Topic: TELOMERASE DELTA-NU - by Ebikiyo
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Best read in its original PDF format
Tags: TF, Breast Expansion, Hyper Breasts Dick Nipples, Alternative Pregnancy, Egg-laying, Lesbian Themes, Corruption, Sci-fi
The following has been compiled for the benefit of the Centers of Disease Control. Contained within is all information pertinent to the case involving the infection and mutation of TELOMERASE DELTA-NU, chromosomal strain Hb7565, within the breast tissue of patient Valeria ‘Lera’ Constantine. This documentation is protected under HIPAA regulations, as well as CDC clearance codes. Do not reproduce. The identities of all individuals mentioned are protected under HR. 34, though have not been redacted from these notes. Reader discretion is advised.
Valeria ‘Lera’ Constantine
5’2” / 105 lbs initial / Chestnut Hair / Blue Eyes / F / White, Romanian Ancestry
Naomi Fukumiya, MD
5’4” / 131 lbs / Black Hair / Hazel Eyes / F / Asian, Japanese Ancestry
CDC Representative/Experimental Doctor
Gennady Ivanovich Markoff, FACCP, FACE, MBBS
[PERSONAL DETAILS CLASSIFIED]
Case File Notes - observations by Dr. Markoff 2nd of March, Atlanta, Georgia
Call received from Emory staff, Department of Experimental Pathology; urgent request. Report states that a student was exposed to Telomerase Delta Nu, chromosome marker Hb7565, in solution in laboratory conditions. Submitting a formal request for information regarding this particular chemical and effects on exposure. Will prepare for departure at any rate.
Later - су́кин сын. I suppose we shall call a mutagenic strain anything these days.
Call arranged with presiding physician; follow-up email contact in progress
Experimental paradigm is unknown. Thus, beginning observation.
It was an accident! Lera swore up and down, this was a total accident.
The lab techs didn’t listen, not this time. At first, Lera thought they lost patience with her. It was the price she paid breaking hundreds of dollars of glass and spilling chemicals every other session. But no, this time it didn’t feel like consternation or a lack of patience with Lera’s crippling lack of hand-eye coordination.
They ordered her to take off her top. She obliged, warily; it was soaked all the way through. They took her temperature, swept up broken glass, shined a light in her eye and asked her if she was feeling anything.
“Just guilty,” she told them. “A little tingly in the, well you know, but…”
That part wasn’t a lie, and she was almost willing not to mention it at all. The moment she did, though, Lera promptly regretted it. The techs and the TA all seemed to stiffen up and look at her strangely. Like she’d admitted she was about to explode.
“Really,” said Lera, feeling helpless under their stares. “It’s fine. I can go wash up. Take an
L. Can I please just retake this again, though? I-I don’t know what the big deal is.”
The other grad students in her class traded awkward looks with her. They didn’t know what was up. But the lab techs made silent nods to the TA and took the red corded phone off the hook. That was the phone reserved for immediate medical dispatch. A number of things were said. Lera was so surprised she didn’t know what to say, how to defend herself, since she needed to have her defenses up and protect herself from what, a lecture from the department head? Her advisor? There was a familiar spin-up of dread, but by the time the techs were describing symptoms in grave detail, Lera was left to drift.
Ten minutes later, they loaded her into an ambulance. She went quietly with a towel over her chest.
It was a short ride from Emory to Piedmont Hospital. The paramedics wheeled her into the ICU, and from there, to her own bed. A drip was ordered. She tasted saline in the back of her mouth as she was hooked up. They asked if she brought her phone, she told them she did, and they passed her a charger. “What am I supposed to do with it?” she asked.
The paramedic stopped, not expecting the question. “Charge your phone,” he said. Lera felt stupid for asking. Then again, she didn’t know what was in her power at the moment. The whole experience had left her numb.
When the paramedic started to leave, she scampered upright, pressed to ask him one more question before he left. “Hey! You know what happened? What’s going on?”
“It sounds like chemical exposure,” the paramedic said in a professional, even tone. It alienated Lera more than it comforted her. “Doctor…”
They checked the clipboard by the door for a name. “Doctor Fukumiya. She’s a breast specialist. They’ll be taking an MRI of your tissue in a little bit, so hang tight.”
“Oh,” said Lera. She understood what that meant, sort of. By the time she comprehended it, the paramedic was gone, leaving her alone with the tingly sensation left in her poor breasts. She cupped them, pressed them together. They pulsed back at her. Her skin bristled against the towel’s texture, and sparkling sensations mapped out all the piping under the skin in a tender show of force. She could feel her glands ache, just a smidge. Lera winced after the fact.
She puffed out her cheeks and kneaded her pillow. She’d gone from confused to despondent at the situation. This was all trouble. She knew it. It was likely - not certain - that she’d go in for tests, find out there was some radioactive trace or something, be held over for a couple days, bored out of her mind and away from the keyboard, until the doctors admitted through clenched teeth that this was all to get their money’s worth. She was numbly dreading the medical bills. There must have been a good reason why the techs were so insistent, but Lera couldn’t get a grip on the seriousness of the situation.
