Sister Isa's Specialty

On a warm summer afternoon, Fiona was lost in thought as she strolled down the sidewalk. Tonight was her second date with her new girlfriend, Charlene, and she had been pondering how to make it a special evening they'd both remember.

She already had a great deal working in her favor, she thought, brushing her shoulder-length blonde hair behind her ear. She was slender and lithe, blessed with an effortless natural beauty that all of her past girlfriends had loved. But there was one thing, though, that she had found wanting in herself.

Then again, it was really two things. The small handfuls in her shirt were perfect in their own way, but they had never satisfied her desire to have a bigger chest. She often admired women with larger breasts, and even daydreamed about having a pair as huge as Charlene's —

Her pocket buzzed. Her heart leapt when she saw a new photo from her girlfriend. The camera was looking down on Charlene wearing only a lace bra and panties, her hand coyly over her mouth. A towel was wrapped around her head, and her skin was flushed warm, as if she'd just emerged from the shower. She was gorgeous, and she knew it.

There was a note, too: Getting ready for tonight! xoxo

Fiona gazed at the long line of her girlfriend's cleavage. She had long admired Charlene's unusually large breasts, and this photo captured them bulging in every direction around a bra that was clearly several sizes too small. She could even see the thick thumb-sized hills of Charlene's hard nipples thrusting defiantly against the fabric.

She savored the tantalizing photo while she could. Tonight she'd have to be careful not to get caught staring at her girlfriend's chest, which was by far the largest of any woman she'd ever met. Charlene had seemed to sense this admiration, usually choosing to wear tops that were too small, knowing that Fiona liked to see her clothes stretched tightly around her big chest. Then again, Fiona pondered, maybe her girlfriend didn't really mind her staring after all?

There were times when she couldn't believe her luck. To spend even a minute with a girl as beautiful as Charlene was amazing enough, let alone having an opportunity to host her for an intimate dinner that evening. She hoped that tonight she'd finally have a chance to see her new girlfriend's incredible bosom, in all its nude splendor, for the first time.

She paused on the sidewalk under the summer sun. She lifted the bottom of her shirt, exposing her firm stomach, then leaned over to use the cloth to wipe the sweat from her brow. She straightened up again, brushing a few stray blonde locks out of her eyes, and looked around.

She was standing just outside a small church. The building was clearly ancient, its stone walls worn with age, although its grounds were still impeccably maintained. She had passed this way many times, and while she had never paid it much attention before, something about it seemed especially inviting today.

The delectable scent of freshly-baked cookies wafted through an open door in the side of the church. She followed her nose, absent-mindedly stepping closer, still distracted by the nervous anticipation of her upcoming date. She walked right up to a doorway that led into the church's small kitchen.

She paused for a moment, then continued inside. Just as she crossed the threshold, she had the sudden idea that a home-cooked meal might be just what she needed to impress Charlene. It was perfect! That would make her girlfriend feel like a very special guest indeed.

She looked around. The kitchen seemed abandoned. Its tile countertops had dulled with age, and the pale white walls gave the impression of being part of the church's original construction. The entire room seemed to have been dutifully maintained over many years, still just as functional today as it had been at its founding.

She caught a flash of movement in the corner of her eye. A cheery feminine voice reached her ears.

"You're just in time. The cookies are nearly ready!"

Someone was walking towards her, obscured behind a tall shelf in the middle of the kitchen. A large, dark shape was coming around the corner, at last emerging into view.

It was a girl wearing a habit, no doubt one of the sisters at the church. She was about Fiona's age, and she seemed bright-eyed and cheery even though she'd caught Fiona trespassing in her kitchen. Her entire form was concealed behind black fabric. A dark covering on her head hid her hair, leaving only her face and hands visible.

There was something unusual about her, though, and Fiona lowered her eyes, which suddenly grew wide with surprise.

Two large, round shapes in the girl's habit thrust several feet ahead of her, filling an enormous volume of black fabric. Her breasts were simply enormous, extending to her sides far beyond her slender shoulders, while their bottoms completely obscured her waist from Fiona's view. As huge as they were, they seemed incredibly firm and almost perfectly spherical.

