Part 2

"Are my tits big enough?" she asked, with a concerned jiggle.

"We both know it's not that simple, Marina." The human girl said, as she strolled into the bathroom of the small motel-room, barely clad in a pink, string bikini. We've come a long way, but in competitions like these, the days right before the contest can be the most crucial for preparation." explained the tanned, tall human matter-of-factly.

"I know, I know." The 'girl' in the bathroom was closely examining her enormous mammaries with a tracing finger and critical eye as she reclined amidst the soapy comfort of the bathtub. From beneath the suds, a silvery tail that shimmered silver poked through, fish-fin the size of a frisbee flopping lazily in the bathroom air. Above her, the flashing panoply of light from a small, wall-mounted T.V. set conveyed lurid images of day-time, talk-show hijinks. That was something Marina had insisted upon; the bathroom *must* have a T.V. Her silvery, piscine tail swayed hypnotically in the air; a sure sign of her anxiety. Which was why she was in the tub, really. Marina, like most mermaids needed to be in water to truly relax, and on the eve of what awaited the pair, relaxation was in short supply.

"How's your sensitivity?" the human asked, her auburn hair in a tight bun as she leaned over, genuinely concerned about her fae friend. There was only one way to answer that question. From below Mariana's clavicle, the sweep began. Jutting breasts of prodigious size blossomed forth upon the mermaid's chest; gazing down from her perspective, the thrust of boob shot forward 12 inches, a little more than a foot long in length of the tenderest flesh. Her delicate finger traced a journey from the shadowy cleft in the center, through a gob of soap bubbles, onto the beginnings of the sharp slope of mammary. The finger's journey brought it the full length of a new pencil around the bulging heft to the side, and below the warm, wet boob. And by then, past the juncture between her arm and torso, her touch had still not yet reached the front of the slope, the pinnacle of the rosy-tipped mountain of femininity, one of a perfect pair. It took... well, almost the length of another pencil before her scraping finger, encountering no noticeable friction, reached the proud nub of pink flesh adorning her bulbous breasts.

She blew, a quick gust of cool air. Her aureoles seemed to widen and stretch, and her pert nipples swelled up, rising to attention. The nubs almost doubling in length, hardening with prickles of sensation. The Mermaid shook her head, brushing a strand of silvery-white hair away from her luminous, blue eyes.

"Only double their natural size!" she wailed.

"Hey, hey, don't talk like that!" chastised the human, donning a pair of plastic sunglasses. "You know it's all about attitude!"

"You're right Violet, what would I ever do without you?" asked Marina, smiling.

"You'd drop out of school, spend all your time screwing surfers while listening to Rap music." Violet said, as if she were discussing the weather. Marina giggled.

"Guilty as charged; I guess you know me too well." The human strapped on a pair of black, plastic boots with wheeled inlines.

"I'm gonna go rollerblading to blow off some steam. Wanna come?"

"Nah, I'll just chill for awhile."

"Have fun!" And with that, the human was off. Even with her back facing Marina, It was plain that Violet was not like other girls. From afar, it seemed that she must be wearing a backpack hanging over her chest. Only when closer, as Marina was, could it be seen that she carried no satchel, but rather the swaying, soft mounds were flesh. Titflesh.

Marina couldn't help but be encouraged at the human's progress; so many humans afflicted with preposterous breasts became recluses, shutting themselves away in fear and horror at their deformity. But those days were fading; since Magic returned to the Earth, the cases of runaway fertility spells, dubious potions of lactation, and misfiring amulets of womanhood had come with a price; The innumerable libido spells conjured both by and at human women could easily backfire. But that didn't bother Violet anymore; she had resolved that her breasts would *never* slow her down, even though they did weight almost 30 pounds. But these days, it wasn't so difficult as in those first, early years.

Her human friend was going forth proudly, onto the beach, in a string bikini specially designed to accommodate her Double K-cup bosom. Marina didn't really understand bra-sizes, but anyone could see how big the girl was. It had taken the human years to finally become strong enough to walk as she once did. Most impressive, and Marina owed a lot to the human. Really, there were two reasons why Marina had come here, to Panama City Beach, Violet was one of them. As for the other...

