From: b1223@ix.netcom.com (b1223 ) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.tg,alt.sex.stories Subject: Lisa's TG Library: "Goddess" (2/3) Date: 1 Sep 1995 00:15:59 GMT Organization: Netcom Message-ID: <425jbv$6vi@ixnews6.ix.netcom.com> Didn't write it, not responsible for it. Enjoy it! -Lisa Blades NOTE FROM THE ORIGINAL AUTHOR: This work is Copyrighted. All rights reserved. You may, however, upload this file to any person or service as long as it remains unaltered. Hard copies may be produced so long as everything below "CUT HERE WITH A SHARP KNIFE" remains unaltered. This is a recurring dream, or perhaps nightmare, I once had for twelve consecutive nights. A man awakens in a two-room prison(?) with no memory or knowledge of anything. When he notices the statue of what must be a Goddess bizarre things begin to happen. It is a reverie about large breasts, a confused guy, large breasts, transformations, large breasts, a voluptuous statue, and of course...large breasts. I would greatly appreciate any and all critiques. If you hate it, let me know. If you love it, let me know. If you're completely impassive, let me know. Please send all critiques or comments to CheyenneCM@aol.com. ( continued from first file ) >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> CUT HERE WITH A SHARP KNIFE <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< GODDESS Cheyenne Chaste Moon He groggily awoke, visions of his dream world still dancing in his mind, then slowly realized he was barely breathing. He took a deep breath, but it was cut drastically short, and he coughed, sputtered, and wheezed, then tried desperately to continue breathing. He found it becoming more and more difficult, and was panicking hysterically, then, after a brief period, he noticed the soothing voice of Goddess. "Fear not, number twelve. You are fine. Breath slowly, evenly, in short, shallow breaths." He closed his eyes while the mothering voice of Goddess caressed him, allowing him to relax. As he did, he found his breathing to come easier, yet slower and much shallower than it had been. "What is wrong with me?" he frightenedly inquired while lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. "Nothing. You are wearing a corset." He reached for his torso and discovered around him the heavily boned, thick, leather corset which he had placed on his companion earlier. He tried to set up, but found that the garment made that difficult to do. He slowly managed to get to his feet, and he walked to the mirror. In the mirror, he saw both a bizarre, and ridiculous sight. Just as it had on his companion, the bodice covered him from his hips to his chest, and it forcibly constricted his thirty-four inch waist until it was even tinier than his companion's, until it measured an astonishing seventeen inches, the same as that on the statue of Goddess, and it compelled his back into a stiff, vertical line which pulled his shoulders back, throwing out his chest. He noticed, in the mirror, that his companion was standing behind him, and he saw the surprise in her eyes, and discovered that the corset he was donning was not the one he had been given to place on her, for she was still adorned with hers. His eyes returned to the reflection of the garment he was wearing and saw a somber sight. His corset, unlike his companion's, and more comparable to her fetters, was a permanent fixture about his waist. It had no hooks down the front, and no lacing up the back. He turned and stared into the eyes of his companion and saw the same confusion he had. "Why am I wearing this?" he inquired of Goddess. "To show you your error," she softly informed him. "I do not understand." "If your waist can be sculpted as such, then so too can that of your companion." "I see." He understood then. "You will continue?" "Yes, Goddess." He went to his companion, and she turned willingly. He withdrew the bow and untied it, then, starting at the bottom of the corset, proceeded to pull and tighten the laces with more strength than he had possessed before, until her waist was compressed even more, until it matched, both, his own tapered waist, and the one on the statue, then he retied the excess laces and stuffed them back out of the way. As the two of them tried to adjust to the restricting garments, time continued to pass, and they, once again, fell asleep. He dreamt again. It was the same pleasant dream he had dreamt before. It was of a world of laughter, color, and beauty; unlike his world. He dreamt of sweet, fresh air; cool, soft grass beneath his feet; and the warm, loving hand of his companion gently placed in his. They laughed, talked, and touched as they walked through a field of clover on a breezy, warm, sun-filled day. ...Time continued to pass, and, as it did, he, once again, grew more and more restless. His