Sakura awakened in a cold sweat.
A blank ceiling overhead confused her. White stucco instead of the hospital's flimsy drop ceiling. Huh, weird. And the tile floor felt soft. Warm even… a little damp…
Fragment by disordered fragment, Sakura pieced her awareness together. Confused she tried to listen for her coworkers rushing to see the sheer size of her apocalyptic bosom. But everything was quiet. She was alone. No patients, no nurses, no coworkers. Nothing but a large mound of bunched up blankets under her chin.
Sharp hangover pain stabbed her forehead. By reflex she rubbed it and then realized she could move her arms. And realized they weren't pinned under her moon-sized melons.
Blindly she felt for the Silicone Sucker's shutoff valve… and found a pillow instead. That was when it clicked. She was at home, in bed. With bags under her eyes and a bad case of morning hair. A glance to her alarm clock told her it was Sunday morning.
"Ugh… Fuck me that was a dream wasn't it?" Sakura asked the air.
Well no sense in laying around. Today was Monday, they needed her at the hospital. Struggling to remember one of those quick fix hangover cures. She sat up in bed…
Flop!
Flop!
…What the heck?
The 'blanket mound' clung to her for a brief second. Held up through sheer torpedo pertness. Until they yielded by virtue of their luxurious softness. The covers fell away…
Sakura screamed. Through desperate reflex she tried to brush off the fat set of knockers bolted to her chest. Dismayed she tried to escape them, until her back hit her headboard.
"Oh my god. Oh my god~" Sakura's gasps tinged with bedroom desperation.
Out of fear (and definitely not the heat between her thighs), she clutched them. Squeezed to make sure these weren't some oversized prosthetics a prankster had strapped her into during the night— Ahn<3 …Nope they were real all right. Fuck. Why did they have to feel so good?
She got her answer soon enough. Because her ill-advised squeeze had yielded a new 'development' in her chest. Suddenly a subtle vanilla scent reached her nose… She sniffed. No, scratch that; vanilla and roses. Plus an undercutting collage of other pleasant perfumes not too different from a dairy farm.
Or a nursery.
Her breasts felt damp and sticky. And there was a trickle of white fluid oozing from each nipple. Oh shit she was lactating. And judging by her soaked blankets, not by a small amount. In hindsight, rubbing her nipples might have been a bad idea.
"Mmmnooooo…"
Pressure built behind her nipples and then released. Tension and sudden eruption. Clothed in the heated tingles of red sparks. Caught off guard Sakura felt her toes curl. Her 'noooo' came out whiney and undulating. More milk came. To ooze between her fingers and pool in her palms.
"Oh my god~ Is this how guys feel when they ejaculate?" Sakura bit her lip. "Fuck<3 No wonder they're such perverts. I could get used to this."
Then she remembered herself. Shame forced her hands off her boobs. No! Stop that! Bad Sakura! You're sick dammit! These boobs aren't natural. There's something wrong with you.
She couldn't go to work like this. Not with leaky tits and a bra primed to burst. So she did something she never imagined her well behaved self ever doing. She pretended to be sick. It was easier than she'd imagined. One phone call to the front desk, plus a few raspy words spoken through a pinched nose to make her lie convincing.
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She spent her first day off in five years masturbating.
"J cup… 108 centimeters… 42 inches…"
Those three little numbers summoned up an unwanted trill of tingles in her pussy AND her nipples. All three areas were equally sensitive now. It didn't help that she was topless in front of the bathroom mirror when she did it. Luckily for her, Sasuke had left in his home office.
Computers were still a novelty in Konoha. Naruto (the lovable bonehead he'd been before his… change) had been convinced they were magic for the longest time. And honestly she wasn't too far behind. Time had largely demystified the strange devices. Yet even then, Sakura hadn't seen much point in the bulky, delicate things…
Until she discovered internet porn.
Terabytes upon terabytes of flagrant filth purpose meant to stiffen flesh and quicken the breath. Back in her day, all she'd had were men's underwear catalogues. But this? This was a whole new world of degeneracy. Sakura balanced the laptop on the bathtub's edge and climbed in. With spit on her fingers and enough water to wash her… mess away.
It was a disaster.
Nothing but brown-haired muscle men and bottle blonde with plastic knockers, guh! Booooring! Then the spit on her fingers dried up. And she threw in the towel. Normal porn couldn't arouse her anymore. Frustrated, Sakura pinched her left nipple—
Shiiiiiiiittttt~<3
Shocked yet again she stared at her superlative bust. Nipples erect and damp. Begging to be touched. To be stimulated. No way, there was just no way. Breasts were a secondary sexual characteristic! They couldn't play that big a role in female masturbation… could they?
Another experimental pinch answered her question with a resounding YES! Nipple stimulation was the name of the game. Desperate to finally cum, Sakura bolted from the bathroom. Almost dumping her hubby's laptop into the water. Milk slick hands fumbled through the bedroom dresser drawer. Until she found a plastic-wrapped blister pack of four plastic pink eggs. Vibrators, she ordered one offline during an especially long dry spell. But a mistake in the order had sent her a full set instead. And she'd been too embarrassed to return them. Thank god she hadn't.
A naked titty-bouncing run downstairs took her to the kitchen. Where she found a roll of tap hidden in one of the cabinets. Thus armed she outfitted herself right there in the kitchen. Two eggs taped to each meaty milktap. In hindsight, she really should have waited till she reached the bathroom to switch the damn things on—
YEEEEEEESSSSSSS~<3!!
Oh well, lesson learned.
Sakura's legs turned to jelly, she almost collapsed. Afraid she would squirt all over her kitchen's clean linoleum floor, she covered her pussy and tried to think unsexy thoughts… Nope, nothing came to mind. Everything in her head was honey and pop rocks now. Slovenly she staggered back up the stairs, across the landing, through her bedroom, and into the bedroom. She all but fell into the bathtub. A trail of milk drops were left in her wake.
Then the Lust took her. Four milk-lubed fingers impaled her cunt. Her thumb rubbed her thick and stiff clit so hard she was sure she'd give herself an Indian rug burn. Given leave to her modesty, she frigged herself like a barbarian queen. Teeth-clenched groans and grunts of female sexual hunger drowned out the porno's cheesy dialogue. The loud sound of four high-powered egg vibrators told her neighbors exactly what she was doing to herself.
Yet she had one free hand. And it did the devil's work. Like a couch potato with a cable subscription she channel-surfed the internet for better porn. More vivid filth. She found herself gravitated to pictures of women with truly gigantic breasts. Even bigger than her lewd proportions! Torso sized and up. Hefty teardrops laden with delicious nectar. Everything a boy needed to grow up into a stud~
Sakura found herself enchanted by pictures of women with cow horns and cow ears and cow-printed underwear. Some motherly, passive. Others Amazonian, aggressive. But regardless of whether it was the faceless man humping their fluid-filled bosoms. Or the cowgirl brutally battering his poor boner with her backbreaking ballast tanks. Cock humped between ponderous mega-tits was a constant. Manly force useless before the memory foam esque cock cushions. Absorbed with smug ease.
Hours passed in rapture. Headache or no, Sakura ended up even more dehydrated than she started. But it was never quite enough. As if the act of self-pleasure only sharpened her fantasies. Strengthened her craving for some nasty, sweaty, IRL paizuri.
She had to take Tuesday off too.