The Mind of a Futa Girl

Me and cars don't mix. I briefly pondered getting a driving permit when I turned 17, before quickly realising it was never going to happen. I was already over 7 feet tall with breasts practically the same volume as the entire front half of a car. There was simply no room in between the chair and the steering wheel for me to be able to drive. The DMV wouldn't have let me get a permit even if I'd wanted it. Just unsafe--wouldn't even be able to see the road. These days I try not to get in cars full stop. I'm too big. Too freaking tall. No leg room, and my tits leave no space for anything else. So what the hell was I thinking, letting Christina offer me a lift back home?

5 pm rolls around and I trudge down to the parking lot to find Christina standing beside some big dark-blue hummer. Least it's not a mini, I suppose. She smiles and waves. Almost seems like she's about to go in for a hug but I recoil at the last moment. Physical contact is also something that I do not involve myself in. Too great a potential for awkwardness or, god forbid, people feeling things they shouldn't.

Christina's clearly not the kind of girl to let issues go unaddressed, speaks the truth straight away "You're kinda a big gal aren't you, think my car can handle you?". I know she's trying to make light of it, but I feel myself go bright red. I make a squeak of affirmation--still too nervous to get a proper sound out.

Front seat isn't an option, obviously. Open the door to the back seats and start trying to push myself inside. I go backwards, breasts following me behind. My chest needs a bit of squeezing to get it inside but eventually I'm in--lying down across the length of the back seats with my chest taking up the entire volume of the back of the car. I press on the left side of my boobs to try and make sure I'm not spilling over into the front seats where Christina is, but I'm pretty sure I am. She seems kind of amused by all of this but doesn't say anything.

We set off towards our apartments--it's only a 5 minute drive but feels like thirty. Keep thinking how ridiculous I must look crammed in the back of this car like this. A few minutes into the drive she breaks the silence at last with "I think I see why you don't drive now" and laughs. I laugh nervously back, and remark that I'm not really built for cars. I try and make it sound like a joke but my voice trembles and it sounds like I'm about to cry. She makes a small grunt and giggles again in a curious way--almost like she's excited by that for some reason.

Back at the apartments we wave goodbye. Amazingly we live on the same floor, just a few doors down. No idea how I managed to miss her this morning. It almost seems like... In fact, I swear she lives in the same apartment as that asshole tech bro from this morning. Oh. Right. I'm an idiot. Boyfriend, works in tech. Yeah. Him.

For the rest of the evening I don't even know what to do with myself. Listless. Never had many hobbies anyway to be honest. So I put the TV on and sit by myself like usual. Heat up a meal in the microwave to stuff in my face. I should learn to cook really, but I have such a huge appetite it always seems like too much of a chore. Buying the ingredients and all that. My kitchen is too small anyway. What else am I supposed to do?

I let my mind wander--keep thinking about Christina. Her cute little face. Perfect blonde hair. Nice body. What is she up to? Probably getting fucked by her douchebag boyfriend that's what. Who am I kidding? What a fool I was thinking she was interested in me. Why are all the good ones taken?

Then again. I keep thinking about today. Why was she looking at me like that? Maybe she's bi after all? Maybe she hates her boyfriend, and has realised he's a total dick? Could I ask her? She seems to want to be friends at least--could try getting to know her and see if her boyfriend treats her right. He's probably no match for me, I could offer to protect her from him. Not that I know the first thing about fighting a dude, but I do have the height and weight advantage. Why couldn't I beat the shit out of some guy if I really wanted? The thought makes me shudder though. Better not get ideas.

Ugh. I look down and realise that I have a giant erection for some reason. So predictable. All this thinking of Christina is making me excited. But there's nothing else I can do about it now. Regretfully, I start kicking off my slacks. The tape I used to strap my dick to my thigh is about to snap off from how rock hard my dick has become. I lie down on my bed and watch my two-foot long dick spring into the air--a few droplets of cum fling off of it in the process. I watch it for a while, reconsidering if this is how pathetic I truly am. Unfortunately it is. I'm too horny, and too bored. Nothing else to do but jerk myself off.

