I had lusted for Melanie from the first time I had seen her. I felt that their was hope for me. Several of the boys in our community college had asked her out on a date. I know, because I had seen them and heard their conversations. I spied on Melanie. I had spied on her for over a year now. My studies had taken a turn for the worse when the spying started. My "A" average had fallen to a "C." I was obsessed with Mel. She is so beautiful. That beauty is why so many of the boys had asked her out on a date. She was polite, but she made it very clear to all the boys who asked that she was not interested in a date. She told them that she already had a boyfriend. Yet, that was not true. I would have known if such a boyfriend truly existed. She had lied to the would-be suitors. These rejections I witnessed only encouraged me. For perhaps she was as interested in women as I was. Maybe she had rejected the men because she too yearns for a gentler touch.
I had gone out with my fair share of boys in high school. I even had sex with a few of them, but something was missing. I didn't dare admit to what it was back then. I was too afraid. I didn't want to believe it. My forbidden attraction frightened me. I wanted to be like my girlfriends. I wanted to speak lovingly of the rough manly features that they found so attractive. I tried to speak of such things. I tried to pretend. When I finally admitted my secret attraction, I cried for almost the whole night. I could no longer deny it. I had finally come to ask myself if it were true. If I, a woman of good upbringing and near flawless character, could really be attracted to breasts. I could only answer "yes." I asked myself if it was just an appreciation for breasts, that I was simply admiring other women's breasts, not sexually, but just as anyone might admire any beautiful part of the human form. The answer to this question was "no." I was sexually attracted to them. I don't know from where this attraction came, but when I allowed myself to look inward, every acknowledgment of that attraction awakened a fire of passion from within me. Before that night almost two years ago, I had never felt the true power of sexual fantasy. I had never felt it because I had always before hidden those desires which I now find the most distracting.
After I came to accept the fact that my fascination with breasts would not fade, I stopped dating boys altogether. Nevertheless, I was too afraid to date women. I could not even associate with lesbians. The word "lesbian" itself made me jittery. The thought of identifying myself with something which I had considered only with contempt and disgust when I was a girl. I was in no way prepared for the possibility that I might be one. I figured it was better to forgo dating altogether. My friends and family where too important to me to start dating women. I knew all the rhetoric about your "real" friends accepting you for who you are, and having to live your own life, but I wasn't like that. I had always lived as others wanted. I always had a tremendous fear of being a disappointment, and of being rejected, and most of all, of being alone. I guess it's a weakness. I saw it as a weakness, but I felt powerless to change it. I seemed almost paralyzed in regard to my fantasies. I want so much to make them come true, but I was incapable of acting on them. I would just have to live off of my fantasies and forsake real-life sex. I had heard about female impersonators who have breasts even though they have the rest of their manly organs intact. I thought about trying to find one of these people. At least it would be a man. I realized that dating a man with breasts was no better an option than dating a woman. I would still alienate most or all of my friends and family. The prospect of losing everyone I had loved in my life was terrifying to me. I could accept the death of a loved one. It is difficult for me, but I could accept it, because I knew that the loss was not my fault. I have been submissive all my life, not because I was shy, but because I was afraid of driving someone I loved away. I was afraid to do anything to which my friends or family might object.
My attitude changed a year later when I first saw Melanie. We met during my second semester in college. We were in a group with three other people working on a class project. The professor had made the groups. I had just happened to get placed in her group. Melanie had a beautiful face. I had never really taken the time to appreciate a woman's face before. I had tried so hard in the past year to bury my feelings about the female chest, that appreciating women's other features was not a top concern of mine. I couldn't help but notice her face however. Her luxuriously long and wavy brown hair framed her pale, delicate face. The pale completion of her skin provided a sharp contrast with her sparkling, jade green eyes held prisoner behind her long lashes. I traced the outlined of her long, slender nose until it reached the moist, red, candyapple bounty of her lips. Her lips were pouty like that of a schoolgirl. Her neck was hidden behind the loose turtle neck of her sweater. I thought the turtle neck was rather strange. It was certainly not in fashion right now. Actually, she was the first woman I had seen in such a sweater in a long time.