She did not want to be in bed, sucking debt like a sponge. Trapped in a 12x15 foot box of a room that smelled like hand sanitizer. She just wanted to be excused for the day.
“Nnnnnghhh…” Lera groaned, feeling a migraine coming on. It may have been her nipples aching, she couldn’t tell. Either way, she put hand to her temple and waited it out.
Time passed like sludge. Lera hated it. She tossed and turned against the bed’s guard rails. Eventually, that worried the nurses. They asked her if she needed anything, and Lera, too humble to not ask for something when the people around her were concerned, asked for a remote to the TV and the wifi password. She needed distractions. She deflated into the bed cushions after that, splitting her attention between discord chatter and Sesame Street, until someone came to collect her.
“Valeria… Constantine?” A clipped voice said.
Lera shuffled over, feeling like a skidmark on pavement. “Are you my doc?” she asked, and then automatically said: “Look, I don’t want to have to be here longer than I have to. I’ve got classes, a-and I’m behind.”
The woman in the door nodded. She had a bold look to her, a combination of understated confidence and cuteness in form. Under the scrubs, she was clearly athletic, or at least well-maintained, and under a black bob trim, the woman had dark, narrow eyes and a sharp nose, expressive lips and small ears set just-so. She was young, but not quite so young to not be an MD, since she carried herself, and the clipboard, with a pace that didn’t seem hurried or rote.
“You’ve been assigned to me, so yes, you can call me that,” she said, and smiled professionally. “My name’s Naomi Fukumiya. I work with radiopathology in breast cancer treatment.”
“Oh god,” Lera muttered. “They think I’ve got breast cancer.”
“I don’t think so,” Naomi said. “It doesn’t come on that fast. But you did get exposed to an experimental stem protein mix-” So that’s what that was. “- some derivative of the Telomerase cancer-enabling gene, Hb7565. Emory’s experimental pathology department was worried about an infection in the breast tissue. Talking about this right there.”
She pointed at Lera’s right boob. Lera suffered through a sympathetic aftershock. Naomi was not too much bigger, a small B to Lera’s A, but there was still a twinge of envy.
“Can you describe for me how much you were exposed?”
“Um…” Lera worried it would’ve been too long to remember, but the accident was still clear in her head. “About… okay, so I was handling five mililiters of the stuff, and it poured out like- here, all over-”
Lera gestured over an area, starting at her collar bone and ending around the crevice, drooping down into her cleavage. Naomi took notes. Anywhere that still had a wet residue was fair game, Lera realized, so in effect, the splash zone covered a wider range than she expected. Across the tops, down almost to the undercup. Her nipples were definitely affected too, but she was reluctantly to take her towel off in front of a stranger, even if that stranger had probably seen so many boobs that they didn’t excite her anymore.
“Any discomfort?” Naomi asked.
Lera shook her head no. “... tell a lie, it’s actually kinda tender. I thought it was embarrassment for a while, but these guys have been acting up.”
It was difficult to put it into words, so Lera, in her disaster-girl way, just pressed her breasts close and let the wince explain itself. “... see, like that. Tingly. When I touch them or press them up against my hands, there’s this pulse running through. Like, it runs through the veins and the little ducts connecting the boobers to the nipplers, and then it’s like a drop of water on a puddle, an awkward sensation running over the whole thing. Hey, don’t laugh.”
Naomi was trying to hold it in. “Noooo, no. Sorry. Let’s see, this is pretty consistent with the warnings they sent us. Mild tingling, followed by nervous sensations in the dermis. No signs of intermediate numbness. Your boobers seem unaffected, but we still have to run the usual tests to confirm if it left a chemical trace in your body.”
Lera sank down. “I guess I’m paying for that nonsense.”
“You do have medical insurance,” Naomi said. She seemed to have seen this behavior before.
“A high deductible,” Lera burbled. She wanted to hide under the covers. “Look - do I have to take these tests?”
Naomi exhaled softly. “Yes, you do. This seemed serious, and I want to be sure you’re not at risk of some kind of exposure. That’s my job. I want to make sure you can walk out of the hospital without complications. Does that make sense?”
Lera admired Naomi’s stiff upper lip as much as it annoyed her. She could estimate the cost of a weak will here, and how much work she’d have to do to pay it off. “For my own health?” asked Lera, defeated.
“Someone has to take care of it,” Naomi answered in a solemn tone. “If you won’t, I will. Now come on, the MRI’s prepped, we’re going to take a peek at what’s inside. My guess is this is all a blow up for some slimy residue that didn’t even do anything anyway.”
Hesitantly, Lera pulled herself out to the foot of the bed and swung her legs over. It was refreshing not to have a false sense of bedside manner. Naomi seemed to be aware that the trip to ER was costing her time and money, and the hospital a room. She was doing her best to move the process along without wasting much time on theatrics. Hopefully, Dr. Fukumiya was right, that this was just a scare. Though - the possibility of it being dangerous didn’t seem to factor into Lera’s calculation at all. An unthinkable thing - or, really, she couldn’t imagine the problem on its face. The gene soup had to be inert. And even if it wasn’t, but it was, of course it was, this wasn’t Akira. Rampant psychic powers and supercancer don’t just come to you from graded genetic experiments. The world worked its misery in more mundane ways. Maybe that’s why Lera didn’t see it - she couldn’t see the mundane hurt of a breast wart or a contamination episode, only the worst case scenario.
