In college, Michelle Childers was a 19-year old,
impoverished but industrious college student.  She

also happened to be stunningly attractive.  To look at

her face, she greatly resembled the actress Mariska

Hargitay, but with long blonde hair.  To look at her

body, however, was shocking.  Michelle stood at 5’7”.

Her ribcage measured 36” in diameter, her waist 24”

and her hips 36”.  Judging by her virtually ideal

measurements alone, she would have been quite


But it was her breasts that got immediate attention.
Each natural breast was almost impossibly large,

perhaps the largest heretofore known to man.  Each

breast looked somewhere between a champion-caliber

watermelon and a beach-ball.  Extending two feet in

front of her, a good five inches beyond the sides of

her armpits and easily 18” from bottom to top,

Michelle’s left and right breast each weighed about

50lbs.  Indeed, since the age of 14 she’d worn

custom-designed bras to offset the weight and provide


Michelle’s most pressing concern, however, was cash.
She strolled, well, wobbled, into the college

employment office in search of short-term weekend

employment.  She met with a career counselor, who was

somewhat shocked at both Michelle’s beauty and her


Michelle sat in the chair before the counselor’s desk.
 In the process, Michelle’s awkward, pendulous bosom

knocked over a picture frame and pen container.

“What can you do?”

“Here’s a list of what I can’t do.  Fit in narrow
spaces.  Dance.  Run.  Sleep on my stomach

comfortably.  I can do anything else!”

“Well, we have a hostess position on a cruise tomorrow
night, but…”

“What do you mean but?”

“I mean, can you even see over…do you knock things

“I’ll be fine”.

“OK.  Meet tonight at Glimpse Catering to pick up your
uniform.  You’re in.”

Uniform check.  The man in charge stared at Michelle.
He couldn’t take his eyes off her torso.  Her long

blonde hair was tied in a ponytail, accentuating her

defined and attractive face.  While she wore baggy

clothes, nothing could conceal her voluptuous figure,

or prevent her flurry of motion.

The man handed Michelle the uniform.  She stared at it
with disbelief.

“What the hell is this?”

“This is the largest shirt we have.  Do your best.”

“It’s a Hooter’s girl outfit”.

“Yes, yes.  This is our uniform.  Yes.  That’s because
our Hooter’s restaurant provides the staff for this

event.  Tonight, you’re an honorary Hooter’s girl.

And it looks like you’ll…fit the bill!  Ha ha ha!”

“That’s not funny.  I can’t wear a tank-top!”

“Nonsense.  The customers will love it.  Did I mention
the job pays $1000?  For just one night.”

“I’ll make it fit”.

“Did I mention that none of the girls wear bras?”

Michelle looked incredulous.  “I have to wear my bra,
I can hardly walk without it!”

“Why don’t we make it…$2000?  You’ll be a hit!  The
tips you’ll make alone…”

“Sold”, she said.  “I’ll make it work”.

“Oh, and no shoes.  You’re on a boat”.

That was Michelle’s uniform.  Bare feet, a tight,
white Hooters tank top and short orange shorts.

Michelle never wore tank-tops.  First, they fit her

terribly, having to work around her beach-ball like

breasts and narrow waist.  Too much bosom could be

exposed, especially around her underarms and the tops

and bottoms of her bulging breasts.

Not wearing a bra meant Michelle would have to move
very slowly or turn into an uncontrollably bouncy mass

of flesh.  If each massive, fifty-pound mammary went

unrestrained, and she had to move quickly, they might

never stop bouncing.  She could easily knock other

people over or send objects into flight.  Worse, the

absolute force of their motion could knock her off

balance and put her to the ground.  Then, she thought,

heaven forbid somebody brush against them or “cop a

feel”. She said a quick prayer, hoping nobody would so

much as brush her nipples.

Nevertheless, at 6:30 pm the next night, she arrived
on the yacht “Laughing G’s”, uniform in tow.  She was

scheduled to work with 11 other women, but she already

knew two, Traci and Kelly.  Both were very attractive

women.  Traci was a mahogany-skinned beauty

coincidentally, reminiscent of ex-Baywatch actress

Traci Bingham, majoring in psychology.  Kelly was a

20-year old college member of the college dance team

who could best be described as an Asian-American

Carmen Electra.

