The Playboy And The BBW - 2 free porn video

THE PLAYBOY AND THE BBW (part two) by Throne Milton was staggered by the news. It was bizarre enough that he was being given an overly voluptuous female form, and that his male genitals were gone, but that was nothing compared to the latest revelation -- that he had just been inseminated and was likely pregnant. No, no, no. But after everything that had already happened, he had to believe it. His desire to gain total control over his late Uncle Farnsworth's estate had led him to sign papers promising that he would take part in this weird experiment. Now he was the victim of its astonishing effects. And they couldn't be reversed until it was completely finished. Ten days after the revelation, his sister Deborah decided two things. He needed to move in with her so she could be his pregnancy coach, and Milton had to get out daily for exercise, even if it meant lots of people seeing him in this outlandish shape. He left behind all of his possessions and every stitch of male clothing when she took him to her place to live. Deborah even sub-let his luxury apartment to a lesbian couple, which added a special sting to his predicament. He rode in her car, crammed into the front passenger seat, his wide bottom feeling like a thick pillow beneath him, those mushrooming boobs nearly popping out of the small top he wore, and his belly big enough to be in the way even though he hadn't yet begun to 'show'. Deborah's apartment was in a pleasant complex near a park. As soon as he was moved in, which didn't take long because he had nothing but some female clothes to unpack, she decided to dress him up and take him out for fresh air and activity. She had gotten her brother some bright yellow yoga pants that were big enough to stretch over his well-upholstered contours, though they were so tight they looked painted on. Then she had a top with no sleeves, which was strained to its limits and allowed his tits to peek out on both sides as well as at the low neckline. Deborah let him struggle to put on his sweat socks and running shoes, but it was terribly difficult. She helped and then tied the laces for him, all the while chattering about his startling dimensions. He begged her not to make him go outdoors but she insisted. They left the building and were immediately the nexus of multiple staring gazes. Milton blushed bright pink and nervously finger- combed his hair, which was nearly brushing the tops of his shoulders by then. His sister had used just a hint of cosmetics on his face, leaving it strangely androgynous, almost as if she wanted others to know that he had once been a biological male. As he walked to the park, his oversized assets wobbled and bounced, like they were trying to escape. Milton was mortified to be seen that way. Adding to his agitated condition, the front of the top continually rubbed against his nipples, keeping him in a perpetual state of wild arousal. The spot where his male genitals had been was throbbing with desire and it was like having the world's worst case of blue balls. Deborah got him into the middle of an open grassy area, said he needed some exercise, and began instructing him. "All right, Millie, let's see that body move. (chuckle) Arms straight up and sway them side to side. (snicker) Lift those feet. Left, right, left, right. (chortle) Now rock those hips. Shake that booty. (derisive snort) Roll your head around to loosen up your neck. (guffaw) You go, girl. Everything's moving at once. Shake it but don't break it. And try not to hit any innocent bystanders." There were onlookers, a loose circle that was forming a short distance from the gyrating figure whose breasts and buttocks were animated with a seemingly independent life. Milton wanted to run into the bushes and hide but he wasn't allowed. Instead he had to keep performing while people used their cell phones to take pictures of the freakish sight he made. Deborah had to fight back the urge to laugh out loud at him. She called Dr. Kent and described the scene. "I wish you could be here, Rita." "I can't, because I'm running more tests on samples of blood we took from Millie. Everything is going even better than I had hoped for. That girl's going to be a real gold mine for me." Deborah looked at Milton's wildly moving boobs and the way his nipples jutted out against the thin fabric of his top. She told the doctor, "Not so much a gold mine. More like a cash cow." "But listen," the researcher went on. "You should bring her over here after you've had your fun. I want to give her a special test. And don't bother letting her get a shower or anything. If she has to smell her own perspiration, it will just make her more aware of that bizarre body I gave her, and how sweat will get trapped under her boobs and between those hefty butt cheeks." "Okay. But I want to make her walk for a while. If we follow the main path it will take us near where a lot of college students hang out. I'm sure they'd get a kick out of seeing Millie and her special charms." "Right. So I'll look for you in about an hour and a half." "Or maybe a little longer. After this workout, I know Miss Bovine will be starving. And I can't wait to see what weird food cravings she'll exhibit." "Sounds good. You can let me know what she feasts on when you get here. Later, baby." Poor Milton had been dancing about while Deborah chatted. He was sweating and flushed, his nipples throbbing with need. He couldn't stop licking his lips and caught himself searching the crowd to see what any of its members might be eating. There were popcorn and ice cream and some exotic items from food trucks. His eyes went wide when he saw a young couple eating fajitas. Just the sight made him salivate. In the past his attention would have gone to the cute female member of the pair, but now it often seemed like his sex drive had been redirected to his insatiable