The Golden Card

Don’t you just love staying in hotels?

You’re a different person every time you hand over that card. You can be anyone.

I’ve always loved this anonymity, but it proved particularly useful last time I went abroad. It was this gorgeous place off the Mediterranean coast; I’d gone to get away from work, unwind, maybe meet a couple of hot guys – the usual.

But when I arrived, I was frazzled from the long flight, my hair was all over the place and I looked like a mess; I certainly wasn’t going to be doing any boning looking like this.

In fact, the lady behind the counter at reception – a busty, beautiful woman who looked completely comfortable in her skin, her large breasts just about contained by her stretched white button shirt – seemed to take pity on me, looking at me with a mixture of sorrow and disappointment.

“Very beautiful”, she said in broken English, as she handed me over a key and a bright gold card. “Take this. Special room.”

I felt a shock as I took the card, and the lady grinned as I reacted to her touch, before turning away and getting back to her computer, her large breasts almost but not quite getting in the way of her typing.

I looked down at my own pitiful boobs, and sighed. What I wouldn’t have given for a huge pair like hers. I’d never had tits, but I’d always looked with jealousy and admiration at anyone with big boobs. There was something powerful about having those buffers on your chest – they protected you from what was out there, and I’d always longed for that.

Letting these thoughts drift through my head, I slung my bags over my shoulder and ambled towards my room. On the way, there was a large crowd of women jostling by the elevator. I looked at their beautiful slim forms, their pert, large breasts packed into tight tops and bikinis, and felt just miserable.

I couldn’t avoid brushing past them as I slid through the group, but my thin body wasn’t going to cause them much trouble. I doubt they even noticed me. I felt a series of shocks as I squeezed through the group. Static electricity from the carpet. By the time I got to the elevator, it had just departed, so I buzzed for my floor, and waited, adjusting my bra which had gotten all bunched up and twisted on the flight. It was tight.

As the elevator moved, I felt my breasts bouncing and jiggling a little, which was odd. More than odd, in fact – it was positively unprecedented. I looked down at my white t-shirt, and noted the two bumps pressing into it were actually a little larger than usual. Must’ve been some swelling on the flight. They did feel wonderful and full, though, my bra beautifully tight over my apparently swollen tits. I knew it wasn’t going to last, but I thought I’d enjoy the fantasy of their growth while I could. Imagine if I got huge!

In the room, I admired my breasts, and they did actually look quite a bit bigger. I reckoned I might have even gone up a cup size. I should fly more often! I jumped in the shower, slipped on my bikini, loving how I filled it out far more than usual, and headed down to the beach.

I walked with a new confidence in the early afternoon sun, feeling more myself than I had in years. I knew it wasn’t just the boobs, it was that magical holiday feeling of giddy abandon. But having a pair of tits, even a small B-cup like mine, made me feel great.

Once on the beach, I rubbed sun lotion into my body, and realised I had no one to do my back. Emboldened with fresh confidence, I waved at a large-breasted blonde lady who was lying in the sun reading, her twin mounding piling up into the air. To me, her tits looked absolutely humongous, but in reality they were probably only E or F-cups. I felt almost hungry looking at them. I had no idea what this feeling was, or where it was coming from, so I shoved it back down, and held up the bottle of lotion to her, pointing to my back.

The lady smiled and hauled her heavy form to her feet, bouncing her way over to me. With sunglasses on, I watched her bulging breasts jiggle and shake, hoping they’d slip out of the red bikini. Where was this lust coming from!? It was a little concerning, but not uncontrollable.

Making a turning motion with her finger, the lady asked me to lie on my front, and sat down on the lounger next to me, squeezing the lotion out in a big, slow blob, slipping her hands stickily together before slowly lowering them onto my back. Instantly, I felt a sharp static shock, like I’d felt taking the card and in the group of women by the elevator. It made it a little difficult to relax, despite the gentle, insistent rubbing of the lotion into my back.

My head to one side, I looked up at the woman as she firmly applied the lotion. I felt so good, having her beaming down at me as she worked my back. My entire body felt filled up with swelling, positive feelings even as the shocks continued to fire through me. And as I lay there, I started to feel my chest rise upwards.

