When you just, don't feel like writing.

Disclaimer: If you SHOULD NOT be reading this story ó DON'T!!!

I couldn't put my finger on when it happened. But it did. I just stopped caring about writing BE. I just stopped writing it all together.

And who was to blame? Me. It was me that perversely hated writing, while at the same time doing it. It was me that was unable to put my heart into my art. And it was me that gave up.

As I walked home, those were the thoughts on my mind. However, they weren't the only ones. I, also, was thinking about Jodi, my best friend. I treated her like shit, when she was nothing but supporting.

We were hanging out, walking, an activity that benefited me a lot more than Jodi. I was trying to lose some weight; Jodi needed to gain some. My tall, thin brunette friend was totally devoid of curves.

We were small-talking aimlessly, when Jodi asked: "So, when's the next story?"

Just like that, she asked it, giving me no warning whatsoever. I tried ignoring her.

"Anthony?" she asked.

She knew this was a sore spot with me. "There's not going to be anymore stories."

"Why not?" she asked in a voice of bewilderment.

"I'm done with that."

"You're done with that," she said with a laugh. "You, Anthony Bass, are done with breasts? Big, beautiful breasts ... You're done with that?"

"Well, I'm done writing about them," I said, annoyed. "This doesn't concern you."

"What do you mean this doesn't concern me?"

"I write the stories. You don't. Therefore, if I decide not to write them anymore, it's totally, completely, my decision. You don't have any say in the matter."

"Oh, I don't have any say," she said.

"That's right."

"You're right ... I don't write the stories. However, I've read them all and given you advice on how to make them better. Hell, I've even typed them. I'm probably your biggest fan, Anthony. So, you're wrong, I think I have plenty of say in the matter."

"My biggest fan? What are you smoking? Crack?"

I happened to look at Jodi, the moment the word "crack" escaped my lips and I couldn't believe the look of hurt on her face. I felt like shit. However, I had already started and couldn't seem to stop. So, I continued...

"What kind of girl likes BE, anyway?"

"The kind like me," she said simply.

"But you're not a lesbian," I said.

"No."

"And yet you're my biggest fan?"

"I am," she said.

"But it makes no sense."

"Does it have to?" she asked.

Then it hit me. I had an epiphany, a psychological revelation.

"You know, Jodi, with your build, you'd make a great protagonist in a BE story."

"Don't go there, Anthony," she warned.

"No, I'm serious. I can't believe I didn't think about it sooner. Look at you. You look like Olive Oyl from Popeye. You're tall, lanky, and flat-chested. Hell, you even have Olive Oyl's big feet."

"Anthony, stop."

"I should've seen it sooner. No wonder you're my biggest fan. I bet you wish that one day you'll be BE'd. Well, Jodi, it's not going to happen. Not in the real world, it ain't. There's no magic here. There's no magic bras, potions, or anything. You'll always be flat, Jodi. Always."

"Anthony ... how could you?" she said, and ran off.

I should have run after her, but I didn't. I rationalized that since she wasn't flat out crying (I only saw an emerging tear or two), Jodi was just being overly dramatic. But who was I kidding? I was the one at fault, not Jodi.

When I got home, I called her to apologize.

"Jodi," I began when she answered the phone.

"Look, Anthony," she said cutting me off, "I don't really feel like talking to you right now. You said some really hurtful things to me."

"But, Jodi..."

"You're hopeless, Anthony," she said. "You know that?"

Jodi hung up.

Listening to the dial tone, I thought instantly about calling her back. However, Jodi was right. I did say some really crappy stuff. I could understand if she never wanted to speak to me again.

So, that was that.

I was no longer a BE writer and I no longer had my friendship with Jodi. That is, until a week later.

I was at home watching TV, when I heard a knock on my door. Guess who.

She was standing in front of my doorway dressed in a large yellow raincoat and bedroom slippers. I looked her up and down, not knowing what was going on.

"Jodi, I'm really sorry for what I said. I didn't mean to take my anger out on you. Believe me, you're my best friend. Hell, you're my only friend. I'm really sorry. Believe me," I babbled.

"Are you going to let me in?" she asked, snapping me out of my mindlessness.

"Uh, sure, Jodi," I said ushering her in my living room. "What's going on?"

"Isn't it obvious?" she asked me.

"Isn't what obvious?" I asked her. "What's going on?"

"Look at me."

I did as she asked, taking in the raincoat and slippers once more.

"Okay, you're wearing a raincoat and bedroom slippers. So what?"

"It's not what I'm wearing, Anthony, but what I'm not wearing," she said cryptically.

"So, what are you not wearing?"

"Guess."

"Jodi," I said, annoyed.

"Come on, Anthony, guess what I'm not wearing."

"I don't know. And you know how I hate guessing games; I don't know what you're not wearing."

"You're no fun, you know that. You're no fun at all."

"Of course, I know I'm no fun. You only tell me that a hundred times a day," I said sarcastically.

"Well, the answer's clothes," Jodi said.

"What are you talking about?"

"Boy, Anthony, you can be pretty dense sometimes."

Who's she calling dense? That's what I was going to ask her when she suddenly grabbed my remote and turned off the TV.

"Hey..." I started to say.

"...Is for horses," she said, cutting me off. "And your TV watching has obviously rotted your brain."