appetite for odd combinations of edibles. Food was more attractive than the girl. He was so hungry. Deborah came over and hooked her arm through his, leading him out of the clearing and down a winding path through the trees, with the sound of his audience's comments fading behind them. As they emerged, he tugged at her, taking a few steps toward several food trucks. His sister said, "Oh, are you going to buy me lunch?" "I..." He still couldn't get used to his wispy voice. "I don't have any cash with me." "Or credit cards or checks or anything. But I suppose I could get reimbursed for whatever I spend. You know... from Uncle Farnsworth's estate. It's such a responsibility to have all that money at hand. I hope I don't waste any of it. You know, because later on it's all going to be yours, Millie. Isn't that correct?" "Yes," he said breathily. "I can't wait. Once I lose all this weight and get rid of these... changes." "But you do still have most of the year to go, brother mine," she said jocularly. "So let's not rush it. First I'll get you something to snack on -- with 'your' money -- and then we'll head over to Dr. Kent's office so she can test her little lab rat. Well, I guess I shouldn't refer to you as little anymore." Their arms were still linked and she leaned against his nearside boob, pushing it into the other one and making him fear that they would both pop free. If only he had a jacket or something so he could cover up more. She tittered and made a joke about wardrobe malfunctions. "Let's see what kind of treats we can find for my hungry hungry hippo over there. Six food trucks in a row. The possibilities are endless." Even though he didn't want to be shown off again like a sideshow exhibit, his hunger led him onward. He breathed deeply the mingled scents of cooking foods. Deborah released his arm and watched to see where he would go. Milton hesitated only a moment and then, as if he had radar, veered toward a Mexican specialty concession. The server in the truck's window was a swarthy guy who couldn't keep his eyes off those jiggling jugs. From his elevated point-of-view he admired cleavage that you could bury not only your face in, but your entire head. Rubbing his hands together, Milton asked for two each of six different kinds of tacos and fajitas, as well as a selection of dipping sauces. Then, while Deborah paid, using a charge card linked to the estate's account, he clutched the greasy paper bag of consumables to his enormous bust and hurried two trucks further down. Even his sister was somewhat taken aback when she heard him asking for several frozen ice cream treats, each more outlandish than the last. Milton grabbed the second bag and rushed toward a nearby picnic table. As soon as Deborah had paid again, she hurried after him. He was already spreading his orgiastic feast in front of him. Milton took a taco in one hand and a rainbow ice cream bar in the other, biting one and then the other so he could mix the poorly matched flavors with his rapid chewing. Juice and melting colors ran from the corners of his busy mouth. He kept dipping items into sauces and shoving food between his lips, not caring how unthinkable the combinations were, instead making the unlikely choices and speed-eating them. As much as Deborah liked to see him make himself appear piggish and ignorant of the weirdness of reckless culinary mash-ups, even she was nauseated by the scene before her. It was like an insane consumption competition, but with only one competitor. Other people, including numerous coeds, could only watch in amazement and shake their heads in disbelief. Milton's chin was coated with runny byproducts of his gorging, and the mess was staining his snug top as well. It was a sight to inspire others to extreme dieting, but such restraint was the furthest thing from his fevered mind. It was as if he had to eat madly to survive. His heavy breasts rested on the table while he crammed still more food into his never satisfied maw. Bits of taco stuffing dropped onto his stained shirt and he plucked them up with plump agile fingers, which he sucked like a gourmet gone gaga. At last the food had all vanished into his overactive alimentary canal and he sat back, looked to see if he had missed anything, and belched volcanically. With a note of awe in her words, Deborah said, "That was impressive, Millie. But we have to go now. Doctor K will be waiting." With a longing look at those trucks whose wares he hadn't sampled, Milton got his legs out from under the table and stood unsteadily for a moment, then detected one more bit of taco, happily touched by drops of melted ice cream, riding on top of one of his mammoth mammary mounds. He pushed his bodacious tatas up from underneath and sucked the waiting treat between his lips, savoring it like caviar. Deborah shuddered but then reminded herself that if he was acting any less obsessed with his unappealing mixed menu, she would be disappointed. After all, this was what Dr. Kent had said they should hope for. She got him into her car and drove him to the doctor's place. Once they arrived, Milton finally began to register what a spectacle he had made of himself, and how unrestrainedly he had overeaten, as well as how disgusting his curious match-ups would have been to others. He was looking guilty by the time the doctor greeted Deborah. "Up on the scale," the medical researcher told her subject cheerfully. Then, with mock concern, she watched the balance arm tilt dramatically. Adjusting the counterweight, Rita said seriously, "Can you believe it, Millie? You've gained even MORE weight. I think I'll take some measurements next." She took a handful of chocolates from the pocket of her lab coat and held them out to Milton, who snatched them up. "You don't mind if we check your dimensions, do you, dear?" Around a mouthful of cocoa and sugar he said that he didn't. From her other