But it was her breasts that got
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
“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
“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
As they dressed, Michelle had trouble
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
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.
“NO-HO-HO STOP! AAIIIE!
EEEE! HEE HEE HEE HEE!
I’LL FALL! STOP!”
“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
“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
“OH NO! EEEEEEEE! HEE HEE
HEE HEE HEE! STOP!
“Boy, she’s super-ticklish!
Keep at her Fred! How
you doin’, baby! Whoo!”
Traci twisted and wiggled. She laughed so hard she
“HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE! QUIT! HEE HEE HEE PLEASE NO!
“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,
“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!”
“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
“See! You can’t imagine what
happens to me if they
get me there!”
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.
“OH! HA HA HA HA HA! NO! DON’T
TICKLE MY FEET! I’ll
“Damn!, I love it when a sexy woman
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.
“EEEEE! PLEASE DON’T!
PLEASE! MY FEET ARE TOO
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.
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
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
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
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
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.
“OOH! EEEE! HA HA HA!
EEEE! GET IT OUT! HA HA HA!
EEEEE! HA HA!”
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
“EEEE! AH HA HA HA HAHAHAHA!
NO! EEEEEEE! HA HA HA
Her highly energetic laughter weakened
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.
“OH HA HA HA HA! HA HA HA
HA HA! NO! HA HA HA HA HA
“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.
“HA HA HA HA HA! NOT THERE PLEASE! HA HA HA HA HA NO!
“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.
“HA HA HA! NO FEET!
HA HA HA HA! STOP! PLEASE!
JASON! HA HA HA!’
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
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
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.
“EEE! HAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH! Please not that…”
Ben wiggled his fingers on the bottom
of her gigantic
“EEEEE! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Oh, no, not that
“Why not?” Jason asked.
Michelle responded dreamily, and
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
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
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
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
“I’m sure of it!”