Once upon a time there was a young boy called Timmy.
Timmy was very unhappy, because he was lost, all alone
in a strange place, and it was dark. He had been left
behind at the K-mart when the orphanage bus pulled out,
and had set off in what he thought was the right
direction, but after a couple of hours of walking he was
close to panic. Then, through the trees, he thought he
could see a light ahead.
Quickening his pace he moved towards the light, and
suddenly the trail he'd been following opened into a
clearing, in the middle of which stood a large single
story building. He stumbled towards the source of the
light, a single street lamp which illuminated the entire
area in front of the entrance. Climbing the three steps
to the door he hit the bell push, slumping against the
doorjamb in relief at having found civilization.
He looked around him as he waited, noticing for the
first time the large sign beside the front path.
'W.A.R.M. FACILITY' it said, whatever that meant. He
heard footsteps coming towards the door and turned as it
opened. "Why, what have we here?" A pleasant voice
crooned, a big soft hand snaking down and cupping his
cheek.
"Please ma'am, I'm lost," said Timmy, in a small voice,
looking up, way up to where he could just make out the
kind features of his 'rescuer' part hidden as they were
behind her massive, towering bust.
"Well, you just come inside and tell Nurse Jenny all
about it, young man, and don't you worry any more." She
quickly ushered him inside, casting searching glances
all around to make sure he was alone.
Timmy let himself be led down a long corridor, his hand
gently but firmly held in hers. He felt so glad that the
darkness was gone, that the night sounds were left
behind outside, that this kind lady was going to make
sure he was OK.
As they walked she asked him questions. "What's your
name, baby?"
"Timmy," he replied, clutching her hand more tightly.
"And how old are you, little Timmy?"
"I'm eleven, ma'am," he said, feeling her hand return
his friendly pressure.
Timmy couldn't help noticing the way she was dressed:
her nurse's uniform seemed to shine, and it was
certainly very tight, stretching across her full body,
especially over the mountains of her chest. It seemed to
make strange squeaking, slithering noises as she walked,
and he felt a strange stirring between his legs as he
saw gaps appear between the buttons at the front showing
flashes of a white garment beneath. He didn't know it
was a brassiere, (and a very big, strong one, at that)
in fact he didn't know very much about women at all,
having spent nine of his eleven years at the State Boy's
Orphanage which didn't even have a TV.
"How did you come to be walking all the way out here,
baby boy?" she cooed, the action of her walking rubbing
his hand against her slick thigh.
He explained his separation from the rest of the boys
from the orphanage, and how the bus had gone without
him, and left him alone.... he started to cry at that
point, explaining between sniffles that he had no-one in
the whole wide world.
Jenny Hunt couldn't believe her good fortune.... a young
boy, with no relatives, had just fallen into their
hands! Smothering her jubilation with some difficulty,
she became the soul of motherly concern and care once
more, extending her heart to this lonely, lost little
boy.
"Don't you worry, baby, you can stay here as long as you
like, Nurse Jenny and her friends are here for you." She
stopped walking, stroked his hair, and hugged him into
her, ensuring that his little nose found it's way
between two of the overworked buttons on her tunic, then
pulled a little harder until it met the sweet smelling
flesh of her cleavage.
Timmy gradually stopped sobbing, comforted by the
strange feel of a woman's soft, full body, and breathed
more deeply, drinking in the heady perfume which welled
up at him from Nurse Jenny's bosom. A second, more
subtle scent was mixed with it which he couldn't
recognise at first, then he realised what it was....
rubber! Her tunic was made of some kind of thin rubber!
As she cuddled him she was swaying gently, rocking him,
holding his head, her huge bra-clad breasts acting as a
retaining clamp as she swayed.
"Are you hungry, baby Timmy?" she asked as last, lifting
his face and staring down at him through the canyon of
her cleavage.
Timmy nodded, partly anaesthetised by the strong
perfume, and again offered no resistance as she led him
further into the building. They entered a small,
comfortably room, and Nurse Jenny sat him down, pushed a
pile of magazines towards him, and handed him a TV
remote.
She leaned over him to plump up his cushions, and made
sure her huge rubber-covered bosoms slithered
continuously across his face as she did so. When she
figured she had him bemused enough with her 'accidental'
facial massage, she stood up, and smiled.