pocket Rita produced a tape measure and, with help from Deborah, got it around his massive bosom. Dr. Kent whistled and said how impressed she was. Milton was mortified but didn't stop eating. Next they measured his hips and then the widest part of his bottom, and finally the circumference of each wobbly basketball-sized fun-bag. From the handling, their nipples were fully hard. The chocolates ran out and he became acutely aware of his embarrassing situation. Milton stood there squirming with unease until Dr. Kent at last had him strip from the waist down -- more awkward struggling -- and get up onto a table, one with stirrups, which he needed assistance to get his feet into. The doctor produced a new instrument and penetrated him between his legs, commenting that -- although he couldn't see anything past the obstructions of his body -- he had a perfectly formed vagina. She gave him an order to produce a few drops of urine and told him not to worry because there was a catch basin in place. Shamefaced, he nevertheless obeyed. Then she peered at the plastic stick she had just used and smiled at Deborah. "Congratulations, dear," Rita said impishly. "You're going to be an aunt." "And congrats to you, doc. You've successfully created a pregnant man." "Well, I don't know if anybody could call him a man at this point, but that's pretty much what I did. With some help from Farnsworth... and you, dear." Deborah smirked at her brother and told him, "At least now you have an excuse for chowing down like there's no tomorrow... you're eating for two." A quaking shudder ran through Milton's overblown curves and he fainted. The women gave each other an affectionate hug. After that his belly began to enlarge, alarming him with how round and full it grew. The women delighted in reminding him that he had become so unlike a man that he was carrying a baby. Or two. Or three. He had to walk in the park every day, wearing maternity outfits that were sexy instead of chaste. They enjoyed putting his hair up in a kerchief, getting him an oversized T-shirt with the word BABY on the belly, and making sure he had plenty of snacks to pig out on when he was in public. Milton tried not to wolf down the food but couldn't help himself. It was all so ego-crushingly humiliating. When he and his sister were out strolling, Deborah liked to keep up a running series of taunts aimed at him. "So, Millie, do you think it'll be worth all this when you receive that huge inheritance? Or I should say... IF you receive it." She laughed quietly. "But in the meantime, Uncle Farnsworth's money is paying for all your junk food. I like what I picked for you today. Mmmm. Prunes and raw oysters and butter-cooked lima beans, all together in that plastic tub you're carrying. Yum, yum." She watched as he tried to stop gobbling down the odd mix and got a laugh out of how miserably he failed. Milton took another handful and shoved it into his mouth. She went on, "And you know Rita is going to weigh you when we go back there. I like that chart she put up that she fills in with your weight and your measurements. It's good for you to be aware of how incredibly huge you're becoming. Look at those ballooning tits, and the way those shot- glass nipples are nearly poking holes in the front of your tank top." "P... please, sis. Don't say those things. I just want to get through this and settle the estate." "And by settle the estate you mean grab all the money. So you can impress those easy-to-buy girls you like. They're not exactly hookers but they do love you for your wealth. But what you already had wasn't enough. No, you wanted all of Farnsworth's loot. Well, you might just get it. And you might be able to look like a guy again at some point, and even go back to phoning all those bleached blonds and dyed redheads whose numbers you have stored in your cellphone. You'd like to see them again, wouldn't you? To be your old dashing playboy self again?" "Of course I would. After this is all over." "Well, Millie, my girl, I wanted to do something nice for you. So I took your phone and made a few calls. Take a look at that park bench right up ahead. Recognize those two busty young things sitting there?" "It's... oh no. Deborah, you can't do this." "Can't do a favor for my dear brother? Nonsense. It was no trouble at all. Let's go and say hello to... What are their names?" Sounding stupefied, he said, barely audible, "That's Grace. And Amy. I think." Deborah took him by the hand and walked him right up in front of them. She said, "Hello Grace and Amy. I'm Deborah. You remember my calls. And how I told you Milton had volunteered for a sex adjustment experiment so he could get in touch with his feminine side? Well, believe it or not, this is him. Though he prefers to be called Millie now." The seated females squinted at the outrageous figure before them. They might not have believed it was really the man they used to date but then they took a close look at his face. Because Deborah intentionally didn't obscure his features with heavy cosmetics they were able to identify him. Both of their mouths fell open. After the initial shock passed, however, they stood up and approached him, smiles appearing on their pretty faces and growing wider, the nearer they got. "Well, Milton... I mean Millie," said Grace. "This explains why you were never any good in bed. I always thought it was just because you were a selfish jerk, but now I can see -- how could I miss it? -- that there was a woman inside you, waiting to show herself. And boy-oh-boy, is she showing." "Really," seconded Amy. "You were a selfish dud in the bedroom, despite a decent-sized dick. Your sex appeal was all in your fat wallet. And now look what you've done to yourself. It's sort of appropriate that a creep like you, who was more interested in my big boobs than he was in me, wound up making me look flat-chested." "Honestly," agreed