Disclaimer: This is an adult story. It deals with adult themes and adult situations. That makes it pretty cool but not everyone should read it. If you are one of those people that shouldn’t read it, please don’t. Go on; don’t ruin it for the rest of us, okay? Go have fun. There are other things to do besides read things you’re not supposed to. Okay. For the rest of us, on with the show.

Teresa’s Tits
As Told to IowaGuy

	My name is Teresa. That’s about all you’ll get from me on that. I’ll tell you my story, and you can look online for my pics, they’re out there, but I’m not going to have you looking for me in real life. I have a condition. Now most people with this condition don’t like it. I’ve never been like other people, though. I’m like all of you. I love my condition, and I hope it never goes away.
	I have virginal breast hypertrophy. Yes, it is real. And that’s not all it’s called. It’s got other names, including menarchal hypertrophy of the breast, and adolescent hypertrophy of the breast, but basically, what it means is big, giant tits. Currently, I stand at 5’ 2” in height, and I weigh 250 pounds. I have very long, thick shiny red hair (natural, thank you), and have bright green eyes. I’m told (by IowaGuy and others) that I am not too hard on the eyes, and that my ass is pretty nice as well. Now, I’m not going to ruin the story by telling you just now how big I am, you’ll have to wait for that, but I’ll let you know, it’s big.
	It started when I was 8. I woke up one day and had lumps on my chest. Not big, but noticeable. I wondered at it, briefly, for a few weeks, until my breasts started showing through shirts and my mother noticed. It progressed rapidly from there. By the time I was 11 years old I wore an F cup. Custom made F cup bras from the closest boutique in Des Moines. It was the only place I could go to get them. They were $50 a piece, and my mom was starting to worry. So, off to the doctor I went. The doctor’s office was a magical place for me… gave me the first inklings that maybe these things might be fun.
	A lot of people stared at me. Some people would be bothered like this. I’ve got some chesty friends (no where near as buxom as myself) who HATE their breasts. Sure, they’re heavy, God are they heavy! And sometimes a nuisance… but the attention is wonderful! Grown men stared at me. They noticed me, watched me, some even tripped into walls looking at me. It took me by surprise, of course, and I didn’t put two and two together right off, but by and long, after a battery of tests, pokes, prods, and travels through the Children’s Medical Center at the University of Iowa (my mom doesn’t go half way) I started to understand. These heavy orbs had power. They made me different. They made me special. Maybe not better, but definitely special. Finally, the tests revealed, of course, my malady. Did you know they have pamphlets for this? Looking back, I’m actually a bit surprised. I mean, it’s really a rare thing to have. I believe my doctor said it’s like 1 in 100,000 women who have this condition, and yet, here they were giving me a ready made pamphlet with this sad looking girl who had breasts that were big, but smaller than mine at the time. “Dealing With VBH”. On a side note, I’ve always wondered if men can get a similar condition and what it might be called. Dreaming of having a monster big enough to slide through these wonders has gotten me over the edge on more than one occasion, but I digress.  
	“You’re breasts are sensitive to hormone levels in your body,” the doctor explained. “That means that your breasts will grow for a very long time, even after you’re done with puberty. You’ll have to hope for a normal period, because birth control will only make things worse.”
	Everyone was worried about me. I was going to have freakishly large breasts and it could hurt my self-esteem and get me into trouble, “at risk youth”, blah blah blah. I was just thrilled. I loved my breasts. I noticed how nice it felt when I washed them, and how sometimes I felt really warm and tingly pulling my bras up over the big nipples. I just sat and listened patiently, thinking how fun it was going to be in the years to come.
	I’ll save you the boring stuff for now, and jump ahead. Things went pretty normally in high school. I always, easily, had the biggest tits in class. Yes, I got teased and labeled, but I didn’t mind at all. I really enjoyed my breasts. To me they were a sign of womanhood, of beauty, and one hell of a major erogenous zone. Something of particular interest happened when I was 16. I stood 4’ 10”, that’s 58 inches tall. Now, I’m a little on the chunky side. It’s hard to exercise when you’ve got whoppers like mine bouncing around, so my rib cage measured 44 inches around. My bust was then a staggering 80 inches. At this point, I stopped looking at my bra sizes. They didn’t matter much anymore. When you’ve got and 80-inch bust your bra size is just “huge”. 
