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Vicky's Inheritance, Chapter Three: Acceptable Melons

Vicky was put under during her injections which, the doctor assured her, were not painful. The anesthesia was simply to allow her body to rest as the injection did its work, as the growth process, itself, could be uncomfortable. Vicky nodded off, her head light and dreamy as the drugs put her to sleep, driving away the fear she felt, knowing that she’d be waking up with ridiculous tits.


Vicky awoke, groggy and unsure of where she was. The doctor stood nearby, looking down at her, a mask over his face and sanitary cap on his head.

“Hello, sweetie,” he said, shining a light into her eyes.

He nodded to himself and asked, “How do you feel?”

Vicky’s tongue felt dry and her throat scratchy, but she croaked, “Tired.”

“Just rest easy,” he said, and put a small tube to her lips.

Vicky sucked at the tube and tasted clean, cool water.

“We’ll keep you here for a couple of days. We’ll need to restrain your hands,” he said, “so that you aren’t tempted to touch your new melons. They can bruise easily these first couple of days. The nurse will keep checking in on you every few hours.”

Vicky felt frightened when she tried to raise her arms and legs but found them fastened to the bed by padded cuffs.

“Don’t go making a fuss,” the doctor said, pulling apart the gown she wore to expose her new tits, “It’s just for your safety.”

Vicky looked down, horrified at the size of her new, giant tits. She began to cry.

“We’ll just put you to sleep for a bit longer, honey,” he said, and pushed a needle into her arm.


Vicky came around again, pulling her tired mind out of the drug-induced sleep and looking blearily around the room. She was still in the bed, still restrained. Across the side rails of the bed, now, stretched a metal bar, atop the center of which was a mirror. Vicky saw herself in the mirror, topless, her large breasts nearly hiding her face. All she could see was the top of her head and her eyes over the mountains of her new tits.

Thirsty, she fumbled for the little tube by her head and sucked at the water. She was alone, awake, and she couldn’t move. Her head felt foggy, still, and so she lay, drifting in the haze, staring into the mirror at her naked tits.

After some time, the door to her room opened and a nurse came in, wearing a set of pale, blue scrubs. She rested her gloved hand on Vicky’s forehead, then asked, “How are you feeling?”

“Okay,” Vicky said, tiredly.

“They look great,” the nurse said.

Vicky didn’t think they were great.

“You need to do your business?” the nurse asked.

Vicky did. The nurse unstrapped her, helped her out of bed, and then aided her. Afterward, Vicky felt ashamed that the nurse had to wipe her naked ass and twat for her, before she put her back in the bed and restrained her again.

“Your dad’s office sent you over some stuff, to keep you entertained, while you’re recovering.”

“Stuff?” Vicky asked, weakly.

The drugs in her system still made her feel woozy and tired, so it was difficult to think.

“A care package with instructions,” the nurse explained.

She opened a package and removed a tablet, which she propped up on a rolling table next to Vicky’s bed. Next, she settled a pair of headphones over Vicky’s ears. Then, she pushed a red gag ball into Vicky’s mouth, securing it around her head as Vicky protested in a series of hoarse grunts and whimpers. Lastly, she lifted Vicky’s gown and began to rub a generous amount of medical jelly onto Vicky’s fuckhole. Vicky continued to make squeaks and grunts, but the nurse ignored her. Finally, satisfied that Vicky’s cunt was sufficiently lubricated, the nurse pushed a fat, pink phallus into it, making Vicky moan and struggle.

Vicky looked at the nurse, pleading with her eyes for some sort of explanation, for help.

“Just settle in,” she said, “You’ll probably enjoy this. Not that it really matters. We got a nice donation to the institute, which is all that really matters.”

The woman turned on the tablet, tapped the screen a few times, and then left the room. A video on the tablet began to play, while in the headphones, a low tone began to play, like a high-pitched whine. The screen filled with static that lasted for several minutes, during which the tone changed in pitch several times, then the pitch continued to rise, until Vicky felt like her eyeballs were vibrating in her head. She groaned into the gag, and then the tone stopped, the screen went black.

Vicky felt sweat on her forehead. The screen began to play a new video, in which a title card in bold, white letters rolled up from the bottom. It read, “Modern Femininity: Lessons for the Forward-Thinking Bimbo.”

Vicky groaned again and tugged at the restraints. The tone in the earphones began once more, low this time. The title card faded away and a new scene faded in, showing a pretty blonde girl with large breasts. Her breasts were naked, and she smiled widely. The girl stared into the camera, seemingly at Vicky, happy. For a moment, Vicky watched the girl just look at her, feeling that the image was becoming a bit creepy. Then, a man’s hand slapped the girl across the face. The toy in Vicky’s twat began to vibrate, making Vicky buck at the unexpected pleasure.