"Jodi..."

"Shh," she said firmly. "Now as I was saying ó clothes is the answer. The question, of course, being: What am I not wearing underneath this raincoat?"

"You're not wearing any clothes," I blurted out.

"That would be correct."

"But why aren't you wearing any clothes?"

I couldn't believe that question came out of my mouth. I had a naked ó well, almost naked woman ó standing before me, and I was asking why she wasn't wearing clothes. Dumb, Anthony, really dumb. But this wasn't just any girl, this was Jodi, my best friend. Emphasis on the word, friend.

That's all we were ó friends ó never lovers nor fuck buddies. In all the time, I've known Jodi, she's always been like my sister. Hell, I never once thought of Jodi in the buff. However, if she was telling the truth, she was now wearing nothing but a raincoat and slippers.

"Why aren't you wearing clothes?" I asked again.

"I want you to write a BE story."

"You want me to write a BE story?" I said, totally confused.

"Yes."

"I don't do that anymore, remember? And even if I did write BE stories, I don't see what your being naked has to do with it."

"You will."

"Jodi..." I started.

Jodi wasn't in a talking mood. She grabbed me by the hand and pulled me in my bedroom.

Now as sisterly as Jodi was to me, she was still a woman and I was still a man. Therefore, when she pulled me in my bedroom, of course, I thought she was going to throw me down and make passionate love to me. I mean, what guy wouldn't think that? Well, it didn't happen.

Instead, Jodi led me to my computer. Yeah, my writing studio and bedroom are one and the same. It works for me, or at least it did when I still wrote BE stories. You wake up, see that monitor-keyboard combo staring you in the face, and you have to write. So says a guy who averaged four stories a year. Okay, it worked better in theory than reality, but that's my story and I'm sticking to it.

"What's going on, Jodi?" I asked her.

"You're going to write a BE story starring me."

"A BE story starring you?"

"Yes, Anthony."

And that was that. Judging by the tone of her voice, I would be writing a BE story starring her. There was no doubt whatsoever on Jodi's part.

"Uh, Jodi," I said. "How do you want me to start this?"

"Well, Anthony, you can start by turning on your computer and accessing your word processing program."

"Uh, OK," I said, doing exactly what she said. "Now what?"

"Well, since the story is about me, how about describing how I came over to your house one night unannounced wearing nothing but a raincoat and house shoes."

"But, what's your character's motivation? What plausible reason would you have to come over dressed like that? You know I strive for realism in even my most fantastical BE stor..."

"Anthony," she yelled, cutting me off, "It doesn't matter. You are writing a BE story, not the Great American Novel. No one cares. They figure I just want to get laid."

"Laid? Yeah, sex. That works as a great motivation," I said, typing. "By the way, that's not why you came over, is it? To get laid, is it?"

"Keep writing, Anthony," she said, ignoring my question. Hey, I had to ask, right.

"Okay," I said awhile later, "I have you coming over in a raincoat and slippers dragging me ó uh, the male lead ó into the bedroom. Now what?"

"Well, you ó uh, I mean the male lead," Jodi said with a wink, "wants to have sex, but the protagonist is suddenly shy."

"Jodi," I roared. "That doesn't make any sense."

"I beg your pardon."

"The reader is suppose to believe that this woman, strongly motivated by sex, drives who knows how many miles ó wearing nothing but a raincoat, house shoes, and a smile ó is suddenly shy."

"Yes," Jodi said.

"But it makes no sense. She wants to get laid, but when the male lead wants to have sex with her, she's suddenly shy. What is she shy about?"

"Anthony, it's a BE story. What do you think she's shy about? She's shy because she's afraid that her breasts are too small for you ... I mean, the male lead."

"Oh," I said, her words making an impact on me.

"Sheesh, what kind of BE writer are you?"

"Well, I'm..."

"Just write, Anthony. Please, just write."

I wrote what Jodi told me; then I turned to her.

"Okay, she's shy. She wants to have sex, but she's worried about her breasts. How is the male lead going to get her un-shy?"

"Growth formula," Jodi said in a barely audible voice.

"What?"

"Growth formula. He gives her some growth formula."

"Good idea, but where is the male lead going to suddenly get some growth formula from?"

"He has some in his top drawer."

"There's that reality factor, again," I said, lecturing Jodi. "The readers are suppose to believe this guy has growth formula in his top drawer. That he keeps it there, awaiting any small-breasted stranger in the night who decides to pay him a visit."

"Yep."

"That's bullshit, Jodi, and you know it. Guys don't keep growth formula in their top drawers like they do underwear and socks."

"You do."

"What?"

"Anthony, in your top drawer, you have some growth formula."

"Bullshit."

"Go look, then," Jodi said in a matter-of-fact manner.

I looked at Jodi for a moment. Then I went to my top drawer and sure enough, in the center of my drawer, resting on top of my rolled tube-socks, was a glass bottle with a stickered label that said: "Growth Formula".

Looking at the label, I noticed some small print beneath the name. Squinting, I could barely make out the growth formula's manufacturer. It looked like St Catherine's or something. Hmm, a religious order making "Growth Formula", that seemed odd. Scrutinizing the label even harder, I noticed even smaller print.

Obtaining my magnifying glass ó yeah, I have a magnifying glass, doesn't everyone? ó I read the small print. It said: "Always read the label".

