowing (VickieTern@aol.com).  I also 
appreciate comment of all sorts, even the (shudder) obscene kind.

Other Vickie Tern  stories are archived on www.fictionmania.com



                             Breasts
                          by Vickie Tern

                                i.

"Of course you want your own pair, Barry!  Who wouldn't?"  She
smiled her sweetest, most confidential smile at me, the one that
could always persuade me to confess anything to her, because she
already knew anyhow.  "You're repressing it, that's all!  That's
why you're so attracted to mine!  Well, you should have a pair just
like mine for your very own!  I won't have you feeling deprived!  
Believe me, sweetheart, you'll love them!"

"Hayley, no!" I had to insist.  "You're right, I love your breasts,
of course I do!  They're gorgeous!  On women, breasts are
beautiful, yours especially, especially now that they're ...
enhanced!  But on a man, well, breasts are ... different. 
Something else.  Inappropriate!"

That was the argument.  On and on, day after day!  It had begun
innocently enough.  One morning I gave Hayley's bared breast a
tender kiss, waking her up, and she'd returned the favor by kissing
my chest.  Then she'd complained that I'd gotten the better of the
deal, and I'd smugly agreed.  She argued petulantly that it wasn't
fair, we were each deprived of pleasures we could each enjoy if
we both had breasts.  I thought she was joking.  But the next
morning she deliberately raised the subject again, and I ignored her.
A mistake, because then it got serious.  When she re-raised it the
day after that, she meant it.

And each morning afterward, each time more insistent and tense,
increasingly resentful, while I dug my heels in deeper.  At first
I thought it was just one more of her whimsical obsessions -- she
threw herself into all sorts of things impulsively and then
couldn't understand why the world didn't follow her with equal
zeal.  She'd been a darling daddy's girl while growing up --
impatient, passionate, willful, a little manipulative.  She
expected to get her way, and given her cleverness and persistence,
her persuasive charm and ruthless determination, she usually did
get her way.

And I absolutely adored her!  She knew it, and she loved taking
advantage of it!  Even on our first date.  We went to a gay bar to
see the sights, and on impulse she urged me to pick up a big
bruiser of a guy we saw leaning on the bar.  Just for fun -- she
promised she'd rescue me in the parking lot before we got to his
car.  I did it, fearfully, my heart in my mouth.  Then very nearly
his penis too -- she was enjoying the game so much she decided to
wait until we were already in the car before she played her
appointed role, that of an outraged wife who has suspected that her
husband is gay and has followed him.  

"You did it!" she told me afterward, utterly thrilled, stars
gleaming in her eyes!  "I knew that moment that I'd love you
forever!  You looked so absolutely darling, holding that man's
prick with both hands, staring at it, afraid to go down on it but
more afraid not to!  And all for me!"  

Then another time we went to a sedate lawn party, all proper
people, but she told me as we arrived that they were all wild
swingers and that this was their monthly orgy, and that she
expected me to fit in.  We'd just been married, and I knew she
loved to flirt, and I knew that her flirting was all very innocent. 
But now I didn't know what to think as she made the rounds, pursing
her lips and weaving her hips and tossing come hither looks at
everyone.  I was determined to remain true to her no matter what
and sort things out with her afterward.  So when she hid herself to
watch me, she was delighted to see me trying to maintain civil
conversations with people while backing away from them into trees
and bushes, all the while rolling my eyes in desperation to see
where she'd gone.  

Each time I survived one of her challenges her love for me
deepened, so I did everything she asked.  Her least whim became my
command.  But not this one.  This one was way off the charts.  I
didn't know what to think!  

