I recently started participating in a clinical trial to increase my breast size, and it’s been going great! I started at a C cup, and in a month I’ve already grown to an E cup! There is one issue I guess… the ‘sensitivity’ side effect is really kicking my ass. Whether it’s a bra or a t-shirt, anything rubbing against my nipples drives me crazy! Someone brushed against me on the bus the other day and I nearly came…
Come on, now. Be honest. I know that you love it. However distracting it may be, you can't get enough of how sensitive your growing breasts are becoming. This is what you wanted, to some degree. You wouldn't sign up for that kind of clinical trial if you didn't have size greed to some degree. Most women would be overjoyed to be a C-cup, but you couldn't help yourself. You wanted bigger. You wanted more. Being merely average was never going to be enough for you, so much so that you literally signed up for an experimental drug to try and force you to grow even larger. What was it, hm? Is there a busty coworker that you see every day, straining her blouse and making you seethe with envy? Did you catch your ex-boyfriend eyeing up a woman absolutely bursting out of her sports bra while she jogged down the street? Maybe it was a best friend who was on even footing with you when you met and then blossomed into being gigantic, leaving you in her dust without even trying? Regardless of the reason why, that greed pushes you onward, drives you to not just be big, but always bigger, always more, always growing!
The increased sensitivity might not be exactly what you signed up for, but I know you love it. What better way to be reminded how big you've gotten than to have constant, pulsing pleasure radiating out from your huge, sensitive tits? You can't escape them, even for a moment. Every bounce, every wobble, every accidental squish sends a jolt directly to your core to remind you how much you've grown. You're still getting used to their size, too, how far they extend out in front of you. You must be brushing them against things all the time, whether that's countertops or door frames or even people. Some of them are accidental, certainly, but I doubt all of them are. Don't tell me you're not stuck on that crowded bus, feeling every pothole as it bounces through your gigantic tits, trying to make the pressure you're putting on the back of the person in front of you seem accidental as you rub your tits against them. Every little spark of pleasure is enough to remind you of how big you've grown, painfully aware of your gargantuan bust every moment of every day. And it's only going to get more intense as you grow larger.
You're already picturing it, aren't you?
You're already fantasizing about the diving bliss that comes from having tits big enough to cover your torso, trapped in bed underneath them as you grab and grope and knead and squeeze the massive mounds, moaning in erotic bliss. The team running the trial keeps trying to call you, but you just hold the vibrating phone against your nipples to wring yet another in a long line of countless orgasms out of your body. You don't know what day it is, let alone what time it is or how long you've been there. You barely know your own name. All you know is that your tits are colossal and that's all that's ever mattered.