As they dressed, Michelle had trouble tucking her
tank-top into her shorts.  It didn’t stretch enough

over her breasts.  The shirt was not nearly large

enough around her bust line.  The best she could

accomplish was to stretch the tank-top over her bosom.

 Her sizeable breasts would hold it in place, but her

midriff was exposed.  Frankly, anybody looking at her

from below would see her bra, as the strained tank-top

now only managed to cover the tops and sides of her

breasts.  Regardless, the Hooter’s tank top was

extremely tight and clearly pushed to the limit, but

Michelle figured she’d walk slowly, avoid jiggling,

and if all went well, she would be fine.

The party was wild beyond belief.  Five wealthy,
eccentric dentists and oral surgeons had purchased a

150’ yacht for recreation and had about 50 people

celebrating with them this night.  Al, Ben, Rob, Jason

and Fred held this event every year.  It was their

reward for hard work.  Sitting in the stateroom, each

placed a respirator mask over their mouths.  The yacht

had been equipped with a generous supply of nitrous

oxide.  It was their version of an “oxygen bar” and

floating pleasure dome.

Michelle had managed to climb the starboard stairwell
and assume her position as top deck bartender.  Of

course, everybody stared at her.  The other women were

certainly attractive, but Michelle’s beauty and exotic

body, clad in her skin-tight tank-top and bright

orange shorts commanded attention.  As she jiggled and

bobbed through her tasks, her cleavage rippled with

every vibration of the boat.  It was quite a fleshy


Michelle served as the top deck bartender, but would
switch with Kelly as the stateroom attendant in the

evening.  Throughout the event, Michelle jiggled and

bobbled, but tried very hard to move deliberately

enough to control it.  She tried not to laugh at any

jokes (laughing caused her breasts to quake), and

routinely pulled her tank top down to prevent it from

hiking over her bosom.

Finally it was time to switch to the lower deck.
Michelle made her way to the starboard stairway.

Michelle saw something she found almost frightening.

Her friend Traci, a very attractive, dark-skinned

black woman about Michelle’s age was on the stairs

moving to the upper deck when one of the hopped up

dentists started tickling the soles of her feet.  Her

feet must have been very sensitive, as Traci easily

screamed and laughed.  She would stand on one foot,

then the other, trying to avoid the ticklers.


“Ha ha ha!  You’ve got some ticklish feet, honey!” The
man, a middle-aged dentistry professor named Fred,

alternated between her left and right foot, keeping

the mahogany-skinned beauty dancing on a ladder.  His

cohort, an oral surgeon named Ben, grabbed Traci’s

left ankle.  “I’ll hold her, you get her!”  Fred took

advantage, attacking Traci’s wrinkled, whitish sole

with gusto.

“Oh, ticklish feet!  Cootchie coo honey!  Tickle
tickle tickle! Ha ha ha ha ha!”

The men laughed at her.  Traci gyrated on the
stairwell like an exotic dancer.  Her clinging white

tank top and bright orange shorts twisted with her,

exposing her lean midriff.  It was quite an exciting

show for the specatators, but Michelle saw the

combination of agony and ticklish laughter on her



“Boy, she’s super-ticklish!  Keep at her Fred!  How
you doin’, baby!  Whoo!”

Traci twisted and wiggled.  She laughed so hard she
lost strength.


“Cootchie cootchie coo honey!”  Michelle noticed that
Fred slurred his words, and seemed quite punchy.

Traci couldn’t take anymore.  She fell off the

stairway into Ben’s arms.  Ben frisked her ribs,

hoping for a reaction, but Traci didn’t wiggle.

“Not ticklish on the ribs, sister?”

“No, thank God! Only my feet.”.

“Whoa, sister!  Looks like we’re done here, Fred.
Let’s go back to the stateroom for some shots!”  They

left, leaving Michelle to comfort the poor girl.

Traci scampered back to the top deck, rearranged her

Hooter’s shirt and shorts.  They became twisted while

she swung from the stairs.