Grace. "You loved to drool all over my knockers and now you're so top-heavy your milk-bags should have their own zip code." She laughed at her joke and then said, "And you look preggers. Have you got bread in the oven? Are those milk-sacks going to start lactating?" Milton turned to his sister in panic, his expression saying that she had to tell him he wasn't going to start producing milk. She answered with a lopsided smile that made him go cold inside. Ignoring his concerns, she turned to the girls. "Well, he was so eager to look like a woman that he went too far and in fact he IS carrying. His tummy is going to get a LOT bigger. And so are his udders, because they'll be filling up with milk." "Jeez," marveled Grace. "That's so freaky. I mean, he didn't do it with a guy, did he?" "No, no," Deborah assured her. "His prick has been replaced by a pussy. He got artificial insemination. His sex life these days is centered on him getting all worked up, but then he doesn't get to cross the finish line, if you know what I mean. The poor thing has to go around being so awfully horny. In fact, if you'd like to step over behind those bushes over there, back among the trees, I can give you a demonstration." Her brother's former bedmates were more than ready to do it. The four of them went to that hidden area. As they moved, the girls got a better view of Milton's girlish gait and how his figure undulated. He was grotesquely sexy, like a caricature of a hot woman, or a twisted adolescent's wet dream. His bust rode up and down with his steps, and his backside had a fluid non-stop roll, the overgrown buttocks rubbing against each other with every move forward. When they were out of sight of roving eyes, Deborah reached into her purse and took out a large tube like toothpaste might come in. Milton, unable to regulate his cravings, was almost to the bottom of his tub of edibles. He slurped down the final raw oyster, with everyone sickened by the grouping of his food choices, and the way he ate like there was no tomorrow. His sister made him drop the bucket into a trash receptacle and then stepped up to him and yanked the front of his top up and over his massive chest-warmers, so that they flopped out and gave an elastic bounce. Milton blushed vividly as all three women watched and were convulsed with laughter. "Now here's the deal," Deborah stated, holding the tube out to her sibling. "You have to take care of those nozzles on the ends of your pillow-tits, Millie. They'll start excreting milk early because of all the changes that are going on inside you, much earlier than in a normal pregnancy with a real woman. So you need to massage them with this special cream. Right now. Here. In front of us." He shook his head but she wasn't going to change her decree. With numb fingers he accepted the prescribed substance, opened the tube, and squeezed a heavy dollop onto one palm. Then he handed the tube back to his sister. Milton stood there for a moment before her critical gaze made him smear the cool pink cream over one impressive nipple and then the other. He took a deep breath as he touched them and was soon panting. His ex-girlfriends understood. He was arousing himself, without meaning to, and becoming more and more excited. His boobs jiggled as he halfway forgot he was on display, and drifted into a revelry of self-loving. He arched his back and tugged on his oversized breast ends. Slowly he sank to his knees, the short skirt he wore riding up his plump thighs, and began kneading both breasts with spirited abandon. Deborah supplied him with a generous second helping of cream and he lost all control, moaning and licking his lips. "Whoa," said Grace. "Looks like Milton's perfect partner for lovemaking is Millie." "It's true," agreed Amy. "He's come pretty far down from his former status as a showy playboy. Look at him go." There was plenty of giggling. One of the women mentioned again that he had always liked playing with her boobs. "But now he's in titty heaven," she went on. "This gives a whole new meaning to the term 'breast man'." He eased back and ended up stretched out on the ground, face up, unable to stop himself. The females kept watching, as he bent his knees and revealed that he had no panties -- and really had lost his penis. They couldn't stop marveling at and commenting on his overly womanish shape. Though he dimly heard them he still continued lavishing attention on his nipples, which made his hips squirm and buck. He groped for his female part but couldn't reach it with his massive body in the way. "So," said Amy. "The poor jerk really can't get off, can he?" "No," Deborah confirmed. "It's especially hellish for a male pig who is used to having his way with women. And the more frustrated he gets, the stronger his craving for fulfillment will become." "Ha," laughed Grace. "He went from being a male pig to a female cow." The amused sounds that followed that remark brought Milton out of his trance. He stared up at his audience and felt his face grow hot. When he attempted to get up he couldn't do it. Instead, he rolled from side to side, getting himself turned onto his belly and trying to rise from that position. With his knees under him and hands on the grass, he struggled halfway up, paused, and then succeeded in standing, his boobs bobbing up and down. He was a ridiculous sight and the women he had once used could now insult him with impunity. "Way to go, cow-girl." "Careful you don't smack yourself in the face with those udders." Deborah grinned and said, "I hope my Millie doesn't start sucking on her nipples. That would really be shameful." "And addictive," offered Grace. "Once she got started doing that, she would want to all the time. No matter how mortifying it was. Especially with people seeing her do it." The idea was too much for Milton to resist. He put his hands under one huge breast and brought it