I tried to close my eyes, but something was going on beneath my chin. I was lying flat on my front, and yet I was feeling…pushed upwards. I wriggled a little and felt a heaviness below me, but the calm hands above pressed me firmly downwards, a gentle “ssshh” relaxing me, even as the sparking static shocks intensified in body, and in my chest.

I felt the rising continue, but I closed my eyes and tried to ignore it, until I felt a pat on the back, and opened my eyes to see the blonde woman smiling down at me, adjusting her bikini with one hand and handing me the bottle of lotion with the other.

I thanked her and decided to lie there for a while, watching as she walked away. There was something different about the way she moved, but I couldn’t place it. Feeling oddly satisfied like I’d just had a good meal, I drifted off to sleep.

I awoke some time later, feeling incredibly well rested. I decided to tan my front, and began to flip myself over. It was hard. Much harder than it should have been. I hauled my form up and over until I was on my back, and gasped in amazement. Two large mounds towered over me as I lay there, weighing down heavily on my chest. Tits! I had two huge tits!

They were enormous, and they couldn’t be mine. From where I was lying, they practically blocked out the sun. I pressed a finger into the side of one, and it felt solid and full, jiggling with the impact I’d given it. My bikini was an absolute joke, just about covering my nipples. The huge, wide, bulging breasts that were stuffed inside it spread over the material on both sides, a big, fat canyon of cleavage between them as they heaved up and down with every laboured breath I took.

What the fuck was going on.

I sat upright with some effort, my comically small bikini threatening to burst off due to the swollen tits stuffed inside it. They were so large and wide – I didn’t know what to do! Eventually, I decided to head inside, and get out of the sun. I wasn’t used to navigating with such large breasts, so I wobbled my way off the lounger, supporting my huge new body with both hands on the lounger as I hauled myself to my feet. They were G-cups, at least, crammed into an A-cup bikini. It wasn’t going to hold much longer.

I wanted to run, but I knew that was out of the question. I looked back at the lady in the red bikini, to see if she’d seen anything, but there was no one in a red bikini who fit her description. Just one who looked even slightly similar, but it couldn’t have been her – she had absolutely no breasts at all. She was flat as a board.

Back in the room, I removed my bikini with a sigh of relief, allowing my huge, bountiful breasts some room to breathe. They bulged out in front of me, resting on my chest in two huge mounds. They had a good perk to them, but were so huge they sagged a little on my slender frame. They looked totally out of place.

I crammed them into a white t-shirt which was no longer remotely loose on me, and watched as my huge new nipples poked out gorgeously through the fabric. I needed a new bra, stat.

Luckily the huge hotel had a number of shops, so I picked up the largest bra I could find, which was a 32G. My breasts fit in it pretty well, though there was a little room for movement. Unfortunately, the massive bra had the undesired impact of making my tits look even bigger than they were, as it had padding of all things – a 32G with padding!

With a mixture of reluctance and delight, I decided to buy some new clothes. It was the only way I’d be able to go out in public without looking like a porn star.

I had some good help from the shop assistants though, who all looked terrifically small-breasted now, compared to me. I had to admit – these huge new baps, whilst terrifying in how quickly they’d appeared, felt really good on me. I began touching people on the arm to get their attention – something I’d never felt confident enough to do before, and the static shocks seemed like a reward for my boldness.

I spent a good hour shopping for new clothes, and loved how I had to pull them up and over my tremendous new bust. The only problem was that after a couple of interactions with the staff, I found my bra starting to get a little tight. It was almost as if my breasts were still growing, though that couldn’t be the case. And yet, my 32G was starting to dig into my skin at the back, and looked pretty stuffed up front. There wasn’t much I could do about that though – it was the largest one in the resort, so I just had to hope I’d get used to it. It wasn’t like my breasts could still be growing, anyway. That would be insane.

Walking down to dinner that night, I had to admit I felt like a million dollars. I’d picked a low-cut (of course), white buttoned shirt, which was a good fit when I’d bought it, but after a few more interactions with a couple of decently-busted staff (I’d started to rate everyone in breast size now, and how they compared to me), it was really clinging to my breasts, which were starting to bulge out of my 32G bra. I didn’t really know how or why, but I decided to just go with it. I was on holiday, after all. And part of me was very delighted indeed.

