Mega Tits 1

by DrkFetyshNyghts

  “That right my girls – make sure that our guest here is nice and uhmmmmm 'comfortable'. And all the rest of you, take time out to look – take time out to look at this sorry specimen of a female here – just take a few moments to look and thank your lucky stars that it’s not you in this position. This creature, Jugs, may well be a legend amongst you here at Hooter School – but just take the time to think or ask the question, why is she the legend that she is. The reasons that she is here under these circumstances are far less savoury and glamorous than the legend that she had become. Just bare that in mind. I don’t want to, nor do I need to go into the pretty disturbing details of why she is here – it would take up too much valuable time. Although I must say that at some point, this creature's journey may well be documented via various media and be available in the library for all of you to see and study. Indeed this creature may well be the subject of your study, and other girl's study, in years to come. But well that is food for thought for you all. Having said that – we don't do FAILURES here at Hooter School – and despite legendary status, this creature, this tit-whore here has FAILED. I don't intend that she fail again. Failure a second time will result – well we don't need to go there right now. But also, also it is very important that we reverse this failure so that we can SHOW that we deal with failures and act on them. It is very important that we are open and transparent with past and future pupils and owners that if on the very rare occasion that failures happen, then they are dealt with. And we need to be able to show how we deal with that failure. So my girls, you are all part of history here. You are all, part of how history will wind its way through this School.”

  It was turning into a sermon but Hooter Tutor had every single girl's attention. A number of the girls turned and looked at Dorothea with some sympathy. It was easy to tell the ones who had the sympathy because they simply turned to look, and the colour would slowly drain out of their faces as they tilted their heads just a little to one side – one would be able to see, or sense the thoughts going through those girl's minds 'there but for the grace of god go I'. No other girl's at Hooter School knew of the reasons why Jugs was there. In the bigger scheme of things, in the reality of it, she hadn't actually DONE anything, apart from take advantage of her assets as she had matured and grown up. Oh and of course, she had smothered her elderly husband to death so that she could claim the inheritance. Yes ok when one looked on it like that, it was bad. But the 'legend' had been blown up way beyond the size of the sum of her parts. It was like it had been deliberately blown up and with an air of mystery surrounding it. Dorothea it seemed was being made an example of. Kind of like a displayed lesson of how it could be for any of the girls at Hooter School should they step out of line. It didn't stop the main population wondering, just wondering and asking what this woman had done that was so bad. And so the legend, and the mystery simply grew and grew. There were also the girls that looked at Dorothea with absolutely no sympathy at all – just with derision and contempt. These girls were even easier to spot. Their faces were expressionless and their eyes cold. One might be able to sense their minds working as well. Looking at Dorothea and not even sneering and what she had been made into. Just looking and wondering, asking themselves the question as to how they could make Jug's journey even worse. They were the ones that were working out in their minds that Dorothea was after all here for a second chance. Despite what she was suffering she was being given a second chance. It was in their eyes, the question, why should she be given a second chance? Also the statement, well she's being given a second chance but that doesn't mean it’s going to be easy for her. In fact it’s going to be anything but easy. If half of the class was sympathetic, and half of the ones that were left were non-plussed about the creature Jugs and her journey – then that left two 'girls' hell bent on making Dorothea's life misery. Total misery. But that accounted for only the girls in that group or class. Then there would be the rest of the school population to think about. Another ten groups of eight – if the laws of averages were to be believed then that could be another two girls out of each group of eight, times ten, coming to twenty girl, plus the two from Dorothea's current group all hell bent on making her life slightly more than misery. Taken into account with the fact that there was no way out for Dorothea – then her immediate future was at best uncertain – but most certainly her immediate future was like a place beyond Hell.