Traci composed herself.  “God, their all looped on
somethin’ anyway.  I haven’t given them that much

booze.  They’re all on somethin’”

“Were they tickling you, Traci?”

“They tickled my feet!  I wish my feet weren’t so

“How did they know to do that?”

“I don’t know, I guess most people are ticklish on
their feet.  That was terrible.  My feet are so

ticklish.  They been grabbin’ our feet us all night

long down there, tryin’ to see who’s most ticklish.”

“What about Kelly?  Did they get her?”

“Oh God yes, poor girl.  I never knew she was so
ticklish.  They tickled her feet some, then her ribs

and sides.  She started cryin’ when they got her

sides. They only stopped because she said she had to

pee. Why do you want to know?”

Michelle whispered, but the sound from the music would
have drowned her out anyway to any eavesdroppers.

“Traci, I’m so ticklish!  If they touch me, I’ll die!

I mean, I might be the most ticklish person on the


“Are your feet ticklish?”

“Yes, but also my sides, belly, ribs, everywhere

“Maybe they will leave you alone then.  They don’t
seem like they’re goin’ for sides or ribs much.

Kelly’s the only one I’ve seen get tickled anywhere

but her feet”.

“God, I hope not.  You can’t imagine.  I’m even
ticklish on my breasts!”

“You’re kiddin’!”

“No, I’m dead serious!”

Traci was not intrigued by other women’s bodies at
all, but had to give it a quick try.  She quickly and

subtly raked her fingernails across the bottom of

Michelle’s right breasts, where it was exposed.

Michelle shrieked with rapid, high-pitched laughter


“EEE! HAHAHAHAHANO!” She jerked so hard that her
breasts exploded into flight and smacked Traci in the

face.  Michelle’s tank-top also pulled loose.

“Good lord, girl!”, Traci said with surprise, both at
Michelle’s extreme sensitivity and her now loose

mammary glands.

“See!  You can’t imagine what happens to me if they
get me there!”

“Good luck!”

 Michelle rearranged her tank top and went carefully
down the steep, narrow stairway.  She could hear the

revelry all around her, but had to concentrate very

hard not to slip.  Navigating such a passage while

carrying her chesty burden was challenging.  She could

not face the stairs themselves, as her breasts knocked

against each rung, so she faced outwardly.  With each

slow step, her breasts still bounced up and down.  She

used one hand to hold onto the bottom of the tank top.

Of course, she could not see where she placed her
feet, nor could she see the semi-drunk Jason beneath

her.  He stared upwards at her juggling, bouncing

breasts.  Jason was awestruck at the shear amount of

flesh exposed.  He looked at her bare feet, reached

forward and merely touched one finger to the arch of

her right foot.  Michelle yelped at the touch and

jerked her foot away.


She shifted her weight to prevent a fall, but her
breasts bounced considerably.  Jason saw the bottoms

of her breasts rippling.  Michelle twisted to see who

tickled her, but she could not see past her own bulky,

bobbling bosom.  Jason wiggled his fingers against the

sole of her left foot.  Michelle’s foot involuntarily

spasmed while she laughed and protested.  Her body

contracted and her breasts bounced madly, almost

knocking her off the stairs.


“Damn!, I love it when a sexy woman has ticklish
feet!”, the youngish dentist   Jason reached forward

and brushed Michelle’s right heel, the worst spot on

her foot.  She shrieked and begged for mercy.


Jason abated.  “I hoped you’d have ticklish feet…after
all, you’re the most beautiful of all the girls

here…”, he said while Michelle finally made it down

the stairs and introduced herself.  Nothing wrong with

meeting a young dentist!  “Thank you very much!  My

name is Michelle.”  She reached her right arm around

her still-shuddering bosom and shook his hand.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Jason.  Are you headed to the
stateroom?”  He spoke to her, but he could not take

his eyes off her mobile breasts.  Michelle, of course,

was used to be stared in the chest.

“A-hem!  My eyes are up here!”, she said jokingly.
“Yes, I’m going there now.”