"I'm going to make some enquiries now Timmy, to try and
find out what to do with you. You make yourself
comfortable, someone will bring you a nice warm drink in
a little while." She smiled, pulling her tunic down
tighter still over her now erect nipples. "You read a
mag, or watch a movie: I'll see you later!" Timmy was
close to panic again as his newfound friend disappeared
Looking around, his glance fell on the magazine on top
of the pile next to him. His panic disappeared as he saw
what kind of magazine it was. Two huge breasts stared
back at him from the glossy cover, and he picked it up,
flicking through past page after page of the same. Big
breasts with erect nipples, in every kind of pose, but
always being thrust forward for the reader's delight.
Timmy felt another odd twitch between his legs, and
stirred uncomfortably. A quick scan through a second mag
revealed more of the same, but this time there were two
big-busted women in most of the pictures, and with an
increasing feeling of strangeness Timmy saw they were
busily pulling or sucking on each other's nipples!
Timmy felt a hot flush rise in his cheeks, and looked
down as his hardening penis bumped again the remote
control box in his lap. Now Timmy had never had a proper
erection before, and hadn't the slightest idea what it
was, what it meant, or what to do with it.
This of course was exactly what Nurse Jenny had planned
would happen to the boy. She had indeed started to plan
what to do with the boy, but her plans did not include
sending him back to the State Home. Dear me, no. Nurse
Jenny was at that moment discussing her 'find' with her
delighted colleagues, and within a very few minutes they
were formulating a very comprehensive plan for little
Timmy's future.
Meanwhile, Timmy was investigating the TV remote
control. It was the first one he had ever seen, but it
seemed straightforward enough. Trying to ignore the
tightness and discomfort in his pants, he pressed
various buttons, until by chance he pointed it in the
right direction and the TV lit up.
Further button pushing followed, and inevitably Timmy
finally hit 'play', which brought the video player to
life. Brief 'snow' was followed by a hand-written title:
"Lactating Nympho Nurses", then the screen showed a
hospital ward scene, with three buxom, tightly dressed
nurses fussing around a patient's bed. Timmy didn't
understand the title, but soon got a pretty good idea of
what it meant. The occupant of the bed was swathed in
bandages but otherwise seemed a very healthy young man.
The young nurses, however, were treating him as if he
were extremely ill. They were very attentive, taking the
man's temperature, checking his pulse every few minutes,
wiping his forehead, plumping up his pillows, helping
him with his drink and generally doing nurse things, and
Timmy noticed that each time one of them was facing the
camera the zipper on her candystripe dress was exposing
more and more of the tightly packed mammaries within!
Poor Timmy didn't know where to look. The soundtrack
must have been of particularly good quality, as Timmy
could clearly hear the zippers sliding down, and the
breathing of the patient becoming heavier! What he could
not hear, however, was the message beneath the audible
soundtrack, the incessant, subliminal instructions which
would soon be such a key part of his 'education'.
While Timmy was staring open-mouthed at the fantasy
unfolding on the TV screen, his subconscious was being
bombarded. Very specific areas of his mind were
targeted, each one receiving explicit directions which
would make Timmy's 'care' easier to administer. The
message started simply enough with comforting, soothing
sounds, gradually replaced by single word suggestions,
'trust' 'nurse' 'kind' 'help' and others, repeated until
Timmy's mind, like a clear blackboard, was ready for the
day's lesson.
As the action on the screen got more intense, so did the
subliminal messaging. Timmy saw the nurses one by one
hoist their heavy boobs out of the confines of their
brassieres, watched them pull their nipples into erect,
inch long pegs, stared as they forced each one into the
mouth of their helpless 'patient', making him suck on
it, until what looked like milk dribbled out of the
corner of his mouth.
As he watched the lust-crazed ladies on screen, the
messages he received grew in intensity. 'Nurses are
your friends. Breasts are your friends. Nurses breasts
are your friends.'
These messaged were repeated over and over again as the
action continued unabated, with more and more milk being
pumped into the poor man in the hospital bed. Second and
third messages were added to the subtle instructions.
'Bigger breasts are better breasts, help your friends to
grow their breasts whenever you can' was soon joined by
'swollen cocks need to be frequently pumped by your
friends.'
Timmy was really confused. He didn't know why the nurses
were making the man drink from their long, hard,
nipples, but he knew that watching them do it made him
feel contented and.... something else. He knew what a
cock was. He also knew he had a swollen one, and that it
was so swollen it was throbbing.
He did not know why, or indeed how, it needed to be
pumped, but was beginning to feel that it should be,
somehow. As the short movie ended, with all four cast
members writhing together in a milk-splattered orgy, a
young, red-haired lady entered the room....