Her breasts ached as she shuffled out, step by step. As skeptical as Lera tried to be, the tiny step-ache-throb, step-ache-throb unsettled her thoughts. Maybe there really was something wrong...
Case File Notes - observations by Dr. Markoff 3rd of March, Atlanta, Georgia
MRI results and bloodwork have been documented. Chemical saturation in the blood is high, self-replicating. The body is unaware, continuing host regulatory functions as normal, while mutagen works quietly under the skin. It is unlikely that current radiopathology treatments will fully excise HB7565 without injuring or killing the patient.
With this in mind, Control has requested continuous observation. I have advised Dr. Fukumiya on this. Patient Lera is to be held indefinitely for further treatment. God rest her soul.
-Transcript of patient call, 3/4/2021-
“Hi, I’m sorry, uh, Ms. Harker? Yeah, it’s me, this is Constantine, beakerbane. I’m being checked out for some sort of exposure thing and- oh, you heard? Oh. You heard about what happened at the lab? Fuck. Sorry, sorry sorry sorry, this is going to sound really ungrateful, but could you please give me an extension? Well, they won’t tell me, I don’t know how long I’m supposed to stay. They’re observing me.
“… I don’t know what you mean. It’s just an ER trip. They’ll have me out in a couple days. Ow. Ow, these fucking tits, ow-”
“… You’re serious? Okay, I-I will call my other professors. If I’m marked down for an incomplete, is my tuition non-refundable, or some shit?
“You don’t know either, huh? Alright, sorry again Ms. Harker. I’ll come back as soon as I can. Thank you, peace.”
Case File Notes - observations by Dr. Markoff 11th of March, Atlanta, Georgia
Measured Breast Circumference - 96cm
Estimated Change - 2 cm/day, conditional to hormones. Nipple Length - 3cm
Within the first week, signs are presenting themselves.
As noted, chemical saturation has been deep. Dr. Fukumiya and I have determined that muscle tissue, mammary cell tissue and related hormone lymph node sites have been infected. Their immune systems have been retooled to reproduce Hb7565, rather than contain it. Within the site of saturation in particular, we have observed numerous subdermal changes through MRI. Specifically - pectoral tissue is growing, along with breast fat. Muscular fiber is tensioning up around the walls of the breast, while the fat is being deposited along the outer layer, in a vaguely tunnel shaped formation. This is not in accordance with cancerous tissue, this growth is not random. It has more in common with growth spurt cycles, and indeed, there is a heightened level of estrogen and human growth hormone (HGH) in the patient’s blood work.
Predictably, the patient’s appetite is growing. I suspect the HB7565 is accelerating her metabolism, though for now, her food intake has not increased significantly. Dr. Fukumiya has been working with her as of late, to keep the patient stable and well-rested.
One curious observation - we have detected a not-insignificant amount of testosterone in her latest bloodwork. Her last imaging session suggested a subtle reconfiguration of the milk glands. Pathways seem convoluted by swelling of some sort of liquid. We can’t determine which, but if I had to guess, the structure of the gland at present seems to be a chimera of mammary and testicular tissue.
“Hnnnghhhh… nnnnmmmmgghhhh, owww...”
Lera turned over, accidentally knocking over a Big Mac wrapper. It fluttered off the bed rail. She grimaced, but it was already most of the way to the ground before she could catch it. The aches were back.
“Daaaammit…” Lera moaned low. “Go awaaaaaay….”
But, sadly, they wouldn’t. Lera sat upright against the pillow, suffering every reverberation and complaint her boobs felt inclined to make. Increasingly loud, increasingly insufferable complaints. Every so often, she’d feel the veins start to spin up, the quivering glandular tissue tighten, and the little dots of sensitivity in the center pull along the inside. It was a chain reaction of little sensations that added up to one big sensation: a long, uncomfortable ache.
She palmed the swell, nipples slipping between the gaps of her fingers. It helped sometimes to squeeze them. ‘Them’ really meant all of her boobs, since the nipples had swollen as much as the surface circumference. The aches weren’t in the same family of pain as a cramp, but it still felt like sore muscle, so she kneaded it. It was about the best she could do. Fukumiya, the saint, offered her ibuprofen the first day it started happening, but the dosage wasn’t strong enough. It never seemed to be. 800 milligrams was the most she could have before it irritated her stomach, and with her diet getting out of control, the last thing she wanted to do was pitch over and vomit while craving something to eat.
She sighed, and squeezed anyway. Minutes passed, with the aches coming and going like waves lapping at a pier, until finally. Tsssk, she hissed. There comes the relief. Lera deflated into the pillow as the tension dissolved into bubbles of carbonated comfort. Her legs locked up, and at the end, her toes curled and flexed, digging into the mattress before the immediate warmth of the moment faded into oblivion.