“Sorry!  I’ll escort you…I’ve got to ask…”

Michelle knew the questions by heart.  “Yes, they’re
real.  Yes, I usually wear a bra, and it’s a

custom-design with no official size and you can’t have

one.  Each breast weighs 50 pounds. Yes, it is a

listed world-record, made in a doctor’s office when I

was younger.  No, I won’t pose nude and never have.

Yes, they are extremely, extremely sensitive and no,

you can’t touch them.  Does that answer it?”

Jason was mildly, pleasantly surprised. “I guess it

“God, not having a bra is killing me”.  Her chest
wobbled severely, still jiggling from the tickling and

stair-climbing.  They strained the tank-top, as they

walked into the stateroom.

“Gentlemen, I give you Michelle!”, he announced.

The other four sat in lounge chairs against the cabin
with respirator masks over their faces.  It was a

strange and frightening sight that confused Michelle.

When they saw her, they all removed their masks.

Rob, the oldest and certainly the highest, noticed
Michelle immediately. “Hey, come over here busty!  Let

us tickle your feet, honey!”

“I already got her, out on the stairs.”  Jason said.
Michelle gave him a subtle smile.

“That’s right, and I’m not ticklish anywhere else”
Michelle said and added indignantly, “My name is

Michelle, by the way”.

“Ooh, attitude!  That’s cool, Busty!  Why don’t you
bring us some drinks to go with our gas!”

In turn, each of the men strapped a respirator on
their faces and inhaled deeply.

“What is that?”  Michelle was curious.

“Jugs,” Rob said, “you’re on a boat with a bunch of
dentists and oral surgeons.  What do you think it is.

Laughing gas!”  All five men broke into laughter at

the same time.  They were clearly uninhibited and


Michelle placed 4 martinis on the serving tray.  She
hoisted the tray over her head as it was the only way

she could carry it.  Jason stood beside the door and

locked it.

Fred stood behind Michelle.  From his viewpoint, he
made out her magnificient hourglass figure.  He saw

the curves of her breasts protruding far beyond her

rib cage, extending unusually far both vertically and

horizontally and closing on her narrow waist.

Everybody could easily see her tight tank-top didn’t

cover her torso.  Every step she took caused her

weighty breasts to bounce up and down, and she

constantly had to tug her shirt to try and remain

covered.  Her unusual sexiness drove him mad.

“You sure you ain’t ticklish here”.  Fred rushed to
Michelle and gave each of Michelle’s sides a tweak

with his thumb and forefinger.  He hoped for a big

response, and got one.  Michelle shouted and jumped,

dropping the drinks on the floor.


“Whoa, look at’em go!”  Rob referenced Michelle’s
weighty breasts, which leapt into the air with her.

“Looks like you are ticklish!”, Rob said delightedly.
Michelle whirled around to face him.  Her breasts

turned a half-second later than she did.  When they

did they bounced squarely against Rob, who fell over

in response to the 100 pounds of breast-flesh that

pounded him.  Rob laughed as if it were the funniest

joke in the world.  Clearly he was affected by the

gas, but Rob reached for a respirator mask and relaxed

with another dose.  Michelle’s breasts wobbled left

and right, up and down.

Michelle said, somewhat angrily, “No, I’m not
ticklish, you just surprised me!”  She reached her

arms around her bosom to control the shaking and tried

to regroup herself.  Even when she held onto her

chest, it continued to quiver in place, but she pulled

the tank-top down.

“Hey, Ben, what say we make an ice chest?”  Al was
practically slurring his words.  He hopped himself up

on another gas burst.  Michelle didn’t see it coming.

Ben and Al each picked up large cups of ice and

quickly poured them between Michelle’s intolerably

large breasts, down the area exposed from the top.

What a shock.  Michelle was terribly ticklish over
just about her entire torso.  A poke to her belly

could put her in stitches.  Her breasts, however, were

a different story.  She was horribly, unbearably

ticklish on her breasts. For a woman who could not

stand to have shower-water hit her breasts, the

feeling of ice cubes sliding and melting down her

cleavage was agonizing. At first, Michelle gasped from

the cold.  Then, she started a violent shaking trying

to remove the offending ice cubes.  Worst of all, she

started to laugh in between gasps.  It tickled.