As the days past, I began to watch Melanie more and more intently. I even started to hide around corners as she pasted so that she would not be angered be my constant staring. I realized that I was becoming obsessed with this woman, and that I was stalking her. I realized that such behavior was inappropriate, yet I could not stop. My need to look at her only grew stronger. Through all of my gazing, I came to understand that she had an amazing fashion sense. She wore her hair in only the newest and loveliest styles. She had a incredible ability to apply her makeup in a way that made her look beautiful even though at first glance it appeared as though she wore no make up at all. She also wore only the most expensive and attractive of pants and skirts. Her tops, on the contrary, did not match her other fashionable clothes. They were all simple. She only wore two types of tops: sweatshirts and heavy sweaters. Neither the sweaters nor the sweatshirts portended the incredible fashion sense I knew she had by my observations of her other clothes. Firstly, the sweaters and sweatshirts were all too large for her size. She would have probably looked best in a medium-sized sweater or sweatshirt. Yet, all the tops she wore were at least an extra large. It was peculiar that I found her so alluring. My main attraction to women was their breasts, yet I could barely see any curves from under her thick and oversized tops, and I had never seen any cleavage whatsoever. I was, nevertheless, captivated by this woman. Even though her other attractive features played a part, I felt it was still something about her breasts. At first, I assumed it was like a forbidden fruit. Her breasts were locked and hidden away, just waiting for some fair maiden to come along and free them with a gentleness that no man could understand. She was waiting for someone like me to come along and release the passion within her
It was these fantasies which kept my hope alive. I had seen her reject the men who wanted to date her. I told myself that she was only capable of loving another woman. I even thought that perhaps she was like I was. Maybe she was afraid of her feelings. In my mind, we belonged together. The liberal attitudes and cultural diversity of college widened my perspective. I was beginning to believe that perhaps love had no rules. Love itself was pure. It was only society which placed limitations on it. I remember I had written a definition paper in high school. In the paper I defended my position that love is a fear of being alone. In my opinion at the time, love in all its forms could be boiled down to that fear. After I saw Melanie for the first time, my definition of love would have been that it was a pure and natural force which pulls two people together. I was in love with Melanie.
How could that be? I had barely spoken to her, and when I had, it was on the topic of school work. Since we finished the class project, I hadn't said a word to her. I had merely spied on her. How could spying translate into love? If love was like a force drawing two people together, then why wasn't she being pulled to me? Why did she never stare at me like I stare at her? Why? These questions haunted me. Yes, haunted. They would come at night while I lay in bed. They kept me awake. I struggled to answer them. Perhaps my theory was flawed. I concluded that love must be more like chemistry. I had to introduce myself to her and wait for the reaction. It was settled. I had to make the first move, otherwise our love would never blossom. Blossom? Now it seemed the analogy was that of a flower, but even a flower needs to be introduced to the sunlight before its beauty can emerge. Either way, I was going to have to introduce my love to her.
Even after I made the decision to speak with her. I still found it difficult. It is hard to tell someone to which you've barely spoken that you have feelings for them. Plus, the experience was new to me. I had never even asked a boy out, much less a woman. I sat staring at her in class unable to decide what to say. I must have been too obvious with my stares, because she looked back at me. I even detected a small smile. As I stared back at her, she tensed slightly. Her back stiffened. I saw the rare curves of her breasts through her sweatshirt. Even though she probably had close to a C-cup, she managed to hide her breasts well with the oversized shirts and a slightly arched back. As she relaxed, her back arched again and the seductive curves disappeared. Something strange. Yes, something strange about her breasts. I couldn't place exactly what it was, but I knew something about them was unusual. I could tell by her choice of clothing and the arching of her back that she wished to hide them. But why? I had noticed the same fashions and behaviors in flat-chested women, and in women with disproportionately large breasts. Her breasts however seemed to be the perfect shape and size for her body. Were her breasts malformed in some way?
I knew that her return stare was a sign. I made my move right after class. As people were leaving the class room, I tapped her on her shoulder and asked if I could speak with her for a moment. I spoke with her in the corner of the hallway near the stairs. I waited for the jumble of exiting students to vacate.
"What is it?" She asked.
"I wanted to know if..." I hesitated nervously. "If you would like to go out to diner tonight."
"What for?" She asked suspiciously.
"For..." I wanted to say "food" jokingly, but I instead blurted out: "Love!"
She push me aside and walked quickly toward the stairs. "Pervert." She muttered as she descended the stairs.
"Love is pure" I yelled at her. "Don't put restrictions on it."