up, craning his head forward, pulling the warm orb closer, until the nipple was directly under his puckered lips. He didn't want to do it but the temptation was too extreme. He fastened his mouth on the overgrown nipple and sucked hard, feeling pleasure so strong that it almost made him swoon. He staggered and two of the women grabbed hold of his arms. Like a demented suckling animal he drew as much of the fat breast-end into his mouth as he could, sliding his tongue all over it as he continued suctioning. Why had Grace put that thought into his head? He could already tell that he would crave these new sensations all the time. But after he had thoroughly debased himself with his performance, and while he still yearned for much much more, his sister made him stop. Milton's former dates used their cellphones to take several 'selfies' with him before they finally left. Deborah told him it was time to visit Dr. Kent. When they got to her office he began to suck his other nipple with renewed urgency. The doctor was ready for this eventuality and produced a tall neck brace, which she clamped around Milton's neck, locking it in place, so that he couldn't bring his face down far enough to resume his self-pleasuring. The transformed man was close to tears, it was so upsetting to have to discontinue his newfound joy again. He begged to at least be able to rub himself there, so Deborah supplied him with more lotion and he went back to manipulating those easily stimulated nipples, doing both at once, all of his actions getting him impossibly hot but none of them bringing him all the way to release. He whimpered helplessly while Deborah clipped a leash to the collar and led him around while he continued to touch himself. The doctor finally cuffed his hands behind his back and told him that he needed to take a break from his 'self-abuse' before he made himself pass out. The women chatted about his progress while he moaned in frustration. About a half hour later each of them gave him several air kisses and blew into his ears. Then they toyed with his nipples until he was feeling faint. Milton experienced a sense of utter vulnerability. And then he noticed something. The skin on his belly felt extra tight. He put his hands on his midsection and found that it was wider than he remembered it being. There was a twinge in his lower back from the weight he was carrying. Milton understood. His pregnancy was advancing. He took a deep breath and looked beseechingly to his sister. She gave him a wicked smile. "What is it?" Deborah wanted to know. "Is our young mother beginning to really know how pregnant she is? Well, darling, that's going to get a lot more extreme. That's what happens when you're going to have a kid. Or rather, several kids." The next day Dr. Kent insisted on giving Milton a thorough examination, even having him get up on the table (with help from her and Deborah) and put his feet into the stirrups. It was excruciatingly shameful and, worse, when they told him it was done, he couldn't get down by himself. They left him there like a turtle on its back, while they chatted about how his babies would be adopted by loving lesbian couples. He hugged his big breasts and tried to rock himself forward so he could sit up, but the extra pounds he was carrying frustrated the effort. Finally they assisted him and he stood there feeling weepy, fighting back tears. Rita told him, "That's the hormones affecting you, darling. By now your body is producing them at an impressive rate. You certainly don't need anymore injections from me." In the weeks that followed, his breasts enlarged dramatically. During the walks Deborah took him on he became even more of a spectacle. Milton couldn't believe how exaggerated his curves had become and that they were still expanding. Deborah continued to find clothes for him to wear that drew even more attention to his outrageous contours. She got a body stocking which was made of extremely stretchy material. He could step into it and gradually work everything upward over his bulging body. It took him a long time to struggle into the clinging item but she never tired of watching him deal with it. His overlarge nipples began to feel funny and Dr. Kent explained that it was because his breasts were preparing to lactate. He didn't want to give milk like a mother and told her so. She laughed and said, "You won't be producing it the way a woman does. It will be more like a cow. Those udders of yours are certainly large enough." "B... but, after this is all over," he went on, "at least I'll return to normal. Right?" She gave him a quizzical look. "You mean get back to your playboy lifestyle? Be the devil-may-care man-about-town again? Well, I'd have to administer other drugs to achieve that. But it's not my decision. That will be up to your sister." He turned to Deborah with pleading eyes. "Please, Sis. You have to tell her to do it. I can't stay like this. It's... it's... just awful." "Oh, I don't know. I like you this way. And does the world really need one more arrogant guy throwing his money around and dumping women after he gets tired of them?" "It's not about that," he told her. "I don't care about my fortune. Being a guy again is more important." "It's not about your townhouse and car and investments? You'd be willing to sign everything over to me if I considered getting you changed back?" "I..." He hadn't thought it through all the way. Even so, being trapped in that impossible body was unthinkable. After the alterations were reversed he would find a way to regain his wealth and property, he told himself. "I'll do it," he said in his lightweight voice. "Whatever you want." "All right, then. It's a deal. I'll have the papers prepared and we can make it official in a few days. I'll even bring back those former dates of yours as witnesses. We can have another fun get-together." He honestly didn't want to see