"What the hell is this?" I yelled.

"Growth formula, silly," Jodi said, taking the bottle from my grasp.

"But where did it come from?" I asked.

"Your imagination."

"What?"

"Write, Anthony, write," she said, her finger directing me back to my computer.

I wrote that the male lead went to his top drawer and got some growth formula. I wrote the Jodi character accepted the stuff in disbelief. She wondered why in the world she should drink this growth formula stuff.

"Hey, Jodi, why would the character based off you drink some unknown chemical?" I asked. Hey, the fictional Jodi wasn't the only one wondering.

"The male lead will say anything it takes to calm her nerves. Anything to win her trust. Okay? Just write that she was nervous, but he made her feel comfortable. We'll fill-in the rest when we do the rewrite."

"Rewrites?" I said in a distasteful tone of voice. "I never do any rewrites. All my other BE stories were first drafts."

"Well, that was then and this is now. Now, you're going to do a rewrite, okay?"

"What if I don't want to do a rewrite?"

"Anthony, just write."

"Okay, your character's comfortable. Now what?"

"Now, I do this."

With those words, Jodi raised the bottle skyward and downed the entire contents of the growth formula.

"Jodi, what are you doing? What did you just drink? Why did you drink the whole bottle?" I babbled.

"Calm down, Anthony," Jodi began. "I drunk the growth formula and now..."

Her words stopped. It seemed that Jodi was incapable of speech. A first if ever there was one. However, seriously, she wasn't looking too good.

"Are you okay?" I asked her.

"Anthony," she said with some effort.

"Jodi..."

"Anthony," she moaned. "I've ... I've never felt better."

"What?"

"I feel so good."

"You ... you do?"

"Yes," she said. "Write it down for me."

I looked at Jodi in a confused manner. I didn't know what was going on. However, if she said she was feeling good, I figured I had to take her word for it.

I wrote down all that had happened with her downing the growth formula and me wondering if maybe she overdosed.

I looked up from my writing and noticed Jodi. She looked like she was on the verge of having an orgasm. Hmm, I never knew Jodi was such a good actress. But, to me, that's all this was: An act. I mean, I appreciated what she was trying to do. And I had to admit that I had at least started a BE story, which was something I hadn't done in awhile. However, knowing this was nothing but an act rather disappointed me. In a real BE story, Jodi would be growing breasts.

I told her this.

Jodi didn't seem to hear me. If I didn't know any better I would've sworn she was really having an orgasm. Of course, since I never saw Jodi having an orgasm before, what did I know? I was about to voice my thoughts, again, when Jodi squeaked:

"How do you know I'm not growing breasts?"

I laughed at Jodi's words. "Of course, you're not growing breasts, Jodi. If you were that would mean the growth formula you drunk was real."

"You mean like these," Jodi said, suddenly parting the top of her raincoat, revealing to me what looked like small B-cup sized breasts.

"Uh-huh, Jodi, where did you get those?" I asked, barely getting the words out.

"From the growth formula, silly," she said.

"But that's impossible," I said.

"Well, impossible or not, Anthony, write it down," she panted.

"But ... but ... but..."

"Write-write-write," she mimicked.

I did as she said.

Boy, this was too weird. However, I did see flat-chested Jodi with B-cup breasts. Where did they come from? Hmm, maybe it's a hormonal thing or something.

I was just about to ask when I glanced at her raincoat. It was bulging out in a noticeable fashion. Jodi wasn't a B-cup any more.

"Jodi, what's going...?"

"No more questions, Anthony, okay?" she said, cutting me off. "From now on, I want you to write what you see. Okay?"

"Okay," I said. Returning to my computer, I angled my chair in such a way that I could type and view Jodi almost at the same time.

My eyes locked on her raincoat, the top of which continued to expand. Every time I looked up from my monitor I could have sworn Jodi had grown another cup-size.

I tried to do more than describe Jodi's measurements. I tried to describe her pleasurable state. The moans coming from her mouth. The sexiness she emitted. However, I was afraid, my skills as a writer weren't up to the task.

I didn't want to miss a second of what was happening and yet I wanted to ó needed to ó document everything as well. Therefore I looked at Jodi. I looked at my monitor. In a rapid, back-and-forth manner, I did this until I heard a crackling sound coming from Jodi's raincoat. I looked and saw the buttons undoing themselves, forced by Jodi's burgeoning growth.

"Jodi, your ... your breasts!" I yelled.

Anthony, keep writing," she said.

I did. I wrote how the raincoat and the female lead's breasts were engaged in battle, a battle the raincoat didn't have a chance of winning.

I looked up at Jodi, seeing her try to keep the raincoat closed. It was an exercise in futility. There was no way something as small as that raincoat was going to cover her new endowments.

"Give it up, Jodi," I said. "There's no way that raincoat can cover up those new tits of yours."

"I know," Jodi said sheepishly, "but I feel kind of embarrassed. I'm not really the exhibitionist type, you know?"

"Well, then, you should have either worn clothes under that raincoat of yours or not consumed a whole bottle of growth formula."

"Touché," Jodi said. "Well, Anthony, could you like ... turn around then?"

"No," I said.

"Uh, why not?"