Marina recited a brief litany of mystical words in an arcane tongue, a litany that she could easily recite in her sleep. The air shimmered as the fae completed her spell; tiny twinkles of sparkling light appeared in the air, nearby the silver-scaled fish tail poking from beneath the suds, where the legs would have been on a human. The tail blurred, shimmered, rippling as though vibrating rapidly. Then; it melted. The halves of her fish-fin separated, blurring and shimmering... elongating, lightening in color.

She pinioned her human legs, examining them in the fluorescent light. Sleek curves, good muscle tone without being intimidating, and dainty feet. She flexed her cottony-soft, alabaster toes. Up close, one could see a sparkling pattern of iridescent patches seemingly beneath the skin, shining like flecks of mother-of-pearl; the last vestige of her piscine anatomy. The few men that noticed it said it made her more exotic. She rose and glided out of the tub, and then the bathroom. Years ago, when she had first mastered the Land-walking spell, she had been unsteady and awkward walking on human legs, but Marina had by now fully adapted to life on Earth, as well as walking.

She'd watched enough T.V., and frankly she needed to get herself off. Upon entering the main motel room, she opened the blinds revealing a first-floor view of the beach. A human woman would have been scandalized at the thought of strangers on a beach being able to see her naked, sudsy body with but a glance through the glass; but as a fae, that was Marina's fervent hope. Like all fae, Marina was indeed a slut, and yet... well it wasn't quite that simple. There were many delicious human males that would love the chance to bury themselves into her moist, very human-looking cunt. And she knew it, she had come to understand the male animal, because ever since coming to Earth, the male sex drive had been her preoccupation.

With a throaty sigh, she threw her naked, nubile form upon one of the motel beds, and dragged out a walkman from her gym bag. She attached earphones to her head and selected a CD track at random. Yes... yes... more wondrous than all the pearlescent splendor of the jewel-encrusted, underwater cities mermaids lived in back on Faerie. Marina had never really liked her home that much; with magic declining, and the Fae races waning, her underwater home had been almost consigned to doom. For the water-dwelling fae had suffered the worst. As magic faded, Fae fertility declined, females becoming far out of proportion to their males. No where was this clearer than in the seas of Faerie. Marina couldn't remember when she'd seen a man. Yes, the land-dwellers had some men. Those few remaining. But her terrestrial cousins horded their males; since their wasn't enough cock to go around for the elves, pixies, and nymphs on land, how could they possibly share with the mermaids or water nymphs; whose males had faded away long ago?

Back home, back on faerie it was nothing but women. Everywhere Marina went were women doing female things, having feminine discussions. For year after year after year. She really didn't know how long, and if pressed, couldn't really tell you even how old she was; time progressing differently on Faerie. The mermaid knew only that it had been a long, long time, and that she came to loathe the place. There were no words to express her joy when the Conjunction occurred; when fae began the Great Crossing back to the Earth. Marina could only express her joy by rutting away on the hard dicks of the abundant, male population.

Blaring in her delicate ears where lewd, crude sounds of morally offensive rap music. Angry, aggressive diatribes against society, government, and humans with different shades of skin. Marina had discovered this sort of music at about the same time she realized her problem; and at the same time her mission. At first, she thought that breeding once or twice would satisfy her, and that her life would be much the same as that of a human woman's. But she was thwarted by her own primal, lustful instinct. The more Marina had sex, the more she was filled with cock, the greater became her hunger. Each time she gave birth to another half-human daughter, she felt even more aware of her womanhood, even more sexual, even more instinctively slutty. Human women she met often felt satisfied after giving birth to 3 or 4 children, unwilling to suffer the process again. Yet with the silver-haired mermaid, each birthing only made her hunger for more. In time, her true purpose was clear; she could count on no one but herself to repopulate the aquatic fae. There were so few left, and fewer still that made the Crossing. Marina would need to birth a nation from her fertile loins.