his exes once more but was in no position to bargain. Just the thought of being male again gave him deep relief. He mentally pictured himself with his former physique, body hair... and a penis and testicles. Everything else was secondary. His nipples gave another tingle, which was one more reminder that he had to return to normal. Several nights later his sister had those same two women over, along with three others. Dr. Kent was also there. Deborah made Milton demonstrate how he got into one of his body stockings, except that this one was made out of fishnet material. His soft pink flesh was pressed out through every one of the diamond-shaped openings and the visitors insisted on feeling it and even delivering a few mischievous pinches here and there while he yelped and jerked and jiggled. After that, while he was still distracted and confused, his sister had him sign a dozen legal documents. When it was all over he sat there with his eyes closed, shutting out the staring eyes of the women, thankful that he had won this compromised but necessary victory. To himself he whispered, "I can wait to be a man again." "What's that?" Deborah wanted to know. "Be a man again? Well, that hasn't been decided for sure, now has it?" "B... but you said you'd tell the doctor to do it if I gave you everything I own." "No. I said I would 'consider' telling her." Deborah rubbed her chin, pursed her lips, and creased her brow, all very theatrically. After a few seconds she said, "There. I considered it. And decided I really prefer you this way, Millie. You make such a lovely girl. And it's so much fun taking care of you. And I'll be endlessly happy knowing that you're penniless and will always be completely dependent on the kindness of others. What an interesting life you'll have after the little ones are born and placed with their adoptive parents." He was stunned. Her words couldn't be true. Yet he could tell from the smug expressions of Dr. Kent and his five past lovers that his fate had been sealed. He was absolutely trapped in his present form and would have to accept whatever life his now wealthy sister chose for him. His whirling mind tried to think of a way out and then, in a flash, it came to him. "I still get the inheritance," he blurted. "I couldn't have signed that over because it hasn't come to me yet." "That's true," interjected Dr. Kent. "Except that the terms of your dear uncle's will stated that you had to cooperate with me completely. And I feel that you just haven't done that. In fact, Deborah told me that you failed to apply your body lotion last Wednesday, so I'm going to have to tell the lawyers that your sweet sister gets every dollar, Farnsworth's property... all of it." Milton's lower lip trembled. Instead of sympathy, all the women showed a mixture of amusement and contempt. He saw any hope of using the inheritance to become male and reestablish his old habits vanishing. Now there truly was no way out for him. The visitors stayed a while longer, took some parting verbal shots at him, and were gone. Deborah and Rita shared a congratulatory hug and grinned at him in triumph. His sister decided, "We have to do something tomorrow to celebrate Millie's new future. How about if we... hmmm..." Her face lit up. "How about if we get her a couple of attractive, eye-catching tattoos?" Rita threw back her head and laughed. "That would be TOO perfect. One more change in her appearance and one more thing that she can't reverse. I love the way you think, Debbie." So, the following afternoon, they got Milton into the back of the doctor's car. Even though it was a large vehicle with a spacious interior, it was still a task for the transformed man to stuff himself inside. He felt like he was sitting on a pair of fat cushions and his belly was cumbersome, plus his breasts were riding higher and getting larger, so he felt totally possessed by them. They arrived in the middle of the city, in a hip neighborhood, and began to stroll. At a sidewalk ice cream parlor, the other women got single-dip cones and purchased a super-sundae for Milton, whose powerful appetite still surged without warning. He put on an embarrassing show as he sat on a too-small chair and emptied the bowl, followed by a second and third one. Then they walked to the tattoo shop, where he found that there were two artists waiting to ink him. He sat in a cushioned chair that his bottom spilled over the seat of, with a bearded guy on one side and a sexy woman on the other. Both of them, as might be expected, were generously decorated with skin art. The woman had multiple earrings and a lip piercing. The man's ears had plugs in their lobes and a shiny black stud protruded from one side of his nose. As they prepped their equipment, Deborah and Rita described what they wanted. "Up on her left arm," Milton's sister said, "she should have the words MILKY MOMMA. I want them in swirly script, very girly, with a string of daisies as a border." "And on the right one," Rita contributed, "give her a picture of a cow's head. But make it cartoony, with long eyelashes and puckered lips." She had bought a picture for reference, from an ad for an alternative type of milk. Everyone had a hearty chuckle at Milton's shocked wide-eyed reaction. He was too defeated to object and could only sniffle a bit. The upset man inhaled deeply, which made his bust rise and fall provocatively. His nipples picked that moment to become extra stiff and push out hard against the tube top he was wearing. The artists grinned with malicious glee and went to work. It was painful and Milton shamed himself further by whimpering and shedding a few tears. When they were done a hand mirror was brought over so he could see the permanent images in his skin. He sobbed and begged them not to add any more. "Mmm," said his sister. "I hadn't thought of that. Thanks for the idea, Millie. Maybe later we'll get one