companion seemed to become more beautiful with each awakening, and his longing to touch, caress, hold, and make love to her increased. But, even more than that, his desire for freedom was overwhelming. Even with his companion there he could feel the madness of his situation returning. "Number twelve," he heard Goddess whisper as he awoke. "Yes, Goddess?" "You have not visited my statue recently. Please come there now." He did so without hesitation, knelt before the statue, then stood. As he caressed the form with his eyes, something stirred inside of him. He thought of the statue not as an inanimate object, but as Goddess; the flesh and blood of Goddess. He reached out with trembling hands and gently placed them on her majestic, heavenly breasts, and, as he explored them with his fingertips, he became aroused, and his manly member became engorged. "Number twelve," Goddess cooed. He dropped to his knees, his head lowered with shame and embarrassment, and he did not speak. "Number twelve," Goddess whispered again. "Do not be embarrassed...for I am the one who bestowed you these emotions. There is no reason for you to be ashamed of them." "Yes, Goddess." He stood; his effector no longer aroused; and looked, once more, at the image of Goddess, and discovered a small, cylindrical object resting atop her breasts. He carefully lifted it and noticed that one end was extremely tiny and very sharp. "What is it?" He was tremendously curious. "A gift." "What is it for?" "It will give your companion beautiful breasts, such as those you idolize on my statue." This startled him. "Oh, no. I couldn't do that," he told Goddess, replacing the gift. "Why? You find my breasts exceedingly pleasing. Do you not?" "Yes, Goddess. They are...heavenly. That is why I could not. Such divine beauty belongs only to you. They are much too grand for mere persons." After a while he left the statue and returned to his cot. He found his companion awake and sitting upright. She gazed questioningly at him as he sat down in front of her. He told her of his conversation with Goddess, and, as he did, he tried to envision his companion with such breasts, but could not. Since he thought them truly divine, he could envision them only on Goddess. A wave of apprehension swelled over his companion. He saw this and decided to calm her with stories of his dream world. As he talked, she became more and more relaxed, and eventually laid down and began to contemplate the imagined world of his. He had described it so vividly that she could picture it in her mind, and soon they were both fast asleep with dreams of a Utopian world swirling through their minds. His dream this time, after sharing it with his companion, seemed much more real, and more beautiful. It was of him and his ethereal world, and of his companion, who's bondage did not exist, and of, not only their love for each other, but of their love for the glorious world and everyone in it. It was indeed Utopia. As his dream progressed, he found the two of them, once again, in the field of clover, where they were running, jumping, touching; being free. He then tripped, graceful falling forward, but was unhurt, and quickly got to his feet, laughing...but his laughter abruptly ended. He saw that he was once again wearing the corset, which drastically constricted his waist, and that he, somehow miraculously, was supporting a pair of female breasts, the size and shape of those on the statue of Goddess. This was most strange. He had never had a dream like this before. He shook his head, rubbed his eyes, then found himself awake and standing in front of the mirror. It was then he realized the last part of his dream hadn't been a dream at all. He must have fallen off his cot, and as he stared into the mirror, he saw the breasts which hung on his chest, and which were being thrust forward due to the fact that his shoulders were drawn back, and his back was forced straight and erect by the corset. His eyes were transfixed on the huge, round mounds of flesh which terminated in large, rigid, pink nipples surrounded by comparable areolas. He did not want them! They looked disgusting on him, and, even though they looked to be the same as those on the statue of Goddess, he was repulsed by them. "NO!!" he screamed as loud as his breathless condition allowed. His vociferation awakened his companion, who bolted upright, and he spun on his heels to face her, to see if she had been stricken with the same fate. He stopped as he faced her and his back faced the mirror, but his lavish breasts didn't, and they continued their swing until they reached their apogee at his side, causing him to lose his balance and fall to the floor, painfully squashing his newly acquired, abundant breasts beneath him. He staggered to his feet, and viewed his companion. She was like him only