Michelle whirled and twisted, providing the crowd with
a splendid display of her humongous breasts in flight.

 They traveled up, bounced down, swayed left and

right.  Glasses flew, drinks spilled.  Michelle

staggered to retain balance. Each 50-pound gland

smacked and rippled like enormous jugs of well-formed

jello.  They were barely contained by her tank top.

With each shake, some ice flew out, but more ice moved

between the shuddering masses.

“Maybe you need a hand!”, Ben said.  Ben shoved his
hands between Michelle’s massive mammaries.  The

tickling was extraordinary.  It was very evident that

her breasts were extremely sensitive.  Her laughter

was louder, faster and higher-pitched when her breasts

were tickled.


Her highly energetic laughter weakened her.  Her
flouncing bosom easily knocked her off balance and

sent her on the floor, where she rolled onto her back.

  Her tank top could not withstand the strain and

actually ruptured, leaving her chest exposed.  All the

men were stunned by the sheer size of her tremendous,

milk-white bosom.  At least the ice finally fell out,

although it did roll across her belly.  Michelle

wrapped her arms as best she could around her bosom,

both to control the jiggling and to prevent them from

flopping over to her respective sides.  If that

happened, she could be pinned to the ground under the

weight of her own breasts.

“I admit it, I’m ticklish. Don’t tickle me!  I’ll pee
or die laughing.  It’s torture.”

Ben leapt at the chance and fell onto Michelle’s legs.
 It amazed him that a woman with such huge, heavy

breasts could have such a narrow waist with defined

abdominal muscles.  He squeezed her sensitive sides.

Michelle laughed very hard, but she jerked so much

that her breasts beat very hard against Ben.


“Give her the gas, Fred!”  Ben massaged Michelle’s
firm, trim belly.  Michelle’s beach-ball sized breasts

quivered and jiggled.  “She’s more ticklish than that

Kelly girl was!” Unfortunately for her, Michelle’s

belly was terribly ticklish, both the skin and the

“deep tickle” sensation in the muscles.  She rolled

helplessly on the floor while Fred placed the

respirator mask over her face.  Ben kept tickling her

belly and sides.


“Oh, tickle tickle tickle!  Get her feet, Rob!”  Rob
and Jason went to Michelle’s left and right foot.

Each held onto one her ankles and tickled her feet.

Michelle protested as best she could through her

helpless belly-tickled laughter and mask.


Rob and Jason tormented her large (size 10) feet,
while Ben kept tickling her middle.  Fred manned the

gas and Al stared at Michelle’s flinging, quivering

masses.  He’d never seen a woman with such large

breasts, such a beautiful face and apparently so

ticklish.  Al had to touch one.  He simply reached out

his finger, and one of the 50-pound mounds bobbled

into it.  Michelle shrieked and urinated all at once.


After she peed, the men stopped tickling her so she
could breath deeply. The gas had a fascinating

reaction on Michelle.  It relaxed her immediately and

seemed to work as a ‘truth serum”.

“Did we tickle you so much you just peed?”  Michelle
seemed quite compliant now that she was dosed.  Even

though she lay still, her breasts continued to bounce

and jiggle.  Michelle held onto them, trying to

control the motion.  She placed her hands over her

nipples, which was as far as she could reach over


“Is there anywhere you’re not ticklish?”, Ben asked.

“My back.  I’m ticklish everywhere else.  Armpits,
ribs, sides, belly, knees, thighs, calves, feet,

everywhere”.  Normally, Michelle would never be this


“Rank’em for us, honey.  1-10!”, asked Rob.  Michelle
started to giggle under the gas.

“Ha ha ha.  My sides, 10. Ha ha ha.  Belly, 10.  Feet,
9.  Ribs, 9 Ha ha ha!”

Al interrupted.  “We can’t even seer your ribs!”  True
enough.  It was very hard to see Michelle’s ribs for

her breasts.  Michelle laughed.

