This work of fiction is for the entertainment of adults in
locations where it is legal. If it is illegal in your location,
don't read it! This work is copyrighted. Reposting or any other
use is strictly prohibited without the express, written
permission of the copyright holder. E-mail me, I'll probably
give you permission. I just want to know and control where it is
posted. This story may be posted as part of a review or to free-
access, non-commercial archive sites.
My thanks to Ruthie for her proofreading and suggestions. Any
errors you find are my fault not hers.
Tell me what you liked, or didn't like. Please!
E-mail address: tradesjackofall@hotmail.com
My stories can be found at:
https://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Jack_of_all_Trades/
Copyright 2000 by Jack of all Trades
My Jugs Flow Huge
A while back there was a contest on ASS/ASSM to take a spam
message and turn it into a story. At the time I was a lurker and
not writing so I didn't participate. However there is one spam
posting that really irks me. I'm not sure why but every time I
see "My Jugs Flow Huge" I cringe. My warped mind decided to do
something about it. Consider it therapy. :>
-----
Most people have never heard of me. I like it that way. Fighting
crime is tough enough without having to maintain a rep. My unique
talents don't lend themselves to being displayed on the big
screen. Well maybe in a porno movie. Yeah, like I'm going to sell
my life story to some porn producer. Get real.
I always knew I was special. Mainly it was because my Grandmom
always told me so as she held me in her lap. "Marcie," she would
say, "God gives everyone something special, it's up to each of us
to develop that special talent to its fullest." Grandmom was big
on God. Whenever I visited she would make me go to church with
her. She was always quoting scripture and stuff. Sorry. I got off
the topic there.
I found out what special thing God had given me in the fourth
grade. I got breasts. At first they started out as small bumps
but they grew. It was cool. I was the envy of all the other
girls. They kept getting bigger. That wasn't so cool. By the time
I was a sophomore in high school I had 40D breasts. Talk about
your pain in the ass; actually it was more in the back than the
ass but you know what I mean. God wasn't done with me yet, oh no.
They started producing milk! There I was in geometry minding my
own business, doodling in my notebook. Next thing I know the
entire front of my shirt is soaked. Talk about your
embarrassment! I ran from the room, not even asking the teacher's
permission, to the school nurse. She took one look and called my
Mama. Mama came and got me and took me to a doctor.
The doctor said I was healthy and just had overdeveloped mammary
glands. Duh! He suggested that I express the milk right before I
left for school and again when I came home. Now I was a fucking
cow! I was pumping out a half gallon of milk at a sitting and
soon even expressing before school wasn't enough to get me
through classes. I started sneaking away at lunchtime to a little
used bathroom and milked my breasts into the toilet just to get
through the day. It was driving me crazy. My nipples were always
leaking. I had to change pads after every class. They were sore
all the time. I considered suicide.
Mama saw how depressed I was and took me to a psychiatrist. The
psycho mumbo jumbo didn't help much but he put me in touch with a
man that taught people how to use their minds to control their
involuntary muscles and stuff. You know like if you thought
really hard you could slow your heart beat down, that sort of
thing. Anyway he taught me how to turn off the faucet so to
speak. That was good, I wasn't leaking any more, but that damn
milk had to go somewhere. My breasts ballooned even more! So
while I could keep them from leaking I still needed to get the
milk out or they got really swollen and painful. So we worked on
a trigger to allow me to rapidly express my milk. My trigger was
I had to be stroking my breasts and when I thought the words "My
jugs flow huge," the milk would come spurting out.
This was pretty cool, cause I could go to the bathroom like I
needed to pee, do my trigger, and the milk flowed so rapidly it
sounded just like I was peeing. I only had one other problem in
high school. I didn't like boys. Think about it. No boy, or man
for that matter, that talked to me in high school talked to my
face. The boys were always trying to rub up against me. Some
didn't even try to make it look like an accident. When you have
tits my size and they're full of milk, practically any contact
hurts. No I didn't like boys. The girls didn't like me. They
called me nasty names like slut or cow. I was pretty lonely in
high school.
By the time I graduated from high school my tits had grown to
48DD. Yeah, you laugh but you walk around with these puppies and
see how you like it. I could shoot a gallon of milk out of each
one. For jokes I once measured how far I could shoot. I hit fifty
feet once when I had held the milk for as long as I could stand
the pain.
I really didn't decide to be a crime fighter. It just sort of
happened. I had gotten a job at Wal-Mart and had just received my
first paycheck. I went to the bank after I got off work to cash
my check. My breasts were full and I would need to get rid of the
milk soon but I figured it wouldn't take long to get the check
cashed. So there I was standing in line, when these two bank
robbers run into the bank. One shoots a shot into the ceiling and
starts yelling to us to stay back and shut up since people were
screaming and stuff. The other goes to the teller and starts
stuffing money in a sack. God, my breasts hurt. I started rubbing
them to try to make the pain go away.
The one holding the gun on us said, "Jesus Christ, Butch, would
you look at the tits on this bitch." Well, the guy stuffing the
money in the sack stopped and came over to look.
"Fucking unbelievable," he said. "Look at her, she's playing with
them while we watch." Tears were streaming down my face now, both
from the pain and embarrassment. The one that was called Butch
pointed his gun at my head. "Take off your shirt, bitch." I shook
my head no. "Take it off or I'll blow your head off." I pulled my
shirt over my head.
"Look at them bad boys, Mitch," Butch said.
"You think they're real?" Mitch asked.
"Who the fuck cares," said Butch as he waved the gun at me. "Take
off the bra too," Butch commanded. I unhooked my bra and my
pendulous breasts sprang free. God they hurt.
"Holy goddamned fucking Christ!" Mitch exclaimed.
"Play with them," Butch ordered. I hefted my mammoth mammaries
and moaned at the pain. They felt like they were going to
explode. I couldn't take it anymore I had to relieve the
pressure. "My jugs flow huge," I thought and milk shot straight
out of my breasts into the faces of Mitch and Butch. Those two
were so shocked they dropped their guns. I was so damned pissed
off that when I saw they had dropped their guns I kicked each one
of them as hard as I could in the balls. They dropped to the
floor, holding their crotches and moaning. It felt good, kicking
them in the balls I mean, although getting rid of the milk felt
pretty good too.
Well the cops came running in then. They just stood there, their
mouths hanging open. I guess it was a pretty unbelievable sight.
Two bank robbers lying on the floor, holding their crotches and
moaning. Milk everywhere and some women with the biggest tits
anyone had ever seen just standing there displaying them to the
world. When I realized what most of them were staring at, I
blushed and turned my back to them. I retrieved my bra from the
floor and managed to get my tits back in it. Then I grabbed my
shirt and pulled it over my head.
Well when the press got wind of the story they dubbed me Marcie
the Milkmaid. I kind of liked making those bank robbers pay for
their crimes. My psychiatrist tells me that it isn't healthy to
go around showing my tits to men and kicking them in the nuts.
But I figure as long as I'm doing it to criminals it can't be all
wrong, can it?
End