Fiona's eyes were nearly overwhelming her breast-obsessed brain. She couldn't understand how this girl was standing upright, let alone moving so gracefully around the kitchen.

She suddenly felt self-conscious, remembering that she'd wandered in uninvited.

"H...Hi! I'm Fiona. I'm sorry for trespassing, Sister!" she said, her eyes pleading.

The girl in the habit grinned, shifting her weight onto her right leg. The enormous shelf of her breasts lurched to the right, their enormous fabric-covered shapes bouncing firmly before settling.

"Welcome to our humble convent, Fiona. I am Sister Isa," she said, politely ignoring Fiona staring at her. She took another step forward and her massive chest surged towards the blonde girl.

A large, empty baking tray was protruding from a shelf at Isa's waist height, imminently at risk of colliding with her approaching bosom. Fiona had opened her mouth to make another flustered attempt at an apology, but upon seeing this impending disaster, her breath caught in her throat.

Isa stepped to the side, twirling herself around in a complete rotation until she came to rest again facing her guest. Her tremendous breasts were clearly subject to inertial forces, though, and they continued to move across her front in the direction of her spin.

Fiona watched their great shapes whipping around until the fabric of Isa's habit, together with their own incredible firmness, arrested their motion. Their outer edges traced a great arc to her side, slowing just enough to gently nudge the protruding baking tray back onto its shelf.

They accelerated back across Isa's chest, continuing their journey in the opposite direction. Bounding back across and slowing further, they finally came to rest with their forward edges swaying gently, more than an arm-length in front of her.

Fiona gasped, stunned by this incredible display of breasty prowess. This sister was astonishing, the impossible ideal of her deepest sexual fantasies made real, and she could do little more than stare openly at her.

She felt her heart dropping. She was overcome by shame and hung her head, her embarrassment overpowering her unexpected arousal and nervous excitement.

"Come now, Fiona," said Sister Isa, her expression softening. She took another few steps forward, nearly closing the remaining distance between them.

Fiona couldn't help but peek at the great spheres of Isa's chest bouncing and swaying as they drew ever closer.

"What troubles you?" Isa asked, her voice soft.

Fiona was staring at the two thumb-sized protrusions that had appeared in the dark fabric near the centers of Isa's breasts. She blinked slowly, trying to restrain herself from openly gawking, and took a deep breath.

"It's my second date tonight, and I very much want to impress my girlfriend. I'm thinking about cooking something home-made," she managed, feeling thankful for the opportunity to share her burdens with someone so friendly.

Isa brightened, beaming widely.

"Splendid! I have just the thing," she said, taking another step closer.

Fiona's vision was increasingly filled with the expanse of Isa's colossal chest. Her attention was quickly drawn back to Isa's nipples. They had lengthened and thickened significantly, and she saw them tenting peaks longer than her middle finger in the front of Isa's habit. How could they be so large?

Her mind was still grappling with what she was seeing. She felt herself adrift in an aroused haze. She wondered how Isa's huge teats looked nude, how hard they would feel in her fingers, and how divine they would taste on her tongue. She could spend hours licking and sucking such incredible nipples...

Isa was scanning the nearby shelves, at last identifying her target. She leaned to the side, her arms outstretched above and around the enormity of her pendulous chest, and rummaged around. Her motions sent great shuddering waves through her bosom, which bounced and swayed in an enticing demonstration of its enormity and firmness that was not lost on Fiona.

The peaks tenting the front of Isa's habit had continued stretching further outwards. Fiona glanced down at her own outstretched palm and back up again, realizing with amazement that Isa's nipples were thicker than two of her fingers together and longer than her entire handspan. The fabric of Isa's habit was pulled taut, stretching thin in a horizontal band between her towering nipples.

Isa pulled a large glass jar and a small book from the shelf, then rocked back on her heels with another jiggling sway of her great bosom. She turned towards Fiona.

"Fresh cream," she beamed, holding the jar in one hand. "I prepared it myself just a few hours ago."

"And here," she continued, hefting the small book in her other hand. "Something very special indeed. My trusted cookbook! I'm sure there will be something in here you'll love."

She leaned forward, stretching her arms out and resting them atop her enormous breasts, clasping the jar and book in her hands. She took another step towards her pretty blonde guest.