Despite my perpetual state of horniness, masturbating has always been a challenge. My dick is just too thick for me to use my hands easily--which is saying something as my hands are huge. It turns out though that I have a different technique. On these occasions, and these occasions alone, my breasts actually come in handy. My dick is enormous, but my breasts dwarf everything and everyone around. I can easily engulf my throbbing erection in between my two giant floppy mammaries and use them to rub myself off. It really is the greatest pleasure I've ever known. To think it took 23 years of life before I realised I didn't even need help from anyone else--I can just titfuck myself. When I think about it though, it's probably for the best I didn't discover this too early on. Who knows if I would have ever found my way out of my bedroom as a teenager with knowledge like that.

Predictably, I only manage to last about 30 seconds before the image of Christina's jiggly ass in her tight yoga pants pops into my head. I lose my focus and instantly squirt a hefty splattering of cum into my cleavage. The horniness disappears as quickly as it arrived. Now I'm just out of breath and sticky. Gross. What a pervert I am. Big giant dick girl with stupid giant tits. I need to sort myself out. Get a girlfriend, or a boyfriend, or something. Can't keep going on like this.

I begrudgingly wipe my sad cum out of my cleavage, lie back down, and cry myself to sleep.

Tuesday

I managed to wake up early today. Knew I needed to have a shower this time, I stank after work yesterday. In and out in 20 minutes, just enough to wash off any residues of the previous day from my dumb oversized body while leaving enough time to get dressed. This apartment is suffocating me. I'm constantly just a couple of inches away from smashing my head into the ceiling. What kind of life is it when I can't even get the whole of my body inside my shower. Tits don't fit on my bed either. I can't live like this much longer.

I wait beside my front door for a few minutes, trying to listen out for Christina or the boyfriend. I can hear some shuffling of feet and a faint whispering but I can't tell if it's them or... Three knocks sound on the door. Shit. Practically makes me jump out of my skin and I immediately smash the top of head into the ceiling.

I wait a couple of seconds to make it seem like I wasn't waiting right by the door and then answer. As I always do when answering the door, I duck slightly so that whoever it is can actually see my face below the doorframe. Oh no. It's them. Christina, dressed in her plaid work shirt and skin-tight yoga pants again. That guy's there too. He's dressed in another cheap-looking business suit with worn-out brown brogues. He's checking the time on his watch, looking thoroughly like he doesn't want to be there.

Christina looks adorable and tiny next to her boyfriend, but I know he's probably not much taller than 6 foot. I ask them a bit too rudely what it is they want but Christina just replies with "are you ready to go?". Seems she didn't get the message about me being too big for her stupid car. Nevertheless, it's obvious that I was about to leave, so I just grunt some noise and follow them out.

Her boyfriend--whose name is Carlton (stupid name)--is driving today and will drop us off. What a nightmare. Bad enough I have to get in that car again. Now he's going to see me and witness the awful display of me squeezing my ridiculous body into that space.

I can tell he doesn't like me. He won't look up at my face. Even when I say thank you for offering a lift, his eyes just dart around, mostly looking at my biceps and my legs. I can't really figure out why. Perhaps because he goes to the gym, which I can tell from his somewhat bulky physique. Maybe he feels intimidated by me. I used to see those looks all the time when I walked into gyms, back when I used to go. I'm put off by this guy more than ever now. He's surly and short with Christina too, even though she's just as bright and chirpy now at 8 am as she was with me yesterday. She's just a magical little pixie. I don't get this relationship one bit.

5 minute drive to work is torture. I'm stuffed in back here. Can't see a thing. Even though I'm using my arm as much as possible to smoosh my chest away from the front seats, I can still feel that I'm spilling over. They're probably millimetres away from rubbing up against the back of Carlton's head. Feels ridiculous. Crammed in the back of this couple's car like some wounded elephant. Eventually it's over though, but then have to squeeze myself out again with both of them watching. For some reason Christina has a huge grin on her face.