the aspect of wearing a similar corset. She did not have outrageous breasts, but rather her own simple, normal, gorgeous pair. He did notice, however, that her eyes were filled with surprise at his physique, but that quickly faded, only to be replaced with something he didn't quite recognize. Perhaps it was anticipation, or perhaps it was anguish, or maybe it was abhorrence. Whatever it was, it destroyed his anger and brought rationality back to him. He turned his back to his companion, for he didn't want her to see him, or his bulbous breasts. He sadly, silently questioned why this had happened. Why had Goddess done this freakish thing to him? He did not know. He walked, ever so slowly, with his unwanted, bounteous breasts undulating with each step, through the doorway, into the largest room of his minute, two room universe, and toward the statue of Goddess. And as he did, he came to realize why he had been embellished with the bountiful breasts. He reached the statue and stopped in front of it. His pink, obtrusive nipples were just inches from those of the statue. "Goddess?" he whispered reverently. "Yes, number twelve?" "You have given me these breasts to show that they are not divine, but rather can be possessed by mere persons?" "Yes. I wish for you to give them to your companion. Having this knowledge, will you do so now, number twelve?" "I...I cannot. I know them now to be extremely heavy, and very cumbersome. They are most impractical." "Are they not also beautiful...and pleasurable?" "...Yes," he hesitated. "Then you will fulfill my request?" "I..." He did not know how to tell Goddess that he wished not to. It was a very troubling conflict for him. "Do you wish to leave this place?" Goddess asked of him. "Oh, yes. More than anything," he informed Goddess once again. "Then this must be done, and soon you will be free." "Very well," he said humbly. There was a blinding flash of pure white light, and, when his eyes slowly readjusted, he noticed the long cylindrical object, once again, lying atop the pre-eminent breasts of the statue. He reached for it, shakily, and, as he did, his taut, sensitive nipples brushed those of the statue, bringing a heretofore unfelt exhilaration surging through him, causing him to gasp, startled, yet delightfully pleased at the sensation. As he gazed at the instrument in his hand, he suddenly knew what to do with it, yet could not remember ever having seen one before. But then, he still couldn't remember anything of before. If there ever had been a before. "Goddess?" he asked. "Yes, number twelve?" "Will it be painful?" "No." As he turned to leave the room and fulfill his task, he stopped, surprised, when he came face to face with his companion immediately behind him. Her shoulder was being submitted, seemingly eagerly, to him. He inserted the needle into the soft, round flesh of her shoulder, pressed the plunger, then withdrew it, turned, and placed the empty cylinder back on the breasts of the statue of Goddess. Once more he brushed his nipples across those of the statue. This time he was expecting the thrill which ran through him, and he enjoyed it immensely, even more than he expected. "Goddess?" "Yes?" "It is done. Will I be leaving now?" "No...but soon." "Where will I go?" "Wherever you choose." "There is a world of which I dream. It is a beautiful place. I would like to go there. Is it very far?" "No...not far." "Then it does exist?" He was thrilled. "Yes. This place, where you are, is only one of many worlds." "Are they as beautiful as the world in my dreams?" "There is beauty everywhere. You only need look." "I do not understand. There is nothing beautiful in this place." "But there is, number twelve. Your world is full of beauty." He did not know where. This prison he found himself in was dark, ugly, and loathsome. Beauty did not exist here, he thought. He stood there for quite some time with his head lowered, his eyes fixed on his prodigal breasts, which seemed only to confirm his thinking, and he decided that he was right. As he turned to join his companion in the smaller room, he noticed the movements of his overflowing breasts, and found that, as he moved, they seemed so vibrant and stimulating, almost with a life of their own. They gently, almost erotically, swayed, bounced, rolled, waved, and undulated in every way possible, in rhythm with, not only each step or breath he took, but with each subtle move he made. They were beautifully fantastic. He reached his cot and sat down, erectly, with his awesome breasts thrust outward, toward his companion, who was sitting opposite him on her cot. He was thankful that he reached his cot quickly, for as he was walking, his generous, sensitive breasts were gently caressing each other and arousing in him an uncontrollable passion of ecstatic pleasure, which he