"'Cause then I won't be able to write what I see," I said, knowing there was no way in hell, I was going to miss the unveiling of Jodi's new tits. "That is what you wanted me to do, right? Write what I see?"

Jodi sighed. "You're right. Talk about my words coming back to haunt me."

She said this last part with a smile.

I watched as she shifted the raincoat. She was trying her best to cover what was now impossible to cover. It was so erotic. Without knowing, or maybe she did know, Jodi was teasing me in a manner worthy of the best strippers in the business. I felt more erect than I'd ever done in my life. My hands worked their way inside my pants. My initial instinct was to adjust myself, to work my dick into what I hoped was a more comfortable position. However, once my hands had encircled my manhood, they refused to leave.

Jodi saw this prelude to masturbation and smiled. It wasn't every day that a guy got so hard over her that he had to adjust his dick. But then, it wasn't every day that Jodi's tits outgrew her raincoat, either.

"I don't hear you typing, Anthony," she said.

Jodi's words weren't penetrating my consciousness. She was standing in front of me completely nude. The raincoat lying on the floor behind her. All I could see and think of were her tits. They were so big, completely blocking the rest of Jodi's figure. They were everywhere, a literal wall of tit.

"Anthony," she called. "Anthony?"

I couldn't respond. I had tits-on-the-brain. Tits coming closer, walking towards me, getting nearer.

A part of my brain detected a noise. It sounded like someone calling my name. I ignored it. I had to. I was too fixated on the wall of tits getting closer and closer.

I stared at the tits closing in on me, looking like the proverbial deer in headlights. I couldn't move. I didn't want to move. If they smothered me, I would die a happy man, I thought as the tits got closer and closer. Close enough to touch. Close enough to suck. Close enough to...

SMACK!

I felt the sting on my right cheek. Rubbing it, I looked up and could barely make out Jodi's smiling face.

With a wagging finger, she again reminded me that I wasn't writing.

"Oww, Jodi," I said, still rubbing my cheek. "What you slap me for?"

"Because you weren't responding to your name," she said matter-of-factly.

I was going to say something. I really was. However, I couldn't speak. I had just saw what slapped me. And, it wasn't Jodi's hand.

I had been tit-slapped.

Rubbing my cheek, I replayed in my mind what had just happened. I saw Jodi's left tit, huge and firm, swinging towards me in a lazy arc. I felt my unsuspecting cheek as it made contact with soft, pliable tit-flesh. And I cherished something soft and springy; something that could only be Jodi's nipple. Jodi's more-than-an-inch, thumb-thick, you-can-have-a-lick nipple.

"Are you all right, Anthony?" Jodi said, taking my mind off her nipple.

"Sure," I said, finally finding my voice. "I'm fine."

Going back to the keyboard before Jodi could say anything, I took a moment and tried getting my mind back on writing. It wasn't easy. Jodi's tits ó her big, wonderful, newly grown tits ó still occupied my attention. I could feel myself becoming obsessed. Tit-question after tit-question popped into my head.

That must be why I suddenly blurted out: "How big are those fuckers?"

Jodi looked at me as if I was crazy. In my defense, at that moment, I probably was. I was worried I had crossed the line. Fortunately, Jodi didn't think so, as she replied: "I don't know. You're the breast-man around here, don't you know?"

"Well, not really," I said, embarrassed, feeling like I was letting down breast men everywhere. "For ti ... uh, breasts your size, I probably need a tape measure or something."

"Well, then reach into your top drawer and pull out one," Jodi said as if she was stating the most normal thing in the world.

"I don't have a tape measure," I replied. "And even if I did, I doubt I would have one big enough to measure those ... those..."

"Tits," Jodi supplied.

"Uh, yeah, tits of yours," I said, feeling that if Jodi could call them tits then I could too.

"Check your top drawer, Anthony."

I was going to question Jodi. However, at this point, after all the weird stuff that had happened, why bother?

I walked back to my top drawer. Yeah, the same drawer where I retrieved the growth formula. I didn't remember seeing a tape measure in it, which I figured I probably should've when I got the growth formula. But, hey, if a woman with the biggest tits I've ever seen wanted me to check my top drawer for a tape measure, I wasn't going to argue. I'd just humor her.

"See, there's nothing here..." I started to say before I even opened the drawer. However, the moment the drawer opened there it was. A large plastic tape measure. Yellow with black lettering. As I pulled it out of my drawer, however, I realized that 'large' was an understatement. The thing was humongous.

"Where did this come from?" I asked in disbelief.

"Don't be silly, Anthony," she said. "In BE stories, everyone keeps giant tape measures in their top drawers."

"Uh..."

"Now get over here and measure my tits," she ordered. "I don't have all night."

I walked over to her, tape measure in tow. "I'm going to need your help, Jodi, I said stringing the tape measure around her breasts.

"Well, of course you will. For starters, you don't start immediately at the breasts."

"I don't?" I said stupidly.

"No," Jodi said. "You have to measure my hips and waist. You do actually read BE stories, don't you? Or are you just one of those guys who cuts to the good parts and starts jerking off?"

I ignored her comments, feeling that any response I gave her would peg me instantly as one of those guys who actually did cut to the good parts and start jerking off. Not all the time, of course...

I measured her hips and waist, getting a 35 for the former and a 22 for the latter. I told Jodi the figures and she seemed pleased.

