Got A Fair Shake by TrebleClef
The Bettie’s Diner pylon sign hung over the street in the night sky, huge and neon-lit as we approached. It was in turquoise Miami-type on a white background, underlined with a pink squiggle. The city felt like a huge, emptying lot and a swift, curving wind blasted soda cans, paper coffee cups and lawn debris in the places people might have been on warmer nights.
“Let me know if you want anything,” said Saffron. She slowed as the car neared the parking lot.
“I thought you were taking me somewhere to show me something,” I said.
“I am.” We pulled in. The lot was occupied by a handful of lonely cars. The inebriated Friday night stragglers were in there, munching on chicken wings, tipsy on cheap beer.
I was off balance tonight, but not from an alcohol buzz. Today, Saffron saw something I hadn’t meant her to. Had I done something wrong? Maybe. But, neither Saffron nor I were ready to call our thing a thing. We’d been friends a year, roommates for three months. For six complicated weeks to today, we’d been something more. We’d both come out of long-term relationships and neither of us were sure we were ready for something new. We had made no agreements, set no terms and told no family or friends.
But, it had been nice to have someone to cuddle and make out with. If there was something between us, it was balanced on a pin. A small disturbance could topple everything. Maybe I had made just that mistake today. Saffron caught a glimpse of the videos playing on my screen and suddenly got weird. She sat on the couch, watched a show and said little. She was fine, she told me. My ass.
But, late tonight, Saffron knocked on my bedroom door and asked me to come with her on a drive. Didn’t say what to or what for. She had something to show me.
Saffron took us around Bettie’s drive-thru where a Chevy idled next to the big menu. Its driver yelped an order to the intercom.
“Last chance,” said Saffron. “You want anything?”
“I’m not hungry. Already ate leftovers for dinner, and–“
“Are you hungry?”
“So to speak.” Saffron smiled. Her brown Bambi eyes reflected the lit menu. Her smile was wide and silly. It was the first time I’d seen her smile since she saw my computer screen today, but Saff’s lower lip trembled. Smile or no smile, something was off balance.
All the same, I wanted to peck that little button nose off her face. She was a short woman with olive skin and a dark collar-length bob — she’d cut her hair after her breakup. I’d been with girls who were skinnier, taller, perhaps a touch more photogenic than Saffron. But, Saff’s smile turned my heart to jelly. No other girl had ever quite done that.
The Chevy took off down the drive-thru lane. Saffron pulled up next to the big menu and dropped her window. It was late-September and that curving wind had a bite. I could feel it from the shotgun seat.
“Welcome to Bettie’s, what can I get for you tonight?” said the intercom.
“Two extra large strawberry shakes,” said Saffron. “Actually, make that three.”
“Three strawberry shakes, extra large. Anything else?”
Saffron glanced my way and I shook my head. “Nope, that’s it,” she said.
“Okay. Your total will be $18.81. We’ll have that for you in a couple minutes.”
She took us around the diner and waited by the curb.
“Uh…” I said.
“Yes?” said Saffron. She fluttered her lashes facetiously.
“If you don’t mind my asking–“
“What are you going to do with three extra large shakes?” I said
“Drink them. Obviously.”
“All of them?”
“We’ll see how much I’m up for.”
“You don’t drink milk.”
“Normally, I don’t. This is true.”
“Is…is anything wrong?”
Saffron let out a quick huff. “No, Nick. Nothing is wrong.”
“I mean, I’m sorry about what you saw today when–“
“There’s nothing to be sorry about.”
“Then, why are you–?”
The drive thru window slid open. “Three strawberry shakes,” said the girl on the other side.
Saffron took the cardboard cup holder, bent with the weight of three soft drink cups. My mouth dropped at the sight of Saffron’s order. As Saffron passed the drinks to me, my arms tensed under the fluid weight. These extra large shakes were massive.
The Bettie’s employee passed in a handful of napkins and straws. Saffron thanked her and raised the window.
I struggled not to gape or go bug eyed at Saffron’s late night treat. I kept my mouth shut as Saffron took a right onto the avenue. A right. That was not the way back to the apartment. “Where are we going?” I said.
“To the park.”
She shrugged. “I just wanna hang out and no one will be there this late. Not in this weather.”
I didn’t know what else to say. Each cup probably held 30 ounces of shake. They must have been at least 1200 calories each. A normal sized person would be full before kaçak iddaa they got halfway into one. Did little Saffron actually plan to drink even one of these? She would explode.