The two of us spend the morning chatting like we did yesterday. Not much of a conversation though, she does all the talking. But I don't mind. Nice just to hear her speak. She has a cute voice. Some would call the valley girl accent annoying but it sounds sexy and feminine to me. So I let her ramble on. She mentions how her and her boyfriend are struggling for money. It's hard for me to understand everything she's saying--her boyfriend got caught doing something or another. He had to pay a massive fine. Possibility of jail time. She uses a word I don't understand, embezzling or something like that, but I know it's bad.

To listen to the way she talks about him it almost makes me think Christina doesn't even like her boyfriend. Sounds like a hard time for them though, I guess. She tells me that this is her first ever job. Curious--22 years old but never had to work in her life before. Turns out that it's only now cause her boyfriend can't support them both. I feel like I'm beginning to figure it out now--things falling into place. Those dreadful knock-off clothes he wears, the weird aloof attitude. The fact that both of them are way hotter than the other rednecks who live around here. How bad was the thing he did that they had to move to this backwater shithole of all places?

I'm on the shop floor again today. Christina at the cash register, still learning the ropes. I wish I could be on the one next to her so we could keep talking, but that's never going to happen. I don't fit in the little space, Mr Tran would never allow it. Instead I wander around stacking shelves and moving stuff out of the warehouse all day. I try to make sure all the routes I take are nonsensical so I end up walking past her. Part of me just wants to look at her again. Cute little smile, petite but curvaceous body, blue eyes and blonde hair, perfection.

But then there's part of me that just wants to make sure she wants to see me too. Certainly seems like it anyway. Every time I walk past she smiles and waves. At one point she's serving a group of teenagers who start filming me as I walk past, and Christina just starts screaming at them--giving them hell and calling them perverts. I'm used to stuff like that by now but it makes me feel all warm and fluttery in a totally new way that she'd actually stick up for me like that. She's only known me for one day.

I manage to catch her in the break room next. We chat for a bit more. I stump up the courage to mention something that's been worrying me. No matter how much I like this girl, I can't get in that car again. Too humiliating. She says not worry about it and that we'd be walking anyway--her boyfriend has the car today. I breathe a sigh of relief. And with that load of my mind I can happily spend the last few hours of my shift lost in daydreams about her.

Christina's waiting for me by the shop entrance. She's making evil eyes at the fat guy who works at the deli counter. That's happened a few times already. I can't help but notice that she gets a lot of that sort of attention. Not like the attention I get--people stare, but they never approach me like they do to her. I guess I'm too scary. The attention she gets is sort of sinister. Nasty. Guys eyeing her up. Fucking her with their eyes. As I think about it I start to feel sick, thinking about how I've been doing the exact same thing. I know why though, it's no secret. She's just a hot girl--way hotter than she has any right to be in a place like this. Guys around here have probably never seen a girl like that.

She grins from ear to ear when she sees me and bounds over. No hug this time, instead she strokes the nape of my back tenderly as we walk out to the parking lot. She has to stretch her arm all the way up to reach it--I guess it's the only the part of my body she can touch that wouldn't be inappropriate.

We take the 20 minute walk home, Christina rambling on about how she used to have all these friends she would go out dancing with. Used to be into ballroom dancing too she says--that was until she moved here. Then she starts complaining about having gained weight. It doesn't make sense to me though, as she looks perfect in my eyes. I try and compliment her on her looks but the words come out all wrong, makes me sound like I've been inspecting her body like a scientific subject--which I have, but I didn't want to admit it. But she ignores all that and just says "thank you babe" in a cheery voice and I feel like I've gotten away with it.

After a while she speaks up again and asks me where the gyms are in this town. She nods towards my biceps as she says it. Even though my long-sleeved work shirt has huge sleeves, it's still too tight on my arms and shoulders and makes me look like like I'm about to burst out of it like the Incredible Hulk. I tell her the about the gym I used to go to but she interrupts me mid-sentence to ask me why I stopped going. I explain all about how I was trying to lose the weight around my chest but ended up getting too bulky by accident. I realise how ridiculous it sounds as I'm saying it, especially seeing as we can be both see how big I still am in that area. But she laughs and quips back saying that it is not really a problem most women have. She's right, I suppose.

Christina then carries on, saying something about how her boyfriend goes to gym as he's a bit image-obsessed. She isn't explicit but I get the impression that she was trying to say something about him taking steroids, which would not surprise me.

