Madame Sophie's Miracle Tits Part II

Discussion in 'Fictitious Stories' started by Diabloii, Mar 19, 2010.

  1. Diabloii

    Diabloii Member

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    Madame Sophie’s Miracle Tits, Part II


    Fiction by T.J. MacAllister


    “Hustler Busty Beauties”, January 1993


    I tit-fuck for a living. Women actually pay me for my studly services. No, I’m not a gigolo or male prostitute. You see, intermammary intercourse is how I work my magic – but I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me start at the beginning.

    It all began a couple of months ago when “Long” John McPhee, the bartender at the Plough & Stars, first told me about a magical lady named Madame Sophie. I’d just had another blowout with my girlfriend, Karen, and I stopped by to have a little game of one-on-one with a bottle of Jack Daniel’s. Karen and I had argued about the same thing we always bickered about – our sex life. Well, that’s not exactly true. Actually, we’d been arguing about the size of my dick. I hate to admit it, but the damned thing used to be smaller than my little finger.

    That night, just like too many times before, I couldn’t get Karen off, and she got pissed. To make matters worse, she made some emasculating wisecracks about my wang – something to the effect that if I walked into a wall with a hard-on, I’d break my nose. Then I got peeved and made a rather nasty comment about the size of her breasts – something about mosquito bites and the need to invent the tit detector. And, well, you can probably figure out the rest.

    So I ended up at the Plough & Stars, trying to drown my sorrows in some good old-fashioned Tennessee sipping whiskey. By my sixth shot of J.D., Long John had figured there was something bothering me. He asked me what was up. The booze had loosened my tongue, and I played my sob song for the portly bartender. He listened patiently, aha-ing in all the right places.

    When finished, he poured me another two fingers of Jack and said, “I knew a guy who had a problem like yours once. I’m gonna give you the same advice I gave him. Go see Madame Sophie.” He handed me a pink business card that read: “Unhappy with your body? Come see Madame Sophie. I can help. Self-improvement is my specialty.”

    Some help, I thought. Probably some Gypsy-hag fortune–teller who’ll give me some weird-smelling herbs and tell me to rub them on my dick, and it’ll make it grow.

    I stuffed the card in my pocket, and ordered another shot. I downed it, but when I looked up and saw two Long Johns asking me if I wanted another, it was my cue to head home.

    I woke up on the couch the next morning with Madame Sophie’s card clutched in my hand and a hellacious hangover eating away at my brain. I glanced at the card and tossed it on the coffee table, figuring that Long John had been playing a joke on me. With my bladder screaming to be drained, I got up and staggered to the bathroom. Through my bloodshot eyes my rod looked even smaller than ever. I began to wonder.

    Two hours later, I found myself standing in front of a rundown storefront at 666 Gahanna Street, the address on the business card. The sign above the grime-covered window read, “Madame Sophie’s Curious Goods.”

    From the outside it looked like a junk shop. Inside it looked even more like that. The place was packed to the rafters with beat-up furniture, broken toys, chipped curios and other dust-covered relics that someone with more imagination than sense would call antiques. I rang the bell on the counter, and a young woman emerged from a curtained doorway. When I saw her, I did a double-take. She was knock-down, drag-out beautiful.

    Her face was perfect – high, regal cheekbones; a finely chiseled nose; full, luscious lips; and skin as white as marble. Curley black hair framed her face and cascaded down over her shoulders nearly to her waist. She wore a diaphanous black gown that was clasped around her neck by an ancient alabaster broach.

    At first I thought that she was enormously fat or maybe even pregnant. Her body sloped down and out from her neck, causing the gown to billow like a circus tent, but her gorgeous face lacked the full-blown pudginess of an obese woman. Her arms were thin, almost frail, and she didn’t move like someone overweight. Shoe flowed gracefully as she walked toward me, her body swaying with an erotic, rhythmic motion.

    She offered me her hand. Not knowing whether to shake it or kiss it, I settled for a shake and felt a tingle run through me as her skin touched mine. “May I help you?” she purred in a soft, soothing voice.

    “I’m looking for Madame Sophie.”

    “I’m Madame Sophie,” she said.

    I was a bit confused, and it must’ve shown on my face.

    “Is there something wrong, sir?” she asked.

    “No… well… yeah. I was under the impression that Madame Sophie was an… older lady.”

    A warm, knowing smile spread across the beauty’;s face. “You must be thinking of the original Madame Sophie,” she said matter-of-factly. “She’s the woman who owns this shop. She retired a couple of years ago, and I run things now. My real name’s Krystal. I adopted Madame Sophie’s name when I took over for her. It’s good for business, you know – the mystical Gypsy routine.”