across the tops of both those monster boobies that says MILK FACTORY." "Or a tramp stamp," Rita offered. "It could say BOOTYLICIOUS or something like that. Maybe IT'S ALL ABOUT THE BASE." The two women giggled while the artists looked on, evilly hopeful that they'd get to work on that substantial epidermis again some time. The woman said she'd be happy to offer a discount for the opportunity. Milton felt disgraced to have the newly applied words and image on his flesh. His pregnancy went on without any complications, until his midsection had reached record dimensions. His breasts were like twin prizewinning watermelons. He had even added so much adipose to his butt that it was like a couple of beach balls. His face was softer and rounded, with the beginnings of a double chin. He waddled when he walked and yet some guys found him strangely sexy. He spotted repeat observers on his walks. Having them ogle him made his skin crawl. Deborah always made sure his tattoos were uncovered and when she noticed anyone eyeing them she would strike up a conversation, making a point to exclude her brother, as if he was more of an object than a person. Milton's breasts began to lactate freely. When he was on his walks there were always humiliating wet spots on the front of whatever top he was wearing, to announce his milk-giving. When he massaged lotion into the ends of his breasts it caused them to squirt and then dribble. Inside his belly he felt the unmistakable stirrings of life. Deborah found a T- shirt huge enough for him to wear (though it left the bottom of his swollen midsection peeking out) and paid to have the words BABIES ON BOARD written on it in bright pink letters. She told Milton not to worry about the cost because the money that used to be his was paying for it and everything else. She gave him a ride in the car he used to own and assured him that his old wardrobe had been given to the same thrift stores where she had found so many things for him to wear. She also liked to remind him that more of the same money was being spent for all those calories that were making his figure grow even larger. "Enjoy those cream pies, Millie. I used the final one of your old credit cards when I ordered them to be delivered, along with that sushi. The card will expire soon but with my new fortune I can afford to run up a few accounts of my own." For a full month Dr. Kent took samples of his milk for testing, without telling him why. At long last it came time for Milton to deliver. He went to Dr. Kent's private clinic, where he had an easy birth. Four of them, actually. Two girls and two boys. All of them were adopted by eager lesbian couples and taken away as soon as it was medically advisable. His belly remained very large but the doctor told him it would reduce gradually, though it would never return to its pre- motherhood size. His breasts continued to produce milk and he at last got up the courage to ask when that would stop. "Did I forget to tell you?" the doctor said. "Now that your body is producing so many hormones, they'll just continue to make that good rich milk indefinitely... or until I give them a certain treatment. But don't worry your pretty head about that, Millie. Just keep eating those spicy sausages on our plate. And all those donuts. And the pasta and vegetables. Great menu. You'll need to keep your weight up and put out lots of milk in your new occupation." His questioning look was answered by Deborah when she said, "Since you're dead broke, Millie, it's time for you to get a job. And we've found something that will be perfect for someone as unique as you. A super- sized BBW will have a special appeal to a certain, very specific type of clientele. They're a pretty liberal bunch when it comes to lifestyles, so it should be a good fit for a playboy -- correction... former playboy -- like yourself." "That's pretty funny," Rita commented. "Milton went from playboy to queen-size sexpot, with perpetually lactating breasts included in the deal. Lucky Millie." "Yeah, the playboy IS the BBW. Ha!" TWO WEEKS LATER. Milton was to be taken to a tropical island where there was a resort that catered to kinky customers in search of new thrills. Deborah and Rita stayed behind. After a short flight he was assisted into a town car and taken for a ride through several miles of exotic greenery. Soon they were cruising along parallel to white sand beaches. Following a long curved drive, the vehicle pulled up at the entrance of the main building. Milton saw several people, men and women, being led around on leashes. In the lobby there was one mostly nude man who had been given female curves, though not as dramatic as Milton's, who had his leash attached to a post. Interested parties went up to him for a few words and some free feels. Milton shuddered. An hour later he was at his new job. There was a bar inside the hotel and he was its main attraction. They had him on display, at the end of the bar, with his enormous boobs protruding through twin cut-outs in the tiny top he was wearing. His legs were held apart by an ankle spreader and cuffs, and he was naked from the waist down. The bartender was a dusky fellow with a ready smile. He had been told all about Millie and was able to answer questions for curious onlookers. Milton realized that he might never hear his male name used in this place. It was an odd thought. When anyone asked if they could touch those bodacious tatas, the bartender told them it was fine, so long as they didn't manhandle them. When the place filled up, the bartender suddenly announced 'Milking time'. He went to Milton, gripped one of his teats, and held a jar under it. With easy confidence he gave a few tugs and milk came shooting out, to be caught without missing a drop. The crowd loved it and rewarded the performance by slapping generous tips down on the bar. That happened several times -- about once an