We're nearly back at the apartment but Christina is still asking me all these questions. She asks me about my background, and my family. Asks me what it was like growing up. I can tell what she's doing, the question she wants to ask is "why do you look like that?" But I don't have an answer to that. I've never had an answer to that. I attempt some mumbling response, listing off my various growth problems to try and satisfy her. I tell her all about the special table I had in my classrooms at school, and how I wasn't allowed to play any sports, and about the struggles I had falling out of clothes every single day before the doctors found me my breast harness. I sound thoroughly miserable throughout it all, but Christina stays quiet and listens to every word intently. By the time I'm finished we're back in the building. She says finally, "you know, a goddess like you ought to be a have a bit more confidence", before walking into her apartment and closing the door behind her.

Oh.

For the rest of the evening I can't do anything but sit on my bed and think. Did she really mean that? But also, what did she mean? A goddess? Why did she call me a goddess? Was it a joke? Sarcasm? I can barely even focus on my dinner. My mind is racing. The fact that she of all people would say that... I feel giddy and excited, but also depressed. If only she knew the full extent of my freakishness. Maybe she's just impressed by my height or something. Who knows what she would she say if she found out what else I had. But then again, maybe she'd... no, of course not.

Half-way through the meal my solid erection snaps the tape and comes free from my right thigh. I'm still high on what Christina said hours earlier that I absent-mindedly take off my harness and use my breasts to jerk myself off again. I cum even faster this time from the excitement of it all, but the horniness and thrill doesn't subside afterwards. So after that I wait a while and masturbate a few more times, lasting a bit longer each time. Every time I cum in between my boobs I find myself imagining holding Christina's tiny body in my hands, squeezing her perfectly-formed breasts, and slipping my throbbing womanhood tenderly inside of her.

By 11 pm I'm starting to drift off. The TV's blaring still and I'm lying down in bed on my side, allowing both breasts to fall off of it and rest on the floor beside me. But then, just as I feel my eyelids grow heavy, a soft but firm sequence of knocks sounds on the door. Ugh. At this time? I'm not in any state to receive visitors. I'm stark naked, my harness and all my other clothes are strewn across the room. It would take me minutes to even get them on anway anyway.

I consider ignoring it, but it could be Christina. The only thing I can think to do is to rip the bed sheet off of my mattress and wrap it around myself. I manage to scoop up both of my breasts but nearly use up all of the fabric in doing so. Unsupported, my breasts extend out almost a metre past my body and hang below my waist, but fortunately that means I'm able to wedge my penis up and in between them to hide it.

Using one hand to hold the bedsheet around my back I scramble over the door. It must be Christina, no one ever visits me usually. I open the door and bend down to look under the doorframe excitedly, expecting to see her pretty blonde face. But she's not there, instead it's that guy. Fuck. The boyfriend. Carlton, bleurgh. I feel even stupider now, standing half-naked with my tits wrapped up inside a thin white bedsheet that I am now realising is probably transparent. His face drains of colour when he sees me. Eyes fixed on where my giant pink nipples must be. Takes him at least another 10 seconds to remember where he is and look up at me again. He then begins, saying that Christina wanted him to ask me round for dinner on Friday night. She asked for that? Why? I manage to stumble an answer yes, but I'm barely even thinking about it, I'm in such a state panicking about the fact this guy is seeing me like this. No one ever sees me like this.

I'm desperate for him to leave. I've given him his answer now, but he's still here. I can't figure out why though. He's still talking, making up things to say almost--far more chatty than I've ever seen him so far. Now he's talking about the going to the gym or something, as if I even give a shit.

Then his face darkens and I start getting worried. He drops the volume of his voice and asks if he can come in for a second "to talk". This isn't good. No. My heart starts to thump out of my chest. I've no idea what this guy could possible want with me. But maybe a second would be okay, just to find out what this is. In any other scenario I'd be scared, the guy's 6 foot tall and jacked full of muscle. But ever since meeting Christina I've been wanting to punch him in his smug face. So I let him in. Just waiting for him to try something so that I can squish his steroid-pumped body.