The Oldest Profession 3.1

This was too much; Steve was starting to get worried. He couldn't believe what the whorebot had just said, yet the fact that she could promptly and specifically respond to a question about her behavior suggested....self-awareness? The capacity for spontaneous creativity? The erotic titillation of her mating dance was tempered by a whirl of disturbing suspicions.

Her fingers traced circles around the swells of each tit, as her profile began to blossom, at the same speed as an inflating balloon without the need to stop for breath. Slopes of synthetic mammary expanded above and below the widening nipples, before each tit nudged forward, jiggling in tandem like rubbery pistons driving an erotic engine of voluptuous largess. Soon, each tit began to spread outwards and...abruptly Eve turned her back, flinging the plastic wrap over her head, giggling as she used her enlarged rump to push Steve into the corner. He...he was missing her tits grow! By now she should be nearly a D-cup...

"Don't tell me yu never wanted a girl with titties big enough to bury yer face in? Crank me up some more, see how big ya can make me!" A gleam of excitement flashed in her emerald eyes. Fear and lust warring in Steve's mind before the disturbing self-awareness displayed by his busty automaton. She turned back towards him, shaking her chest with arms outstretched, coaxing her boobs into a wobbling dance of buxom delight. Her tits had come far in a matter of moments; from raisins, to strawberries, peaches, apples, and...maybe a few more fruits as her chest swelled with womanly flesh every bit as realistic as his dear Cheryl's. Her aureoles, wide as coffee-mug coasters spread further still as she leapt forward, bumping him periodically with erect nipples and pillowy boobs.

He stopped worrying about how impossible it was, he stopped worrying about...what was he worried about? He didn't remember, he could only harken back to his breast fantasies; yanking the dial without looking to see how far he had turned it. Her emerald eyes seemed to roll back into her head, as a smile splayed across her face again. There was a faint clicking sound, as though the engines controlling her tits were switching into high gear.

He hadn't remembered backing into the corner, but sure enough he was trapped like a rat, a very lucky rat about to be smothered by an explosion of perfect tit. The sweeping mounds surged forward, reminding him almost of small loaves of bread until they pressed up into his chest. Then, as the rising valley of silky smooth cleavage arose to engulf his lips, his face, and his groping hands in pillowy grandeur, all the world fell away.

"There's another problem sugar," came a sultry voice that burned his blood. "Mah programmers got a few wires crossed when they stitched me tagether; thing is...the bigger ya make mah titties, the hornier ah get. 'Fraid ah can't help it." she batted away the remote control from Steve's trembling hands.

"Yu ain't seen nothin' yet, Cowboy."

The end? Not yet...not for a long while...what will become of Celeste's latest scheme involving her hapless womb-slaves? Will Captain Weatherton ever escape her existence as a lactating pod-breeder? Is the young Doctor Steve doomed to be unbirthed and devoured by his precocious new whorebot? All this and more.....whenever I next get around to it.....someday......