The idea must have come to her soon after she got herself a boob
job.  She'd never been satisfied with her figure.  Though I always
found it marvelous, she didn't.  She was thin, not much over 110
lbs even after eating a full meal.  I thought she was beautifully
proportioned, but she thought she was scrawny and I was
undiscriminating.  She was always experimenting with nutritional
fads, flinging herself into them and trying to haul everyone else
with her.  For weeks we'd dine on grapefruits, then bananas, then
only vegetables, once only on red meat, and she had absolute faith
in each diet in turn.  Or rather, she had absolute faith in her
expectations for each diet.  In advance she was never wrong.  But
not in retrospect either.  When an experiment failed, she could
always explain why with various bizarre rationalizations.  I knew
she was always disappointed, and I knew she was too shrewd to
believe her own arguments, but I could never be sure. 

I didn't care, I loved her, and I could always sneak a hamburger
with onions or a slice of pizza while at work.  She was equally
fanatical about various athletic club regimens too, so she kept me
in pretty good shape overall anyhow.  I thought she was in great
shape!

Then she got into breast enhancement.  She found this marvelous
Doctor Portland, a skilled surgeon and endocrinologist who'd
invented a new procedure called "natural" breast augmentation.  Dr.
Portland inserted implants filled with a whole cocktail of breast
growth and lactation hormones and medications in addition to the
usual saline, the whole thing designed to be absorbed into the
enlarged mammary it was itself creating, eventually to become what
the woman was.  

Hayley talked her two closest girlfriends Meg and Patti into
joining her, also getting their breasts done over by this new
method.  A week or two was all it required, start to finish, Dr.
Portland assured them, from the first consultation on desired size
to the sufficiently healed, beautifully shaped new breasts they'd
end up with.  The process was irreversible, she did warn them,
because the implants altered surrounding tissue and glands while
being incorporated into them, made part of the host body.  But
there would be two marvelous side effects.  "Enormously increased
sensitivity," Dr. Portland promised.  And also as a special
incentive for lovers to stimulate that sensitivity, when stroked or
sucked the breasts would produce a sweet, milky fluid.  "Any man
you nurse will feel he's in a second infancy," she observed. 
"He'll smile and do whatever you want."

Two weeks later Hayley's breasts did indeed fall heavily and
deliciously out of her spaghetti-strap dresses and nightgowns.  The
bruising and discoloration were gone, and all swelling was down
except around her nipples.  These jutted out temptingly as
promised, powerfully erogenous, a source of exquisite sensations
whenever touched.  They begged to be sucked.  "That's what's most
attractive about this procedure, women tell me," Dr. Portland had
told the three women.  "the unspeakably intense pleasure!"  The
three friends had all looked at each other, grinned, and signed up
on the spot.

Meg came out way ahead.  Before the procedure her figure had been
very nearly a boy's, her chest almost flat.  After her bandages
came off, I thought she looked quite womanly, and told her so.  She
was pleased, and commented that her husband Mark certainly agreed
with me.  

"You men!" she said.  "You make such a big deal of them!  Show you
a boob and you drool, then show you a second boob and your brains
turn into silly putty!  Maybe that's why God gave us two, so we
could keep you guys manageable!"  

"But aren't there those other advantages besides size?" I asked
her.  I was wondering whether her nipples had gotten as sensitive
and juicy as Hayley's.  That is, incredibly!

"Oh, yes," she said.  "Oh, yes, Barry!  You can't imagine!  Yes. 
It drives me crazy, and then I drive Mark crazy!"  And then she
said no more.

Hayley's friend Patti was already heavily endowed when she went in,
so when she came out she was huge.  But that was how her girlfriend
Dora wanted it.  Patti lived with Dora in what Hayley explained was
"a loving partnership just like ours."  Dora was so entranced by
Patti's new look and Patti's rapturous responses when she touched
them that she had her own breasts enhanced too.  "Now whenever they
visit anywhere they lie around on each other like overstuffed
pillows" Hayley told me. "It's so very sweet, really!  And they're
always touching each other, you know where!"

Hayley's own breasts had been modest though I thought quite
adequate before her operation.  But now?  Plump, generous,
voluptuous!  Soft, yet heavy!  Ripe for lifting, fondling, kissing,
or sucking.  I loved them!  