And yet... she came to realize that most human males were not suitable for her particular need. The pulse-pounding beat of the rappers in her ears reminded her of her resolution, as she ran her hand over ample bosom, down through the flat plane of her belly, to rub against her now-human pussy, before tickling her new legs. She needed not just any man, but rather the rudest, most aggressive, most angry humans. She could no longer tolerate fawning, polite men that tried to woo her with clever wit. She needed the dangerous humans, the most violent. That was why she loved the Rap music; these men were eternally angry, boasted freely of committing dangerous crimes within this highly-structured modern society. Their derring-do, their unrepentant aggression, and most of all their passionate lusts stirred the Mermaid's soul.

She couldn't stop laughing when she watched that old, Disney cartoon of 'The Little Mermaid'. *This* mermaid didn't need or want a handsome 'Prince Charming' to woo her with flower petals and moonlit strolls. She wanted to be Taken. Taken by a thug. Ravished like the lusty wench she was. She would lay back like this, envisioning her favorite Rap-stars, these seething, angry humans. She envisioned what they would do to her if she fell into their power. She shuddered with the imagining of the coarse, powerful hands upon her silky-smooth, faerie flesh. If these unabashedly lustful thugs could see her now, a naked girl with breasts bigger than honey-dew melons, writhing in ecstatic yearning upon a hotel bed, listening with rapt attention to their own music... if only. She almost didn't need the sex-toy she withdrew next from her gym bag.

To call the Lothario-3000 a dildo was an insult. The device was composed of the finest latex, internal vibrators, and even a gel-pack heated with exothermic chemical reactions to better simulate the real thing. Marina of course, had chosen the black one; truly a work of art; though such conveniences had become big-business with the arrival of the Fae. She imagined it was a cock from one of these wrathful, libidinous rappers; men that would claim her, men that would ravish her. It was what both she, and all aquatic fae needed. There would be hard times ahead; the survival of her kind would demand hard choices, hard decisions, and harder men. Aggressive, risk-taking men. Uncompromising males of great ambition and greater lust. Her womb would breed males that would not ask permission, but would take what they could. And as such, that was the only sort of man Marina would allow to impregnate her anymore.

She was at once an easy lay, and untouchable. She resolved never to respond to niceties, or the impassioned pleas of love from her soft-hearted suitors; instead she would tease. Tease and torment with naked, flawless flesh. She would flaunt her abundant bosom and fertile figure, naked when possible, in shameless disregard for propriety. She would never reward witty jokes, or sensitive banter; the man that wanted her would have to claim her. As the rappers continued their semi-musical outrage in her ears, she envisioned the man that would someday possess her like an object; The very notion offended her, and made her pussy moist at the same time. He would be a rough and savage human, a man she would fear. And her fear would make her magically-created knees weak with lust.

She didn't talk about these desires much with her human girlfriends; she suspected that they would be unable to comprehend her dire need to be ravished, dominated, and impregnated. All this time on Earth, through some wretched fae curse, she had only borne daughters. But she was persistent; someday her womb would bear a male. The father of her future son would not ask, would not beg, he would take her, claim her. She would be his little Sea-bitch. He needn't even be a rapper, or athlete. Almost any man willing to actually grab her breasts would possess them. If a man was willing to slap her ripe, bulging ass, he could have it. She would be his bitch, and her belly would swell with male offspring, that the aquatic fae might go on.

She almost didn't need the dildo, pistoning in and out, in and out of the slippery heat of her cunt. The voice of her favorite singers almost driving her to orgasm through the power of their own 'bad-boy' charm. It was then that she lost control. It was her tits, of course. One of the reasons why she had come here; Violet was the first, motivating Marina, helping her to work towards their mutual goal, fae being notoriously lacking in discipline. The second reason was her tits.

While listening to her walkman, the Mermaid's fingers began gripping her warm mammaries; her fingers on each hand grasping, middle and ring-fingers on either side of each erect nipple. That was when the growth started. Her breasts, larger already than that of most any 20th century porn star began to warm, throb, and stretch. No, not quite stretching, the entirety of each tit simply increased itself, and her fingers were being carried apart; as the flesh they gripped expanded and engorged, amidst throaty moans. The process had begun; the magical process that Marina knew she had control over. The dull, warm throb began in the center of each tit, as her hands were gradually pushed apart, widening the span of her fingers, while boobs already the size of bowling balls transcended themselves. But such powers came with a price.