Fiona watched the fabric-covered peak of Isa's huge left nipple surge ahead, then suddenly halt its advance. It quivered in the air, straining towards her with less than an inch of space between it and her stomach. She felt wobbly on her feet as the glass jar and cookbook were pressed into her hands.

"I can see the love in you, Fiona, and your desire to help others. You will need both to succeed with these recipes," said Isa, her arms still resting on her chest. She turned her hands palm-down and started rubbing them gently across the tops of her enormous breasts.

"What makes our convent special, Fiona, is the benefits you'll realize when you prepare our recipes with love," she said, smiling.

"And this is very important: at the moment you add this cream to your recipe, you must speak the name of your beloved," she added.

Fiona found all of this hard to follow. She'd been looking down as Isa's nipple swelled even longer, until it closed the last inch between them and was now poking lewdly into her stomach. She wasn't certain whether Isa noticed that they were now touching, but she enjoyed the moment all the same, shifting her weight so as to cause Isa's thick teat to drag slowly across her shirt.

Isa's grin faded and she raised an eyebrow. Fiona feared that she'd been caught.

"But now I must be away. Good luck, Fiona," Isa said with finality and swept away, leaving Fiona with only the memory of a brief encounter with Isa's enormous nipple.

The next few minutes were a blur of motion for Fiona: she accepted one of Isa's freshly-baked cookies before being ushered out of the kitchen. Her legs carried her home as if on autopilot.

She had just swallowed the last warm, gooey cookie bite as she closed her apartment door and stepped into her kitchen.

Ever since leaving Isa's convent, she'd been feeling an unusual warmth in her bosom. Her shirt felt extremely tight around her chest, and she couldn't remember the last time her nipples had felt so hard. She was relieved to have returned to the privacy of her home, as her teats were now making obvious peaks in the front of her shirt.

There was just over an hour before Charlene was due to arrive. She had to act, and there was no time to prepare something elaborate nor to attend to her sensitive nipples. She took a deep breath, focusing her willpower, and set Sister Isa's cookbook and the jar of cream on the kitchen counter.

The book's front and back covers were small planks of wood, stained dark and coated with a durable-looking gloss. Holes were punched through two of its corners, and large metal rings bound the covers together with a few dozen sheets of paper between them. On the front cover, in white ink, was hand-written in a flowery script:

Cooking Magicks for the Modern Enchantress

Below, in pink-colored ink, it continued:

A Tasty Treatise by Sister Isa, Convent of the Saint

Fiona turned it over and around in her hands. She had never seen a cookbook like this, and by every indication, Isa had put it together herself. But which Saint was her convent worshipping, and did Isa really expect her reader to be a modern enchantress? And that was... what, exactly?

She frowned, then opened the book, flipping its front cover around the rings and staring at the title on its first page.

"Milkmaid's Mango Cake," she read aloud. It was a recipe, hand-written in the same flowery script as the title on its cover.

"Baked Cheesy Ziti," she read after flipping another few pages. These recipes all seemed much more elaborate than she had expected. There was something else they had in common as well — every page featured a recipe that involved milk or cream, and in a few cases, both.

She idly scratched at her shirt, accidentally brushing a finger against a nipple, which was still poking diamond-hard into the fabric. She winced, biting her lip from the sensation. Ever since she'd returned home her nipples had felt awfully sensitive, but there was no time for them right now.

With one recipe per page, there were only a few dozen to choose from. They all seemed to require no small amount of skill or time, and she was short on both. She felt her heart dropping as she continued turning pages.

She had almost given up, resigning her date with Charlene to certain failure, when she arrived at the last page. She read the title once, then again, her eyes widening.

Isa's Whipped Cream. A creamy treat that adds a milky climax to any dessert!

She glanced at the jar of cream, then back to the page. It seemed too perfect. Was Sister Isa trying to tell her something?

The recipe was simple enough: whip the cream in a bowl, add sugar and vanilla. She had a mixer on her counter, a gift from an old flame, but had rarely used it. She kept it visible as a reminder to try new things in the kitchen and in life. This, she thought, was just the occasion to put it to use.

