Mega Tits 1

by DrkFetyshNyghts

  “Good kitten. My babies. My good babies.”

  If one were not to be mistaken, one might think that Dorothea in that dream was talking to her tits in a way that told that she was afraid of losing them. That maybe, possibly she would have them taken off her. Or that someone would come along and take them from her at any time soon – if she did not talk to them, or treat them right. Like as though in some strange and twisted way that she was being held to ransom by her own tits. That her own hooters had this kind of strange, surreal hold over her and that would always be the case. Such a weird, weird, not-of-this-world sight. Dorothea had the most amazing legs that anyone could be blessed with and yet her legs could not be seen. Somehow they were tucked under her as she sat on this specially adapted chair – and there she was, a head and neck popping up from this sea of tit flesh. Wobbly, wavy rippling tit flesh. And that was just it – she was in a sea of it – in a sea of that stuff. It poured out of her chest into huge balloons that simple sagged down in front of her and there was so much flesh that it wallowed and spilled down under her arms. The result of that was that she could not hold her arms at her sides. Instead her arms, when they were still were simply held out and rested by the bulge of tit flesh that she had around her. One could say that Dorothea was naked – and she wasn't because at the same time she was 'dressed' in her own tits. There was so much flesh that she was covered. There was no view of her crotch area – or there was no danger of her dignity being diminished – at least not in that way. But then dignity was a huge factor in this dream. In this dream Dorothea, or Jugsalina simply wallowed in her own mammaries. Like as though she was treading water in a sea of succulent, pale breasts flesh. But she looked happy – and she looked content. Kind of.

  It wasn't like she wasn't aware of the silktex around her lower abdomen – and up inside her. In this dream, this fucking weird dream she had learned to live with it. She had learned to live with it in the real world as well. But she had no choice in the real world, she had to. She had had acceptance forced upon her in the real world. By Wendy, and the twins – and what they did to her. What they made her suffer and what they had made her endure. It was funny, though not in a ha-ha way that even in this dream she KNEW about all that she had been through. She knew and had vivid memories and recollections of the things she had been through as Wendy and the twins had taken over her life. That night, the orgasms, then the silktex being fitted and being applied and then extending up inside her body. Then the torture. The terrible torture. The enlargement of her boobs. The bondage. The gym in which the twins had their work out as her breasts grew and grew. Those kicks, those punches into her delicate and ever changing fun bags. The Hooter School and all of the trials and tribulations that that brought. There was often an involuntary shiver down the core of her spine whenever she thought about Hooter School. Some of the things she had to endure in there she would prefer to not think about – not remember or recount to anyone. But she would have to. One day, one night, a nightmare, or a dream would take her back there and she would have no choice then but to submit to those memories and recollections. Or she would be forced to remember, forced to recollect in some other hideous fashion. But then, if she were really forced to be honest with herself, and with others then Hooter School was not a time of complete never ending misery. There were 'good' times too. At least there were good times, as good as they got in what otherwise was a pit of despair. There was Head Hooter Girl Cheryl. Now there had been one bitch only one step below the awesome Hooter Tutor herself. But after that initial getting together there had been some not so bad times. Some closer times. At times it was as though Cheryl actually felt sorry for Dorothea. Oh, not felt sorry for her enough to facilitate her scape back into the normal real world. Oh no, not that. But in a way that saw them share some closer than close moments during her time there. And this was the thing about these dreams too – the strange thing was that she could have negative thoughts and she could have positive ones and it didn't matter. The silktex didn't hurt her, or it didn't remind her that she had to wipe all negativity from her mind. She could have both feelings and both emotions and she wasn't punished for either. But this is what the dreams did – what she didn't know that they did or were doing. Those dreams were twisting her and would twist her and then they would twist just a little bit more.

  It was hard work but she had got to her feet. Somehow she had managed to unfold herself in that specially adapted seat and she had managed to get to her feet again. There they were, those spectacular legs and those severely arched feet again. Feet severely arched into stupid high heels and it was those heels that forced her body and mind to fight with each other. When she wore those heels it was like she was transported back to the old days when she could strut her stuff and do and hold all of the sexually addled poses that she could think of in order to gain men's and women's attention. It wasn't like that now though, not in the real world or in the dreams. This was another of the little connections from dream to the real world. The little connection that would get more and more clear and distinct with each passing dream that occurred. Even in the dream she could not do those arrogant, sexually dripping poses any more. Her jugs were too big, too cumbersome, too ginormous, too unwieldy, too heavy, too debilitating. Those jugs seemed like they were attached to her chest as an afterthought. Like she had been cloned and they had run out of the right sized breasts, and these 'things' were all they had left to put on her. And now that they were on her she just had to get on with it. Except along with all that 'getting on with it' came the disabilities that all of that entailed. She now had to use her legs in a way that she hadn't before. Before she could simply use her stunning, long, strong legs to create that slut-strut that men seemed to like and women seemed to loathe, or be jealous of in equal measure.