She looked up at me from the lower stairwell and shouted. "I'm a Christian girl with values, something you disgusting perverts wouldn't understand. You make me sick!" She rushed down the rest of the stairs and out the door.
I broke down. Tears rolled profusely down my check. I fell to my knees. I sobbed loudly, and it echoed in the deserted hallway. A painful lump developed in my throat. I was devastated. My love had rejected me as she had the boys. She not only rejected me, but she also chastised me for my desires. She had treated me the same way the girls I grew up with would have treated me if they had heard what I said. Then, I realized what had occurred. She was not mad at me. She was mad at herself. She was denying her true feelings. It is exactly what I would have done just a year ago if put in the same situation. I would just have to explain to her that she should not be afraid of her true feelings.
I walked to her townhouse apartment near campus. I had no trouble finding it. I had followed her home close to a hundred times. She lived alone. I knocked on her door. Instead of opening the door, she cracked open the second floor window above the door and yelled down at me. "How did you find me? Leave before I call the police!"
I shouted back up to her. "Don't be afraid of your true feelings! I once denied my attraction too."
"What are you talking about?" She yelled.
"We were meant to be together. I love you and you love me!"
"You're deluded!" She screamed. "Leave now, or I'm calling the police!"
"What?" I was confused. I didn't understand why she couldn't admit her feelings. "Don't you feel the love between us?"
"I could never love another woman, especially not you!" She shouted angrily.
I was infuriated. I would have to make her understand. I couldn't do that from down here. I had to be close to her. I lifted a rather large rock which lay beside a flower bed, and raised it above my head. "What are you doing!" She yelled. I scanned the surrounding area for any onlookers. I saw none. I threw the rock as hard as I could at the large bay window next to the door. It smashed very loudly. Millions of small shards exploded into the air spraying me with glass. Several tiny scratches marked my arms. I heard Melanie's scream from upstairs. I climbed into the broken window and ran up the stairs. Melanie had shut what appeared to be her bedroom door. I gave it a kick, and the light wood frame around the lock broke and splintered easily. She was already on the phone. I grabbed the phone from her and pulled it violently from the wall. She tried to run, but I grabbed her around the waist and threw her down on her bed. She tried to get back up, but I pushed her back down. I jumped on her stomach and sat on her. I reached out and started choking her.
"I don't want to hurt you anymore, but I have to make you understand." I released my hands from her throat when I saw the tears well in her eyes. She was too frightened to struggle.
"You're a psycho!" She yelled through her tears.
I suddenly realized how strange it was. I had been like a frightened sheep, always following, never stepping out of line. Now, I was breaking in apartments and terrorizing women. I had once been afraid. I was afraid of those scary criminals that walk the street. I had been afraid of crime. I was scared of being a victim. But, that old fear was gone. When I thought of criminals, it no longer brought forth fear. The reason was simple. I was now one of them. Is a wolf afraid of other wolves? No, of course not. Only the prey is scared. Right now, Melanie was my prey, and I hungered for her love. I grasped the bottom of her sweatshirt and pulled it up off her head. I then saw what she had been hiding. I saw her three breasts. She had a third breast positioned between her other two. I was immediately gripped with even more love for her. Maybe I somehow sensed these breasts when I looked at her. Now that I could see her in nothing but her undoubtedly home-made, three-cupped bra, I was filled with unspeakable desire.
"I love your beautiful breasts!" I declared.
"They're ugly." She cried. "I had the extra one removed when I was a teenager, but it grew back."
"You need to learn love," I said. "You need to learn to love me, to love your breasts, and to love yourself. I will teach you to do that. I will be here for you always."
"The police will be here for you very soon." She screamed.
I pulled a medallion out of my pants pocket. "Do you believe in magic?" I inquired.
"No," she replied through more tears.
"Why?"
"I don't believe in that spiritual crap."
"But, your religion is spiritual is it not?" I asked
"Yes." I could tell she was trying to humor me before the police responded to the emergency call.
"If you can believe in one type of spiritual phenomenon, why is it so hard to believe in another?" Her only response to this question was more sobs. I held out the medallion in front of her. "Do you see this medallion? It is magic. I wish I had time to explain how I came to have it. The man I acquired it from was rather interesting. Unfortunately, I only have time to explain what it does. It will make our life's fantasy come true. I only have to hold the medallion in the palm of my hand and speak the fantasy, and it will come true. The only cost is my soul. The man who gave me this medallion said that whoever asked for the wish must in turn surrender his or her soul to Kalquire, the god of desire."