    Even as large as she was, there was something incredibly enticing about her, a fact that didn’t escape my rapidly hardening dick.

    “How can I help you?” she asked.
     
    #1 Diabloii, Mar 19, 2010
    Last edited: Mar 19, 2010
  2. Diabloii

    Diabloii Member

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    “Long John McPhee, the bartender at the Plough & Stars, sent me. He said that you could help me with… ah… a little problem that I have. My… well… it’s my penis.”

    As the words trickled from my mouth, I felt my cheeks reddening. Krystal listened intently, and her smile assured me that she knew exactly what I was talking about and that she wasn’t embarrassed in the least. I no longer felt ashamed.

    “Long John was right,” Krystal said. “I helped him out a couple of years ago, and I can help you too.”

    So that’s why they call him “Long” John, I thought.

    Taking my hand, Krystal led me down a long hallway to a small candlelit room that was sparsely decorated with a couple of candelabra, a small rosewood chest and an enormous four-poster bed. The musky, soothing scent of sandalwood incense filled the air, making me feel a little lightheaded.

    Krystal unbuttoned my shirt and caressed my chest, toying with my nipples so erotically that electric charges rippled through my body. With expert hands she undid my jeans, slid them off, then removed my undershorts. “This little fellow’s got big things in store for him,” she murmured, tenderly stroking the underside of my tiny appendage.

    Nonchalantly, Krystal unsnapped the broach at her neck, and her gown fell to the floor. My eyes nearly popped out of my head. She wasn’t fat at all. The mysterious bulge previously concealed by her garment were the two most humongous tits I’d ever seen. The mind-boggling flesh-bags descended from her chest like two enormous water balloons, dangling down past her crotch. Each magnificent mammary was over two feet in diameter and crowned with chocolate-brown areolas the size of dinner plates.

    The rest of Krystal’s body seemed out of sync with her giant jugs. Her pale shoulders were dainty and perfectly formed. Her thin, waspish waist, completely obscured by her splendiferous melons, sloped gently outward into full, sultry hips that barely peeked out from behind her breasts. “Do you like what you see?” she asked in a cooing voice.

    I tried to speak, but words wouldn’t come. I could only nod my head like a total fool.

    Krystal took a step towards me, her boulders jiggling and bouncing like twin waterbeds, and I felt my cock buck like a wild bronco. She sat on the bed and removed a small silver vial from the rosewood chest. She poured some of the ointment onto her hands and then rubbed it over her massive expanses of tit-flesh. I watched in awe as her nipples flushed with blood and grew to delicious, thumb-size nubs that begged to be sucked. Then she took my prick in her hand and carefully applied the oily fluid.

    “A magic Gypsy potion,” Krystal explained, coating my knob with the mysterious substance. “It will help you be all you can be.” Seductively, she lay back on the satin sheets, and her jellowy pontoons spread out across the king-size bed, nearly spanning it from side to side.

    “I think you know what to do now,” she whispered.

    I took the cue and carefully straddled the young lady’s bloated chest. I’d never tit-fucked anyone before, and I was nervous as hell. Sensing my apprehension, Krystal guided my erection between her bulging, lubricated breasts. Scooping the massive mams up in her arms, she squeezed them together, creating a cavern of cleavage that literally devoured my manhood as I pumped my hips and watched my stiff shaft disappear into the billowing mounds. The sensations were incredible as her overpowering udders hugged my cock like a silky glove.

    Krystal moaned softly, arching her back and urging me to to pump harder, and I willingly obliged. The touch of her flesh against mine sent bolts of electric pleasure rocketing through me, and my brain was racing with sensory overload. I thought that I’d come right there and then – but I didn’t. Instead my penis grew harder than I’d ever imagined possible. A weird, tingling sensation ran down my shaft, and the crease in Krystal’s cleavage seemed to get increasingly tighter.

    At first I thought that maybe her gazongas were growing and crushing my cock with their weight. Actually, it wasn’t Krystal’s endowments that were growing. It was my dork. As I pulled it out, I saw that it had grown at least two inches and was noticeably thicker.

    “Oh, baby, don’t stop now,” she growled in a low, breathless voice. “We’re only just beginning.”

    I plunged into Krystal’s bottomless cleavage with renewed vigor. Wave after wave of mind-numbing pleasure rushed to my brain, and the tit-heavy damsel squealed and yelped like a bitch in heat. I plowed into the deep, warm crevice again and again, marveling at the way each gargantuan teat rippled and swayed. Again and again I dove at her, my pole growing steadily larger each time it ventured into her twin peaks.