hour -- before someone special showed up. It was a tall Black man who declared that it was time for Millie to be walked. He fastened a collar around Milton's neck, removed the spreader bar, and led him out onto a winding path. Everyone they passed got a good look at those bobbing breasts and that wiggling wide bottom. Milton was hungry, so his new keeper stopped at a snack hut and ordered him enough food to feed a foursome, though it barely satisfied him. People watching the sight marveled at his unnaturally large appetite. He was given a long stroll before being returned to the bar, where a new crowd had formed. It was time for another milking and Milton watched in humiliation as another jar was filled. He noticed this time that the bartender was also also applied a label and popped into a mini-fridge, where the earlier ones waited. As the days passed, novel activities were introduced into Milton's schedule. He was walked with his arms bound behind him in a single leather sleeve, which forced his shoulders back and made his mammoth bust stand out even more prominently. Or he might be led around in a clinging rubber bondage suit, with his breasts jutting out through twin openings. Sometimes there was a pair of cow horns worn on his head, along with a cowbell hung from his collar. Back at the bar he became very familiar with one truly fiendish device. It was a converted artificial insemination tool from a cattle ranch. When it was fitted up inside his pussy he felt stuffed to the limit. That was bad enough but it had also had a three-speed vibrator put inside it. The bartender on duty, either the one he had met first or one of several others, had control over the wicked penetrator. They could start it slow and bring Milton to a mortifying state of constant arousal that never led to satisfaction. If the speed was increased he would put on a memorable performance of panting, rolling his eyes, and even drooling. When the crowd insisted (and contributed plenty of twenty dollar bills), the bartender would even go to the fastest setting, making Milton vibrate, moan, and gurgle, while he humped his wide hips uncontrollably. There was one more torment that especially scared him. The customers could make suggestions for further indignities to be visited upon the captive, and their ideas were all posted behind the bar on a message board for everyone to vote on. Several patrons suggested a name change for him, with possibilities like Elsie, Massive, Jumbo, and Super Jugs. Some of the other wishes were that he be given 'hoof hands', that he have a cow's tail grafted onto the base of his spine, that his walks should be on all fours, and that he be given a nose ring. He told himself that no one would act on what was written there, but then his keeper, Bart, showed up with a nose ring, clipped it between his nostrils so that two points bit painfully into his septum, and led him around by it for their afternoon walk. Afterwards the end of the lead was tied to the bar rail so that Milton had to remain turned around and bent forward, with his double-beach-ball ass shown off to the whole room. There was another contribution on the board the next day. Someone wanted to have his face made over to resemble the tattoo on his arm. He would have not only his freakish body, but that bizarre face with its cartoonish bovine features. To add to his worry, the person who desired that was rich enough to offer to pay for the facial make-over. That made Milton think back to his previous life, as a rich and carefree playboy. He had descended so far since then. As he stood at the end of the bar, with several patrons -- male and female -- eyeing his bust hungrily, two familiar figures entered. It was Deborah and Rita. They sat near him and ordered drinks. Deborah paid and tipped generously, holding up a fifty dollar bill so he could see it and telling the bartender in a clear voice that she didn't want any change. Milton cringed inwardly at the reminder of his lost fortune. The women toasted him with their drinks. His sister said, "We're here for a week, Millie. After the good reports we got, we had to see for ourselves. I'm sure you don't mind." "Besides that," Rita added, "I wanted to make sure they were milking you properly. Those jars you've been filling get sent to me. The hormones I can extract from your milk sell for huge amounts. They enable men to give themselves boobs and nice round bottoms, and even pussies if they want them, for a fraction of what surgery would cost. You're making me plenty of money, Millie." To the bartender, Deborah said, "I've heard you have a kind of vibrator wedged into Bossy the Cow's girly bits." She slapped a ten on the bar. "Could you turn it on for us?" A twenty joined the ten. "And use all three settings. But there's no hurry. You can turn it up and down and then back up. We've got plenty of time to enjoy the show." To Milton she said, "Isn't that right, Millie?" Several other drinkers added to the tip. Rita even contributed while grinning nastily at Milton. The device was turned on and he felt a surge of erotic energy course through his loins and travel to his nipples. The bartender scooped up the bills and tucked them away. The vibrator would probably be in use for the next hour, after such generous tips. And it would be changing speeds over and over, to make the effect as tormenting and shame- provoking as possible. The guys behind the bar had gotten quite proficient at regulating it. Milton knew that his sister and the doctor were going to see him being totally mortified. His nipples had become rigid. He trembled with need. Every erogenous zone in his body tingled and it was going to get more and more intense. He threw back his head and let out a mournful sound. Someone not seeing that it came from a person might have mistaken it for the mooing of a cow in heat who wished for a bull to find her. THE END