"Now measure my tits," she said with a surprising eagerness, I could tell Jodi wanted to know how big her tits were just as much as I did.

I walked over to Jodi, again with tape measure in tow, and started stringing it around her back. I got the tape under her breasts and around her ribcage and got a measurement of 26. I mentally added 6 to the number and told Jodi the measurement was 32. Having helped me on as many BE stories as she did, she knew what the number represented.

"Now, for my cup-size," she said enthusiastically and started cupping her breasts to the best of her ability. Together, we were able to get the tape around her enormous tits. I struggled to read the number. I worked the tape until finally I was able to read a number of 63.

I told Jodi the number and I could see her trying to work out what the measurement was in cup-sizes. Of course, she wasn't the only one doing calculations in her head. Being a numbers fanatic like I am, I was trying to find out Jodi's cup-size just as quickly as she was.

"It's an E!" we blurted out together.

"But it's an E-cup..." I started.

"...One time around the alphabet," Jodi finished.

"Wow!" we said simultaneously.

Then we were speechless.

For the moment, all Jodi and I could do was stare at her tits.

"Jodi, I can't believe how ... how big you are," I said, stating the obvious.

"Neither can I," she said, suddenly working her way towards my computer setup.

"What you doing?" I asked her.

"We're not done, yet," she said. "I'm going to finish up your story."

"What?" I asked, suddenly struck speechless. The sight of Jodi trying to position herself behind my computer had captured my attention.

She sat down and almost tipped over, the weight of her newly-grown tits obviously more than she was used to dealing with. She righted herself, adjusting her legs and back until she managed to find some type of workable stance.

"This is harder than it looks," she said with a smile.

I could only nod in agreement. Words were still a problem.

Sitting in a chair was only the first obstacle Jodi had to overcome. Where to put the keyboard was the next. She tried sitting it in her lap. She tried elevating it on her desk. However, neither spot seemed to work. Finally, after some trial and error experimenting, she found a spot: right on top of her breasts. Boy, I envied that keyboard, I thought, watching as it rose and fell on Jodi's breasts like a surfer's surfboard.

Jodi started typing and I watched, recalling how she hated to be disturbed while she was in the midst of creating.

"Okay, I've written the infamous measuring scene that you seem to stick into every BE story you've ever written."

"Hey," I said in mock hurt, "it's a trademark."

"If you say so," she said, dismissing my comment. "Now it's time to write the male lead's response to the female's newly grown 63-inch bust."

"Well, don't they have sex?" I asked.

"Anthony, haven't you ever heard of foreplay? You have to build up to the sex. Sheesh."

"If you say so," I said, mimicking her earlier response.

"I do," Jodi said, her rapid typing cutting off any response I might have.

As she typed, a sudden flash of heat seemed to envelop my body. One moment, I was feeling air-conditioned cool, the next I was literally burning up.

"Jodi..." I said, as an uncontrollable urge to remove my clothing overtook me. The heat was so overpowering. I felt like I was burning up. I had to take my clothes off.

I kicked off my shoes and socks. I removed my shirt, undershirt, and pants, noticing all the while that Jodi continued typing. Standing in my underwear, the heat seemed to lessen. My body was sweat covered, making me look like I had just taken a shower and hadn't fully toweled off.

With a little exertion, I managed to call Jodi's name.

She stopped her typing and turned towards me.

Looking me up and down, she said: "Good, Anthony, I see you're dressed for the story's climax."

"What?" I asked.

"The climax, the big sex scene you were talking about," she said matter-of-factly.

"Sex? You and I are going to have sex?"

"Of course, we are," she said. "This is a BE story, remember?"

"But ... but..." I stuttered.

She went back to her typing.

I stood looking at Jodi, so many questions and thoughts going through my mind. This was crazy. Her growing breasts after drinking a BE-growth formula I had in my top drawer. My measuring her with a humongous tape measure that also happened to be in my drawer. Us writing a BE story that seemed to be coming to life. And finally, the thought of me having sex with Jodi. "Crazy," I suddenly said aloud.

"Oh, yeah," Jodi said, obviously hearing my comment. "If you think what's been happening is crazy, Anthony, then you ain't seen nothing yet."

I watched Jodi hit a key on my keyboard as if it was the "on" button on an appliance. Suddenly, I felt pressure in my groin. My dick, that seemed to develop an almost priapic condition after seeing Jodi go from nonexistent breasts to having probably the biggest tits on the planet, was trying to become more erect. Was that even possible? Erect was erect, wasn't it?

"Jodi, what's going on?" I asked, somehow knowing that this was all her doing.

"Watch and see, Anthony," she said.

Being rather literal-minded, I took Jodi's suggestion and grasping the top of my boxers, I pulled outward until I was able to see my dick-up close and personal.

I saw that it was not only erect, but seemed somehow bigger than it had ever been before. Hmm, must be increased blood pressure or something, I thought, concluding that with the kind of stimulation, Jodi was supplying that a slight increase in dick size was understandable.

Then I saw my dick grow.

It was like magic. Something you might see on adult versions of Bewitched or I Dream of Jeannie, without the accompanying nose twitch and eye blink, of course. My dick increased an inch in a single second. Maybe faster than that, like an inch in a microsecond. As my dick continued getting bigger and thicker, I couldn't help note that the process was just starting.