	Now, this incident I mentioned happened at my girlfriend’s house. Her name was Cindy. We were childhood friends and just sort of stayed together all through school. Cindy, was then as she is now, cute and busty. She was always pretty athletic and skinny, and much taller than me. She shot up to 6’ 3” during school, towering over me. But her breasts stopped at a 38 DD. Blond, strong, tanned and toned. Cindy was a prize to be won by the best of the best. But, of course, no one could win her. She was always talking about my breasts, just fascinated with them, and it wasn’t a surprise to me when she came out on her 18th birthday. Anyway, it was a Saturday night, and we were talking about boys and school and, of course, my boobs. 
	“How big are they now?” she asked.
	“Really big. I measured 80 inches around at my last fitting, but that was about a month ago. They’re probably around 82 or 83 inches by now.”
	She just whistled, shaking her head and looking at her own boobs. Now, while they were small by comparison, they were still a nice hefty 36 D at the time. Nothing to be ashamed of, by any means. 
	“I still don’t understand. I thought you said your period affected them. Why don’t you go on birth control to even it out?”
	Hope doesn’t always win out and I did, indeed, have an odd period. It wasn’t very regular, coming around every 40 to 50 days. It lasted the normal time, but was extraordinarily strong because of its unusual timing. In fact, that’s probably the worst part about me still. I get quite emotional (crying at, like, long distance commercials, or if I’m out of soda in the morning) and pretty sick. It’s difficult for me to move for about two days while I’m on my period. But, because of all the extra hormones, my breasts apparently grow faster than they normally would have if I had a regular period. 
	“Well, as messed up as my period is,” I explained to Cyndi, “apparently, it would be worse for me if I did go on birth control. The doc says my breasts are sensitive to hormones and birth control messes with my hormones.” I shrugged. I didn’t get it much. Didn’t care really. It’s sort of that, not really needing to know. You know not to put oil in your gas tank. You might not know why, but you don’t really need to know to keep your car running. 
	“So, they’d grow faster if you were on the pill?” she asked, eyes wide and locked on the thumb-sized nipples poking through my shirt. I nodded. She shook her head in disbelief, then, gently reached over and rubbed a nipple. It shot straight to my cunny (yeah, I call it a cunny. You got a better word?) and I jumped. 
	“What are you doing?!” I demanded, blushing and giggling a bit. She bit her lip.
	“I wanna touch ‘em… they look so soft…..”
	I was completely flabbergasted. I knew a few boys wanted to play with my boobs. Hell, I liked playing with them, but all the girls had always hated my tits! They were jealous or freaked out by them and wanted nothing to do with them at all. They most assuredly didn’t want to touch them. But, it had felt really good when she tweaked my nipple. REALLY good. The bigger my breasts got, the better they felt. I stared at Cindy for a few moments. She was really pretty, and I’d never noticed it before. Those big, blue eyes of hers staring greedily at my breasts… I’d never really looked at her in anyway but a friend before. But now, now something was different somehow. I watched her for a moment, then, I slowly began to take off my shirt. She gulped, I’m not sure why, cause we’d been topless, even naked together before, on several occasions. I made a big production out of taking my shirt off, taking one button at a time, very slowly, pushing my chest out as far as I could, straining the buttons… and I made sure that the simplest of movements made my boobs bounce and roll around a bit. Eventually, I got the shirt off; the first line of defense against sagging. My breasts settled gently in my lap, taking up most of the space to my knees. 