And now especially!  Her nipples were swollen like the tips of ice
cream cones!  The implant was shaped to bulge just under the
nipple, and charged with hormones to stimulate nerve growth just
there.  When the healing ended and Hayley's prosthetic brassiere
came off, I was amazed by those new voluptuous globes, but
especially by their pink-tipped protrusions, the cone-shaped
nipples with thick nubbins projected way forward!  I simply
couldn't keep my mouth off them!  The moment I saw them, I pressed
Hayley gently back onto the bed and licked first one, then the
other.  Then I took one into my mouth and began to suck.  

It was almost as blissful for me as for Hayley!  She folded her
arms lovingly over my head as I nursed delicately, then vigorously,
first on one ripe berry, then on the other.  We seemed to melt into
each other.  In a week or so her nerve sensitivity increased as her
body absorbed more of the implants, and she grew even more
responsive.  I could drive her into a frenzy just by cupping her
breasts and rolling her nipples gently between my thumb and
forefinger.  She'd rise slowly into the concentrated intensity of
an orgasm and her body would spasm, and then she'd begin again,
rise even higher, and orgasm yet again!  

And when I nursed on her?  "It's like having three clits," she told
me breathlessly while my lips grazed from one breast to the
other.  "Oh, darling, do it more!  Caress me down below too!  Oh,
more, it's just marvelous, God, more!  MORE!"  When I finally
reached for her slit to prepare to enter her, I found that her
crotch and thighs and even the sheets underneath her were already
soaked!

But even better, the first time I began nursing on her there was
the taste of something rich and sweet in my mouth.  I looked and
saw a pearly drop oozing from her nipple tip.  "That's right,
baby," she told me.  "Just like after childbirth!  When you make me
feel really good my glands exude this special sweet milk, like a
syrup, delicious and good for both of us.  A natural food produced
in the most natural way imaginable!"  

"God, this doctor of yours is a miracle worker!" I said
passionately!  First I licked off those milky drops and then I
lunged at her sweet pink cones with their distended nipples.  I
filled my mouth.  I grunted and moaned in pleasure, and swallowed,
and filled my mouth again.  She was just so delicious!  And
meanwhile, her hips writhed from the pleasure those breasts
transmitted!  She never stopped climaxing!

A few minutes later Hayley asked me in a small voice what it tasted
like.  I wordlessly lifted my head and with a deep French kiss I
fed her a mouthful from her own breast, from my mouth into hers.

"Oh!" she said, entranced.  "Oh!  Like melted vanilla ice cream! 
Only ...."

"Only better!"  I said, licking and sipping from her nipple tips.

"Yes!" she said.  "More!"

I brought her more.  She licked my lips and sucked on my tongue to
savor the last of it.  And shuddered into yet another orgasm.

So she fed me, and so I fed her.  And that became a whole new way
we made love.  A few swallows for me, then one for her, and
delicious licking for the last hint of her flavor.  It was so good! 


And with all that breast stimulus Hayley was enjoying orgasm after
orgasm long before I'd gotten around to the main event even once,
finally entered her, and finally cum.  Some nights, between her
delectable taste and the sensations suffused through her body by my
nursing, she got so erotically intense, so passionate, so questing
of her next orgasm and then the next, that breast feeding was all
we did, and I never climaxed at all!  Those times, though, I found
more than enough pleasure in her repeated ecstasy, and in the
comforting intimacy of her warm, soft flesh pulled deep in my mouth
as I drew each breast in turn toward the back of my throat, past my
lips and tongue, licking and sucking the sweet, rich nectar she
suffused.  I was satisfied.  

Hayley too, up to a point.  Certainly by her delight in her new
shape as she dressed to go out and turned herself this way and that
in the mirror to see herself from all angles, appreciating the way
her clothes now draped and flowed from her full figure.  Certainly
by the intense sensations she enjoyed in bed.  But Hayley was an
enthusiast.  She threw herself into everything, and had to share
everything!

