FROM                     THE AMAZONS ARENA BBS        714-840-1145
 
 
                    MADAME SOPHIE'S MIRACLE GROW
                           By Thaddeus Wawro
 
        Krystal stood on the sidewalk in front of the peculiar
little shop.  She glanced at the slip of paper on which she'd
written down the address Madame Sophie had given her.
This was the place all right.
        It wasn't quite what Krystal had expected.  It looked
like a junk store.  Krystal peered through the square glass
panes of the front window but they were frosted with soot
and grime, too thick for her see into the shop.
        As she backed away from the window, she saw her
reflection in the smudged glass.  It was a nice reflection--
long, slender legs, full, but not too wide hips sloping to a
waspish waist, long, strikingly blonde hair that cascaded
down over her shoulders in gentle curls that framed her
beautiful face.  Almost a perfect reflection, Krystal thought,
the only thing missing are breasts.
        To put it simply, Krystal was flat as a board.  Ever
since she was a girl, she'd been self-conscious about her
breasts, or rather, her lack of breasts.
        Krystal tried not to let it bother her.  And most of the
time she succeeded.  She had a handsome boyfriend whom
she truly loved and thought loved her, regardless of her flat
chest.
        At least that's what she'd thought until she'd found a
copy of big-bust wedged between the mattress and box
springs in the apartment she and her boyfriend, Tom, shared.
        She'd removed the magazine and leafed through it,
gazing in awe at page after page of beautiful, enormously-
endowed women. When she'd finished, she sat down on the
bed and cried.          
        Was Tom unhappy with her?  Was that the kind of
woman he wanted? If so, she didn't stand a chance. She was
convinced Tom was thinking of leaving her for a large-
busted woman.  After all hadn't he once told her the greatest
thrill in his life had been tit-fucking some bimbo he knew in
high school.
        She didn't want to lose Tom. But what could she do?
Breast enhancement surgery was out of the question--she
didn't have the money. But there had to be a way.
        Just then Krystal saw a curious little card lying on the
floor.  It must have fallen out of the magazine, she thought as
she picked it up.  It was a business card:  plain white with
bold black lettering.  It read: "Unhappy with your body? Call
Madame Sophie. She can help."  Underneath the writing was
a phone number.
        Krystal stared at the card for a few minutes.
        Surely it was some kind of scam.  But what did she
have to lose--except Tom? She picked up the phone and
dialed the number on the card.
        An  woman answered in a soft, heavily-accented
voice that made Krystal think of chamomile tea .  She asked
Krystal about her problem and agreed to help her.  She gave
Krystal an address and told her to be there at ten o'clock the
next day.
         Krystal glanced at her watch.  It was almost ten
now.    With a shaky hand, she opened the door of the shop.
As she stepped into the store, she was assaulted by a
strangely familiar scent.  It reminded her of her
grandmother's attic--a thick musky smell of long-forgotten
rooms that hid untold secrets and treasures.  The front room
of the shop was packed to the rafters with cracked china,
broken furniture and chipped curios.
        Krystal heard a noise from the back of the shop and
spun around.  Her eyes came to rest on a small woman
dressed in a flowered skirt and a plain, white blouse.  A black
crocheted shawl hung from her shoulders.   The woman's
face was full, with cherry-red cheeks and twinkling green
eyes.  Her iron-grey hair was pulled into a tight bun on the
top of her head.  A wide smile danced on her lips. She
reminded Krystal of an old Gypsy woman she'd seen in some
long forgotten movie.
        "I'm Madame Sophie," the woman said.  "You must
be Krystal."
        Krystal nodded.
        "I understand zat you are unhappy with your breasts,
