Burlesque, Part I

I stumbled through a grimy part of town, feeling fuzzy and lost. Lost, but I knew where I was going. I always knew where I was going on a Friday night, but I was starting to wonder what I was doing with myself.

My job paid fine, it kept me in beer and wine and put a roof over my head, but I was no closer to finding a girlfriend, and besides, what after that? Marry, have kids, then what? Shuffle inexorably towards death.

It was with such cheery thoughts that the rain began to pelt down and I turned up the neck of my coat, tipping the brim of my hat down over my face. This wasn’t one of those places you wanted to be recognised going into, if you know what I mean.

I nodded to Mary as I walked in, and she smiled back. No need for any words. I’d been here far too many times for such formalities.

I entered the long, thin room with the dim lighting and the red cloths over each round table, and instantly relaxed. It days past it would have been called a ‘den of ill repute’, but nowhere felt more like home.

I got myself a whisky and made my way to the front. I often sat at the back for such shows, but something about my mood made me bold; I wanted contact, titillation, connection. I craved all of these things, and I was determined to get them.

The place filled up over the next few minutes as the regulars came and took their places. Always on their own, never making eye contact. We were all here for the same thing.

And then the show began. Mistress Betty, the fabulous MC, strode onstage in tiny black shorts, white shirt and top hat and announced the proceedings. She did her same old schtick, but damn she was great at it; everyone relaxed into things when Betty came onstage.

“Evenin’ tigers”, she smiled, sashaying her way across stage, making eye contact with each and every one of us sad sacks. She knew how to work it. She reeled off some names that I recognised, some groups that I remembered seeing in the past, but topping the bill was something that made me sit up. Someone new.

“Headlining tonight, we’ve got ‘Little Bo Peep’, aka…well, never you mind.” Betty smiled, enjoying the little frisson of excitement that sparked around the room.

“But now, on with the show.”

The curtains parted to reveal the Pixie Chicks, a regular group of exotic dancers in elven, fantasy garb, carrying flutes and lutes and other vaguely baroque shit. They were good, and they were hot, but they didn’t light my fire. Nothing did these days.

The show progressed in a standard way; some good acts, some not so good, but all kept on the merry-go-round of entertainment by Mistress Betty. But I wasn’t paying attention. I slowly knocked back the whiskies and waited for my moment. For the new girl.

And eventually, there she was.

“Everyone pray silence for…Little Bo Peeeeeep!”

Mistress Betty swept from the stage, revealing a tall, innocent-looking girl in a stunning white, thigh-length outfit – a very sexy riff on the children’s story. She had a wide blue bonnet covering her gorgeous blonde hair, frilly white and blue arm ruffs, and a phenomenal, corset-esque dress hugging her amazing figure.

In one hand she held a long, thin white cane, the other rested provocatively on her hip. Suddenly she didn’t look so innocent. Her legs were encased in see-through leggings which clung to her shapely thighs, topped with little bows below the hem of her dress, which hung just above her butt.

Everyone’s jaws dropped. There was something demure about this amazing specimen; somehow she exuded a potent combination of innocence and devilish sexuality. I knew instantly she was what I was looking for.

She began her act, looking dramatically around stage. Every time she turned one way, she would leap in the air, and a remove a dart from her back, as if someone had just fired it into her. It was very strange.

And then, as she stepped forwards, her stunning legs sashaying gorgeously across the stage in spotlight, her dress began to tighten. It was very gradual at first, but the closer she got to the front of the stage, the more it seemed to rise, as the gap between the top of her tights and her frilly skirt widened.

And suddenly, it was clear why. As she grabbed a chair and sat on it, the back of the chair facing us, her beautiful legs spread wide as she straddled it, we could all see that her breasts were growing.

We’d seen things like this in the past, of course. Burlesque incorporates whatever it wants, but never had we seen it done so convincingly. Her breasts slowly spread outwards, filling the top half of her dress as if they really were expanding. We had to assume there was a clever system of balloons that were inflating outwards with each breath she took, but none of us could see how she was doing it.

As she sat on the chair and leapt every so often as a ‘dart’ hit her, her boobs just got bigger and bigger. She’d had almost no chest to speak of when she’s strode on stage, but now she was sporting what looked like D-cups; large, pert breasts that lay crammed into her dress, as it rode higher and higher on her tall, thin form.

Arches of beautiful, full cleavage began to form at the top of her outfit as her boobs grew too big to be fully covered. The tan flesh that rose in big, luscious curves out of the top of her dress bobbled with gooseflesh, lending it a realism I’d never seen before. For a moment, I started to really believe her breasts really were growing. The thought sent a shockwave of arousal through my body; this wasn’t a fantasy I’d spent much time entertaining in the past, but it was really doing it for me now.