Relief felt good.
The bubbles fizzed out after a time. Lera laid there for a while, faintly aware of the ad breaks on CNN while her body settled back into its default state of apathy. She lasted three Anderson Coopers until her belly started to pinch up again.
There’s the hunger. It’s back. Yay.
Lera fumbled for the call button on the bed frame. “Naomiiii? Doc? It’s back.” “The aches?”
“No- well, no, that’s back, but my stomach’s acting up again. Can you pick up something from downstairs?” Read: the McDonalds cafeteria, the only place to get food at odd hours when the regular cafeteria was closed.
She expected Naomi to groan, or give a hint of some kind that she didn’t like being used, but after a pause, the doctor radioed back through the bedframe’s speaker. “What do you feel
The guilt was intolerable. Her stomach gurgled, and the empty feeling was worse than intolerable. Lera checked her phone on the nightstand. The screen said 09:37. “Chicken biscuit,” she said. “Two please. Hashbrowns and a large sweet tea. If you don’t mind getting some jelly for me, that’d be swell too.”
“I don’t mind,” said doctor Fukumiya. She clicked off. Lera laid back, staring at the ceiling tile, marinating in a puddle of her worst thoughts until the doc knocked on the doorframe ten minutes later and abruptly brought Lera back.
“Holding up alright?” Naomi asked, peering into Lera’s room.
Lera nodded, face half hidden under the covers. “Mmmh! It’s not so bad.”
They were both aware that Lera had swollen two cup sizes in the couple of days, which was, if not bad, still troubling, but it went unstated. Her C-cups, unnaturally firm, sat like pudgy lumps under the comforter. Naomi was respectful, and Lera was too embarrassed to mention it aloud. There were other problems too - like all the McDonalds bags and wrappers scattered everywhere. The crumbs, ketchup packets and discarded pickles, the majority of it was left out on the desk in the corner and the nightstand than the garbage bag on the door handle where they should be.
Not that Lena could help it. The anxiety of not knowing when she’d be able to leave the hospital fell apart and turned into listlessness and vague dread for the future. It had got to the point that garbage was starting to pile up wherever she left it. She’d get to it, Lera said, she’ll clean up, knowing she never had the energy to get up. Then the aches started to get worse, and she was regularly sleepy from ibuprofen, and her plans of actions fell apart before being actionable in the slightest. Not to mention the aching in her chest swelled up when she got on her feet, which disincentivized self-care. She felt intensely small and hapless, lazy and insufficient.
And well, sore. And mildly horny too. The nature of the beast, being cooped up in a hospital room.
Naomi went to work picking up fast food refuse. Lena whined softly, but didn’t say no. They were on a name basis now, as well as learning each other’s nonverbal communication. Lera shuffled close to the bed rail and picked up wrappers and fry boxes as best as she could, dropping them in the bag once Naomi came around and offered it up. Lera blushed on eye contact.
Her hard eyes were so soft up close. She didn’t need to be dealing with Valeria Constantine’s sore tiddies, or her shitty response to an evolving crisis.
“There,” Naomi said, after eventually cleaning up the room and giving it a good rub down with wipes. “Breakfast is ready.”
Lera grunted approval. She held her hands out for the chicken biscuit and unwrapped it quickly. She was ravenous.
Naomi smiled, in a way that seemed a little more honest than before. “I’ve got a free block, so, do you mind if I use this time here?”
Lera chewed with her heart skipping beats. “Mmmggghhmhm, nhnnh.”
“More observation time. Your next MRI session isn’t until one so…” she trailed off. Lera couldn’t tell why. Was it the look on her face, or tiredness setting in? The doctor’s lips pursed. She looked intently at Lera, and then she yawned, trying to remember the rest of what she wanted to say. “... I should be keeping up with how you’re feeling, Lera. I know that’s not my job, but it helps.”
Lera swallowed. Her face was uncomfortably warm.
Naomi puzzled over the EKG. “Your pulse is abnormally high…” “H-haha, no! It’s fine. I just need someone to talk to, I guess.”
Naomi looked at her. Slowly, she settled into the chair opposite to the bed. “Well, what do you want to talk about?”
Lera fidgeted over the question. It took her a minute and another biscuit sandwich to settle on a topic…
Case File Notes - observations by Dr. Markoff 19th of March, Atlanta, Georgia (left unfinished)
Measured Breast Circumference - 121cm Estimated Change - 2.5 cm/day
Nipple Length - 16cm; in flux
We are at the end of the third week. New observations to report, and some startling discoveries.
An automated growth model has finally been finished. It was slow going, as Emory was reluctant to share information on Hb7565 beyond a heavily redacted survey. From Fukumiya’s notes and imaging, I have been able to track the expected growth pattern of the patient’s tissue, as pertains to the growth effects of Telomerase Delta-Nu.
The result is haunting, to say the least. I have informed Fukumiya that a new dietary plan is in order. Gigantism is now likely.