  She could use her legs and the high heels as a sexual magnet to anyone who might be that way inclined. But she couldn't do that anymore. It was funny because even in this dream she was aware of what she used to be able to do – even in the dream she would cast her mind back to those slut strutting days. Yes she missed those days – the looks of adoration – the looks of pure lust that came from men and women alike. Even the looks of disdain that came from both men and women – although not in equal amounts to those of adoration. Back in those days, the real world normal days – if that was the real normal world that is, she often chuckled about the effect she would have when she walked into a bar, a club, or any room. It was like the heads would all turn in perfect synchronisation, to her – and there she would be with that beaming lipsticked smile. Much like the one she had in the dream – much like the one she was forced to endure in her new real world. She thought about those days but thinking about them often forced that tear to squeeze out of the corner of her eyes and take the trail of mascara and foundation with it – so she didn't dwell on it – not even in the dream did she dwell on it. Struggling, letting out some sighs and gasps of consternation she managed it. And those legs, those long legs now had to act as a two pronged tripod as opposed to sexual magnets. It was like, in a strange way that she was being punished for what she once was. Even in that dream she remembered all that time ago when Wendy had threatened to amputate her arms and her legs – take them off her so that all she would have left were her stumps. In a way that would have been preferable. Now – now she simply had her legs, not to use as sexual magnets, or sexual instruments but rather she was forced into using them for simple everyday things. The fact that she was forced to use them for even the basic things in life was a torture in itself. A reminder what she was once capable of – but also a reminder, a permanent reminder of what she was no longer capable of. It was like the whole of her femininity was being twisted and twisted and then wrung and twisted some more as a punishment for how she used to live her life. It was like she was having it all turned against her – somehow, somewhere along the line she would loathe herself, all of herself for being what she once was – what she once loved being – until Wendy and the twins c
ame along. Those fucking next door neighbours of hers. Those little people who had turned her life upside down. In fact they hadn't even done that. They hadn't even turned her life upside down – they had turned it inside out and then some.

  But, it was ok, everything was alright because in these dreams, the dreams where she could be once again what she wanted to be and needed to be, to an extent, she kind of was able to get her own back. Like a limited kind of revenge. Not so much a revenge as a straightening out of the die. Yeah yeah she had all of that positivity painted onto her face – that smile and that inner joy that the silktex part of her recognised, but at the same time she had the control. It was a confusing and baffling kind of control because she was still debilitated and still cocooned within this world. Wendy's world, and the twin's world. Every so often, in these dreams she got a slither of anxiety racing through her, because she felt something. She didn't know what it was she felt – just something that didn't feel easy with her, or within her. What it was that she didn't know, or couldn't explain to herself was that it was all closing in around her, it was all coming in on top of her – the dreams would not always be what they were at this time – they would not always be what she would enjoy. The dreams were just simply another tool being used on a sub-level, to twist and maul Dorothea into the shape that Wendy, Miss Chest and the twins, nipple and nipple. The dreams would come closer and closer and then closer still to reality and then – then there would be no escape. There would be no dreams to escape into or to exist within because it would have all merged in with her new real life. Dreams and reality as one entity. But for now, for this time she could still enjoy – she could still immerse – she could simply wallow in it all. At least here and now in this dream she could still think of the negative things and in a way make allowances for them – make corrections for them without having those god awful things up inside her do unmentionable things to her and with her insides. At least here and now, at this moment in time she could immerse in those dreams without the dire consequences that she didn't yet know would be the case later on in the process.

  “Hello my little pretties.”