The girl was not smiling now. The man slapped her across the face again. The toyed purred in Vicky’s cunt. The man slapped one of the girl’s naked tits and the girl sniffled. A tear rolled down her cheek. He slapped her other breast. The toy vibrated.

The man slapped the girl again and, this time, she said, “Stop it!”

The toy stopped vibrating and discharged a shock into Vicky’s cunt. Vicky screeched into the gag ball and bucked her hips, trying to dislodge the toy. It didn’t work.

The man slapped the girl’s face again, then each of her tits. The toy began to vibrate once more, and Vicky relaxed. The man repeated the slapping, until the girl’s cheeks and tits were red, and she sobbed openly. All the while, the toy continued to vibrate Vicky’s twat.

The scene faded away, to be replaced with another. In this video, Vicky watched as a woman in a very conservative pants suit took the stage before a large crowd of other women.

“I am proud to be a woman!” the woman declared loudly into the microphone.

The assembled crowd cheered and clapped. The vibrator shocked Vicky’s cunt, making her scream and struggle.

“My body is my own!” The woman declared to applause. Vicky received another shock and began to cry.

The woman went on for several minutes, decrying the “patriarchal establishment,” railing against, “oppression,” and stating firmly that, “Just because my reproductive organs are on the inside, doesn’t make me any less capable!”

During the entire speech, which Vicky might have found empowering and inspirational at another time, the toy in her twat continued to jolt her painfully. By the time the speech ended, Vicky was a quaking, heaving, sobbing mess, grateful beyond words for the woman to go away. Then, the new scene showed her a girl with ridiculous tits, on her knees, surrounded by a group of naked men. The girl looked like she was in heaven, as the men surrounding her beat their hard cocks against her face.

Vicky cried again, but this time with relief as the vibrator returned to stimulating her cunt. The men beat their cocks against the girl’s face, alternating shoving them into her mouth, pulling her hair, slapping her face, and laughing at her when she choked and struggled for air. As the first of them pasted the girl’s face with cum, Vicky orgasmed, quaking in her restraints, drooling around the gag ball.

The scene transitioned to a happy, smiling couple, lying in bed together nude. The man stroked the woman’s cheek adoringly saying, “You’re so special, baby. You’re my queen,” and Vicky screeched at the jolt in her cunt. The man made slow love to his partner, kissing and touching her, praising her for her beauty, heaping affection on her as he gave her pleasure and took none of his own. Vicky wailed, over and over, as the toy shocked her again and again.

By the time the woman orgasmed on the man’s face, looking wistfully, happily into the camera, Vicky hated her. Hoarsely, she tried to scream around the gag for the nurse, but no one came. The video faded. The vibrations began again, and Vicky relaxed. This time, the video was a long montage of women kneeling as men blasted their faces with ropes of sperm in rapid succession. The tone in her earphones continued, alternating pitch several times, but Vicky barely noticed the sound now. She orgasmed twice more, before the lusty facial montage ended.

Tired, but terrified, Vicky tried in vain to tug at the restraints once more, when the next video showed an attractive woman in a long skirt and blazer, standing at the head of a conference table. The table was filled with men, which the woman began to berate as useless and lazy. Clearly, she was supposed to be in charge. The toy shocked her each time the woman heaped her vitriol on the assembled men. Vicky screeched and wiggled her hips, trying again to get the toy to come out, but her pussy was tight, and the toy was large. It was stuffed in well and would not budge.

The men around the table, Vicky could see, were red-faced and angry. Vicky pleaded, silently, for the woman to shut her mouth, to stop talking, so that the shocks would end. Finally, the shocks did end. One of the men in the video undid his tie, followed by another.

The woman looked at them questioningly and then, as they rose, she began to back away, looking frightened. Vicky’s relief as the toy began to vibrate was palpable. The men each took one of the woman’s arms. She opened her mouth to scream, but one of them shoved his balled-up tie into her mouth. The other whipped her hands behind her back and used his own tie to bind her wrists. The woman kicked at them, but another two men took hold of her legs. They tore her skirt down, the buttons popping, the zipper ripping.

Another man put his tie between her teeth, wrapped it around her head to hold her gag in, and then tore open the front of her blouse. The men laughed at her jiggling tits, encased in a sexy bra, and one of the men called her a slut. The woman cried and struggled, but the group of men easily overpowered her. Before long, she was bent over the table with the men taking turns pumping their cocks into her, spanking her, slapping her, and calling her filthy names.