Bo Peep stood up from her chair, her boobs now getting really large, and began to skip around the stage, the act starting to get ostensibly sexy, despite her still keeping up the pretence of looking for her sheep. This gave her the excuse of looking away so the darts could still be fired, thus allowing the ‘storyline’ of her expanding bust to continue to be justified.

I didn’t care what the reasoning was; the sight of her continually inflating bosom was making me hornier than I had ever felt before, and I prayed it would continue.

Her boobs had now expanded to what I imagined was about an F-cup in size, and were utterly packed into her tight white dress, spilling over the top of it in perfect, fat mounds. The base of her dress was pulled up to almost over her pussy, and I longed to see it rise to reveal the tight cunt beneath.

She was beginning to ‘notice’ her huge boobs now, and using them in her act, pretending to be amazed at their huge scale, jumping a little in the air and allowing them to shake and wobble, far too big for the dress they were stuffed into. It was a profoundly arousing thing to witness, and I know everyone in that room wanted it never to end.

Her breasts continued to grow as she began to dance around the stage, and at each corner, right at the front, she leant over in an exaggerated manner, giving the lucky bastard at the front a full view of her extraordinary cleavage, which looked to be about eight inches all told. And growing.

She strode confidently to the front of the stage, where I was sitting, and briefly closed her eyes. Straight away, she leapt into the air, clutching her butt, pulling out three darts. Her eyes widened in mock panic and she clutched her already enormous breasts, fearing the worst.

Her tits were already the size of watermelons, bulging madly out of her dress, which looked like it was going to tear open any moment, but their growth now appeared to speed up. She looked around in slight fear, and the thought that this growth might just be out of her control was doubly arousing for me. I loved that she was too big to handle.

She started to bound madly around the stage, her fat tits wobbling and growing crazily out of her dress, which was now almost completely above her butt, her naked cunt on display for all to see. This coupled with the huge balloons that were still expanding on her chest gave her a blow-up doll appearance that sent my mind into a tailspin. I had to have her.

Her tits expanded inch by inch as her act continued, and she played the surprised role with aplomb. Every so often, she tried to look past her massive boobs, and stomped her feet in mock frustration when they got in the way, something that only shook them more madly and arousingly.

The truly amazing thing was I just couldn’t see how she was doing this. Many, many inches of fat, pink cleavage was on display, with no sign of any kind of contraption or balloons anywhere. I knew she couldn’t be doing this herself, but I couldn’t for the life of me work out how she was pulling off this magic trick.

Then she strode down into the audience.

Her massive breasts were now so large that as she approached me, they started to block out the light. When she got really close, I genuinely couldn’t see her face – just a massive lacy mound of white and blue cloth positively stuffed to the gills with the enormous heaving mammaries beneath. It was deeply arousing.

And then I felt a warmth and an arousal I’d never known before as she sat on my lap, legs wrapped around me, her naked cunt but quarter inches away from my throbbing cock, her huge, gargantuan breasts shoved right in my face. I could see them quiver in front of my eyes as her cleavage got bigger and bigger, right there and then.

My rock hard cock began to throb as her breasts grew closer and closer to me. I could see the bursting stitches in her dress as her tits outgrew it, and could hear ripping as her boobs expanded larger and larger. They were so enormous and luscious, it made me glad to be alive.

She felt my cock squeeze into her leg, and raised an eyebrow, as her heaving chest grew larger, pressing into my stomach with a massive bulging curve. Her dress ripped a little more at the expansion. She looked down with two big brown eyes, for just a moment, and back into mine. I knew what it meant.

Then she was off, bounding back onstage with her now tiny dress barely covering her, as her gigantic breasts bounced and jiggled tearing through the fabric.

She turned to the crowd, bowed huge and deep, her truly titanic cleavage on display for all to see. At least twelve inches, but who could tell? Too big to be true, and yet when I’d felt them bulge into me, they were as real as any breasts I’d encountered yet.

The crowd went absolutely mad, whooping and cheery as she blushed and curtsied, her tits slowly tearing out of her dress as she made her way offstage.

I sat there in numb silence for quite a time after that, as the show wound itself up. Then I stood up, and made my way to the entrance.

I spoke to Mary with a fiery passion I hadn’t known I’d possessed, and begged her for an audience with the dancer. Mary smiled and said “she passed me a message. She’d like to see you. Here’s the room number.”

My heart pounded in my chest as I made my way upstairs to where Little Bo Peep was staying. She wanted to see me! What would she be like? Was any of this real?

My hand shaking with anticipation and primal arousal, I rapped on the door, twice.

Heavy steps across a wooden floor, then the door opened slightly, and a big brown eye peered through the gap.

I smiled back, weakly, not really knowing what to do.

I saw the eye crinkle in smiling recognition, and heard a click.

The door was unlocked.

END OF PART I…

Click here for part II!

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