The grant has gone through. The patient’s insurance has been voided out of hospital records as a result. They would not have been able to pay the resulting costs, nor I believe very insistent to cover it if they knew what was happening. It is past the time to be informing the patient of her current illness. As the model is complete, and federal funding for her treatment is secure, it is logical now to explain to her the condition. Gently. Patient seems skittish and increasingly frustrated.
On to experimental observations: as predicted, the swelling of tissue is borne from two processes. The first is muscular tissue growth. Hormones in the patient’s blood have created conditions for a rapid restructuring of the internal order of the breast. Each has developed a fibrous structure capable of forceful contractions within a pseudo-uterine space. See fig. 4 for the CAVERN-type muscle pocket.
The second is the multifunctional organ structure. I have never seen anything like it. We initially identified the nodal structures in the center of the breast as malign growths from the milk glands (confirming suspicions regarding testicular intrusion), but with further analysis, we have discovered they are integrating multiple production sites into one network. This network is producing complex milk proteins, sugars,
amniotic fluid and, well, spermatozoa. Moreover - swelling discovered two days ago was revealed to be the build-up of seminal fluid in the inner lining. I believe the English term for it is ‘blue balls.’
The completion of uterine wall structure suggests that this network of glands is a closed system. Her breasts are producing the means to harbor and nurture life, as well as produce it.
This seems to have also had an effect on her libi
“... what the fuck… what the fuck?!”
Lera well and fully woke up. Her eyes shot open. She struggled upright. Her hands pawed around the swollen, bumpy surface, but there was no sign of her nipples. Those hyper-sensitive bastards had disappeared somehow.
Wait. No, there was a sign. Lera gasped, moaned out hard. There was a smooth fold down the center of the boobs. Touching it set so many tender nerves on fire, she got an instant picture of an inverted shape lodged deep inside her body. All the way to the ribs, pressing up into them, and if she so much as jostled...
She hiccuped in fear. A fork of lightning shot up the shape. “NNGhhh!”
Her hand shot for the call button, thumbing for it, pressing it in a panic. “Doc?! Doc! Help! Help, they inverted! Doc?!”
Sudden movements made the situation even worse, but it was beyond helping now. Lera’s nipples had gone inside her.
It was bad enough to be stuck with these naughty things. These shameless boobs. She could hardly walk around the hospital grounds without getting lost in the sensation, the rocking of the nerves and the sway of her titties. That’s when they weren’t sore as dicks, straining from the recent growth spurts and left sore like a full migraine, but then the soreness flipped on a knife edge and became pleasure the moment she palmed them. Lera felt the tiddies oscillate rapidly between extremes, from petulant to loving, angry to serene, she saw them dribble bubbly, coppery, sticky fluid out the obscene ends of her nipples. She
called the damn things teats. That was tolerable with counseling, but this? This was the last straw.
She fingered the button again and in her haste, knocked into the curve of the right globe. A crackle in her nerves like loaded fireworks set off. “Naoomiiiii!” Lera moaned in anguish. “Help! Help, please!”
Naomi ran in as quickly as she could. Several nurses were hot on her tail with scrubs and masks. Her heart was racing. By the time they learned what happened, Lera was inconsolable. She was sobbing, incoherent, pointing to her boobs like they’d personally wronged her.
The truth was, the inversion was so painfully good that Lera could hardly speak. It took Naomi petting her hair and palming those uncomfortable tension knots to pull her back from the brink.
An hour passed under procedure. Dr. Fukumiya ordered a steady dose of alprazolam to take the edge off. Her tone was harsher than she would’ve liked, but then - she’d been up for days with little sleep. The attention to Lera’s case was beginning to affect her soundness of mind. She wasn’t sure what to do.
Dr. Fukumiya wasn’t sure. But Naomi Fukumiya felt a call, an instinct to stay close to Lera while the panic drugs worked.
Lera, increasingly foggy and lost in her head, was still capable of registering the hug when it connected. The numb press of her heavy, heavy breasts into Naomi’s chest, the shallow rises in her breathing. Crackling aftershocks. The sweat and cold on the doctor’s hands, the shake of them. It was supposed to be soothing, but dazed, Lera still sensed a raw edge.
“Are you going to be okay?” She remembered Naomi whispering. It seemed strange for a doctor to ask a question like that so desperately.
Lera nodded lethargically. She mumbled. “Yeah. I-I’m… gonna be okay…”
She couldn’t keep thinking about the inversion, how scared she was. The cool veil coming over her, wrapping her like a sheet, dissuaded thoughts and dismayed the critical mind. Lera couldn’t physically feel upset, even though she felt like she should be, even a little bit.
Though even if she could, it hardly mattered. Naomi wasn’t letting go. Lera, befuddled and increasingly at peace, didn’t want to leave.
They sat together for a long time that night.
Case File Notes - observations by Dr. Markoff 25th of March, Atlanta, Georgia
Measured Breast Circumference - 186cm Estimated Change - 3.2 cm/day
Nipple Length - 30cm; incubating
Extenuating circumstances have led me to worry about the case. While expected growth and physical transformation is ongoing, the patient is exhibiting strange behavior. As indeed is my partner.