The throaty moan tore itself from the mermaid's pouty lips as the burning, tingling sensation began in all her erogenous zones. She felt the magic, as her breasts grew, she would become ever more fertile. She quivered, almost loosing her grip on the dildo as her pussy began to jerk and throb. As the seconds dragged on, the rising tide of inflating bosom began to obscure her view of her feet; her perfect, human-looking feet that she was so proud of were eclipsed from her perspective as bowling balls became basketballs, and larger still. As she writhed in ecstasy, for a moment it became hard to remember whether she still had her magically-conjured woman's legs, or her natural mermaid's tail. A shimmering tingle passed throughout her slender body, Marina arched her back in a gurgling cry; the heady combination of Rap music, and her superior dildo was pushing her beyond the limits of control.

She smelled it then; a thick, cloying, briny scent. Her own unique blend of Fae mating musk. Marina's blend was especially thick, she believed that her body was responding to the low population of aquatic fae with an added intensity to her own sexual attractant. Soon, the room was thick with the enchanted aroma exuding from her fae pussy. The only sensation diminishing her erotic utopia was the intense pressure deep in her tits. Raising a pink nipple to her soft lips, she suckled her own overgrown mammaries. It always gave the mermaid a dirty thrill to savor the nutritious nectar her body produced... *mmm* syrupy sweet... so rich... Whenever her breast milk became this sweet, it meant that she was at the peak of her fertility. Her boobs quivered, slipping from her lips, and both nipples unleashed a white spray of lactation upon the bed covers.

On reflection, perhaps it was better that there was no man in this room to see the over-endowed mermaid in her aroused nudity. The way her pheromone musk had permeated the room, even the most shy, reclusive nerd would become overwhelmed by her attractant. The weakest, most cowardly of human men would be driven berserk at the thickness and potency of the rut musk her cunt produced. Any man would attack her, pinning her to the bed in his maddening urge to impregnate the receptive fae. She needed a man to lay claim to her, and to do so because he was filled with ambition, determined to take risks to get what he wanted, not because her mating musk was burning in his blood.

As her body flailed, her gaze was cast out to the blue expanse of the Caribbean Sea offshore. So warm and inviting; in a few short years, it would be the fruit of *her* loins that would swim in those seas. So soon, faerie creatures squeezed from *her* cunt would populate the oceans of the Earth. She only needed her man, the right man. Willing to ignore the laws, codes, statutes, and traditions of this society to claim her as his bitch. The orgasm came as the rappers on the CD spoke of how they treated their "Ho's." And what might they do to her? She stretched her sleek legs, pointing her toes as she envisioned the virile might of one of her rap stars. What might such a man do to her soft, vulnerable, fae-flesh? She rarely spoke of such desires to her human friends. Human women just wouldn't understand her need to be taken...

She had been wrong; all wrong. Viviana knew now of her mistake. The door of the ladies' room swung open, and the demented gleam in the woman's hungry eyes seem more appropriate for a Fae than a human. And the busty, Hispanic girl knew that the Fae were not far off. There he was... there was her date. He had spent a good deal of money to wine and dine her, and it was wasted. All a waste.

Ah yes... there came the drooping jaws, the widened eyes as the deluded humans beheld her glory. Already, her breasts had been fantastic for a human; perky, yet full globes of tawny mammary, capped by wide aureoles and proud nipples, the deep shadows cast by her D-cups were enough to shroud a man's cock in darkened bliss. She needed to let them breathe; there was nothing wrong with her boobs; no need to cover them. Tits were natural; tits like hers were healthy. Let the World see! And they were still growing; the Fae, that pregnant elf in the ladies' room had done something to her, awakened her to the truth. She felt ecstatic tingles as her teats adjusted, expanding themselves to match her new libido.

Look at Daniel; a good-enough man, completely speechless, from the fire in her now-green eyes, smoldering with the passion of her Revelation. Look at him, eyes riveted on her womanly globes, swaying naked in the posh light of the chandelier. He did not understand yet; but she would show him the new truth; the ultimate truth: That the measure of a man was not money, a sense of humor, or emotional sympathy, the measure of a man was his sperm output. So simple, so liberating.