So it seemed innocent enough when she first started arguing that I
should know what it was like.  One night when we got into bed and
I turned toward her she asked in that small voice she uses when she
wants something huge if I'd mind visiting her doctor.

I thought I hadn't heard her, but followed through anyhow.

"Why?" I asked in return.  "What for?"

"For breasts!" she replied.  "For me!"

"You already have yours,"  I replied.  And that doctor is
marvelous, I was thinking, but there's no way to improve them.

"No," she said.  "I don't have them.  You have them!  I get from
them only what you choose to give me from them."

This was baffling.  "You mean your milk?" I asked?  "Or whatever
that delicious stuff is?"

"It's a kind of colostrum," she replied vaguely.  "The implants
stimulate particular glands -- and then when I'm rubbed or caressed
or nursed I feel the pleasure and it makes me all juicy, so I
overflow.  The same way my vagina lubricates, and your penis after
a while, when it can't hold its semen any more!  And that's my
point!  You get most of it.  I want my turn!"  

"Your turn at what?"

"My turn at nursing!  What we have now is lovely!  It's sublime
really!  I love it!  I've never been happier!  The way you make me
feel now, oh, baby, I just can't tell you!"  

This was satisfying!  I leaned over to kiss her.  But she shook me
off.

"No, Barry, I want all of it, the whole pleasure!  I have the same
deep nursing instincts you do, you know!  I was once a baby too,
you know, same as you!  I want to taste that delicious stuff for
myself, to swallow down as much of it as I want the way you do! 
Not just get it from you now and then as a gift, sort of second
hand!"

This seemed to me unfair.  "Honey, you get the orgasms!  I don't! 
You keep cumming and cumming while I'm serving both of us that
delicious juice you make in there."  And with that thought I
reached out for her breasts -- I felt an urge to touch a fat nipple
again, just once!  

She pulled away.  "No!" she said.  "Barry, you can keep your
orgasms!"  Then she seemed to think better of what she'd just said. 
"No, you know I don't mean that, not that way, sweetie.  It's
wonderful, what you do to me!  But you should be having orgasms
like those too!  Of your very own!  I don't want to hog them all
for myself!  I want to see you get all tense and deliciously
screamy too, feeling what I feel!"

This was admirable, typical of Hayley's generosity, I was thinking,
but essentially whacko!  Men and women are different!  Built
different to feel different!  Everyone knows that!  Yet Hayley was
really serious!  

I tried to lay out the absurdity in simple words.  "Are you saying
I should go to this Doctor of yours and get breast implants of my
own, like yours, along with whatever else she does to make those
nipples of yours so .... " I couldn't find an adequate word "...so
great?"                                            

She beamed.  "Yes!  Yes, sweetie!  That's what!  That's exactly
what I want!"  And she lay back satisfied, looking at me as if
marveling at how dense I could be, but also finally how
understanding!  Her new bosom rose enticingly.  She saw me looking
at them.  "It does take you a while to hear me, doesn't it, honey!" 
I reached for her, and she put up her hand.  "No, answer me first! 
Say that you'll do it!"                                           
         

"Honey, I'm a man!  Men don't have breasts."  It was like talking
to a small child.

And she answered the way a small child would answer.  "Who says?" 
 

"They just don't!"

"No?  You could have them!  You have nipples, don't you.  And when
you get a little overweight it isn't just chest muscle I see
hanging over me when we make love, it's fatty tissue like mine! 
Inside, you've got all the glands I hear, only undeveloped because
they've never been urged to grow properly, the poor things.  The
same as mine, essentially, but right now they're like a child's,
and there's nothing for me to taste when I suck them -- nothing
comes out!  And there's nothing special you feel there either,
nothing like the kind of thing I feel.  

"I sometimes do feel a little ... erotic there," I said.  "But not
with the intensity you have now, no."