could do nothing to stop. The more he thought of it, and the more he walked, the greater the pleasure became, until he was almost at a frenzy. As a man, the thoughts which were flooding him, repulsed him; thoughts of his unfettered companion suckling his yearning nipples while tenderly massaging his round, firm, bountiful, pleasure-starved breasts. And yet...he noticed that his manhood was erect and throbbing, almost painfully. He was embarrassed by, both, his physical and emotional states, and did not look at his companion, but instead, just sat with his head lowered, staring at his marvelous breasts, which confused him so. Sitting there, unmoving, with his eyes fixed in a glassy, hollow stare, trying to hold back the multitude of emotions which were swirling around inside him, he could hear his companion roaming restlessly about. He settled nothing. Especially the most sensual emotions. His staff was still pounding, aching for relief. When he finally got back up, he found his companion in the only other room of their small universe, sleeping contentedly in the mothering warmth of the old, large, overstuffed chair. As he leaned in the doorway watching her, his anguish, confusion, and bitterness toward himself slowly faded, and a gratifying calm surrounded him, and he realized, for the first time, how childlike and innocent his companion was. His effector was no longer tense and demanding, and he was grateful. He grew tired, so returned to his narrow, flimsy cot to sleep, only to discover that lying down was no longer such a simple, fundamental thing to do. He usually slept on his stomach, but, with his mountainesque breasts, he found this to be grossly impossible, unless there existed, which there didn't, a large opening near one end of the cot, through which his breasts could be placed and allowed to rest on the floor beneath. He tried lying on his back, even though he could never sleep that way, and found that position, due to the narrowness of the cot, painfully uncomfortable. As he laid back, with his arms at his sides, his mammoth breasts rolled to either side, hanging over the sides of the cot, trapping his arms, and painfully stretching the smooth, ivory skin of his chest. Finally, he decided on a more realistic approach, and laid on his side. He was as far to the edge of the cot as physically possible without falling off, and he could feel the rounded metal edge running up his right side, and he could feel the cold metal rod of the other side pressing against his breasts as his right breast lay in front of his face, and his left breast laid below it, in front of his midriff. Both of which were hanging halfway off the cot. He thought to himself that his little cot was now virtually useless, and that he would probably do better sleeping on the floor, but he was too sleepy to get up, and it had taken him so long to get in a, not really comfortable position, but one which he felt would allow him to sleep, that he decided to stay where he was. Perhaps, he thought, the next time he was to lay down it would be on the floor. Like this, he finally fell into a dreamless slumber. It was the first time he hadn't dreamt in many a sleep, but it was a long, sound, refreshing, reenergizing repose; something he had needed for a long time. When he awoke, he was joyous and carefree, and was once again ready to enjoy his little world. He turned and thumped to the floor, where he instantly remembered his "condition" when his magnanimous breasts plopped down in front of him and laid joggling. He laid there, temporarily, until his breasts came to rest, disappointed in himself for having forgotten, then he sighed and slowly managed to climb to his feet. He ambled to the mirror, with his immense breasts quaking with each step, and eyed the bizarre reflection he saw. It was the same one he had seen before, and he still didn't like it. However...he wasn't quite as adamant about his bulky, gargantuan breasts, which, he felt, on anyone else, such as Goddess or his companion, would have been glorious things. His companion? He had forgotten about her, like everything else. Where was she? It was then he heard a dull thud on the smooth cement floor somewhere behind him, and as he spun on his heels to investigate, he once again forgot about his more-than- substantial breasts, and when he stopped, his massive mounds, again, brought him crashing to the floor, where he squashed them grievously. He closed his eyes, grimaced, and slowly sat up, then massaged his agonizing, superabundant breasts until the pain subsided and was replaced with a warm, pleasurable sensation. It was an exquisite pleasure, much like that he felt when his nipples brushed those of the statue's, and he didn't want it to end, but a muffled noise reminded him that he was looking for his companion. ( CONTINUED )