Putting The Men In Breast Augmentation

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The sequel to 

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   For my 18th birthday I asked mom if I could get implants like hers. She smiled enigmatically. “Oh, you’ll never find a pair like these. But would you like them? I’m getting a little old for them now.”
It sounds icky having the implants she’s been carrying for nearly 20 years stitched into my breasts but they were the last gift dad ever gave her before he disappeared, just before mom remarried, and they have a lot of sentimental value for her (Or I think they do since I caught her talking to them one time). It seemed wrong for them to just be thrown out on the garbage heap so I said yes!
The surgeon examined them first of course (after all this time, they might have been split or damaged) but they were in perfect condition, like they could last another hundred years. Maybe when I have daughters or granddaughters of my own I’ll pass them down, like a family heirloom!
I love my new tits even if they are a bit big on my petite frame. Step-dad can’t take his eyes off them either. They jiggle more than I expected. They have a mind of their own sometimes, almost like they’re moving of their own accord, especially when I show them off to daddy. That's when they really start wriggling like crazy. I love watching the force of every thrust ripple through them whenever step-dad makes love to me.
But most importantly it feels good to have a gift from dad. Even if I never knew him, he’ll always be close to my heart.

Putting The Men In Breast Augmentation

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It’s been a wonderful evening, Sophia.
I’ve enjoyed myself too. So… would you like to come back to my place?
Your place? What about your husband?
Oh, he already knows about us. As a matter of fact, he’s been eavesdropping on our entire date. HAVEN’T YOU DARLING? You’ll have to speak up, he’s implanted quite deep.
You mean your husband is here?! Where?
You haven’t noticed? You’ve been staring at him all evening. Those new implants he bought me? He bribed my surgeon to use siliconizing nanites and implant him inside me. He’s had suspicions for a while now, so he turned himself into my brand new tits to spy on me.
And you let him?
Of course! In fact I had to bribe the surgeon myself to go ahead with his crazy scheme! And of course destroy the paperwork saying the operation had ever taken place. My husband paid him to recall my implants after a week and revert him but, well, I doubled it. Mmm, do you hear that darling? Nobody is coming to save you because nobody knows you exist. Oooh, I love it when he wriggles so feebly like that.
He can move?
Barely. Only enough to give me pleasure. You wouldn't notice it unless you knew to look. Ah, so helpless.
Err, wow. Well it’s been a pleasure meeting you, Mr Jones. Your wife is a very beautiful woman. And you don’t look bad yourself.
So how about I take you hope and introduce you two properly? I can’t wait to wrap him around your cock and have him titfuck you all night.

Tony Stark to Body Part

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   Pepper teased the dress back, gently fondling her late husband. She really needed to stop touching him - it only made him more comfortable. He’d been sleeping in the warm cocoon that was her dress, his mind now awakening within her chest to the pleasurable teasing.
“We really need to find somebody to fix this, Tony.”
Her tits yawned. “What’s the rush?" When Tony spoke he was barely a whisper, inaudible to anyone but her. "They’re calling me the earth’s greatest hero. Earth’s greatest breasts, bit of a downgrade.
"You're staying like this for the sake of your ego?!"
"Look, sweetie, we already held the funeral. It was touching. Everybody cried, you cried, I cried.”
“You didn’t cry.”
“I leaked a little.”
Pepper rolled her eyes. Tony had always been something of a manchild, and existence as nothing more than her tits suited him. As usual, she was the one taking the responsibility, while he clung to her and enjoyed the pleasures in life. She worried he’d found his niche a little too well. “Maybe Helen Cho could build you a body.”
“I’ve got the perfect body right here,” her breasts murmured, wiggling comfortably against her. “Honey, could you close the window, it’s a little drafty.”
It had been misfortunate timing landing in the instant before her husband snapped his fingers, the tiniest hint of cleavage showing through her damaged Iron Man suit distracting his attention at a critical moment of godlike power. The reality and soul stones had done the rest in twisting his amorous impulse, and she’d been too distraught to notice her husband’s muffled voice within the armor until the stones had been returned to their timelines.
“Don’t you want to hold your daughter again?”
Stark sighed. “Fine. We’ll brainstorm a plan in the morning. But tonight you’re doing nothing but play with me.”

A Friend In Knead - Breast TF

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    Sophie was pushing her way into my house the moment I opened the door, already stripping off her sweater. “Oliver, thank god you’re here! Quick, I need you to titfuck me, right now.”

My jaw droped at the sight of her spectacular rack. Were they… bigger than normal? “Wh-what?! “Are you crazy? No way am I doing that, your husband’s my best friend!”