no?"
        "Yes."
        "Vell, zat is something I can surely help you viss.
Shall ve
begin?"
        "What are you going to do?"
        "It vill all be clear in a few minutes.  Follow me."
        Madame Sophie led Krystal through a doorway and
into a small
sitting room at the back of the shop.  Krystal felt as if she'd
stepped back in time to the turn of century.  The room was
decorated in Victorian style and dimly lit by an old-fashioned
oil lamp with a tasseled shade.  Near the center of the room
rested two plush settees, most assuredly antiques. She sat
down on one of the settees and glanced around the room.
        One wall was covered from floor to ceiling by
mahogany cabinets.  Through the glass cabinet doors,
Krystal could see hundreds of colored bottles.  Some were
large, some were small.  No two were the same shade.
        "How will you. . .well. . .you know?" Krystal asked.
        "Through magic, my dear, Gypsy magic," Madame
Sophie said with a smile.  "My ancestors studied arcane rites
und learned to control za mystic powers of nature.  At vone
time, za crowned heads of Europe paid my family huge sums
of gold to work magic for zem."
        Krystal winced at the words "huge sums of gold."
Her job paid just enough to cover her share of the rent and
little else.
        "How much will this cost me?" she sheepishly asked.
        "Nossing, my dear."
        "What? I don't understand. Why?"
        "My great great grandfather vas a greedy man,"
Madame Sophie said, her voice whithering to a shame-filled
whisper.  "He took za knowledge my ancestors mastered und
used it for evil.  As a result, he und all his descendants vere
cursed to die horrible deaths.  Za only vay to prevent za
curse from coming to pass is by using za power to help
others. So I help ladies und gentlemen who deem zeir bodies.
. .shall ve say. . .imperfect."
        "And you can help me?"
        "But of course my dear, are you ready?"
        Madame Sophie didn't have to ask Krystal twice.
        "Vat size breasts vould you like?" Madame Sophie
asked.
        Krystal hadn't really thought about it. She
remembered one of the women she'd seen in Tom's
magazine.  Her breasts were 45 DDD.
        "Would 45 DDD be too much to ask?" Krystal
replied.
        "Acch, of course not my dear. My seven-year-old
grandchild could work that simple spell."
        Madame Sophie walked over to an ornately carved
chest that stood in the corner of the room and began
rummaging through one of the drawers. After a few minutes,
she pulled out a black bra and gave it to Krystal.
        "Zere, zat's a 45 DDD," she said.
        It was the most beautiful bra Krystal had ever seen.
The huge cups were made of fine black satin, so delicately
fashioned that she could barely make out the seams where
the smooth fabric had been sewn together.
        Madame Sophie then went to the cabinet and
returned with a small green bottle.
        "Zese are all you'll need," she told Krystal, handing
her the bottle.  "Now tonight, just before you go to sleep,
rub some of za ointment in zis bottle on your chest."
        "What is it?" Krystal asked.
        "It's a special potion made from herbs. I call it
Madame Sophie's Miracle Grow. By morning, I promise you
vill have a tremendous set of breasts. But, vhatever you do,
make sure you vear za brassiere.  If you do not, za results
could be disastrous."
        Krystal left Madame Sophie's shop happier than she'd
been in years.  If Madame Sophie's potion worked, she'd
have a big surprise for Tom when returned from his business
trip the following evening.
        That night, Krystal uncorked the potion bottle and
rubbed about half of the contents onto her chest.  Then she
put on the lace bra the old Gypsy had given her.  The huge
cups hung on her flat chest like deflated balloons.  For a
moment, Krystal felt silly wearing a bra so many sizes too big
for her.  Then she remembered Madame Sophie's promise,
smiled, and went back to bed.
 