As the patient leaves normal bust cup sizes, there is a marked… dissipation of character. She has become markedly less erratic and despondent regarding her case after the episode on the 19th, but this has come with an increasing preoccupation and fixation with sexual contact. We have caught her masturbating multiple times with her inverted erogenous zones, frequently to orgasm. She seems contrite, but continues regardless. Her requests have become more transparent, often connected to obtaining pornography or asking for physical contact. This has resulted in the hospital ordering furniture and a personal laptop. There is no use policing her activity on the internet - she is well aware that her tastes are deviating.
Which is also to speak of the effect on my partner. I believe the stress of the situation has created a kind of dependency on her patient. She was more reluctant to accept the conclusions of the automated model than I was, and spends her off-hours and some of her on-call hours hovering near the patient’s room and tending to her needs. She is professional - but I cannot help but think she has a personal investment in Lera’s well-being at this point.
We will see what happens once the nipples finish incubating.
Near the end of March, one late evening, Lera felt something.
She blinked blearly down at herself. One hand was on the controller, the other was lost on the other side of her mounds, fingering away under her patient scrubs. How long she’d been teasing herself, she didn’t know, but it was a habit she’d been stuck with recently, since she started fixating on the girls in her steam library.
The doctors didn’t like it, but Lera didn’t care much. She felt bad, but her body was so needy now, they had to understand. Plus, it was less stressful playing with herself down there, like a low white noise buzzing between her ears, punctuated with little shivers and a moment of dizziness. It was much more relaxing than the spasmodic bursts of activity from the giant eyesores she felt obliged to still call boobs.
Didn’t mean she stopped playing with them. Once a day, at least. Twice, twice a day with Naomi’s help. Lera was starting to want three times, but internalized shame held her back. Let’s see what next week looked like, she told herself. This is different from fifth meal, which had been mandated for her metabolic health. There was no medical benefit from orgasming with her monster melons, except relief. But fuck, ripe relief was so good.
So was getting touched. Lera started looking forward to sponge baths, to routine examinations. The staff knew why, but she respected their discretion. Mostly, she wanted to feel Naomi touching her. It felt like taking a breath of fresh air every time she did, and it felt like something better when she… she… Lera shuddered. Gratifying was one word for it.
The ‘something’ came again. It felt like a restless muscle was kicking in her thorax. She paused her game and sipped half-cold Sprite from a straw. She withdrew her hand cautiously from her nethers.
“What are you doing now?” Lera asked her tits frankly. Pleading with them got her nowhere, so the most reliable option was paying attention when new sorts of sensation started cropping up. “What’s this about?”
She drew her fingers along the side. They were still mildly slick, but warm. It left a little stripe of moisture across faint varicose veins. She joked in deadpan at one point that you only see veins like those on old people or the extremely pregnant. At the time, it was an absurd comparison, but now it was feeling a lot more like dark humor rooted in the real. She wasn’t old, so she must be pregnant with her nipples.
The skin tensed up. Lera grimaced. Just the touch was enough to make the muscle wall underneath glow, until she could sense the vaguely canal-shaped tightness. It reverberated mostly along the sides, up and down, not so much from the front - though saying that, she caught a hint buried deep in the fold in the front. Her lips turned into a crooked half smile. That felt different, but not, bad.
She deliberated. Pushed herself up from the pillow pile to see if anyone was watching. Another habit, an older one, but it was just as predictably Lera as anything else anymore. She checked her phone. The time read ‘04:54.’ Graveyard shift.
What the hell, she thought. Nobody to bother her. Let’s explore this strangeness.
That was a lie, of course - there was always Fukumiya, and Lera craved Naomi’s attention, but the young mutant’s ego was already bruised enough, it couldn’t take a ‘no, not this time’ this late into her hospital stay.
So, she went it alone. Lera set her drink down, and with another cold hand slick with condensation, pressed her fingers into the sides.
“Mmmmmhh…” she moaned, lips firmed up. Tectonic activity shuddered and shook up through the inner canal. She put fingertips down first, then the knuckle and the palm of her hand, and kneaded a long, low circle. There was a layer of adipose, three fingers thick, but beneath that, the hard, vascular muscle rippled. The tunnel-canal of tissue pressed back against the medium. It eased and oozed and fed her brain good feelings and nectarine warmth, a dopamine drip feed.
This was definitely different. Not just because this was wholly good, that was one part, but this was leading to something stronger. What was stronger than cumming from titty play?
Lera kinda wanted to know. She was curious. Luridly, morbidly curious to see just where this was going. She committed to kneading. Her hands were small things, compared to the globes. Pressed together like this, the balance of processing in her head shifted, and she actively felt her fingers less and less. More, more than ever, Lera felt them as harmonic instruments to the bigger melody. She turned her palms in rhythmic, circular touches, and they all but disappeared into the symphonic core coming out of her chest.