    My blue-veiner, now nearly as thick as Krystal’s wrists, quickly filled the gap. I pumped harder and faster until finally the bulging, bulbous head of my rod erupted from the top of her tits. My once-teeny wiener was unbelievably large now, and it brushed Krystal’s face with each thrust. She parted her lips and took the inflated tip into her mouth. With each thrust she gulped more of my iron-hard schlong until I was tit-fucking her and getting a blowjob at the same time!

    As she sucked my tool like a milking machine, I could feel the spunk churning in my now grapefruit-size testicles. “I’m gonna come!” I bellowed. When I erupted like a fire hose gone wild, I thought that I’d ejaculate forever. Endless strands of cum emerged from my peephole and with such force that I was afraid that I’d blow the top f Krystal’s head off. She must have gulped a couple of gallons of my own love potion before I finally stopped squirting.

    Sated and exhausted, I fell back onto the bed, using one of Krystal’s zeppelins as a pillow. I looked down with amazement at my still-hard dong. It was over a foot long and as thick as a baseball bat.
     
    #2 Diabloii, Mar 19, 2010
    Last edited: Mar 19, 2010
  3. Diabloii

    Diabloii Member

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    “I think we’ve taken care of your little problem,” Krystal said, slowly running her fingers along the underside of my shaft.

    “I see it, but I don’t believe it,” I said. “What happened?”

    “Magic,” Krystal replied, “pure and simple. You may find this preposterous, but when I came to Madame Sophie a couple of years ago for help, I was as flat as a board. She gave me a magical potion to make my tits grow, but I didn’t heed her warnings. I used too much of the stuff, and you can see the results.”

    “But that doesn’t explain what happened to my cock,” I insisted as she proudly rubbed her handiwork.

    “Well, it seems that I got more than I bargained for,” she added. “The potion made my boobs grow, but it also endowed them with the magical power to make a man’s penis grow. It’s a good thing you shot your load when you did. If you’d fucked my titties much longer, about the only thing you’d be able screw now is a storm drain.”

    “Better to screw a storm drain than break my nose against a wall,” I said to myself. Krystal didn’t seem to understand that remark, but I was sure that my snooty girlfriend, Karen, would.

    Karen was lying on the couch watching TV when I returned from my encounter with “Madame Sophie.” Noticing the conspicuous bulge in my pants, she decided to thrill me with her witty repartee, “I see that you’ve resorted to stuffing socks in your crotch now, little man,” she quipped.

    “You always said that my cock was too small to get you off,” I muttered. “Well, dear, I’ve got a little present for you. Get ready for the shock of your life.” I took off my pants and drawers and whipped out my Billy club, holding it with both of my hands. “This look like a fuckin’ sock to you, bitch?”

    Karen became googly-eyed and almost fainted.”You know I never meant those things I said!” she cried. “I always loved your cock – really.”

    I pushed her back on the couch and tore her clothes off, popping the buttons on her blouse and shredding her jeans. She begged me to fuck her as I rubbed my torpedo over her stiff nipples and then took aim at her dripping honey pot.

    Her eyes widened as the head of my prick slowly parted her swollen pussy. I didn’t think that she’d be able to take it all in, and her tight cunt lips resisted at first, then gave in to the superior force. I filled her twat completely, its smooth walls gripping me meat tenaciously.

    Karen moaned with a mixture of pain and pleasure as I pumped my ramrod, increasing the tempo with each dip into her viselike vagina. I lay across her bee-sting tits and grabbed hold of her shoulders so I could thrust deeper. That’s when I felt it – a strange pressure pushing up against my chest.

    I looked down to see Karen’s breasts were growing at an alarming rate. With each stroke they grew larger, fuller and fatter. It was as if I were pumping her boobs up like balloons with each plunge into her sodden pussy.

    By the time we came together in an explosion of ecstasy and pure primal passion, my girlfriend’s tits had grown to monumental proportions. I later found out that they’d zoomed up to a whopping 86KKK. Apparently, some of Madame Sophie’s magic had rubbed off onto Karen’s torso, but she wasn’t complaining – and neither was I.

    That all happened a few months ago. Since then Karen’s jugs have grown so large that she can barely get out of bed. I still love her, but she has given me permission to use my magnificent member to support us. I run a self-improvement clinic that specializes in helping women who are unhappy with certain parts of their bodies. For the pleasure of tit-fucking them, and a couple of hundred bucks, I give them the breasts that they’ve always dreamed of. It’s a hard job, I admit, but it definitely has its rewards.
     
    #3 Diabloii, Mar 19, 2010
    Last edited: Mar 19, 2010
  4. Corporal Punishment

    Corporal Punishment New Member

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  5. cuervotech

    cuervotech New Member

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    great post ... that's the story I was lookin 4!
     
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