  That wide, wide lipstick smile, and that sex drenched voice belied the scene that could have been described as an organised carnage. The shard of light had shifted again – the angle had shifted and so had the colour. The colour shift had lent itself to the theory that the bright shard of light was coming from a sun that was working its way through the day. Slight alterations and shifts in colour depending on the time of day. And then the angle – instead of a forty five degree one which bounced the light right into the wooden floor – the angle had narrowed, and shot more across the room than in and down to the floor. But still the dust and the little bits of airborne debris could be seen and identified flying their own individual paths through the air. The twins were cruelly, and tightly hog-tied and positioned so that they could be breast fed on an extended basis. To clarify the two tiny, almost creature like women who were the twins, nipple and nipple were hog-tied. But they were hog-tied with interest. Both of their ankles had been bound, tightly. Thin leather straps around the ankles and then a form of elasticated rope brought between the ankles and tied off. This elasticated rope, or whatever the hell it was took the effort needed out of the equation. It could be applied quite subtly and then the natural elasticity did the rest. The fairly loose leather strap and then the heavy duty elastic rope in between. The same at their knees. Identical leather straps and then the elastic rope fed between the knees and applied. When tightened, the knees and the ankles becoming totally immobile. There was no visible explanation of how the twins were put into such a state of bondage, or how they got there. They just had, and they just were. Maybe, even quite possible, Wendy had taken her part and did for her sisters in this way. It would explain a lot. After all, Dorothea, or Jugsalina wouldn't be able to put in so much effort when it was so exhausting getting herself around as it was. Carrying all of that tit weight and all of that cumbersome flesh. Not able to use her legs for anything other than basic balance. No sexual athletics of the kind needed to completely and utterly immobilise the twins in the way they had been disabled. None of that at all. Simply too much effort would be needed. The twins, after their skinny, bony legs had been secured had been placed on their stomachs and their arms brought behind them. Although this was only a guess since in this dream they simply were the way they were with no explanation as to how they got there, or who put them there. One might guess that both twins might have screamed the place down as their arms were the next limbs to be worked on. It would be just a guess judging by the tear stains down both of their faces. But then those tear stains could be for another reason or torment since both twins were highly fit, and active and both into the martial arts – as that gym session had proved all that time ago. That gym session even existed in the dream, like part of the past. That creeping dream and reality check that was progressing all of the time. It was because she could remember it that she was leering at the twins in all of their discomfort – this was her time, like her revenge time and like something had clicked inside her mind, something like the penny had dropped and she was seeing it all now. These little freaks had done this to her but they were not going to have the last laugh – she would have the last laugh. They had taken her, modified her and fucked with her mind, or tried to – but at last in this dream she would have her own back.

  The twins were whimpering – but in a way, judging by what had been done to them that was understandable. As fit as they each were, they were still tiny and still looked as fragile as anyone could look. Their arms had been brought up behind them and bound at the elbows. The same thin leather strappings and the elasticated rope between the elbows so that the hard work of the hard bind was taken care of. It was easy then to do the same to the wrists. It was like a major bondage job done in miniature – and the twins could only really be described as miniature. The knees then, bent right back and the legs doubled up – that very action in itself causing an agony in that the leg muscles simply expanded against the bend and against the bonds at their knees. The ankles which were already bound then attached to the wrists, which initially caused the two sets of limbs to pull painfully against each other. But this was relieved to some extent by the fact that the object of the bondage of the twins was that it was to be tight and impossible to move, barely a muscle. The whimpering from the two was therefore heightened just before another bondage appliance was secured around the tiny waists of the two. A form of belt that attached around their middle tightly and securely and with little stainless steel rings on them so that the legs could be attached, and the wrists, as though flat to the body. This made any form of moving all but impossible, but more than that, it made the constant tugging of malformed, bondaged limbs a painful and a nagging experience. There was no need to have the whimpering explained once this had been seen. Poor poor nipple – their eyes all wide and bulging, tear stained and more than a little swollen due to the exertions. And then there was the quivering of their little thin lips – one might have expected that as well. Those little miniature versions of Wendy's already small thin lipped mouth. Even the twins' quivering was identical, bless them. And bless the looming leering Dorothea. Next, they had been placed on stainless steel metal gurneys. Face down, and the gurneys adjusted at a suitable angle for breast feeding. Dorothea, especially in 'her' dream could not be seen to work too hard, or have to work too hard. It was her dream after all and it was her revenge. She couldn't be expected to lug and haul those extensive, expansive hooters of hers to such an extent that she was put into any form of discomfort. This was her dream and she was living the dream. She needed the twins at just the right height and just the right angle so that she could feed her thick, perma-throbbing nipples into their little mouths. Yes that was what she wanted and needed to do – simple have them, side by side, those little twins, side by side and with their mouth opening and closing, opening and closing as though they were little birds waiting to be fed by ma
ma bird. In effect Jugsalina, or Dorothea as she was known in her own dream was mama bird – and the twins were her little babies just waiting to be fed. The trouble was that, they were placed right and they were angled right and all that Dorothea had to do was to walk straight right on up to them and slide one of those thick, rubbery nipples into each of their mouths so that they could instigate the milking process themselves. That was another thing about those dreams – everything was just perfect in those dreams. Huge hooters that actually produced food for some lucky so and so. But here and now in this dream there was something that was not quite right. The twins, nipple and nipple were packed up and bound like pieces of skinless fatless meat and then and then they were placed just right – but as Dorothea and her humongous breasts waddled up to them, she could not see their little mouths working – like opening and closing and opening and closing the way she really wanted to see them doing that. In the dream it was kind of like a motherly, or a maternity thing to do. She wanted to see that little action with those little mouths. She wanted to see them, before she slid the nipples into the warm, wet and small confines of those little mouths, she wanted to see them opening and closing like little birds. They did do that, but not before they each squealed and squealed until their little voices were hoarse.