Vicky, shamefully, orgasmed from the stimulation in her cunt, and then orgasmed again a few minutes later, when the screen showed a close-up shot of the woman’s tear-streaked face, her makeup running in dark lines down her cheeks. The men continued taking their turns and, as Vicky continued to watch and orgasm, more men began to line up behind her. These were not men in suits, like the others. These appeared to be low-level employees, janitors, mail clerks, and then even men wearing safety vests and hard hats took turns pumping their loads into the woman’s swollen and abused fuckhole.

Vicky lost count of the number of times she came, as well as the number of men that had violated the woman. By now, her struggles had ceased. She stared vacantly into the camera, drool leaking from her mouth around her makeshift gag, sweat on her skin, as the line of men slowly dwindled. Finally, there were no more men fucking her, but she continued to lay on the table, moaning quietly. Vicky orgasmed again, crying, now, herself. She didn’t know if the video was real or staged, likely the latter, but it didn’t matter. She’d orgasmed over a dozen times watching a woman get raped by, perhaps, thirty men.

The video faded. Vicky struggled once more as the face of a smiling, happy blonde loudly declared, “I am a strong, independent woman” and the toy shocked her cunt. A man slapped her face. The Vibrator buzzed. The woman declared, “All men are pigs!” and the vibrator shocked her cunt. The man ripped off the girl's shirt and the toy vibrated. The man pulled roughly on the girl’s exposed breast and asked, “What are these?”

“My boobs!” The girl squealed. The vibrator shocked Vicky’s cunt.

“Wrong answer,” the man said, and tugged painfully on her tit, asking, “What are these?”

“Fuck handles!” the girl declared and began to cry.

The vibrator buzzed.

For several minutes, the man continued to question the girl regarding her anatomy. Whenever she used a term that did not degrade or demean her, the vibrator shocked Vicky’s pussy. When the girl gave the right response, and Vicky did begin to associate the degrading terms as “the right response,” the vibrator would pleasure her twat.

The videos played for what seemed like hours. Vicky felt very tired from the repeated pulses of pleasure and shocks, but each time she would begin to nod off, she’d receive another shock as some woman made a declaration, loudly, of female independence. At one point, the doctor did return, and Vicky attempted to make noises of protest at what was happening, but the doctor simply pulled out his cock, masturbated until he’d ejaculated onto her new tits, and left the room.

Finally, the nurse did return and removed the headphones, paused the video, and removed the toy from her cunt. She left the gag ball in. Vicky, sore from struggling against the restraints and exhausted by the drugs and lack of sleep, could hardly sit herself up when the nurse helped her to the bathroom. Again, the woman cleaned her up, put her back into the bed, restrained her, and then removed the gag ball.

“Please,” Vicky croaked, her throat dry and scratchy, “No more! Please!”

The woman pushed a tube into Vicky’s mouth, and applied a strip of medical tape to it to keep it in. Vicky found herself sucking at the tube, because she was thirsty and very hungry. She had no idea what was in the tube, but it was thick, not at all like water, and a touch salty. The woman placed the headphones back on as Vicky, once more, tried to protest, and then she pushed the toy back into Vicky’s very wet hole. The videos started again, and the woman left the room.


Throughout the two days spent in “recovery,” this process continued unabated. The videos played. Vicky received shocks and pleasure, while sucking at the tube, crying, napping for seconds at a time, fitfully, and then the doctor would appear to masturbate himself onto her tits. The nurse, later, would return, heave her into the bathroom, clean her, spoon some goop into her mouth as she lay, restrained, and then the videos would begin again. At last, though, it was time for Vicky to leave the clinic.

The nurse wheeled Vicky, who was restrained in a wheelchair, the gag ball in her mouth, her new tits exposed, through the halls of the clinic and into the lobby. There, Vicky sat in a corner, like a decoration, unsure of what she was supposed to do with herself. How was she supposed to get home? Why hadn’t they taken her out of the wheelchair? Occasionally, a delivery driver or patient would pass through the lobby, stop to admire Vicky’s bare tits, but make no move to aid her.

Finally, her father’s assistant walked through the doors and approached her.

“Hey, babes,” the girl said, smacking her gum, “You ready to get outta here?”

Vicky mumbled into the gag, unintelligibly.

“Your rack looks great,” the girl said, and reached out to grope one of Vicky’s tits.

Vicky moaned as the girl fondled and molested her tits in the lobby, before she wheeled Vicky out into the street. The girl had a car parked at the curb, but she took her time bending over into the open door, clearing bags of clothes off of the seat and placing them onto the floor, while passersby took in the site of Vicky’s nude melons. Vicky felt ashamed by the wetness of her cunt. At last, the girl removed the restraints on Vicky’s wrists and helped her into the back seat, where Vicky lay, tiredly, while the girl drove her home.


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