"Some men are very sensitive there, I hear.  Mark is, Meg says. 
She tells me it's very handy!  She tells me that whenever she wants
something and he doesn't, all she has to do is touch him there and
he ...."  Hayley suddenly closed her mouth, as if she'd said
something she shouldn't.  Then she concluded, "But even so, most
women don't feel anything comparable to this!  And you could feel
it too!"

"Well,"  I said.  "It still isn't the same thing."

"No, it isn't.  But it could be!  I want you to feel everything I
feel, baby!"

We went round and round a few more times that night, until
frustrated and annoyed, Hayley suddenly turned her back to me and
shut me out with a pillow over her ears.  There was no lovemaking
at all that night.  Nor the following night when the conversation
resumed.  Nor any night for the next week.  Nor the week after
that!  

Time passed.  We'd get into bed, and instead of turning toward me
she'd turn away and say "No!  Not until there's complete
reciprocity!  Not until you're willing to give me everything I'm
willing to give you!  Not until you're willing to take from me
everything I get from you!  Not until you learn to be less
selfish!"

No sex.  Not even breast play.  Hayley's manner with me became
cool, often sardonic.  I had failed her, somehow.  She took to
going to her office earlier and coming home later.  At dinner
together, when I'd say something to her, she'd just look at me as
if I were the cruelest, most hurtful man alive, and say nothing in
return.  I began to fear for our marriage.  She wouldn't yield and
I couldn't!

Then after a month or so there came a crisis.  A new and startling
element entered into this deadlock.  

Hayley was lying in bed staring at the ceiling when I got in beside
her and readied myself for one more nightly, pointless bed-time
argument, or one more frigid silence.

"Patti's delicious!" she said suddenly.

"Patti?" was all I could reply

"And her flow is so abundant!" Hayley said.  "She wanted to bottle
it for me to bring back here, but that may not be necessary now
that we've figured out what to do.  It's different though, more
buttery on the tongue.  She thinks it's maybe because she's a
vegetarian.  And you know something else?"

I wasn't sure I did, but I realized that if the something else was
as astonishing as what she'd just said, I had to hear it.  "No,
what?" I asked.

"Meg says that our new breasts transmit the flavor of whatever
we've just eaten.  Different flavors, and different medications
too.  She sucked Mark's cock, and she says that Mark tasted his own
slick saltiness in her breast fluid soon afterward.  And a while
ago she noticed that her birth control pills were beginning to
affect him too, in certain odd ways.  She decided not to say
anything about it to him, she says, because it was getting
interesting, but eventually she realized she'd have to deny him her
tits or else deny herself his cock.  So he doesn't get them any
more, and she seeks relief for them elsewhere.  His skin is now
softer, she says.  And it takes him much longer to cum -- he needs
a lot more coaxing.  But it isn't true that what goes up must come
down.  She says that Mark can now hold his erection and hold off
cumming almost indefinitely.  He's still as horny than ever, the
same way she is, so she still needs to blow him every morning
before work, or else he'd carry a big pole in his pants all day
long, and that might give other women ideas.  But now she can fuck
him whenever she wants for as long as she wants.  If he'd do all
the other things she wants him to do, she says, he'd be perfect. 
She's checking into different ways to make him perfect.

"Oh?" I said.  Why was she telling me this?

"Patti's also found that her medications work their way into her
partner.  She takes Prozac regularly, always has, she's always been
tense.  She says that now Dora's on cloud nine most days!  And I've
got to admit it, I get a little woozy too each time I visit her. 
More happy-go-lucky than woozy, maybe.  I just don't care about
lots of things, so we both feel free to do other things with each
other too, sometimes.  Licking and giggling, you know how I can
get.  I've never been able to go down on you for some reason,
Barry, but on Patti?  Well, it's very nice!  That's why I'm
thinking of moving in with the two of them.  They've invited me."

"You've been....?" I just couldn't say it!  "You've ....?"