	“I’ve got 8 clasps on the back of this thing. Wanna give me a hand?” I asked innocently. Cyndi jumped up, her own breasts bouncing in her shirt as she did. Her breasts had never meant much of anything to me before, but whatever was in the air that night made them seem attractive, alluring, and I felt that tingle down there again. Her hands were soft, and kind of sweaty as she fumbled with my clasps. It was really pretty funny to me, but I suppressed a laugh as she worked. Eventually, I felt gravity really take over and my knockers spread out, bobbed down closer to my knees. I took the bra off and threw it unceremoniously to the floor, then turned around on the bed to face my friend. She just stared at them for a moment. I was nervous. I didn’t really understand what was happening. 
	“Well,” I urged her softly, suddenly wanting this. “Go on.”
	Cindy moved slowly towards my boobs, and tentatively, stuck her tongue out, started licking my nipple. It responded by getting even bigger, a feat I thought impossible. My nipples were always very big, and now it stood out like a shot glass on the end of my breast, and it throbbed erotic sensations through me. I moaned lightly, and she licked again. I moaned once more. She put her mouth around it and sucked. I gasped, moaned, and jumped a bit as the sensations increased. I felt soooooooooooo good. She continued to suck on the first nipple, and then reached over and started twisting and pulling on the other. It was wonderful, incredible, astounding! I bucked and moaned and twitched as she played, and it only made her play harder, biting my nipple now, really twisting the other one around. After about five minutes of this, I let out a yelp and pulled back, blushing and furthering the flush that was already on my face. 
	“What?” Cindy asked, looking surprised. “Did I bite too hard?”
	I shook my head, breathing hard, unable to say much of anything. Cindy stared at me, clutching at my breasts poorly, trying to keep them to myself. She looked confused, then an evil smile spread over her face. She crawled forward like a panther ready to pounce… and she moved my hand from my breast, and bit my nipple, hard. As you may have surmised, the first round of breast play had made me orgasm, quite unexpectedly. This attack, made me cum again. I screamed a bit, hoping her parents wouldn’t hear me, and Cindy’s smile widened. I begged her to stop, though I didn’t really want her to, and it only seemed to drive her further. Soon, I was lost in a sea of sensations I had never known before. After another ten minutes, I could barely move, and I lost count of how many times she got me off. Finally, she let up, and I sat there, dazed, glazed and happy. She wiped her mouth, smiling at me, and she was flushed. I watched her, confused, until I realized that she had cum a few times playing with me. My eyes got really big as I realized, and she blushed further, biting her lip and smiling a bit, nodding.
	Now, maybe there was a full moon that night. Maybe it was getting closer to that time of the month for me… but seeing her like that, seeing how I affected her made something inside me snap. I was tired, but happy, and warm, and most satisfied, but a thought occurred to me. I reached around my great mamm… I grabbed it with both hands, and began to maneuver it, bringing the nipple ever closer to my mouth, keeping an eye on Cindy’s face the whole time. She stared at me, jaw dropped as I put my big fat nipple in my mouth, something I’d never done before. It felt really good. I let out a kittenish moan as I sucked, and Cindy moved forward to grab my other tit. I thrust my foot out, shaking my head and pushing her back. She looked crestfallen as I sucked, harder and harder on my nipple. Pretty soon my kittenish moans were real, and I felt another orgasm nearing. I wanted to play with my other nipple, of course, but it took both hands to keep my massive boob up to my mouth. I didn’t watch Cindy anymore. My eyes closed and I moaned around my nipple as, once more, I exploded. I breathed for a bit, then looked at Cindy, who brushed her hair back out of her eyes, trembling. It worked! She had cum again as well! We rested for a bit, in a soft, happy silence, then got into our PJ’s (a difficult experience that left me on the floor in one final orgasm) and went to sleep. It was not the last time we played with each other. In fact, it would become a regular occurrence. We went further each time, exploring each others bodies, finding ways to heighten our orgasms, make them more intense, last longer, happen faster… and in fact, we dated for a small time. But, we just weren’t meant to be. She understood, of course… I liked dick. I really did. I’d only seen a few, but I dreamed of having big, manly hands treat my boobs the way they needed to be, to have a hard, stiff cock buried between them, to feel cum shoot on them (one of my FAVORITE sensations). But things wouldn’t get interesting until I was 17….