She placed a metal bowl and whisk in the freezer, a step recommended by Isa's recipe for the best effect. As she closed the freezer door, her sensitive nipples rubbed against her shirt and she felt an especially acute flush of arousal. She'd been feeling turned on ever since arriving home, but she knew she had to focus. At least she could change into something more comfortable, she thought, and wandered off to her room.

She emerged a few minutes later in a well-worn pink kimono. She wrapped it loosely around her bare chest, allowing her hard nipples more room to breathe. She returned to the kitchen, grabbing the chilled bowl and whisk from the freezer and placing them into the mixer.

The jar of cream on the counter caught her eye. She stared at it, remembering Isa's urgent instruction about its contents. She unscrewed and removed its top, then paused, wondering how exactly Isa had meant her to invoke her lover's name.

She gestured ineffectually with her other hand, making a motion somewhere between a wave and a high-five. She immediately felt silly and lowered her hand.

"Charlene," she spoke aloud. After a moment of consideration, she frowned, wondering whether Isa would find her performance convincing.

She gripped the jar tightly and reached within herself, although she wasn't entirely certain what she was looking for. Her eyes closed and she recalled the image of her girlfriend in her underwear, and how her big breasts were overflowing her bra...

"Charlene!" she exclaimed, at once opening her eyes and pouring the jar's contents into the bowl. She made certain not to spill a single drop.

The mixer proved reliable, quickly whipping the cream into a delicious froth, to which she duly added vanilla and a pinch of sugar. It was finished in barely another minute. She covered the bowl in plastic wrap and stashed it in the fridge.

She busied herself preparing the rest of the dessert course, the centerpiece of which — a fresh, although admittedly store-bought cheesecake — would be a natural pair with Isa's whipped cream.

There was a soft knock on the door, and Fiona realized she had lost track of time. She hurried over to the entrance and swung the door wide open, revealing a staggering vision.

Charlene was clearly dressed to impress. She had straight brown hair, tied back into an extremely long ponytail that fell below her hips. Fiona had made an offhand remark on their first date that she'd love to see Charlene's long hair in just this style, and she bit her lip as she admired the amazing length of the brunette's hair.

Her new girlfriend was wearing tight jeans, accentuating her slender legs and taut bottom. A pair of creamy white stilettos added enough height to make Fiona look upwards to meet her eyes. Her entire body was toned and subtly muscular, with an alluring firmness all over that Fiona adored.

Charlene wore an extra-extra-large cream-colored blouse that hung loose around her arms, but for all its great size, it still stretched tightly around her huge breasts. The two great teardrops on her chest were far larger than her head, stretching forward beyond Charlene's elbows and down below her navel. They were truly enormous, perky, and firm, and would have been closer to Fiona's breast-obsessed ideal than anyone she'd ever met, were it not for her earlier encounter with Sister Isa.

Charlene clearly knew how to wield them for maximum effect, and shifted her weight, jiggling her chest seductively and swishing her long ponytail as she stood showing off in the doorway. A long line of exposed cleavage teased Fiona, drawing her eyes further upwards to see a ruby red lip coloring framing Charlene's broad grin.

Fiona felt rooted in place as this stunning sight nearly overwhelmed her. Charlene was unfailingly polite, though, and stood patiently outside the door. She twisted one of her heels back and forth in the hallway, sending waves through her hair and a jiggly bounce through her huge chest.

A broad smile dawned on Fiona's face.

"You're beautiful," she whispered.

"You're amazing," Charlene said at the same time. They both giggled as the tension dissipated.

"Aren't you going to invite me in?"

Fiona blushed, realizing she'd been caught staring again, and stepped to the side. Charlene beamed and walked in, giving her chest an exaggerated bounce as she strolled by.

"Have a seat," said Fiona, gesturing towards her modest kitchen table. "I'll take care of everything. You just enjoy yourself."

Dinner was quick and easy, having been a takeout order from a nearby restaurant, but Fiona found herself increasingly distracted. Her chest was still feeling strangely warm and her nipples remained fully erect, rubbing back and forth against the soft fabric of her kimono.

She couldn't help but stare at Charlene's huge breasts as they strained against her blouse. They were incredible, she thought. They took up most of the space between Charlene and the table, bouncing and swaying in great rolling waves even with Charlene's smallest movements. It was becoming almost too much for Fiona to bear.