At dinner, I found myself getting stares from all angles; it was amazing. My white shirt was admitted very tight over my huge tits, which were bulging out of my previous slightly too small bra, and the low-cut nature of the top meant there was an awful lot of cleavage on display.

I decided to sit down with some strangers, feeling confident and full of beans (aided in part by my massive, swollen cans). It was an all-inclusive deal with food, so everyone grabbed what they wanted and sat around, drinking free wine and talking.

I got myself a plate of salad and a bottle of wine, and started chatting to my group, some of which I recognised as the group of busty girls I’d squeezed past by the elevator this morning. It felt like another lifetime ago, and I also noted how small-breasted they all seemed in comparison to me.

I sat down, and my huge, H-cup breasts ( that was how big I estimated they were now, despite being crammed into my pitiful G-cup bra) thrust out in front me, almost resting in my plate of salad. Grinning, I slid my chair back, allowing my twins a little more room.

I was next to a very large-chested girl who was eyeing me with jealousy. Her tits were, if anything, slightly bigger than mine, but as mine were shoved into a smaller bra, it was harder to tell. Instantly, I placed my hand on her shoulder and started to talk about how hard it was to get around with massive boobs. I don’t know why I did, but they were on my mind and I wanted to fit in.

I realised after a few seconds that of course this wasn’t what people talked about – they were USED to having big boobs! – but by then it was too late. Also, as I talked, my hand still resting on her shoulder, I felt my bra start to grow even tighter, and a heaviness growing on my chest. The static had returned, more than ever, and it was all I could do to keep my conversation going as I felt myself get heavier and heavier.

My shirt began to creak and groan as the tightness increased, and I felt my bra straps digging into my back more and more. I was worried it was going to burst off, and had no idea why. What few buttons on my shirt I’d managed to do up were starting to pop open, and I suddenly noticed the girl on my left was…oh my god, her chest was…shrinking!

She was wearing a low-cut dress, one that showed off her fabulous cleavage, but her formerly stuffed bra was now an inch or so too big for her, and her breasts were…well, it looked like they were deflating. This was all wrong. How on earth could – oh my god. I looked at my own chest, properly looked at it this time, and everything suddenly made sense. My shirt was growing tighter and tighter as my breasts inflated, and I knew, I suddenly knew this was how my breasts had been growing – I was stealing from other people.

My tits groaned larger and larger as my hand rested on the lady’s shoulder. She hadn’t noticed yet – she may have been staring at my increasingly humongous breasts (I think everyone on the table was), but she hadn’t connected their apparently increasingly swollen size with a reduction in hers.

It was touch that was doing it. Of course it was. I needed to let go. My breasts were so huge already, my G-cup bra was laughably insufficient for the gargantuan titties that were thrusting from my chest in increasingly huge size. My t-shirt was pulling and stretching, the enormous mass of cleavage bulging from beneath, swelling through the low-cut top like packing foam.

But I couldn’t.

I’d never had tits in my life, and now I had more than any one girl could ever ask for. But I’d been deprived.

I wanted more.

I watched out of the corner of my eye, still talking about something – though I couldn’t tell you what – as her tits deflated smaller and smaller, rising up the alphabet like hot air from a grate, until she was in the C range.

By this stage, my breasts were staggeringly huge – at least an M-cup, and my bra was painfully tight against me, squeezing them up like a corset into a beautiful blancmange of cleavage. Everything was going to burst open soon, so I needed to stop. Plus, I couldn’t leave her with nothing. I’d been given so much.

As her tits deflated to a small B, I finally removed my hand from her shoulder and leant back on my chair, feeling it creak with the increased weight pressing back and down on it. I was so huge. I looked down at the preposterous cleavage emanating from my chest, and felt arousal like I’d never known. I was going to either find a guy in five minutes (something that wasn’t going to be difficult), or fuck myself senseless. Either was good for me.

As a parting gift, I slapped my gold card on the table. For whoever found it to experience the same thrill I had.

As I stood up, I stretched out, and felt a final pull as my bra gave way, and my monstrous breasts bulged free. My shirt wasn’t going to last much longer. But then, it didn’t need to. I was finally huge.

This was going to be a good holiday.

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