In the dark of night, Saffron pulled up alongside the park. We were beneath the shadow of a large tree but the orange ray of a streetlamp on the other side of the road cast enough light so I could see Saffron’s face in the pitch night. The gold windows of houses gleamed beyond.
“Gimme one of those,” she said.
Confounded, I handed Saffron a shake. She stabbed it with a straw and sipped.
“Sure you don’t want some?” she said.
“I’m…I’m sure. Besides, it’s chilly.” I carefully placed the cardboard cup holder and its two remaining shakes in the back seat. My legs were getting tired from holding them upright in my lap. “Uh, how is it?”
“Oh, y’know. Sugary and fattening and cold. And thick. It’s kinda hard to drink.”
Saffron’s cheeks sank in as she tried to suck the ice cream through the straw. I might’ve found it cute but I was bursting with uncertainties. Wasn’t Saffron allergic to dairy? Actually…come to think of it, Saffron had never said allergies were the reason she avoided milk products. She ate cheeseless pizza and poured oat milk on her cereal. Was drinking a giant shake some kind of anger-induced self-torture? Was she going to break out in hives? Throw up?
“A-are you alright?” I muttered.
“I’m fine, Nick.”
“Are we going to talk about the stuff you saw on my–“
“Nick, please…shut up.”
I looked out the window onto the park. The only sounds were the occasional swish of a tree branch tossed in the wind, the hushed smack of Saffron’s lips over the straw and the plunge of Saffron’s throat taking in globs of strawberry shake.
I was tired of guessing. I was tired of Saffron too–no, that wasn’t true. I just didn’t want to be here. I wanted to be a long way away. Dammit, I should’ve known better than to get myself involved so soon. And with my roommate! I’d only been single six months and now I was up-to-my-neck in new drama. Things would be awkward. I could see us walking on eggshells around each other for the next six months until the end of our lease allowed us to part ways. And then, we’d probably see little of each other. Another good thing ruined.
I was interrupted from my self-castigation by Saffron. With one of her throaty gulps, her voice squeaked. “Oh…ohhh, it’s happening now.”
Saffron dropped her shake in the cup holder and pitched forward. Her hands were on her chest.
“What’s going on?” I said.
“Ahh…ahhhh…ahhhhhh.” Saffron threw herself back against the car seat. Her mouth parted and upper lip twisted up and bared her front teeth. Saffron’s Bambi eyes glazed.
“C-can I help you, Saff?”
“Look,” she said. Her hands made a shaking motion. I looked at her ribbed sweater.
At first, I saw nothing other than Saffron’s hands gripping her breasts over her sweater. Then, I realized. A dizzy panic set in. Was I dreaming? I stammered. I tried to spit out words. “S-Saff…?”
“What does it look like, Nick?” Saffron huffed.
The vertical ribs of Saffron’s sweater pulled apart around her chest. Her hands splayed to take increasing volume. Saffron was a D cup. Supposed to be, I mean. But, before my eyes, she was well past a double-D or so.
Saff was growing.
Growing boobs. Boobs filling, expanding bigger and bigger. Boobs the size of a woman’s own head. Bigger still. That’s what Saffron saw on my screen today when she forgot to knock and stepped into my bedroom. Four or five windows of videos, all playing at once. And me in my seat, an erection in my hand thick as a kielbasa. Our eyes met and there was an awkward pause. She apologized and ran out.
Fast forward to now in Saff’s car. It was happening. “How is this possible?” I said.
“I’ve never really known for sure,” said Saffron. “It’s been a thing for me since I was eighteen. Ooooh. They’re sensitive!” Saffron reached down for the shake and continued to sip.
“When you…drink milkshakes?”
“Anything with milk. Even the lactose-free stuff. It makes my boobs blow up.” She hefted her chest with her left hand. Saffron’s bosom stuck out in her sweater like a loaf of aspic. Breast meat jiggled under the ribs of Saffron’s sweater as her hand jerked it. There was no bra beneath that sweater. I guess she had been thinking ahead?
“W-wow. Just…” My words went nowhere. But, my penis bored into the crotch of my jeans like a drill.
Saffron gulped down another load of strawberry milkshake. “I’ve been avoiding dairy for years because of this.”
“Uh…dumb question I guess, but, why, exactly?”
“So many reasons! The sensitivity, the inconvenience, the embarrassment, getting stared at… And, fear. No doctor has ever been able to explain it to me. It doesn’t make any sense. It was easier to avoid dairy and not have to worry about it.”
