Boob First

“You have heard so many awful things about our program.” The woman shook her head sadly and her breasts shook with it, “Rumours spread by hateful people. Venom from the lips of spiteful and inadequate mothers.”

A jagged tear crawled up the woman’s body. For a moment the static-filled glitch captured her oversized breasts, compressing them into a thin line, before it scrolled onwards up the screen, letting them burst free once more. When the woman spoke, her voice was half-muted and distorted, robbed of its higher frequencies by the repeated spooling and unspooling of the old tape.

“Depravity. Perversion. Incest.” The woman shaped the words slowly with her tongue as if savouring them. “Isn’t that what they say? That we’re perverts? That what we do is unnatural? But everything we do, everything we believe in, is for love.”

The woman clutched her hands over her large breasts, pressing her hands to her generous cleavage, letting her big, milk-filled breasts wobble around her fists. The camera, jostling unsteadily, turned down towards the boobs as if the cameraman was drawn magnetically towards them.

“If you want to know love, you only have to look at the way a boy’s eyes light up at the sight of his mother’s breast. How he relaxes. How he turns his face towards mommy, knowing, instinctively that she will solve all his problems. How he gives in completely to his mother’s protection. All arguments, all friction between mother and son are forgotten in that first spray of milk. And that’s love.” She smiled warmly, genuinely. “That’s the truest love there is. The unconditional love between a boy and his mother.”

Letting her hands fall, the woman thrust her mommy tits forwards proudly, jutting that eternal symbol of motherhood towards the camera.

“So let me ask you, if we’re ‘perverts’ for letting love rule us, then what about those other mothers? The ones who slander us. What about the neglectful ‘moms’ who hide their shrivelled little boobs away? Who lie and tell themselves he’s ‘too old’ for breast? “Too old” to suckle! As if you could ever be too old for love! These women who struggle every day against a misbehaving son, never realizing that he only fusses because mommy isn’t giving him what he needs most. Because mommy never quite understands that everything she’ll ever need to be a great mother is right here.” The woman prodded a gentle finger into the side of her tit, dimpling the fabric of her shirt. “Only here.”

The woman’s eyes lingered on her own boobs for a few moments before turning back to the camera, a pair of damp patches beginning to seep into the blue fabric of her top.

“Breast is always best. Best for you and best for your son. And Breast First is a new way. A better way. The right way to be a mother.” The woman nodded, flashing white teeth at the camera. “I hope you’ll join us. The world always needs more moms.”

The camera lurched forwards, clattered to the floor of the kitchen. The last view was of a man stumbling towards the woman. His needy fingers clawing down her neckline, revealing two huge and dripping breasts. And then the image was gone, replaced by a flat blue screen and a dull whine.

Sorry about that, I have been writing stuff, I just haven’t been posting much.

My problem recently is that I keep trying to write a simple caption, and then I start having other ideas. Eventually, before I know it, a simple caption starts spiralling out into a fully fledged short story.

I have so much nonsense in my drafts right now, due to this. So many half-finished stories.

I might try to finish off some of the longer captions I’ve created, and then post them. Just so I can upload something.

I’m glad to hear that you like my blog.

I haven’t posted anything for a while, and this might be a good opportunity to break my dry spell, so I’ll see what I can come up with on the mommy/daughter front.

Gah! Recently, I haven’t been able to update this blog as much as I would like due to studying.

Apart from that, I seem to be in a fairly surreal frame of mind, and most everything I’ve written over the past week has come out incredibly weird...

Weirder than normal I mean...

So yes, there are lots of bizarre, half-finished transformation/incest/mind-control stories sitting in my drafts, and very few actual posts sitting on my tumblr.

So I thought I’d ask; what sort of content would my followers like to see? If you have any story or caption requests, or comments, or criticisms, or random questions, just please feel free to send them to me.

Another sketch.

I’ve been practising faces quite heavily recently. And I’m getting better, I think, but I still make many mistakes.

For example: here, the eyes aren’t quite even, the face shape isn’t quite round enough, I probably should have been more careful shading the side of the nose, and the jaw needs more work. But this is definitely the best face I’ve done so far.

Apparently faces are particularly difficult to draw (or so I’ve heard), since the human brain has specific areas dedicated to facial recognition, and so, even slight mistakes can make the image look off. For that reason, I think I’ll take a slight detour and focus on drawing hair next. Then the anatomy of the female upper body. After that, hopefully my skills will have improved enough that I can make more progress with faces.