“That’s why I need you. Eric told you I’m a witch, right? For our anniversary, I said he could have any spell he desired. So he asked to become my breasts.”

I quickly avert my eyes from the tits that I’d been thoroughly ogled. “Eric, I’m sorry, dude, I wasn’t looking at you! I mean I wasn’t looking at your wife or anything. We’re still cool, right?”

Sophie tossed her sweater aside and moved to grab my clothes. I jumped back but she was insistent, backing me against the wall and wrestling my pants around my ankles. She kneeled, the cleavage of her tittified husband inches from my hard cock.

“We were playing with him so late into the night, I fell asleep with him still part of me. My body has been draining his essence all night, there’s barely anything left. Not enough for the reversal to work.”

She cupped her husband’s curves, pressing her tits together around my cock to enclose it completely within their soft warmth. I shuddered in arousal and discomfort, knowing it was my best friend. She looked up with pleading eyes.

“This isn't sexual, it's an emergency. My husband needs an infusion of strong, male life essence to become a man, and if he doesn’t get it in the next hour he’ll be stuck like this forever. If you ever want to see him again, he needs your seed all over him.”

She was frantic as she began kneading her tits up and down my shaft, desperately trying to stroke me to orgasm.

I guess Eric never told her about my vasectomy. On the plus side, at least I enjoyed titfucking him and his widow for the next hour.

We Can Rebuild Him. We Have The Sorority - TG

    When I went and got myself blown up by an IED in the line of duty, the army scraped up what was left of me and shipped me home to my girlfriend, fully expecting me to expire on the way home. They were already measuring me up for a coffin and, let me tell you, it wouldn’t need to be a long one.

Yet somehow I held on. And if I wasn’t about to give up, neither was my girlfriend. She got me the best medical care she could afford, setting up charity drives to raise further money. Yet the organ transplants required to replace my damaged body were too much. The damage was just too extensive. My arms and legs were salsa, I’d suffered deep tissue burns across 80% of my body. Liver, kidneys, everything was failing.

As I lay there dying, she gathered all her friends together and made one last, incredible push for donations - not money this time, but organs. Skin, fat, bone and marrow, a kidney here, a chunk of lung there. Not much each but enough to form a mostly complete human. I was a Frankenstein’s monster, a mashed up jigsaw of a hundred different people, but alive. It was just a pity that all her friends were girls.

“Perhaps I shouldn’t have asked my sorority for so much,” she’d said nervously when the bandages were first peeled away from my breasts.

Rehab was lengthy. Learning to walk again - new legs, who dis? More surgery, cosmetic this time to make the face look less of a patchwork, though they made it far too pretty if you ask me. My squadmates are already making fun of it. The visit whenever they’re on leave, as if I don’t see straight through their intentions. I’ve already overheard one of them making a crass remark about the appeal of fucking an entire sorority at once.

I knew I was healed when the army rang, asking when I’d be ready to be redeployed. I told them I’d think about it.

My manhood was gone, reduced to atoms - our sex life changed, though certainly hasn’t stopped.

“Does it bother you?” I asked as we lay in bed entwined in each other's arms. “When you kiss me, it’s like you’re kissing your friends.”

“It’s wonderful,” she said, kissing me passionately. “Every time I look at you, I see the precious gift they gave us.” She hesitated a second. “Kinda wish my sister didn’t donate though.”

“Why? Which part is she?”

“You don’t want to know.”

Father of Dragons - Sexchange, Bodypart, Animal Transformation

   It was the third day of the convention and I was still struggling to adjust to life as the kitten-sized lizard dad had transformed me into. Worse than a pet, I was a cosplay accessory, made to sit silently on his shoulder as he prowled the convention floor, flaunting the tits that had once been mom to anyone who would look. Which was every male there.

He craved attention, and had intentionally garbed his feminised body in as little clothing as he could, only avoiding being thrown out for indecency by a discrete fondle of the security guard’s genitals. He posed and preened for the cameras, pushing the two succulent halves of his wife together into a spectacular display of cleavage.

It was the evening and he’d seated his derriere at the hotel bar while I curled my draconic form around the jar of peanuts, picking at the food with my snakelike neck. Unfed by our ‘owner’, me and my brothers had resorted to scrounging scraps off the convention floor - half eaten hotdogs and doritos. Dad was deeply drunk - only a few beers in but he’d yet to compensate for his reduced tolerance. His loose-fitting sapphire blue dress had slipped down around his creamy breasts to expose his nipples, and none of the men in the place had the heart to tell him.

A man sat beside him, shirtless and covered in stenciled-on tattoos. “Daenerys,” he addressed dad with a wolfish grin. Dad’s lopsided gaze examined the fellow cosplayer.

“Drogo,” he mumbled in recognition.