"Uh... V-Viviana... ? asked Daniel in a quavering voice, as she looped her arm in his and prepared to strut in all her topless glory out of the dining room.

"Yes Daniel, I have decided to take control of our date." she replied in a flat, controlled voice.

"B-but... but... we're leaving? What about Dinner?" His hazel eyes were wide in surprise as she hauled him to his feet. Viviana paused.

"Hmmm yes, I nearly forgot dinner." with a pleasant smile, she picked up the delicate, crystal glass filled with sparkling champagne, and leisurely poured the drink all over the coppery skin of her naked breasts. "This is all the dinner you need, Dear Daniel."

The Maitre'de was about to call... well, someone... but was relieved that the slutty latina quickly left after exposing herself.

She couldn't wait for him to drive her anywhere; she needed to test him, to measure his worthiness before he would be allowed to take her anywhere. She took the car keys from his pocket, pushed Daniel into the Lexus, and folded back the seats to give them room. She took Daniel's hands and brushed his palms across her, down the hollow of her clavicle and shoulder, brought his lips to her breasts, that he might slurp the remains of the champagne that moistened her nipples. His moans of feverish delight only confirmed her new certainty.

His short-trimmed, brown beard tickled her breasts as she took stock of him; hazel eyes beneath a full head of hair, parted in the center, tall, almost lanky physique. A bit hairy; it reminded her of a savage beast that Viviana hoped he would become. She was no longer interested in his bank-account, the silly concerns of human women! Human women? Wasn't she human? What an odd thought.

"Here... is the deal... Daniel dear..." she breathed huskily, as the remnants of her cocktail dress seemed to evaporate, whilst straddling his hips, already tenting with the expression of his masculine potential. "If you wish to continue this date, or if you wish to ever go out with me again; you must be tested." His pants were gone now; his 7-inches of meat fully extended; a good sign!

"My family has always believed that a man should provide for his woman; and you must do the same. You Daniel, will provide me with sperm, all your sperm. You must cum three times; that is my new rule. If your sperm is enough, you will earn a second date."

It was best not to question such things. Daniel was afraid that to analyze, consider this new weirdness, for fear that it would end. Sometimes a man got lucky like this. Strange though, he was sure that Viviana never had eyes of such a brilliant green.

It was time; her time. It was her chance to shine again, to be beautiful, desirable... powerful again! Violet was already accustomed to her condition; she had finished mourning what she could not change, and she was used to the stares. Before college, in those first months after her 'accident' Violet would never have worn the hot-pink bikini that now barely concealed her athletic figure. She, like so many others, would have been terminally embarrassed. But her shame never accomplished anything; her embarrassment could not give her hope.

So Violet had learned to take it in stride at first, ignoring the comments, the whispers, the slack-jawed stares. Soon, she became numb to the attention. I mean really, how could she expect people not to stare at magically-enlarged breasts only a little smaller than standard beach balls? There was no helping it; the clinical magicians didn't want to risk more magic to reduce her prodigious bosom, fearing complications from any attempt to reverse her 'Thaumaturgical Mammary Hypertrophy', the magical breast growth which was becoming all too tragically common these days.

She liked to roller-blade along beaches like this, to gather her thoughts and relax, as the sun and wind caressed her bronzed physique. She was something or somewhere around a Double K-cup, and just learning to walk again with her condition was almost as bad as paraplegic rehabilitation. But she was no longer constrained, no longer confined. Violet and others that suffered from accidental magical breast growth would not be denied. Too long, she and others like her hid themselves away, fearing any human contact in their abject shame. But no longer; those days were over. Women of preposterous endowments; as the media called them, were emerging from their basements, from the dark places they had been hiding. They would not spend the rest of their lives weeping with embarrassment, they would stand, and be counted. They would return to public life, and to hell with anyone that didn't like it! (Or those that liked them too much)

The preposterous udders flowed and swayed across the lithe human's chest; she had to walk with a sort of rhythm; to prevent the bosomy inertia of her tits from menacing passersby. But it was easy now, each day she was becoming more comfortable, more accepting of what she had brought upon herself with a dubious 'Super-Boob' potion, and what medical science could not correct. She could talk to people, and accept their stares without emotion, the lurid howls from the sickos that thought she was a walking wet dream no longer angered her.