Hayley just looked steadily at me, her cool eyes level, her voice
even in tone.  "Yes, honey, I have.  What do you expect?  You won't
cooperate.  We don't make love any more!  Patti's more than happy
to oblige.  We're friends!"  

She watched me.  I knew that look.  Innocent little girl, but
shrewd, calculating.  "It's very nice, what we do together, me and
Patti, sometimes Dora too!" she added.  "Meg too now and then. 
Maybe Mark too, soon.  Patti and Dora aren't interested, but I am!" 
Then she looked away and closed her eyes.

"You've been unfaithful to me?"  I asked.  My ire was rising.  But
even stronger than anger or rage or jealousy or whatever it was,
was a deep dark dread growing in the pit of my stomach.  I didn't
want to lose her!  Hayley!

She opened her eyes and looked at me steadily again.  "Of course
not, Barry!  I've been intimate with another woman, yes, more than
one, but only in ways you refuse to be intimate.  That's not
infidelity.  It's just tender friendship.  Any time you want me not
to be intimate that way with Patti, I won't be!  But don't ask me
until you're prepared to take her place and do those things too, oh
loving husband of mine!"  And tears came into her eyes!

"Hayley!"  I said.  But I didn't know what else to say.  My sense
of dread grew larger!  And of desolation!  The grounds of our
marriage were shifting, and I was powerless to do anything about
it.  "Tender friendship" looked a lot like a lesbian orgy to me! 
A different kind of loving altogether!  An end to our own marriage. 
I'd seen it happen!  Wives run off with other women all the time
these days!

"Does Patti taste you too?" I asked morosely, remembering how I'd
always thought of Hayley's breasts and pussy as my own personal
grazing ground.  It was a pointless, obvious question, and I didn't
really want to know the answer anyhow.

Hayley smiled secretly to herself, the way she did whenever I asked
her something she considered too intimate, too private even for her
spouse to hear.  "You mean both above and below?"  She hesitated. 
Then "We're both quite satisfied, honey" was all she said.

A shot in the dark.  "And with Meg?  Meg too?"  I didn't know how
to feel!  Exasperated?  Discouraged?  Mainly I felt deeply
depressed.

"I don't kiss and tell," Hayley replied.  She turned and stared
directly into my eyes yet again, and spoke with slow, measured
words.  "But I will say this.  Her husband is a lot more
considerate than mine!  He's already wants to please her in every
way possible, and he's willing to learn new ways!"               

My God! I was thinking.  These women are all in this together?  And
what does Meg ask Mark to do to please her?  Are Meg's requests as
off-the-wall as Hayley's?

I wondered for a crazed moment whether Meg would ever want Mark to
get himself a pair of breasts.  In his case who'd notice?   Mark's
frame is large, heavy-set, with broad, square shoulders -- he's
built like a defensive lineman.  Knockers on Mark would only look
like folds of flab, or pecs gone slack.  What would be the point?

But on me?  I have a much slimmer build, narrow shoulders and very
little excess fat.  Boobs on me would poke out of my chest like
small watermelons.  They'd be what everyone noticed about me first
of all, the same way I always notice large jugs on small-waisted
women, especially when they wear those knit blouses that hug their
shape.  Sometimes they look to me like large breasts with small
women attached to carry them around.  

Hayley dressed like that too sometimes, nowadays -- she knew it
made me jealous whenever she put her jugs on display like that. 
And these days she was doing it a lot, I realized.  Probably for
spite.

Still, was I making too big a deal of this?  What was it costing
me?  What was it risking!

"Hayley!" I said, rising on one elbow in a kind of take charge
posture, my voice firm, precisely because I was unsure what to say
next and I was really scared!  This was no longer an absurd whim of
hers, it was serious!  Our whole lives together were at stake!  It
was time to have it out once and for all!  "Look here, Hayley!"

But as I gazed down I saw that her eyes were now shut and that she
was breathing evenly.  She was asleep.

end 1/10
VickieTern@AOL.COM

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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