The kaçak bahis domes in Saffron’s sweater gained flanks and lower quadrants in her little hands. They had swelled from plump sacks to large tree fruits.
“And anyway,” Saffron continued, “my ex liked me skinny. He thought big boobs were gross and I agreed with him. Or, at least I thought I did.”
Saffron’s boobs were small melons now. The lines between the ribs of her sweater had parted into thick, knitted stripes. Saffron released her boobs and let them fall along her torso. I could see the outline of her nipples poke through the knitting.
She took the shake from its cup holder, holding it almost like a baby bottle with both hands, she drank faster than ever.
“What are you trying to do?” I said.
She spoke between sucks on her straw. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m trying to make my boobs as big as possible because…oh fuck it. I don’t know why, Nick. I had to do it. Obviously, I had to see how you’d react.” Saffron paused for a moment as if wanting to modify her explanation further. Instead, she took a long draw from the shake.”I guess I also wanted to see how I’d feel about it. It’s been years since I did this.”
My hard on was pure steel. I sat rigid because it was shoved partway into my pant leg and wouldn’t come out without a maneuver I was presently too dumbfounded to try.
“How are you going to be able to drink three of those?” I said.
“Nick, they don’t make me full! I could drink all three and my stomach would be as good as empty. That’s another reason I don’t consume dairy — it never does anything for my tummy.”
“Yeah, I have magic tits. How about it, Nick? Any concerns about that?”
“Well, no? I mean…you did see my screen today…”
“Yeah, sure. But, sometimes guys look at things they don’t want in real life. My ex watched videos of threesomes all the time. He hated the idea of actually having one.”
“I like it, okay? I like it a lot! I can’t–” I yanked at my jeans. “I can barely move around in these jeans right now, okay Saff?!”
Saffron stopped sipping for a moment. “Oh! I didn’t actually notice. Is that…” She reached down and brushed a finger across the bulge in my pants. The wet condensation from the shake had beaded on her finger. The coldness soaked through to my penis. I yelped.
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize my finger was wet. I’ll just, uh, keep blowing up my boobs right here.” She made a ludicrous grin and the bizarre scene continued. Saffron’s chest looked like a large pair of honeydews. The pattern of her sweater was flat against it.
“You’re…uh, pretty big already,” I said.
“Hah. Not as big as that redhead chick you were looking at in that one video. I don’t care what you think, I’m gonna be at least as big as her.”
“Y-you sure you want to be?”
“I don’t want to, I need to. I just…this part of me has been buried for years and I’m digging it back out. I can’t stop, Nick. Do you want me to stop? Do you think it’s weird? Is it gross?”
I certainly couldn’t say whether Saffron getting as big as the ginger K-cup model on my screen was good for her. It was certainly good for my erection which was close to bursting in orgasm right there, but I checked myself. “No,” I said.
“Okay, cool. So, quit it with all the fucking concern. You’re making me anxious.”
“And stop apologizing. I’m worried I’ll lose my nerve if I have the chance.”
“Okay. I understand.”
“I’m fucking scared, Nick.”
“Can I help?”
“Get the next shake back there, I’m getting down to the bottom of this one.”
I shifted my hard-on around in my pants and reached to the back for another shake. Saffron popped the lid off the first and sipped up the remaining bit. I watched her, goggle-eyed. Saffron’s boobs bulged and wobbled pendulously in her sweater.
“Y-your tits are big melons now.” Yeah, I say the dumbest things sometimes.
“Uh huh. Thanks for noticing.”
“But…I mean, how can that be? That is a huge shake, sure, but I don’t think there’s two cantaloupes worth of milkshake in that thing.”
“Nope. Doesn’t make sense, does it? A doctor once gave me some bullshit theory about how I was having an allergic reaction and my body was pumping fluid into my tits and if I didn’t avoid dairy at all costs, I’d get dehydrated or go into anaphylactic shock. I believed it at the time, but looking back, it made no sense. My body turns dairy into titty fat–that’s what I know.”
“Wh-what’s the…biggest you’ve gotten?”
“Oh, I think I’ll be getting there soon.”
“Uh huh.” Saffron pursed her lips and blew air as she rubbed her chest. “These babies are sensitive.”
“Yes. In a good way.”
Saffron pressed the lid of the first shake back on, took out the straw and tossed the cup to the floor beneath the back seat. She stabbed the second shake with her straw and got back illegal bahis to drinking.