Women like her, women like Violet had found ways to empower themselves; and that was why she was here. As surely as a 20th century bra would have been destroyed trying to contain the awesome expanse of her magic-powered mammaries, so too were women of preposterous proportions breaking the straps of shame, and embarrassment. She unfolded the newspaper clipping again, and smiled to herself. It had happened to her last year; when Violet woke-up one day and realized that she no longer wished for the accident to be reversed. She didn't really want to go back to her old, flatter self. She had accepted herself, and then allowed herself to take pride again.

4TH ANNUAL
INTERNATIONAL BODY FOR THE ADVANCEMENT OF BREAST ENTHUSIASM
BOSOM BUILDING COMPETITION
COLLEGIATE CIRCUIT.
PANAMA CITY, FL.

The audacity had stunned the world; these women were now flaunting their magical deformities; declaring themselves not freaks, but rather people of 'fully-realized womanhood'. And their numbers were growing; any woman experimenting with cosmetic magic took the risk. They had researched their condition, their new breasts, and the misbegotten magic that endowed them; and while there was no reliable cure for 'T.M.H.', women had found remarkable means of controlling their bosoms; gaining mastery over them in a way not believed possible. And Violet had practiced ways to control her 'girls' and increase her mobility all the time.

Soon, Bosom-Building Competitions were broadcast on major television networks during primetime, amid much furor. And the World knew that this new 'sport' had achieved acceptance when some women, mediocre fitness models, decided to try their 'hand' in this new arena; there were women that deliberately over-dosed on fertility potions, knowing full-well the disaster that would result. 'The community' had found many ways to adjust their conditions, and Violet now had the means to alter the full size of her preponderous boobs, within some limits, and at last, she was getting her lactation under control! She only needed to milk herself an hour a day! And she felt she was ready; ready to become a 'fully-realized' woman. She had trained, she had prepared, she had done her homework. Violet's chest swelled yet more with pride, and accidentally bumped into a pixie on the sidewalk carrying a bag of groceries.

The Fae tumbled ingloriously into the sand, hotdogs, thick cigars, carrots, and cucumbers scattered. She blew a strand of purple hair out of her smooth, porcelain face. Wispy, translucent antennae unfurled nervously above her hairline.

"Oh my... I'm so sorry; Sometimes it's like they've got a mind of their own." quipped Violet, pointing to her culprit breasts, quivering upon her torso like frightened midgets. "Let me help you up..."

"I'm fine," replied the Pixie testily, fluttering the gossamer, diaphanous wings that sprouted from between her shoulder blades, which levitated her back onto her feet, the wispy wings far too small to support her in flight without some form of magic. "So what are you supposed to be, a bosom builder?" The purple-haired pixie spoke with a snide, superior tone.

"Yup; I'm a contender in the collegiates."

"Oh really?" The pixie seemed to take offense at this; maybe she was just upset over being boob-whacked. But then, Violet saw them. The fae girl, wearing a purple bikini no more substantial than Violet's seemed to puff out her chest, her grapefruit boobs gleaming in the sun; skin the color of polished marble. Wait... no, her breasts were rapidly filling out; approaching b... bowling ball size! The purple pixie stood unmoved, without the slightest hint of strain as her top-heavy anatomy continued far past the boundaries of normal human femininity. No hunching, no muscle spasms as inflating titflesh surged ever forward, her technique was flawless!

When a girl became the victim of runaway fertility magic, her breasts tended to leap and jerk in spasms, quivering as her womanly bounty multiplied, rending and shredding whatever unfortunate clothes were in their path. But not this time; the fairy female has achieved a perfect, seamless expansion technique as smooth as the sunrise. The swelling mounds, growing from melon-size, to bowling balls, onward to a bosomy volume as large as most safety helmets expanded in perfect proportion. It was as if Violet's eyes simply grew ever closer to the enchanted fairy breasts, the hint of a golden aureole creeping out from under her bikini top. Who was she? How did...