Timmy watched helplessly as the scene on screen slowly
faded. The young redhead walked over to the TV, removed
the video and replaced it with another. "Hello, you must
be Timmy," she half-turned and smiled at him, "My name
is Nurse Joy, and I've come to keep you company for a
while, and maybe answer any questions that you may
have." Timmy's pants were severely stretched by the
raging erection within, though the young nurse pretended
not to notice.
"I tell you what, why don't you sit on Nurse Joy's knee,
and we'll watch the second part of the film together,
what d'you think?" Timmy stared at the nurse as she sat
beside him, vaguely noticing that she too was clad in
thin, shiny rubber, and also like Nurse Jenny, had very
large breasts. Those same breasts were now uncomfortably
close, and Timmy could hear the sound of her hand as she
patted the taut rubber tunic stretched across her lap.
"Come, Timmy, the film's about to start!" Timmy stood
and moved across to perch reluctantly on the edge of
Nurse Joy's knees, but she was having none of that. She
pulled him back into the cushions of the settee, wedging
him between them and her jutting left breast, with her
arm around his waist. "There, that's better, isn't it?"
she sighed, settling herself and looking forward to the
next fifteen minutes with high hopes.
She pressed 'play', slid her encircling arm around the
boy until her hand rested on his thigh, and thought how
delicious it felt having his little face pressed against
her rubber clad breast.
The screen lit up, displaying the same ward scene but
without the three nurses. The young man in the bed
looked none the worse for his forced feeding, and was
sat up in bed reading a newspaper. Then the double doors
of the ward swung open, and in bustled an officious
looking lady in a dark blue uniform, who promptly drew
the curtains around his bed.
"Good morning Mr. Cox," said the amply endowed Matron,
as the camera moved inside the curtain to join her, "Are
you ready for your first extractions of the day?" She
pulled back the bedcovers exposing a huge penis, which
was clearly ready for something. Timmy felt Nurse Joy
tense up against him, felt her nipple begin to harden
under his cheek.
"This is one of my very favourite bits, Timmy," she
giggled, "watch what happens next!" Timmy watched in awe
as the Matron grasped the man's stiff organ in both
hands, and started to pull back the skin covering it,
uncovering the shiny purple dome of his erection. Then,
starting slowly but with gathering speed, she began
pumping up and down, up and down, until the erection was
about a foot in length, and he was arching his back,
gasping and crying out. During the masturbation scene
the invasive subliminal messages began again, urging
Timmy on to his inevitable goal. 'swollen cocks need to
be frequently pumped by your friends.....' 'swollen
cocks need to be frequently pumped by your friends....'
'swollen cocks need to be frequently pumped by your
friends.....' Timmy felt Nurse Joy's fingers sliding up
his thigh towards his rampant cock, just as the Matron
on screen began urging Mr. Cox to empty his testicles.
"That's it, Mr. Cox," coaxed the Matron, "Let it go, you
know it's better out than in, let me have all that nasty
stuff, come on, squirt it out for Matron!" Right on cue,
the poor man in the bed started to cum, long ropes of
gluey semen spurting out, high into the air, and
festooning down over the good Matron, while she went on
working his penis, long, slow, strokes, dragging more
and more cum from her defenseless patient. By the time
he had stopped ejaculating the Matron was a mess. Her
protruding bosom was particularly well covered, a
liberal coating of his spunk shining under the ward
lights.
"That's a good start, Mr. Cox," she reached for the
buttons on the front of her uniform, "but let's see what
you can do if Matron shows you her big bra this time!"
She pulled back her uniform exposing a massive white
brassiere, and little Timmy again felt Nurse Joy's
reaction.
His cheek was beginning to hurt where her inch long
nipple was rubbing against it. He could also feel her
fingers sliding down to rest around the bulge that was
his erection. He simply couldn't take it all in: his
head was being bombarded with an inexorable stream of
'commands', his sight was partly obscured by a huge,
rubber clad bosom, and the rest of his field of vision
was filled with the TV screen, where a senior nurse was
currently pumping a second load of ejaculate from her
'patient' as he reached out to try and grab her tightly
restrained breasts. Nurse Joy was obviously enjoying the
situation: her left hand was now kneading Timmy's cock,
while her right stroked her left breast, pushing it
harder into Timmy's face.
"Oh Timmy, look, Matron is taking off her brassiere now,
it must be so tight, with those simply huge titties
packed in there, don't you think?" Timmy couldn't think.