I heard some commotion outside. I knew that my time was limited. I held the medallion in my hand and spoke loudly. "I wish to be with Melanie forever! I love her! I want breasts like hers, only bigger! I wish her breasts were bigger too! Two three breasted lovers, together forever, locked in an embrace for the rest of our lives!"
I heard the police rushing up the stairs, but it was too late. The transformation had begun. We were merging. The flesh of my stomach reached out toward hers. I lay flat against her. Our bellybuttons connected. The flesh on our stomach continued to converge. Melanie screamed, but she couldn't stop it. A force was pulling her toward me, and I toward her. She struggled to her feet, and I followed her lead. The transformation was occurring very quickly. By the time the police burst into the room, our abdomens where connected from just below the ribcage down to our waists. I felt the organs underneath the skin transforming as well. Our internal organs were connecting. They were fusing together. A cop jumped on me and tried to pull me off of Melanie. He grabbed and pulled me, but his attempt was of course useless. When he finally understood how we were joined, he backed away from us in fear.
I looked at him, and said. "Melanie and I are now one. We shall now be together always." I looked back at my conjoined lover. She was using her hands to try and push me away. She pushed at my shoulders while pulling back at the same time. It was futile. Our bodies were now one. Our breasts then started to grow. First, I developed a third nipple in the center of my chest. The area around the nipple expanded into a breast equal to the size of my other two breasts. My normal two breasts seemed to move outward making room for the third one in the middle. Next, our breasts all started to expand in size. Our bras began to squeeze our breasts as they grew bigger. Our bras began to slip downward as our three breasts jutted out of the top. As the two cops watched in silence, our breasts eventually touched. All three of my nipples touched each of her three nipples. They push against each other until our upper back began to arch backward under the strain. Just as our back arched slightly more, the expansion ceased. We each had three huge breasts all of which were nipple to nipple. We stood staring at each other, eye to eye, and breast to breast. Tears began to flow freely down Melanie's face again. She managed to squeeze her two hands in-between the tight space between our outer two breasts. She again tried to push me away. Again, she was unable to break us apart. She lost her balance and fell back to her bed, I had no choice but to fall with her. She frantically pushed at me to no avail.
Illustration by Bongo
I lay atop her looking into her tearful eyes. I smiled and said. "I love you, and you will learn to love yourself, and when you learn to love yourself, you will also love me, because I am you. We are one." She continued to cry. I tried to look down at our connected bodies, but my view was completely obscured by our massive triple breasts. They had to be at least a F-Cup, more likely a G-cup. I placed my hands on her checks an wiped away the tears. She tried to curse me, but she was unable to through all her sobbing. I lay atop Melanie for several minutes before she finally yelled to the still stunned police officers to arrest me. They officers snapped out of their daze, but they would have a hard time complying to Melanie's request. If they arrested me, they would also be arresting Melanie. They instead took us to the local hospital. Melanie requested that they remove me from her. After examining us however, they discovered that a separation would be impossible to perform successfully. It seems our internal organs had transformed into a state of complete codependence. If we were separated, it would most likely kill both of us. I think Melanie would have accepted such a fate. She spoke only of suicide as we lay face to face in the hospital bed that night. I could only caress her and tell her that she would eventually learn to love our body.
Eventually, I was right. She did learn to love us. I love us, and we love each other. We now share a closeness unknown to other lovers. We are connected in every way. We help each other dress. I love to help her put her bras on each morning. We can just barely fit the bras into the tight area between our breasts. We help each other shower as well. I wash her back and she washes mine. It is an erotic sensation to lather up her soft skin which is also my skin. I feel pain in her body just as she can feel pain in mine. The same is true of pleasure. When I pleasure her with my touch, I am also pleasuring myself because I feel what she feels. I love to force my hands into the tight area between our massive triple breasts. I caress her and she holds me tenderly. We are together always even when we sleep and when we shower. It is never annoying, because her body is my body. Her half of our body is no more annoying to me than my arms. It is all part of the whole. We are dependent on each other for our conjoined survival. We even have sex together. Unfortunately, we can't kiss. Our triple breasts are too large to allow us to join our lips together. It's alright though. We don't need to kiss, we have a stronger bond. We are together forever, or at least for this lifetime. I possess her soul, and one day, perhaps, Kalquire will posses mine.
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