*   *   *   *
 
        The inane babbling of a morning drive-time disc
jockey jarred Krystal from her sleep. She reached for the
snooze button, then rolled over onto her stomach to grab a
few quick winks. That's when she felt the strange pressure
against her chest.  Thinking she'd rolled over onto a pillow,
she tried to pull it out from under her.  Only it wasn't a
pillow.  Whatever it was, it was soft and warm and seemed
to be part of her.
        She whipped around and sat upright.  Looking down
at her chest she saw a wondrous sight--two of the most
magnificent breasts she'd ever seen were straining at the
confines of the satin bra.  The milky-white orbs of flesh
overflowed the cups which struggled in vain to hold in her
mammoth mammaries.
        Gingerly, she touched her left mam.  It was real all
right. She trailed her finger down the soft skin and explored
the deep chasm of cleavage.  Tom's dick would disappear in
there, she thought.
        Unhooking the snap in the front of the bra, Krystal let
her newly grown tits spill free.  The pendulous pillows hung
down almost to her navel. They were at least a foot long and
over a foot and a half in diameter. Her once small areolae
were now dark brown and the size of saucers.  Nipples,
easily the thickness of her little finger, jutted out proudly.
        She let her hands wander over the smooth, firm
expanse of her magnificent melons.  With her forefinger, she
traced circles around her areolae, sending an electric surge
through her body and causing her already erect nipples to
grow even larger.
        She cupped her left mam in her right hand and hefted
it up to her mouth.  Her tongue flicked out, grazing the pink
nub that was now as big as her thumb.  She ran her tongue
all over the tender flesh before taking as much of the
pontoon in her mouth as she could.
        Greedily she sucked, chewed and nuzzled, sending
wave after wonderful wave of electric spasms through her
body.  Her right hand snaked down her body to her already
drenched crotch.  A soft gurgling cry emerged from her lips
as she caressed her erect knob.  In an explosion of ecstasy,
she came, her pussy juice squirting onto the bed.
        Exhausted and sated, she lay back on the bed. As the
last tingles of orgasm subsided, Krystal decided she was
going to like having big tits. She only hoped Tom would like
them, too.
 
*   *   *   *
 
        Tom crawled out of the cab, dragging his dogged
frame up the steps to the apartment.  The five hour flight
from the coast had left him exhausted and tired. He fumbled
for the key, in his mind he was already in bed,
joyfully slumbering under the warm down comforter.
        The door swung open and for a second, Tom thought
he had entered the wrong apartment.  Standing before him
was a beautiful blonde woman with the most stupendous set
of tits he'd ever seen. She was wearing a red merry widow,
laced up the front.
        Tom rubbed his eyes, trying to drive the sleep from
his brain.
        "Krystal. . ." he said, ". . .is that you honey?"
        "In the flesh," Krystal purred. "How do you like the
new me?"
        Tom didn't answer.  Instead he let his actions reply.
He rushed over to Krystal and took her in his arms.  Their
lips met, tongues darting, exploring the recesses of each
other's mouths.
        Tom pulled away for a second and Krystal whispered
in his ear, "Welcome home, lover."
        He scooped her up in his arms and carried her into
the bedroom.  In a flash his clothes were off and he was
unlacing the merry widow with his teeth. Krystal's immense
boobs burst free of their constraints and Tom dove at them.
He began making circles with his tongue around Krystal's left
nipple, caressing her right nipple with his hand. The soft nubs
grew hard and stuck out like small thumbs.
        He licked every inch of her magnificent mam, tracing
a pathway down into her gaping cleavage. He stayed
between her tits, inhaling the musky, erotic scent of Krystal's
skin.  Her pendulous floppers engulfed his head and Tom's
entire world consisted of Krystal's wonderful whoppers. Tom
ventured out of the valley of flesh and attacked Krystal's
right tit. Starting with her turgid nipple, he slurped sucked
and chewed. Krystal's soft moans filled the air as she stroked
the underside of Tom's swollen shaft with her left hand.
        "You keep that up and I'm going to spray cum all
over these
nice clean sheets," Tom teased.
        "I have a much better place for that," Krystal said
with a wicked smile.
        Tom took the cue and carefully straddled Krystal's
chest. She guided his cock between her bulging, sweat-
soaked breasts and squeezed the tremendous tits together,
surrounding Tom's rod in a soft glove of flesh. He pumped
his hips, his stiff shaft disappearing into the massive tit-flesh.
His cock plunged again and again into the cavernous
cleavage.  He could feel spunk churning in his balls like
molten lava.  His cock erupted, splattering load after load of
cum onto Krystal's chest, neck and face. She licked Tom's
cum off her lips and smiled.
        "How do you like my new tits?" she asked.
        "They're incredible," Tom said, exhausted from the
workout.  "I've never come so hard in my life."
        "Not even with that big-titted bitch you knew in high
school?" she teased.
        "She was big, but her tits were nothing compared to
yours. How did you. . .well. . .you know?"
        "Magic.  Gypsy magic," she replied.
        Tom couldn't tell if she was joking or serious, but he
didn't really care, as long as those tits were here to stay.
        "I love them, honey," he said.  "And, I love you."
        "Would you love me even more if my tits were even
bigger?"
        "What do you mean. . .?"
        "I still have some of the magic potion. What do you
think?"
        "I think you've got big things in store for you."
        Krystal took the bottle from the nightstand drawer
and handed it to Tom.
        "What do I do with this?" he asked.
        "Rub it all over my tits."
        He did, eliciting squeals of delight from Krystal as he
rubbed the potion onto her humongous hooters.
        "Now what?" he asked.
        "We go to sleep and in the morning I'll have the
biggest tits you've ever seen."
        Krystal had no idea how true those words would be.
 