  On top of that she had to ensure that she passed her finals this time round or her longer term future was like one of those black holes in space. No-one could see what was inside or beyond. Jug's outburst did not help. In fact, she had not helped herself at all. The girls had spent a lot of time prepping udder flesh so that the upper jaws of the desk vice could be brought down on top of them. They had almost fawned over the hooters – even Chest had been impressed and had cooed and cawed into Dorothea's ears. The only thing was that, that little piece of Dorothea that was left was the wise bit. That bit knew that with all that gentle prepping and hauling and then stroking of that flesh, there had to be some pain and some discomfort to follow. That little bit of her mind just knew it. The anticipation did very little to help the process other than to make it worse. But it knew. It knew and it kind of sent that message through the neurals of Dorothea in various ways. Those ways, or the workings of those ways don't matter. Other than when at long last after all that prepping and stroking and tittifying the clamps were brought down – even before the tightening and compressing process was started, there was this vision that relayed to Dorothea and any of the girls who were watching that something incredibly painful was about to happen – and something approaching the devil himself was about to be let loose on Jugs every nerve ending. The upper vice jaws, in effect, the desk top was brought down and across the globes of flabby, supported udder flesh. Just laid there at first and not tightened. With the desk top in place, there were further checks. A quick look around the room would be able to identify the sadistic girls – the ones with the widest grins on their faces as they realised the pain and distress that was just waiting patiently to be applied. Those were the faces that would cause the biggest chills to coarse up and down the spines. But then the sympathetic ones had become even more sympathetic and the non-plussed ones had become even more so. It was like everything in the classroom had become emphasised and enhanced as the immediate torment for Dorothea had become apparent. Above all though was the horror that what was happening was all somehow 'normal'. And was somehow just accepted. Was just the way it was – there was no relation, or no connection to the outside civilised world. This was a world that was existing on a different level, or in another plane somehow. Dorothea's eyes widened as realisation dawned on her and then as the tightening process began she did plead.

  “P-please please don't hurt me too much, please?”

  It wasn't really a very convincing pleading – not one that she would believe herself if the roles were reversed. It was more like a fact that she was thinking out aloud. Like she had watched the desk top vice being brought down, and that it was coming across the tops of her udders, and that slowly she was realising that she was about to experience extreme pain. And now she was simply thinking out loud in the form of that begging and pleading. The three girls just looked at each other and laughed as they carried on working. Dorothea's eyes darting about, trying to take it all in and her concern for her udders growing as the threaded bars and then the wing bolts being applied that fixed the desk top vice in position and then slowly screwed down. The bolts being tightened via opposites. Six bolts in all. Two each on the out sides of the breasts – that is one each towards the tips of the breasts, or the further most flesh outward – then two more in towards the chest. Then the final two in the centre – like between the breasts. The threaded bolts being carefully slotted through holes and again down through the lower vice surface. The bolts applied and then each screwed down – taking up the slack as it were. Dorothea's lips, all red and glossy quivering as the clamps were slowly brought down. The
tightening mechanism then making sure the lower and upper surfaces brought up equally. The tit flesh so soft and spongy and 'giving' that quite a lot of tightening an compressing was required before the pain and the hurt set in. Dorothea would sit and simply nibble at her lipstick with her teeth as the tightening process went on and on and then slowly but very surely the expression on her face becoming more and more troubled, and pain filled. The compression flattening out the flesh. The desktop and the lower vice platforms just wide enough to contain all of the 'meat' of the tits and yet not quite wide enough to contain the nipple teats. Those perma hard nipple teats forced to pop out from the edges of the flat jaws. Those teat like nipples actually the only increasingly obvious sign that pressures was being applied. The rest of the tit meat although obviously being compressed, hidden by the board like qualities of the vice jaws – making any onlooker fill in the gaps as to what he, or she could not see giving rise to the theory that sometimes, the implied was far worse than the actual. The implication of those popped out, angry looking, almost black nipples was that the flesh between the jaws was being flattened and tortured cruelly. Dorothea whimpering as her hooters were pressed and compressed continually. From expressions of concern and consternations to the slow and tortured expression of utter pain as the clamping progressed.