"Jodi, what's going on?" I asked.

"Your dick's growing," she said calmly.

"But why?" I asked.

"It's a BE story, remember?" she said. "The male leads always have big, thick, long dicks."

"Uh..."

"And even though yours was a rather nice size, Anthony," she quickly added in what I later concluded was an attempt at soothing my rather fragile ego. "I didn't think it quite measured up to BE and especially PE standards."

"But how big am I going to get?" I asked in a worried tone of voice.

"I don't know," Jodi said. "But hey! We have a measuring tape, so I guess we'll find out when or if you ever stop growing."

Jodi's words didn't exactly fill me with confidence. However, I continued holding the waistband of my boxers, watching as my dick continued growing.

Eventually, the growth stopped and before I could say a word to Jodi, she appeared by my side like magic. How did she move that fast? I wondered, while saying aloud to her: "You're not eager, are you?"

Jodi wasn't listening. She grabbed me, almost knocking me out with her new endowments, and reached inside my underwear.

She started maneuvering the bulge in my boxers, trying to withdraw it. It wasn't easy for her.

"Fuck this!" she yelled, and ripped the boxers. My dick sprang forth as if it was spring-loaded.

"Well, look at what we have here," she exclaimed with glee.

"Is ... is that all me?" I asked her.

"Well, it's not mine," she said placing her hand on the organ in question.

I couldn't believe how big I was. My dick ó my cock ó rivaled one belonging to a horse.

"Measure it, Jodi," I suddenly said.

"If you insist," she said, encircling the tape measure around my dick.

Jodi didn't have any problem wrapping the tape measure around my dick, but she did have trouble seeing the numbers. I helped her there and came up with a 3‡" diameter for the first measurement.

We measured the length and came up with 15". I was impressed to say the least.

Jodi and I both stood for a moment studying our new endowments. A silence that soon became awkward overtook us.

"What about the story?" I finally asked, trying to break the silence.

"Just a scene or two left to write," she said.

"Well, do you want me or you to write the scenes?" I asked.

"Give me a moment," Jodi said, returning to my computer setup. She seemed reluctant to leave me and my 15-inch cock, but dutifully she started typing.

Time passed slowly. I was just about to comment on how long Jodi was taking when she suddenly announced that she was all finished.

"Well, do you want me to read what you wrote?" I asked her.

"No, Anthony," she said. "Why read it, when you can live it."

"What...?" I started to ask, when I felt my cock like a divining rod start pointing in the direction of Jodi's tits.

Jodi walked towards me, her hands underneath her tits, spreading them outward, revealing her cavernous cleavage.

The closer she got, the more my cock seemed to stretch in her direction. Finally, her cleavage and my cock met. Jodi pushed her tits together and commanded me to stroke.

Which, of course, I did.

Jodi's cleavage was so immense that I thought she'd lose my cock in her mounds of tit-flesh. Yet, somehow my cock was able to reach her lips. I knew this, because every thrust of mine had Jodi kissing and sucking the head of my cock.

At one point, I just stopped thrusting and let my dick rest in her mouth. Jodi started sucking and licking my cock so much that I couldn't hold back. I instantly showered her face and the top of her tits with what felt like a gallon of cum.

I thought that would take me out of action for a moment, but I was still hard. Unbelievable, I thought.

I watched as Jodi licked around her face, slurping up as much of the cum as possible. She used cum on her tits like a lotion, rubbing it, until her tit-flesh absorbed it.

Looking at my still visible erection, she said: "Hmm, I figured you would need a rest break, but since you're still up, why don't we do it in your bed."

She didn't have to ask me twice. "Ladies first," I said, directing her to my king-size bed.

"Why, thank you, kind sir," she said, attempting a small curtsey. "And they say chivalry is dead."

Jodi reclined on my bed, letting her big tits spread to the sides. They were so big, they almost extended off the mattress. Un-fucking-believable.

"Aren't you going to join me, Anthony?" she asked.

"In a moment," I said, kneeling beside the bed.

I started kissing Jodi's face. Encountering some residual cum made me stop for a moment. Yuck. However, recalling that the cum was mine, I soon concluded that if it was good enough for Jodi then it should be good enough for me.

I resumed my kissing, giving her little baby ones on her forehead and cheeks. It made her giggle.

"That tickles, Anthony," she said.

I got to her lips and the baby kisses stopped. I gave Jodi the most passionate kiss I could muster. It was the marathon of kisses, seeming to last for hours. Eventually, we broke the kiss ó due to a lack of oxygen ó and inhaled deeply.

"Anthony, where did you learn to kiss like that?" Jodi asked after she got her breath back.

"It's a trade secret," I said with a smile. "I could tell you, but..."

"Yeah, yeah, I know, I know," Jodi said. "But is that the only trade secret you have?"

"Nope," I said, and went to the bottom of the bed.

Placing my hands on her calves, I began rubbing them, massaging them in small, tiny circles. A moan from Jodi told me I was attaining the desired result.

"Don't stop," she said.

I didn't. I worked my hands up higher, caressing the back of her knees and thighs. Nearing Jodi's womanhood, I saw instantly how wet she was getting.

Without warning, I spread Jodi's legs, forcing my head between them. Instantly, my tongue went to work.