All he could feel see, hear and smell was what this sexy
film and even sexier nurse chose to let him. He felt
Nurse Joy's fingers ease open his pants buttons, he saw
Mr. Cox finally manage to grasp one of Matron's huge
breasts, her heard Nurse Joy gasp as she extracted his
cock, and he smelt that strange mixture of perfume and
rubber once more, as she turned towards him and engulfed
his face with her cleavage.
"What's going on here?" Asked a stern female voice
suddenly....
Elsewhere in the W.A.R.M Facility, the day had been an
interesting one. Earlier that afternoon Mandy Sutton had
attended for a second interview for the vacancy of
'trainee nurse.'
She had arrived promptly at 3 o'clock, and sat waiting
in the small reception area outside Matron's offices.
She was not kept waiting long. "Miss Sutton?" Matron's
door swung open, and her secretary, Alice Morton,
ushered the girl inside, noting with approval her
rounded, prominent breasts, thrusting against her coat.
Mandy, for her part, was stunned by the awe-inspiring Ms
Morton. She guessed the blonde's age to be about 40, and
her height to be over six feet! As she was led into the
inner office, she was conscious of the secretary's
massive boobs, bobbing at eye-level next to her,
constrained beneath a white blouse by a big, black bra.
"Give me your coat," Ms Morton said, indicating a com-
fortable looking, padded, high backed chair before a
large, mahogany desk. "Matron will be here shortly,
please be seated."
Mandy allowed the busty secretary to help her out of her
coat, noticing how Ms Morton managed to touch her
breasts no less than four times, bringing her nipples to
life in the process. She sat down, feeling very
apprehensive, and Ms Morton took a seat at the left end
of the big desk, crossing her nyloned legs noisily and
taking deep breaths to emphasise her already formidable
bustline.
Mandy looked over at her, and immediately wished she
hadn't. Somehow three of the blouse buttons had come
undone, and Alice Morton's brassiere was now visible,
along with several inches of bulging breast. Alice
looked back at the girl over her spec-tacles, pretending
to arrange some papers on the desk, spotting her aroused
nipples immediately. This was going to be a most
enjoyable interview, she thought lustily.
The office door opened at that point, and in bustled
Matron, her dark blue tunic top liberally spattered with
something, streaks of some kind of sticky sub-stance.
"Please excuse this mess," she smiled at Mandy, "this is
a working facility, and one of our young residents is
particularly productive." Matron started to unbutton her
top. "You don't mind if I change, before we begin?"
Mandy stared in disbelief as the amply endowed head
nurse removed her uniform, revealing her industrial
strength brassiere, fully loaded with what must have
been the two biggest, heaviest breasts Mandy had ever
seen. She quickly retrieved a freshly-laundered tunic
from a drawer, and stepped into it, her heavy artillery
pointing fully at Mandy as she did so.
"There, that's much better." Matron sat at her desk,
zipping up the uniform as she spoke again. "Welcome to
the W.A.R.M. Facility, Miss Sutton. I'm Matron Kline,
and this is my secretary, Alice." Mandy was, by this
point, feeling somewhat overawed.
She had always felt that her own breasts were somewhat
large, but the two women sat before her made her feel
like a little girl again. Ms Morton had somehow
contrived to slip two further buttons, although Matron
seemed not to notice. Her own, gigantic, pointed breasts
seemed to stick out over her desk for an incredible
distance.
"Miss Sutton?" Mandy jumped as Matron spoke her name
again, making her boobs jiggle deliciously within their
satin harness. She felt her nipples harden further from
the friction.
"S-sorry, Matron," the girl stammered, "I am feeling
very nervous."
"There's no reason to be, child," said Matron, "Sister
Johnston was very impressed with your CV, and I can tell
you that of over forty applicants you are one of only
four to be short-listed."Matron didn't say that the main
reasons she had been picked were packed into her 36DD
pink satin bra.
Mandy heard a rustle and glanced across to Ms Sutton
once more, and saw that her blouse was now fully
unfastened and outside her skirt, hanging straight down
from the peaks of her bra-clad breasts. Her heart began
to beat faster. Matron watched the interplay between her
secretary and the girl, the latest in a long line of
such interviews, and felt, like Ms Morton, that this was
going to be a productive afternoon. "So, you want to be
a trainee nurser?"
"I'm sorry?" said Mandy, her attention drawn once more
to the monstrously proportioned Ms Morton, who had now
abandoned her blouse completely. It lay on the floor
behind her chair, and the secretary was busy stroking
the huge, shiny cups of her brassiere, both hands
sliding towards each other underneath her bosoms,
lifting, jiggling, jouncing those two mountainous
mammaries.
