Part 8
Funnily enough as Ash approached 2000cc it brought us slightly back together, I guess we were the only people in our situation that we knew so I was the only person she could relate to. Most people just don’t or can’t understand what it’s like to be like this. They can’t imagine what it’s like with boobs this size just lying in bed, every breath resisted against by the gallon of saline only inches above. They can’t get what it’s like when your pelvis lying down is thrusted up resting on the implants cushioned in your ass or what it’s like to be able to nearly orgasm by stroking your nipples and thinking of how much of a bimbo you are. Plenty of girls have cute faces, or big tits or nice asses but no one had all three in the same degree that we did.
It was the little things like working out the quickest way to get a bra on; sounds easy but if you lay it out and lean into it, the clasp isn’t nearly so tense and you can get it on in one go. She also gave me the address of the best tailor in town, mainly for jeans it was a godsend. If I got them wide enough in the hips they were too loose in the waist and too baggy on my legs, so getting my clothes altered made them more comfortable and made them sexier as well.
By now I was dieting and watching exactly what I ate, nothing carbonated, no booze and minimal carbs trying to keep my stomach toned and my waist tight. The smaller my waist the larger my ass and tits looked and it was all the in ratios. Yet in the end it wasn’t enough and I needed more, Ash understood. It wasn’t just about going larger though, it was about the feeling of being at my limits in what I could be. Enough time had passed that my 2000cc shells had dropped and my skin had loosened creating more room to grow.
Considering how extreme I wanted to get it took a while to find a surgeon willing to continue to fill them up, and it was scheduled for the end of the summer break, partly also to give enough time for my boobs to begin to take as much as possible. I would go braless around the house and continue moisturizing my breasts just to try to relax the skin as much as possible. In doing so they looked progressively more ‘natural’ if still obscenely large but that was only my short term goal. I had to go to Florida in the end for the procedure and the warm weather only made it easier to walk around with as few clothes on as possible. It seemed all the women my age had gotten something done to them, plenty of boob jobs but I still turned heads. I don’t remember too much of the surgery, I had convinced the doc to use local anesthetic which was something other doctors had outright refused, all so that I could pump them up without the pain, at least for that moment.
Once the machine that was pumping the saline read 800 I was back to where I was before in terms of fullness, but I couldn’t feel a thing, only the coldness of the needle sitting in the port under my armpit. I was lying flat down on the table, naked from the waist up and with a foam block under my lower back just to help with the comfort and my ass. The only sensation was from the bottom of my increasing cleavage I felt the implant pocket not just stretching but expanding taking up more room on my chest. My collarbone tattoo which had previously straddled the line between breastbone and boob was now pretty much 100% on my cleavage as lying down the upper edges of the implant almost met my collarbone. I had positioned my arms by my side but as the machine read 1000 I could feel the width of my boobs pressing down onto them slightly. By 1300 they were now kiddie soccer balls, like when you were a kid and put 2 under your shirt during gym class for a joke, that was now my reality. My youthful, moisturized skin was taking the increase, but by now it was again nearly at its limits. I could feel the tension all through my body, a subtle tightness as my tits kept growing. If you closed your thumb and forefinger in a loop, that was now what my areolas were like, yet still perky courtesy of my plastic barbells in my nipples. At 1400 it was building up inside of me and I started to shake, a pulsing energy that kept growing as it ticked over to 1450. My pussy began to get wet uncontrollably every rhythmic pump of the machine sending me into overdrive, knuckles white and clenched into fists. My knees were locked and I nearly cramped my thighs, tensing as the final ounces of saline marched in. I now looked like a blow up doll, not that far off from doubling in size in one go. I needed a hand just to get up off the chair, my body was still numb but I could feel them in me all the same.
I remember little from what happened next, apparently as soon as I got home I crashed out on my bed and slept, and slept, and slept. I ended up sleeping till the middle of the day after, and when I finally woke up I was incredibly sore. They felt like the skin of a drum set, when I tapped them it felt like I almost got a noise. They offered incredible resistance, all 3500cc of saline tight within the shells. Looking in my full-length mirror they now just sat up and on my chest, gone was the smoothing of the edges and projection in how they connected to me, now they were perfect spheres.
However what I do remember was that first morning afterwards. I had to base everything around my tits, they were so tender and huge. I still had my bandages on and surgical bra but they were monstrously big. So huge that I struggled to breathe in and out. What I discovered is that when you breathe in, you almost breathe up as well, your ribcage expands and your chest lifts…. Well that’s hard with 15+ lbs of weight permanently sitting there. The pressure radiated out from where the implants met my body, continually passing through me. The local anesthetic had worked wonders at the time, but now I was paying for it; they felt almost like balloons about to pop.