*   *   *   *
 
        Tom dreamed he was being smothered under a huge
pillow.  He thrashed about, trying to get out from under the
pillow, but it was useless.  It surrounded him on all sides--its
massive weight forcing the breath from his lungs. He tried to
wake himself but couldn't.  Then he realized he wasn't
dreaming.  He was awake and smothering under a soft, warm
pillow that covered his head and most of his chest.
        Panicked, Tom rolled off the mattress and thumped
onto the floor.  He got up to his knees and stared back at the
bed.  He couldn't believe his eyes.  Krystal's tits had indeed
grown. They stretched from one side of the king-sized bed to
the other and reached almost down to her knees. He couldn't
even see Krystal's face over the massive expanse of flesh.      
        Krystal stirred.  Her massive mams jiggled and
rocked like a waterbed.  Suddenly she screamed.  Tom ran
over to her.  She tried to sit up, but her enormous tits pinned
her to the bed. Tom gently helped her up, propping pillows
behind her for support.  Krystal's tits hung down passed her
waist and rested on the mattress.  They were so wide that she
couldn't even lower her arms.
        "My God, what happened to me?" Krystal sobbed.  "I
wanted big tits, but not this big.  I can barely move!"
        "You said you got the potion from a Gypsy," Tom
said, "maybe she can do something."
        "Her phone number's on a piece of paper in my purse.
Call
her and see if she'll come over."
 
*   *   *   *
 
         Madame Sophie arrived 30 minutes later carrying a
small carpetbag.  She found Krystal sitting up in bed, her
arms resting atop her titanic tits.
        "I varned you about vearing za brassiere," Madame
Sophie scolded.  "I told you somesing dreadful vould happen
if you didn't."
        "I don't understand," Krystal sobbed.  "What does the
bra have to do with it?"
        "Like za potion, za brassiere is magic," Madame
Sophie explained. "It shapes za breasts, stopping za growth
as it is filled. Without za bra, your breasts grew vis nossing
to stop zem. You are lucky zat only half of za potion vas
left."
        "Isn't there something you can do?" Krystal asked.
"Can you make them smaller?"
        "I'm sorry, but vonce za potion has vorked its magic,
zere's no vay to reverse za spell. Za breasts are permanent."
        "I wanted big boobs so Tom could tit-fuck me,"
Krystal sobbed. "A horse couldn't tit fuck these!"
        "Zere is somesing I can do about zat," Madame
Sophie.
        With a sly smile she reached into her carpetbag and
retrieved a small red bottle and the largest jock strap Krystal
and Tom had ever seen.
 
The End
 
FROM                     THE AMAZONS ARENA BBS        714-840-1145