Her head sank back. The pillow pile depressed underneath it, and she found herself staring up at the ceiling, almost all breast tenderness, and almost no arms, legs, torso, foot, hands,
or even head. Her being was nestling down into her bust, it seemed like. She’d lost track of the rhythmic rubbing, but it kept going without her on its own, on autopilot.
The flex hit again. Lera sucked in air. It was such a strange feeling. She swore, she felt like spongy tissue was flexing inside. Nipples didn’t engorge or flex. Not that Lera remembered. But here it was, responding involuntarily to attention.
She pulled on it. There was an immediate response. The fold in the front of her tits turned from a crease, into a bulb. A powerful static burst inside the breasts.
The canal! The static bounced all over the canal like an emphatic conversation. It was practically asking her to do it again. Her inner breasts flared with light, and was now reluctantly fading away. No, no no no, she couldn’t let it stop here. That didn’t feel like a climax. She’d just come back down and feel cruddy and frustrated again.
Her hands had stopped, too tepid to massage any longer. Lera put them back to task. She rolled her shoulders and planted her palms firming into the underboob, reaching to tease that reflexive muscle in the center to show more of itself. She edged on it, kneading for several minutes more, until a rush crept up her spine.
“O-oohhh? Ohhh, mmmnnhhh…”
She smelled something intangibly different. Her head seemed to hover off the earth for a long second. A quiver ran through the canal up to the bulb, and she could see a red knob of some kind poking out. Salmon red, or a maybe deeper, velvet red. It was about as big as her thumb, like a fat strawberry made of flesh, and it was wet with some kind of discharge.
Lera took her hands off to inspect it. It was wide and fat, and sensitive to touch, and along the bottom, there was a stubby, tubular shape, and veins underneath that were squiggly and engorged. The end had an opening, and a dribble of the same milky, coppery liquid that passed for lactation. She was starting to hear her heartbeat in her ears. An unnatural excitement gripped her.
On an impulse, Lera pinched the top of the crown between forefinger and thumb on each side. The feedback was intense.
“Ohhh! O-ohh my goddd… oh my god~. ”
These things were and weren’t her nipples, and they were sparkling like the cathodes of a car battery. They flexed on their own, Lera squeaked, and the strawberry nubs began to grow away from the surface. They grew with a long, low creaking noise Lera could barely
hear. The color drained from her face. The muscle was coming out, somehow. It was pushing itself out of the pit inside her chest, and it was already thicker around than her hand!
She grabbed hold of it. A rocking spasm shot down the line, infecting everything it touched with delight. Liquid dripped out of the slit at the top, and little appendages stiffened. Lera snorted air with an ugly sound and squeezed tight around the base. It hardened against her, the veins quivered and squirmed under her knuckle, and the whole thing slid straight through. The skin pinched tight, stretching and itching so wonderfully. It grew harder, and harder, and louder in her head with such a joyous fever.
Even as she dimly understood what was pitching up towards the ceiling. She licked her lips in utter disbelief. “A-are… those dick-nipples?”
Of all the things she secretly used as muff material. Her tastes had gone deviant with all the time she had in her room and the increasing demands of her breasts on her body. Ideations turned into lurid search results. Corruption, breast growth, hip growth, fat asses, unreal body shapes, futanari, cute girls with big gonads. She couldn’t stop thinking about it for more than an hour or so at a time. She never expected to actually be into a 4chan expletive, but she came more than once looking up the scraps she could find on the dark parts of imageboards.
Now though? Now it was growing on her in a literal way. A circumcised dicknipple. It was rising, pluming, foaming with pre like a volcano letting off preparatory smoke. She didn’t tell her hands to feel it up - but they were working anyway, rubbing with fingers cupped. They could just barely grab around the base.
She made quick, stupid calculations. One and a half, maybe two feet long, with a base of about eight, nine inches… fuck, they were so big!
Lera felt herself, the essence of herself, starting to crack under the pressure. These were dicknipples, and they were churning within her fucked up breasts and her fucked up glands all the frustration she’d built up since March 2nd into a tightening throb. Lera lost track of it all, but now, it was building up inside. The pockets of swelling sloshed around inside. More than that - something soft, warm and squishy, with a harder thing underneath, ductile where muscle bent.
Patchwork tubes lit up like runways. They had to be urethras. She was soaring, more molten heat than girl. She jacked and massaged and squeezed and pushed as hard as she could, kicked and shoved and diffused as much energy as she could, but her body’s ability to
process it all was inferior, absolutely insufficient for the task. She couldn’t stop imagining what Naomi could do to her bizarre body, all the things Lera could do to her…!
Pitch gurgled and roared inside her tanks, her fat storage tanks. They stored up so much, and if she could just get to the end, she could be free of all the pressure inside.
Her head emptied out. Lera’s mind drained back from the shore. In a primal scream of release, the helpless grad student came ropes upon ropes of yellow-white cum.
Shards of shattered ceiling tile fell on her head.
