Total Recall (Thanksgiving Special)

I should probably start by clarifying that we don't really have Thanksgiving in the UK - or, at least, it isn't a widely celebrated holiday by most. We do, however, get Black Friday; known best for its agressive price reductions, even though it often turns out that the items on sale are discounted for a reason...

Orla is certainly familiar with the phrase 'If something is too good to be true, then it usually is', but when she found a WunderBust BXL2 on sale at a ridiculously discounted price, she couldn't help but snap it up, there and then.

At a 30F-cup, it wasn't as though Orla didn't already have a reasonable bust, at least in relation to her slight frame. In fact, for many, it would probably be considered to be a little too much, but not for Orla. Since as far back as she could remember, she had always fantasised about having enormous breasts - even if the realities of such over-endowment relegated it to a long-held daydream.

The WunderBust BXL2, at it's knock-down price, would potentially allow her to enhance her bustline, even if it was only by a cup-size or two. Domestic grade Breast Enhancement Machines (B.E.Ms) were often pretty limited in terms of what they could achieve, so her expectations were modest at best, but with such a discount, it was hard to deny herself just that little bit more that she craved. Was this deal too good to be true? Maybe, but it felt almost foolish not to take a chance.

After a fraught scrum in the shopping mall crowds, Orla managed to lug her new purchase home with reasonable discretion, and wasted almost no time unpacking it. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach with nervous excitement. She stripped off down to her briefs, unhooking her bra and putting it to one side for the moment, as she made herself comfortable next her new contraption. Orla wasn't expecting instant results by any means - she was well aware that these small, home-use B.E.Ms took many treatments to provide their modest promises - but even so, her slim hands trembled with anticipation as she adhered the stimulation pads to her breasts, and prompted the machine to start using the wired controller.

Nothing happened. The machine sat silent. Orla pressed the button again, this time with a little more conviction. Still nothing. A quick flick through the instruction manual didn't seem to offer a solution. She tried once more, pressing the button with increased pressure. The machine sulked. 'Great', Orla thought, 'No wonder it was cheap! The stupid thing is busted!'

Orla slumped despondently, before once again reaching for the instruction manual in the hopes of finding a customer service number she could ring. With her phone in hand, she was almost ready to hit dial, when the machine suddenly burst into life, making her jump. It began to thrum and pulse heartily, and, slowly but surely, Orla could feel her breasts begin to tingle and prickle. The sensation contiuned to flow through her body - it felt good - really good.

Throwing her phone to one side, Orla hastily reached beneath the couch and retrieved a couple of well-thumbed copies of Vast Magazine. She grazed on page after page of over-boobed beauties, oggling their incredible, heaving breasts. As her body filled with pulsing energy, she closed her eyes and daydreamed, allowing her hands to wander as she did.

It didn't take long, however, before Orla could almost feel her breasts growing larger. Perhaps it was just a placebo effect, she considered, or they were just a bit swollen as a side effect of the treatment? They didn't feel sore or overly tender though, and, as she sat and looked down at her chest, she was almost sure they were beginning to steadily grow. She admitted this wasn't necessarily a bad thing, but confused, Orla reached for the discarded packaging and read the marketing spiel upon it; WunderBust promised, at best, that this machine would probably give two to three cup sizes, after several dozen treatments. Something wasn't quite right.

Hurridly, Orla reached for her bra. She could already feel that her breasts were heavier, and as she stretched towards it, she could tell that her bosoms had more sway and momentum. With the brassiere finally fastened, it was clear from the overspilling cups that her breasts really were growing this fast, and no, it was not her imagination. For a moment she considered that she may be dreaming. From the fullness of her lingerie, Orla estimated that she must already be at least a GG-cup, maybe even a H, and she'd only been using the machine for fifteen minutes or so. Even if they were supposed to develop this quickly, she had already surpassed the promised two-to-three cup sizes, and judging by the increasing pressure of her straining bra, she was still getting bigger!

Common sense told Orla that she should stop, right now, of course. She could always give it another go, once she had decided if she liked her current size and, well, potentially craved even more. At somewhere around a HH-cup, she was already looking quite top heavy, but she figured another cup size wouldn't hurt. She'd always liked the sound of a J-cup - it was large, but not too large. After a few more minutes, Orla estimated that she was at a good size - she may even have overshot her ideal size somewhat - and so she picked up the controller and clicked the stop button.

Nothing happened, again. The machine continued to throb and hum merrily to itself. Perhaps it had a cool down period before it shut off, Orla contemplated, as she reached for the instruction manual once more. A couple more minutes passed, and so did another cup-size, but still the B.E.M seemed content to keep going. Orla firmly clicked the stop button again. And again. Orla began to panic. She scrutinised the manual further. Did the machine have to complete a full one hour session before it would automatically shut off? Maybe that was it - although in another half an hour she would surely be huge - her breasts were already becoming bigger and heavier than she had ever imagined realistically dealing with.

The obvious option seemed to be to pull the plug on the machine, or simply rip-off the stimulation pads, but, as the manual warned many times over, doing so could be incredibly dangerous, or even fatal mid-cycle. In desperation she decided to call the WunderBust customer service hotline, where her call promptly connected and cheerfully told her that she was number six-hundred-and-twenty-seven in the queue, but her call was important to them. She slammed her phone down. She couldn't risk calling anybody else - this was supposed to be a secret - and the few cup sizes she hoped to gain were to be passed off as just a natural growth spurt spread over many months. Her breasts were now so large that she would have trouble passing it off as a miracle, let alone a growth spurt!

As the minutes ticked by, Orla's bust continued to blossom, and her poor bra became dangerously overloaded. She had hoped that keeping it on would 'squeeze' and discourage her from getting much bigger, but there was little evidence it had worked, as soft, heaving swells of flesh pushed above, beneath and to the sides of the straining, distending F-cups. Stitches popped and the double hook-and-eye fastening buckled as the band was pulled tighter than ever against Orla's back. Ever crease in the fabric was eventually pulled tight, until finally the right hand strap gave way with an almighty crack. The whole bra lurched forward unevenly with it's restless, growing load, and then, in chain reaction, the back of the bra finally gave way, catapulting the tattered garment into the air. It came to rest a few feet away, laying on the floor in abused exhaustion.

The sudden release of Orla's now excessive endowments saw her almost fall forward, as their increasing weight threw her off balance, steadied only by her outstretched arms. She glanced over at the B.E.M as it hummed away contentedly; she didn't dare unplug it. She'd read articles about a few foolish women that had, and it didn't sound good. Orla just held out hope that after one hour was up, the machine would switch itself off. She'd be huge, that was for sure, but she'd cope somehow, or maybe even grow to love them.

One hour came, and one hour passed. Still the machine rumbled on, and Orla's boobs continued to grow bigger and heavier by the minute. Already her petite frame was having a hard time lifting her breasts at all, much more boob, and she was struggling to imagine how she would ever cope. By now, she had tried a thousand times, but in sheer desperation, she grabbed the remote control and pressed the stop button again, and again. Finally, Orla pressed it so hard, that the button itself gave way, losing its satisfying, but inevitably useless 'click'. With that, however, the machine began to grumble and judder, its once steady thrum now becoming a jilted, unrythmic note - higher in pitch and unquestionably more strained.

It wasn't just the pitch that had changed, but also the pace, and Orla began to stare in disbelief as her aleady over-sized bosoms began to balloon! Still number five-hundred-and-seventy in the queue, she threw her phone down in frustration, as she began to wonder just how much bigger her boobs could possibly become...