  By the time the compression was at its maximum Dorothea was squirting tears from both eyes. There was most definitely some projectile quality to the tears that she was squirting. It was comical, but only in the thought that it could have been the very pressure, the very compression of the udders between those two large flat surfaces that was pressurising the tears out from between squeezed tearful eyes. One might look and wonder where all of that flesh had gone. How could this woman now look the way that she looked. There was just so much flesh, so much blubber involved with those udders that as she was seated, clamped and then finished off, as it were, that was the question that came to mind – where did all that flesh go? Where could it have gone? And the alarming, disturbing sight of those thick, long bullet like nipples, protruding like missiles from between the vice like sandwich. The angry look of the nipples an added knowledge of what the rest of the tits must have been going through. And then the final tightening of the screws – the maximum torque applied and then that outpouring – the one from that little piece of the mind that she still had left and the one that even when it was in its full flow she knew, she knew that she was going to suffer for. Probably even beyond what that logical piece of her sanity that she had left, could even know.

  “Jugs, you have really blown it this time. Really blown it. How very dare you demand to be let go. Who the fuck do you think you are, huh – who do you think you are?

  It sounded as though Chest was speaking through gritted teeth. Probably an impossibility. Or the most bizarre thing that one could imagine. She was talking like she could feel the pressure of the desk vice. She was talking like it was actually her suffering that terrible pain and discomfort. Her voice was quivering much like Dorothea's lips quivered, these days almost on a constant basis. And it didn't stop at that quivering – it didn't stop at that. There was a proper, almost pitiful emotion in there as well. There can be no doubt that Chest, or Wendy was 'feeling' what Jugs's hooters were going through. There just was no doubt that she was feeling it. There was no logical reason why she was feeling that. She just was. It was where the real world was morphing in with this fantasy world. Where it greyed out and became the nightmare that Dorothea was now a part of. Chest was sobbing as well. She was really, really sobbing. In between scolding Jugs she was sobbing. Maybe not sobbing but weeping. Definitely weeping. Dorothea's face was like a tight mask of pain. Her eyes were narrowed down into slits and she was blubbering. There was no point at which she got used to the vice like clamps pressing down on her honkers. It didn't work like that. The pressure simply built and built and built until it felt like the hooter meat would explode, expunging their insides all over the classroom. But it didn't work like that. Her honkers had been pressed and flattened out between the two flat surfaces and that had hurt – WAS hurting bad enough. But then a huge amount of that pressure had been transferred to the area behind each of her nipples. And the usual and familiar throb was still there but it seemed to have been amplified and enhanced. And it seemed that amplification and enhancement had been injected with some real, sharp, intense and acute pain. It felt as though her nipples were burning up ready to be launched off their areola pads. She would have been grateful if that had happened. It seemed that that was what was needed in order to ease or stop that pain. But that didn't happen. It seemed like there was a huge conspiracy against her – which indeed there was – it was her life now, this huge conspiracy against her.

  “Uhhhhhh god god god no no no no noooooooooooooo pleaseeeeeeeeee nooooooooo.”

  There were decipherable words there but they kind of 'dribbled' out of her mouth wetly. Sort of spilt over her bottom lip and dripped down over her chest bone, and then down through the distorted valley between her bangers. One of the nastier girls in the class had enjoyed Dorothea's plight a little too much. It had been written all over her face. There was something else there as well though – there was something else maybe behind the eyes that told of an inner 'joy' that she was getting, or experiencing as Jugs suffered and then suffered some more. She even changed her seat to be nearer to Jugs and her 'desk'. She had moved to the desk directly in front of Dorothea – the back of her chair was just a very short distance away from those distended and pressurised nipples and very little effort was needed for her to simply drape and arm over the back of her chair, and then 'flick' either one nipple or the other. And she did that. She didn't do it deviously, or didn't do it trying to hide that fact that she was piling the distress onto Dorothea even more. She was quite open, quite blasé about the fact that she was doing it. Selina was not short of big hooters herself and for whatever reason, her uniform blouse was made from the finest and purest silk – white silk that was probably a size or two too small for her. But this resulted in her breast mounds, treble E's at the more modest end of the guessing spectrum, being nicely contained within that silk. And with every movement that she made the silken mounds shifted and moved freely. Selina kind of revelled in that freedom that her own tits had whilst at the same time revelled in the compressed, tortured 'things' that Dorothea was being forced to endure. Selina was a bitch of the first order. Probably what was coming out of Selina in the here and now in the form of that out and out bitchiness was one of the reasons, or one of the contributing factors to why she was at Hooter School. She was a young 'girl' barely out of her teens and yet very mature physically for her age. It wouldn't be beyond the pale to think that she had been confident about her sexuality from an early age – even more so, it wouldn't be beyond the pale to assume that she was at Hooter School for much the same reasons that Dorothea was. Except possibly in reverse. Dorothea's teasing and tormenting hadn't been from a sadistic angle – she had simply done what she had done for many many years and collectively it had all caught up with her in the form of Wendy and the twins. Selina in seems had been a little more cruel – it was easy to imagine her subjecting lesser girls, younger girls to her form of sadism. She had the thin lips that could with ease be associated with a sadistic women and she had the facial expressions that told of a practiced sadism. But it also seemed that because of her age, not even out of her teens, that she had been stopped in her tracks, so to speak.