Case File Notes - observations by Dr. Markoff 15th of April, Atlanta, Georgia, Final Documentation
Measured Breast Circumference - 202cm Estimated Change - 0.1 cm/day
Dicknipple Lengths - 62cm
2nd Egg Batch; 3rd Currently in Gestation
The last scans were ordered yesterday. The hormones have run dry, and growth activities seem to have ceased. The patient seems to be heading towards a state of internal physical equilibrium, though as always, we are monitoring her chemical makeup.
We were unable to do anything about Telomerase Delta-Nu. Without treatment mechanisms or invasive surgery, nor ways to regulate the patient’s hormones or reverse growth as it was happening, the most ethical thing we could do as doctors was chart a path of most comfort. It is a little humbling, to be honest. I do not give in easily to despair. Fortunately, we were able to provide a permanent residence and aid for the patient, and she is happy.
More than happy, it would seem. Her psych evaluations as of late have far fewer warning signs for anxiety or depressive episodes. Fukumiya believes she has begun to accept her new body. Chimeric organs and all.
I will be relaying my field notes, imaging data and laboratory findings to Control for processing. The department chair of Experimental Pathology at Emory has been placed under house arrest until such time as he can be processed for neglect and malfeasance. He will probably go out on bond. The patient’s case has not been made public, and speaking frankly, I don’t want to be part of the media circus. The girl’s been through enough.
I have tasked Fukumiya with delivery of eggs and further patient care, though it seems she was intending to do that anyway. So far, they have been unfertilized. I will expect a call if they are not.
Best of luck, my dear.
-From the desk of:-
-DR. GENNADY IVANOVICH MARKOFF-
N/S: petition WHO later for use of ‘Lera Syndrome’ in future press.
“You got it. Come on, it’s almost out.” “HNNNGHHHhhhhh… I’m trying… I’m trying, okay?” “There we go…”
Lera wouldn’t have been able to do all this egg laying without someone to help her push. She didn’t know any pregnant women, and she’d never been pregnant before, but if the strain was anything like real pregnancy, she’d almost certainly say no.
Almost certainly. She huffed weakly, riding down the little climax with her back to the wall, her legs dangling over the counter, and her gigantic tits pillowing on top of her thighs, sloughing either way.
Naomi was handling the second egg of this batch. The last one, Lera hoped, before it started up again and wound her up so tight she might pop. The little ovoids glistened in sunlight,
still washed in the milk-cum mix regularly produced by her dicknipple. It was amniotic, but also had a high concentration of lactase and sperm, and that was where Lera’s focus started to fade a little bit.
She got it back when Naomi kissed the tip of a shrinking member. Lera smiled dumbly.
“You’re gonna get suds on your lips…” Lera reminded her softly. That’s what she called the drooling stuff, suds. It was one less family unfriendly thing to worry about. She was already a bit of an eyesore around the hospital, now that she could walk regularly.
Naomi licked her lips for show. “I know. I do it anyway, because you like it.”
“Ehehehehe….” Lera giggled into her hands like a moron. She was always on. The off-switch had gotten lost, once egg laying came into the picture, so now, any affection the good doctor showed her, physical or social, gave her giggly bitch syndrome.
Her schedule was quite full now, even if her eggs weren’t. With the growing come to a tentative stop, the doctors let her have free time away from the computer, and that was a godsend. She spent the time she wasn’t rubbing one out on pleasant walks across the facility. They even moved her to outpatient care so she can go out in nature again.
Just the smell of a garden after the rains was enough to get her hard as concrete.
As her attending physician, Naomi Fukumiya was obliged to attend with Lera, to keep her from hurting herself, but there was nothing obligatory about her actions. She lobbied with the head of hospital to be attached permanently to her case, and it just so happened that a public press release was planned to discuss what happened, so it was in the hospital’s benefit not to separate them. All the better for them; Naomi was too fond of Lera, and Lera was planning romantically entangle herself with a doctor. It would all work out. Even if there was some unpleasantness ahead.
They traded another kiss as Naomi took measurements and weighed the eggs. Lera burbled and floated on cloud nine for a little while, and then said rather bluntly:
“Can I ask you to rub me off sometime?”
Naomi blinked. She was sleeping better with regular cuddling, but still didn’t always feel prepared for her Lera. She settled on a coy look. “You already did.”
Lera gave a languid sniff. “Alright, okay. Can you rub me off later today? Both of them?”
Naomi snickered to herself. “Yes, hun, I can. I need to file your last reports, though, but that won’t take that long.”
“I wasn’t thinking about now,” Lera protested, “Hon-uhhhh~...”
She was interrupted by Naomi’s black fingernail tracing down a dicknipple vein. The meaty organ throbbed. Lera stuck her tongue and huffed, lightheaded.
“I think you were,” Naomi said smoothly. “Just tell me if you want to do it here or in your room. I’ll get janitorial to clean up after we’re done.”
“I fucking love you,” Lera hissed in a whisper.
“I love you too, Lera,” Naomi said, and meant it.
Naomi leaned up, Lera gathered her hands under the doctor’s chin, and the two kissed in earnest while sandwiched between the largest breasts ever recorded on a human body, and the largest set of male genitals ever displayed.
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