“Those things real?” the man asked. His question might have been addressed to the two fake dragons, myself and my brother, whom many at the convention had already mistook for animatronics. Yet his gaze and his question was directed firmly at dad’s tits.

“Why don’t you touch them and find out?” dad murmured.

The man needed no further invitation. Dad gave a girlish mewl as "Drogo's" hands enveloped his breasts, squeezing and groping roughly, the loose dress falling down about his waist.

“Wa-wait, I- ooooohhhh,” dad moaned. His dainty hand gripped the man’s thick arm for a moment, the show of resistance falling away as a heady pulse of estrogen hit his brain.

   I rose in agitation, noticing dad’s heavily lidded eyes as he shifted closer to the other man, pushing the soft orbs of his wife against him, grinding his nipples against his palms. The tits, formed from female flesh, were designed to maintain his hormones like that of a woman, but each fondle turned his blood more into a hormonal slurry, his mind more into a lascivious slut. “W-we mustn’t,” he gasped. “I’m a ma-aaaahhh”

A quiet, feminine yelp escaped his lips as they were taken by the other man. They gasped and grunted as their tongues explored each other's mouths passionately. Dad was trapped in a vicious cycle - the more his body was played with, the more his mind was feminized. The more he was feminized, the more he urged the man to treat his body - no, worse, mom - as a plaything.

Realizing the situation was escalating out of hand, I hopped up onto my four paws, scrambling along the bar counter to intercept them before dad did something he’d regret. Dad was already slipping into the man’s lap, grinding his ass eagerly against him.

“This is a family bar.” The bartender interrupted the lurid scene. “If you've got a room, take it there.”

“Gladly,” smiled Drogo, sweeping the silver-haired slut into his arms.

Dad curled again him, cooing in drugged delight.

I followed, snapping at the man’s heels, though he paid me little notice as he continued to ravish the ex-man with his tongue. At his hotel room, he gave me a hard kick, sending me sprawling. “Scram, pest,” he hissed, slamming the door against my snout.

My talons scraped pointlessly at the door, trying to ignore the squeals of delight and moans of orgasm that emanated from within as Daenerys’ pussy was penetrated for the first time.

Father of Dragons

 

   Lockdown was over. The gaming conventions mom and dad loved so much were opening again and we decided to celebrate as a family with a group cosplay. Power Rangers, dad promised us, as he began programming our costumes into the autocloset. “As long as I’m not the pink ranger,” I joked.

When the day came, all five of us - mom, dad, and my two brothers - squashed into the autocloset together. As the panels on the walls of the autocloset opened to released dozens of scalpel-tipped mechanic arms, dad barely seemed able to contain his excitement.

It was one of the earliest models of autoclosets, designed only for applying makeup and making minor cosmetic alterations. In programming our cosplays, dad had bypassed every safeguard, blown every fuse, and blacked out the street’s energy grid. Our smoking, sparking autocloset spewed us back out. What was left of us…

I gnash my tiny jaws. “This isn’t what we agreed to,” I snarl.

The smug voice of the platinum blonde holding me is soft, feminine and sultry, but the tone is undeniably our father’s. “Snappy, aren’t we? Don’t take that tone with me, little lizard. I don’t hear your mother complaining, do you?” dad says, stroking a hand over the swell of his tits.

“Wait, where is-? What have you done?!”

He circles one finger teasingly around a nipple. The soft titty flesh seems to quiver and tremble “I can hardly be called a mother of dragons without a spectacular pair of breasts, can I? I may look beautiful now but, under this skin, I’m still the man I was. Give it a few hours and this Daenerys would be sporting a 5 o’clock shadow. But now that your mother’s female form is a part of me, her hormones flows into my veins with just the slightest squeeze… ahhhh.” He cups mom, his head rolling back in euphoria as his fingers tighten into the mammary, pumping a giddy rush of estrogen straight to his head. “A fondle here, a grope there, and I’ll stay beautiful forever.” He giggles. “Or at least the length of a convention. Do you like her?”

“Turn us back right now!” I hiss, my tail lashing back and forth in anger.

“Oh, but I intend to have so much fun first,” he pouts. “Of course, if you don’t like her, I can improve her. It might make reverting her challenging once I’ve filled her with two big bags of silicone. Is that what you want? You want her to be my fake, bolt-on tits forever?”

Shocked, I wag my little lizard head. “N-no. No, I don’t want that. She’s... fine as she is. B-but you’ll turn us back after the convention… right?”

He smiles and cradles my scaled body to his bosom, the warmth of his flesh pleasurable to my cold blood. “Perhaps." He strokes one finger lovingly along the ridges of my spine. “If you make a good pet.”