"I said, so you want to be a nurser?" Matron pretended
mild annoyance, knowing only too well what was really
preoccupying the young girl before her.
"N-n-nurser?" Mandy tore her eyes away from the two
black, shimmering jugs. "Wh-what's a nurser?"
"Well, you applied for the job, and your Curriculum
Vitae indicates that you are qualified to do it, what do
you mean, what's a nurser?" returned Matron, smiling to
herself.
"Excuse me, but the ad said 'trainee nurse', not
'trainee nurser', and I'm not sure I understand the
difference," finished Mandy, rather weakly.
"Well if it did it was a misprint, and anyway, you
appear to be perfect for the position." Matron dismissed
her question, knowing full well that the 'misprint' was
deliberate. She rose from her chair, feeling the time
was right for some 'in depth' interviewing.
"Why has Ms Morton removed her blouse?" said Mandy,
common sense returning briefly to her rapidly clouding
reason.
"It's just so warm in here, don't you think?" said the
secretary by way of explanation, still working her big
breasts.
Matron moved around the desk, her eyes never leaving
Mandy's. "Do you know what we do here at the Facility,
Miss Sutton?" She reached the side of the girl's chair,
and sat on the arm, her cantilevered bust hovering over
Mandy's head.
"Some sort of hospice?" asked Mandy, only too aware of
the immense buttress of Matron's bust above her, and
becoming aware, for the first time, of the heady aroma
of rubber coming from the Matron.
"No, my child," said Matron, laughing gently and resting
her hand ever so lightly on Mandy's shoulder, over the
ridge of her bra-strap. As she was not forthcoming with
any further details, Mandy ventured a second guess.
"Is it a clinic?" she ventured hopefully, as she felt
Matron's fingers begin a very slow, feather light
massage of her shoulder.
"I think it's time I put the record straight." murmured
Matron, shaking her head and shifting imperceptibly
until the latex bodice of her tunic was resting on top
of Mandy's head. Her dancing fingers noted a relaxing of
tension within Mandy's body, as they continued their
devilish manipulations.
"We harvest a product which is in great demand all over
the world. Have you perhaps wondered what the letters
W.A.R.M. stand for?"
Mandy was now feeling more and more aroused, from the
rubber smell exuding from Matron, from the secretary's
increasingly frenzied manipulation of her massive
breasts, from Matron's heavy bosoms moving liquidly on
her head, but mostly from the insistent, relaxing
massage of her spine and upper back.
"I... I had wondered..." sighed Mandy, arching her back
luxuriously, "perhaps you would explain..." Alice Morton
arose from her seat at this point, and oozed around the
desk to take up station on the other arm of Mandy's
chair. Alice began to work the muscles on the other side
of Mandy's neck and back, and within a few seconds the
girl was writhing deliciously, her body almost ready to
be totally given over to the skilled, experienced hands
of her 'interviewers'.
"Of course I'll explain, my child," cooed the Matron,
feeling her own massive nipples begin their journey to
full erection.
"Firstly, W is for Wetnurse. Every member of the
facility's staff is female, and is fully and permanently
milk-producing. The reasons for this are various, and
will be explained to you if you are found suitable for
the position. Next, the A is for Ample. You will have
noticed that all the staff are very big-busted, and
again the reasons are complex. The R is for Rubber, and
once more there are a number of reasons for this.
Finally, and most im-portantly, the letter M is for
Masturbatrix - the reason for our existence as a
facility."
Mandy was listening to what was being said, hearing the
words and accepting them, finding nothing unusual. The
subliminal messages to which young Timmy was being
subjected were not limited to just the 'residents' - oh,
dear me no. After about twenty minutes Mandy Sutton was
ready for Matron to continue with her indoctrination.
"It's a pity your breasts are so underdeveloped," said
Matron, bringing her free hand up and brushing the
fingertips against Mandy's jutting nipple, in-dicating
that Alice should do the same with the other big breast,
"but we can remedy that with a series of injections to
promote tissue growth, and indeed we can incorporate the
lactulose hormone to fill them up with creamy milk at
the same time!"
Matron and her secretary then busied themselves with
getting inside Mandy's blouse and brassiere, and spent a
further hour and a half brainwashing the girl into
believing that her breasts were non-existent, that they
would be so much better if they were huge, that they
would be so much better still filled with an endless
supply of milk, and of course that they would be
finished to perfection once they were wrapped in firm