Every time I glanced down at Saffron’s tits, they were bigger and fuller than before. I’ve seen really big tits on the internet–naturals especially. I know how droopy real boobs get when they’re actually huge — in the H cup sizes and above, I mean — and not held sturdy in a bra. The droopiness never bothered me. It was just proof how deliciously heavy a pair of tits could be. Saffron’s boobs, best I could make them out from beneath the strained knitting of her sweater, looked inestimably full. There was a roundness to that chest that didn’t track with my mental records of huge, natural breasts. But Saffron’s boobs lacked that molded look of silicone tits. They were not just big, but stuffed.
“Mmmgrr,” Saffron huffed. “My sweater’s too tight now. Ready for this?”
Saffron yanked her sweater up and two big, fat honeydew tits flopped out. Her areolas were huge and dark in the orange light of the street lamp. Her nipples were thick as sharpies. She lifted those stuffed melons in her palms and let them slide off. They bobbled and visibly jerked at Saff’s back. “Hoo boy. I am one fat titty bitch now,” she mused. Saff looked at me. “You look pretty packed in yourself, Nick. If you want to show me yours too, I won’t complain.”
My eyes remained glued to Saffron’s ballooning chest as I undid my belt and unzipped my pants. I resisted touching myself. Tempting as it was, I didn’t want to avert my attention. Not while Saffron was defying the laws of nature. Saffron’s size surpassed silicone queen status, moving into the territory of cartoonishly distorted anime fanservice. The fullness and squishiness of her tits as they undulated against her torso heightened the effect: they were too spongy in their jiggling to be mistaken for implants but too round to pass for natural tits of any size.
On Saffron went. She gulped down strawberry shake as if to outpace common sense. I was nervous, to be sure, but also exhilarated. As an all-out connoisseur of mega huge boobs, even at totally unrealistic sizes, I couldn’t deny it: these tits were beautiful. I wanted to touch them and also didn’t, as if my touch would render them counterfeit.
“Ahh!” Said Saffron.
“What?” Said I.
“A really cold drop of condensation must’ve dropped on my nipple and it felt really intense.”
Indeed, Saff’s nipples were bigger and thicker than before, a bit short of dime-sized. And, there was a wet stain under her right one. But, it looked a bit low to have fallen from the cup…
Saffron looked at me uneasily and I realized, my gaping like an idiot was making things awkward. There was an uncomfortable distance between us and Saff wanted me to close it–had wanted me to close it for a while now. And I was just sitting there, staring like a dumbass. She was waiting for me to take things to the next level. I leaned in, extended a cautious finger and touched her areola.
“Oooh. Yes! Touch me. Gentle, like that…”
I traced around a huge, rock hard nipple and gave it a little squeeze.
“Ohhhhh, hold on. Not yet.” She brushed my hand away and slurped up her shake faster than ever. Saffron’s boobs had ballooned to volleyball size. On her short frame, they stopped just above her belly button, though if you looked carefully, you could see her lower hemispheres creep down her belly, millimeter by millimeter.
“Okay…I think that’s my record.” Saffron lifted her left boob and very carefully dribbled it in her hand. She gasped at the sensation. “Shit, I’m huge.” She took a breath. “But, you’d like to see them bigger, I hope.”
“You’re still growing,” I said. “Even if you stop drinking now, you…uh, probably have more growth ahead of you.”
Saffron raised an eyebrow. “You telling me to stop, Nick?”
“Well, no, but are you sure you–?”
“For the last time, shut up and watch my tits get huge.”
She clamped her mouth down on her straw and sucked the second shake down to the slurps. Saffron’s tits hung past her navel. The flanks of her boobs crowded her biceps.
Saff set the empty cup in the cup holder, stifled a little burp and arched her back.
“These are getting heavy and my back is killing me. At this point, I just want them to grow into my lap so I don’t have to hold them up while I’m sitting.”
“You’re…not so far off from that.”
“Get in the back with me.”
“No, tomorrow. C’mon, Nick!”
Saffron threw the driver side door open and leapt out, topless. She concealed her boobs — or did her best to — by facing the car as she went around to the back. I went around to join Saff, closed the back door behind me and worked off my jeans. Saff was stabbing her straw into milkshake number three.
She began to sip and then hesitated. She set her shake carefully on the floor of the car. “Touch me,” she said.
I scooched closer to Saff, reached over and traced a line down the side of her boob.
“Yep, soft, just like that,” she said.
I traced more lines.
I took one soccer ball sized boob in both hands and hefted it carefully.