"Oooh, Anthony," Jodi moaned.

My tongue action was thorough, resulting in a quick orgasm on Jodi's part. Time to service her tits, I thought.

I climbed towards the tits in question. In moments, my hands made contact, overfilling with tit-flesh. Cupping and squeezing Jodi's tits; I massaged and caressed them. Soon my fingers encircled her nipples. Pulling them slightly, I elicited a loud squeal from Jodi.

"Are you all right, Jodi?" I asked, afraid that I might have hurt her.

"I'm fine," she said. "It's just pulling my nipples like that felt so good."

"Well, let me continue then," I said, again pulling on Jodi's nipples. I received another squeal in return.

I worked my face towards Jodi's nipples, placing one in my mouth. I sucked on it, drawing it in deep. A sudden stream of milk was my reward.

"Jodi, you're ... you're lactating," I said, surprised, milk running down my chin.

"Of course, I am," she said matter-of-factly.

"But how? You're not pregnant are you?"

"No, Anthony, I'm not pregnant," she said.

"Then how are you lactating?"

"Women in BE stories are always giving milk. It doesn't matter if they're pregnant or not," Jodi said.

"And that same milk is always able to BE other women," I heard a female voice say over my shoulder.

"Who ... who are you?" I asked, looking over my shoulder.

"I'm Lisa, Anthony," this unknown female said to me."

"But where did you come from? How did you get in my house? And where are your clothes?" I asked in a rapid-fire manner.

Lisa ignored me.

Looking over my shoulder, I got my first real look at her. She looked like a little kid. Starting at her dainty little feet, I worked my way up. I saw her legs ó thin and short ó giving her a height of a little under five feet. Between those legs, I saw a glint of blonde pubic hair, letting me know that Lisa was a natural blonde. Her flat stomach led unfortunately to an equally flat chest. Hell, Lisa was flatter than Jodi used to be. I left her chest ó why focus on the nonexistent ó and saw Lisa's face.

Sweat covered it. Something really had her hot and bothered, I thought, returning my attention to Jodi.

I returned to Jodi's breast, I was dying to sample some of her breast-milk. The second my hand made contact with Jodi's breast, I heard a soft moan coming from Lisa's direction. I ignored it.

Grabbing Jodi's tit with an even firmer grip, I heard an even louder moan coming from Lisa's direction. I ignored it.

Grabbing Jodi's tit so hard that I made milk squirt, I heard an ear-splitting yelp fill the room. This I could not ignore.

Turning towards Lisa, I saw her fingering herself with such an intensity that the resulting orgasm drove her to her knees.

"Are you okay, Lisa?" I asked her.

She wasn't listening to me. I watched her rise from the floor, everything below the knees covered in her own juices, and approach the bed. Her eyes locked on to something.

She seemed fixated on Jodi's breasts. Maybe even more than I was. I watched as Lisa took one of Jodi's fat nipples and stuffed it into her mouth. She sucked on it like it was a straw in a milkshake, and it wasn't long before I saw the visible evidence of Jodi's milk running down Lisa's chin.

Lisa drank the milk with a vengeance. She looked like she was trying to empty Jodi's tit. I laughed to myself, thinking that as big as that thing was, Lisa was attempting the impossible. This was proven, when Lisa reached her limit and stopped slurping.

I looked at Lisa, who was now sporting a Buddha-like stomach.

"I heard of beer-bellies," she said with a smile, "but I've never heard of milk-bellies."

"Enjoy your milk-belly while you got it, Lisa," Jodi said. "Because in BE stories, milk tends to go to places higher than your belly."

Lisa looked like she was about to answer Jodi, when Jodi's assessment of BE stories happened.

I watched Lisa start shaking. Her hands moved to her milk-belly; which was getting flatter and flatter. It looked like Lisa was compacting her stomach with her hands. That was impossible, I thought. Then I saw her breasts.

When I first saw Lisa, she was flatter than Jodi used to be. Well, that wasn't the case any more. Lisa's growth was almost instantaneous. One moment, she was pancake flat; the next she had tits bigger than Jodi's.

"How big am I?" Lisa asked enthusiastically.

Good, I thought, she asked the question foremost on my mind. Too bad, Jodi was the one who answered that question.

"Uh ... look, Lisa, we already did the measuring scene," she said.

"So, that means you can't do another one?" Lisa asked.

"Well, two measuring scenes is kind of gratuitous. Can't we just say you're bigger than my 32E2 and leave it at that?" Jodi asked, trying to be the voice of reason.

"I guess so," a disappointed Lisa said.

"Besides, which would you rather do, Lisa: Measure your tits, which you can do any old time, or play with Anthony's 15-inch cock?"

"15-inch cock!" Lisa exclaimed.

"Jodi, I think you got your answer," I said.

"15-inch cock," Lisa said again. "Let me at it."

Rising off the bed, I planned on teasing Lisa a little bit by showing her the cock-in-question. A blind-side tackle by Lisa and her mammoth mamms put an immediate end to my teasing. How the hell did she move so fast? I wondered.

Lisa's hands located my cock in an instant. She looked at it for a moment. Whether in study or worship, I couldn't tell. However, suddenly it was forced down her throat.

I expected her to gag or something. You know, with me measuring 15-inches and all. But Lisa didn't have any problems. She was more than capable of handling my manhood.