Since there’s fairly little shading in this sketch I tried a new technique of importing it into inkscape and vectorising it before uploading it, rather than just scanning it and colour correcting it. I’m quite pleased with the results. I doubt it’d work for a heavily shaded image, but for something like this, it definitely improves the outcome. It makes the version on-screen look much more like the version I drew on paper.

“Now honey, I’m not angry with you, but I need to ask you something.... Recently Mommy’s been finding a few strange stains on her clothes...

like cum stains...

like your cum stains.

And so I need to ask... have you been jerking off into Mommy’s clothes? My tops, my bras, my panties... they’re all covered...

You have, haven’t you? You’ve been cumming into Mommy’s underwear! Don’t try to hide it, sweetie. I know it was you!

Oh sweetie! Don’t be upset! I’m not angry with you. I could never be angry with you. Mommy knows that you can’t help it. I’m proud to wear your cum-stains. You’re just showing your love for me. I understand that.

But you can breathe a sigh of relief, because I’m not going to post any today.

I am making progress, but I still need to develop a sense of proportion. And I also need to figure out how to draw hair. Often I draw a face and the features end up all over the place. And hair, to me, is an esoteric mystery. Another thing that sometimes trips me up is shoulder width.

I think I’ll use tomorrow to focus on those things, in the hope that I can make my faces and heads look less ‘derpy’ (to use the technical term).

Tumblr, it must be your unlucky day, because today I have more sketches for you!

This time I mostly just sketched glamour models. More detailed drawings than the one I made yesterday. Mostly focussing on the head and the chest.

I’ll hide them under a ‘Keep reading’ link, so that the people who don’t want to look at my shoddy, half-finished drawings can easily avoid them.

I seriously debated whether I should post this or not...

Screw it. Here you go Tumblr, here’s a crappy sketch I did of an overworked (and under-dressed) mother.

The thing at the bottom was supposed to be a laundry basket, but apparently I can’t draw towels.

“What’s wrong baby? Ever since I took those Boob-First pills you’ve been looking at me like something’s the matter.”

“You know, it’s a real shame that those pills didn’t work, I had such high hopes and...”

Chantelle was one of the rare women able to resist the mind altering effects of the Boob-First drugs. She could resist the changes, but not the addiction.

She took no pride in the fact that she was speeding through cup-sizes like crazy. That her bras were always too small, and too tight, no matter how far she planned ahead. Her friends would often brag about their growth, but not Chantelle.

And she hated what her altered milk was doing to her son, Michael. The way it made him seem duller, more dependant, and more perverse. Her friend Sienna seemed almost proud at her son’s constant erections. But it only made Chantelle feel sick, especially whenever Michael tried to show his dick to her, always with a broad smile on his face. Chantelle often found herself saying, “Yes that’s very nice, but can you please not show it to me?”

Last week, he’d raided her bra drawer. She’d told Sienna, about it, who’d only laughed and said that Michael must be ‘going though that phase’. She didn’t seem to understand why Chantelle would be angry about finding her son sitting on her bed with her new bra wrapped around his cock.

And she hated his constant little pinches and gropes. The way Michael’s hands would be all over her if she ever strayed anywhere near him. The way he seemed to think that his mother’s breasts were just toys for his amusement. She’d told him time and time again to stop, but he never listened. Her boobs always caught his attention better than her words.

Most of all, she hated the way her tits always felt so full. She could practically feel the milk inside, wanting to get out, to be expressed, to be sprayed down her son’s throat. And it never ended, it never stopped, but only grew stronger. Even feeding her son only gave her temporary relief.

Sienna sighed and looked over at the other side of the room. Her son was on the couch, masturbating openly, making no attempt to hide the fact that he was staring at his mom’s cleavage. She remembered when that used to shock her. For the moment, she was just glad that he remembered how to jack off. She dreaded the day when he’d start asking her to do it for him.

“Sweetie...” she said tenderly, “Mommy’s boobies ache. I need you to suckle for a bit, is that okay? Just... try not to take as much as last time. I don’t like what it does to you.”

He didn’t need telling twice. Before she knew it, Michael was upon her. Dragging her bra down, his lips sealing around her nipple, sucking greedily.