  “Mmmmmmmmm nnnnnnnnnnhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.”

  “See its all your fault it’s all your fault that this is happening. Just you wait. Just you wait.”

  Selina had draped her arm over the back of her chair and her tits were moving like large puppies in a silk sack. Her own nipples were prominent through the silk and she was proud of that fact. It was easy to see that she was proud because of the way she forced back her shoulder and thrust out her banger mounds. Dorothea was 'forced' into displaying and showing off her tits – but her situation was dif
ferent – she was forced to do something because of the flaunting she had done over the years. Selina was proud of her hooters and that could be seen. It was as though she was showing Dorothea the freedom that she didn't have. It was like Selina's breasts and that stunning white silk were all in cahoots. Selina had casually, almost effortlessly 'flicked' one of Dorothea's think, engorged and hyper sensitive nipple teats. She had flicked the black rubbery nipple and it had gone into an immediate multiple 'quiver'. The sharp, and the acute pain had been instant and it had been almost paralysing. That smile, the one across Dorothea's face had been instantly wiped off and in its place a startling, stunning expression of pure unadulterated horror as her nerve ending struggled to cope with that hit of pain. It was a pain that she had never experienced before – a pain that she could never not even in her worse nightmare, imagine existed. Dorothea's own gritted teeth just about managed to let the noise that she made out. It was a wet dripping noise of despair. But as she struggled to cope with that pain she pulled on the clamps holding her udders in place and that caused her more agony. Selina simply smiled and hovered her perfectly manicured finger – the one she had just 'flicked' the nipple with, very near to the same nipple – like an unspoken threat that she was about to do it again. Dorothea's lips quivered as she wetly gritted her teeth. As she did that, Dorothea had Chest, speaking in her ear piece, scolding her telling her how much it was all her own fault. The moment that Dorothea's smile had been wiped off her face due to that intense pain, the silktex up inside her started its work. In a way it was like Dorothea had to prioritise which torment and which torture she had to deal with first and which to leave. It wasn't like she didn't feel the tightening up inside her because she did. But she was used to that feeling – she was used to her cervix and womb, and her bowels and bladder getting being punished for letting her positivity slip. But this was more than that – that simple flick of the long finger nail belonging to Selina had sent an intense pain through her that she had to cope with that first. It wasn't like her vision was hindered in any way. At times her vision was switched to the tit valley camera – the one that meant she was looking down the valley of her own hooters, like a constant reminder that she was seeing what Chest was seeing. But her vision was easily switched back to her eyes and she was seeing Selina's pure undiluted joy from close quarters. She had to absorb that pain and then tense with the anticipation that the sadistic teenager would do it again. But she didn't. Selina didn't flick again – rather she reached over the back of her chair a little more and she stroked the top of the engorged quivering nipple almost tenderly. It caused a havoc of confusing sensations within the nipple. Selina leaned forward, still stroking the nipple tenderly. And that was just it – she was doing it tenderly. She leaned forward a little more and she whispered.