Her talented mouth gave me the best blowjob I ever experienced. I came so hard that I passed out. I woke up, saw Jodi back at the keyboard, typing, and realized I had no mental record of what had happened.

I scanned the room, looking for Lisa, but I didn't see her. I saw my cock, which was now its normal, average, everyday size. I stood up and did a double take. Jodi was at my keyboard, but she no longer had a 32E2 chest. She was back to normal: flat-chested and fully-clothed.

"There's a robe on the bed," she said, not looking in my direction. "Cover up."

I did as Jodi commanded. I put on the robe, while giving my room a look-see. It looked like it always did. There was no evidence, besides my lying naked on the floor a moment ago, that anything sexual had even happened.

Questions filled my mind. I was just about to ask Jodi some of them when she suddenly left my computer setup and thrust a stack of papers in my hands.

"Here's your BE story, Anthony," she said in a brusque tone of voice. "Hopefully, it'll motivate you to write more."

Before I could respond, Jodi left both my bedroom and my house.

I took the papers she gave me and sat on my bed. Reading them, I relived what I had just experienced or dreamed. Starting with Jodi coming over in a raincoat and bedroom slippers, I noticed it was all here. Everything from Jodi finding the growth formula and growing 32E2 breasts to me growing a 15" cock. Lisa appearing like magic, drinking Jodi's milk, and outgrowing her was there too, of course.

I wanted to read the ending since, thanks to Lisa's blowjob, I passed out when it happened the first time.

Apparently, the story ended with the male lead thanking the big-breasted women for their assistance in motivating him to write a BE story. However, he worried that without them he would no longer be motivated to do it on his own.

"Don't worry," the Lisa character told him.

"Yeah," the Jodi character said. "Whenever you need a little motivation, all you have to do is say: 'Boy, I could really use some help right now!' Say that, and someone will appear and motivate you."

"You're kidding, right?" the male lead said.

"Try it and see," said the Lisa character.

"But don't overdo it," the Jodi character said. "We have lives too, you know."

Hmm, I wonder, I thought to myself. I went to my computer, booted up the system, and accessed my word-processing program. I started working on an idea I'd been working on for awhile, the one featuring the buxom SuperGirl lookalike. I got to a spot where I couldn't think of what to write next and yelled out:

"Boy, I could use some help right now!"

Suddenly, I heard a whistling sound overhead. I looked up towards the ceiling just in time to see Lisa ó all 32E2+ of her ó crash through. She stood before me, hovering two inches above the floor. She was dressed in a spandex outfit that somehow didn't have any dust on it, even though she just crashed through my ceiling. Holding her hands on her hips, I watched her thrust her gravity-defying tits forward. She was an exact duplicate of the character in my new story.

"You called," she said with a smile.

"Uh, I need help on my story," I said dumbly.

"Well, that's what I'm here for," she said floating towards my computer setup. "What seems to be the problem?"

Before I could answer her, I heard a cracking sound. I looked in the direction of the sound and saw Jodi ripping her way through my carpeted floor.

My jaw dropped as I saw Jodi wearing a SuperGirl costume identical to Lisa's.

Jodi emerged from the floor covered in dust and torn carpet. Okay, maybe she wasn't quite as good at this SuperGirl stuff as Lisa. She brushed dust from her spandex sleeve and picked a few threads of carpet off her tongue. Then ... I watched as she crossed her legs, extended her arms, and suddenly spun herself into a blur. The resulting wind convinced me that if she wanted to, Jodi could do some serious tornado-like damage to my house. Fortunately, the spinning was brief.

Jodi stopped, but her tits didn't. Watching her spandex-clad 32E2 bosom shake itself back into place, I could feel it myself hypnotizing me. I shook my head to clear it, and noticed that Jodi was no longer covered in dust and torn carpet fragments. She and her costume was showroom clean.

"Show off," Lisa said.

"What are you doing here?" Jodi asked, ignoring Lisa's comment.

"I was summoned."

"Well, I'm here now, so you can leave."

"Like hell I will," Lisa said. "I was here first."

"Uh, can't you both ... uh, stay?" I asked sheepishly. Hey, I didn't want a SuperGirl ó let alone two SuperGirls ó pissed off at me.

"I guess so," SuperJodi said. "I don't have anything planned."

"And seeing as how I was here first," SuperLisa said with a smirk aimed in SuperJodi's direction, "I don't see any point in leaving."

"Well, now that that's settled," I said, "Can I tell you the problems I'm having with my story?"

"Sure," Jodi said.

"That's why we're here," Lisa added.

"Good," I said, and started reading them my story.

The SuperGirls were true to their words: They were there to help. Whenever I came to a difficult section, they acted out the scene, inviting me to play the part of the male lead. Let me tell you, I had many difficult sections that day. Most of which had the male lead sucking, licking, and jug-fucking the tits of the SuperGirl.

It was hard work. You can ask my dick, which got in on some SuperGirl action, too. Yet, together ó the SuperGirls and yours truly ó completed another BE story.

It was the best writing experience of my life. One that made me think of the next story on my writing schedule. A pretty simple idea, the kind of thing I could probably write in my sleep. However, I was already thinking of ways of complicating it. After all, Jodi and Lisa were there to help, who was I to turn them down?