“HA ha ha!  Armpits, 9.  Knees and thighs, 8.  Ha ha
heee.Hips, 8.  Kidney area…”

Al interrupted again.  “So, honey, where are ya most

Michelle giggled.  The gas left her rather
uninhibited.  “My boobs”, she said.

The men looked shocked, but Jason ran a finger across
the side of her left breast.


Ben wiggled his fingers on the bottom of her gigantic
right breast.


“Why not?” Jason asked.

Michelle responded dreamily, and giggled throughout
her response. “If I get tickled there enough, ha ha

ha, it’ll make me have an orgasm!”

Al walked over and poked Michelle’s left breast.  It
rippled in waves.  She kept her nipples covered.



She started to struggle, but suddenly she had 8 hands
stroking, poking, massaging and kneading her

gargantuan breasts.  Michelle absolutely howled with

laughter.  Her head jerked maniacally.  She twisted on

the floor, helplessly jerking in response to the

tickling.  There was so much surface area, she

couldn’t adequately cover her breasts, and they

received a terrible tickling.  In response to the

contact, her breasts rippled, jiggled, bounced and

bobbled.  All the while, the gas weakened her

resistance.  Tears flowed from her eyes and her face

was practically purple.  After 15 seconds of

horrendous laughing, she clearly had an orgasm

accompanied with a loud scream.  Yet, she never

uncovered her nipples.  They quit tickling her.

Michelle panted and gasped, all the while sucking in
more gas.  “Please…no more…”, she begged.  “Ha ha ha,

don’t do that again, it’s ha ha ha torture…”

“She isn’t kidding!  Hey, Boobs, why do you clamp onto
your nipples?”

Michelle spoke in a dreamy, relaxed but giggly voice.
The gas was having quite an influence.  Normally,

Michelle would never admit to having ticklish breasts,

much less her nipples or what happened if tickled

there. “It..ha ha ha…it’s to protect. Ha ha ha!

Protect them so they don’t get touched…ha ha ha


“I don’t think she’s kidding, guys!  So, what happens
if I tickle a nipple?”  Before she could say anything,

Ben pulled her weakened arms away from her nipples.

Al ran his fingers over both nipples and areolas.

Nobody was prepared for what happened, least of all

Michelle.  She screamed and laughed at an incredibly

high-pitch and very forcefully.  She also went into

orgasm immediately.  Michelle bucked and contracted

with such energy that her respirator mask delivering

the nitrous oxide came off.  Her breasts flew,

bouncing against each other then smacking the floor

and back.  Michelle’s breasts were devastatingly

ticklish, but a mere touch of her nipples created such

a tremendous tickle so as to force her into orgasm.

“My God”, said Jason.  “Try it again!”

Michelle begged.  “No, please no”.  Then she felt her
nipples stroked.  “EEEEEEE! HAHAHAHAHA!  OOOHHHHH!”

Again, her body contracted, and again her orgasm


Michelle’s breasts bounced up and down, jiggling
wildly.  She was exhausted.  “Give her one more big

one!”  Michelle just gasped, fatigued from the gas,

the tickling and her multiple orgasms.

“I bet sex with her would be wild”, Jason said.  Rob
and Jason went back to her feet, tickling her soles

vigorously.  Ben dug his thumbs into Michelle’s sides.

 Fred replaced the mask and wiggled his fingers

against the top of her left breast while Al squeezed

the right.  Despite her great fatigue, Michelle could

not help but laugh loudly.  Her entire body glistened

with sweat. Then, after about 10 seconds, Al and Fred

each twirled Michelle’s nipples.  She practically

exploded.  At once, she screamed, orgasmed and

urinated.  Then she passed out.

After the party, Traci and Kelly helped their friend
back into her car.  Michelle’s entire body was sore.

She fell asleep in the back of the car.

“I didn’t know anybody could even be that ticklish”,
Traci said to Kelly.

Kelly, the Asian-American Electra-esque beauty
responded.  “I mean, I’m very ticklish.  I’d have peed

too if they kept at it.  But on her boobs…”

“Do you think she’d give us half her money not to tell
the fraternities?”

“I’m sure of it!”