From: b1223@ix.netcom.com (b1223 )
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.tg,alt.sex.stories
Subject: Lisa's TG Library: "Goddess" (2/3)
Date: 1 Sep 1995 00:15:59 GMT
Organization: Netcom
Message-ID: <425jbv$6vi@ixnews6.ix.netcom.com>

Didn't write it, not responsible for it. Enjoy it!

-Lisa Blades







NOTE FROM THE ORIGINAL AUTHOR:

     This work is Copyrighted.  All rights reserved.  You may, 

however, upload this file to any person or service as long as it 

remains unaltered.  Hard copies may be produced so long as 

everything below "CUT HERE WITH A SHARP KNIFE" remains unaltered. 

     This is a recurring dream, or perhaps nightmare, I once had 

for twelve consecutive nights.  A man awakens in a two-room 

prison(?) with no memory or knowledge of anything.  When he 

notices the statue of what must be a Goddess bizarre things begin 

to happen. 

     It is a reverie about large breasts, a confused guy, large 

breasts, transformations, large breasts, a voluptuous statue, and 

of course...large breasts. 

     I would greatly appreciate any and all critiques.  If you 

hate it, let me know.  If you love it, let me know.  If you're 

completely impassive, let me know.  Please send all critiques or 

comments to CheyenneCM@aol.com. 



                 ( continued from first file ) 



>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> CUT HERE WITH A SHARP KNIFE <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< 



                            GODDESS 

                      Cheyenne Chaste Moon 



     He groggily awoke, visions of his dream world still dancing 

in his mind, then slowly realized he was barely breathing.  He 

took a deep breath, but it was cut drastically short, and he 

coughed, sputtered, and wheezed, then tried desperately to 

continue breathing.  He found it becoming more and more 

difficult, and was panicking hysterically, then, after a brief 

period, he noticed the soothing voice of Goddess.  "Fear not, 

number twelve.  You are fine.  Breath slowly, evenly, in short, 

shallow breaths." 

     He closed his eyes while the mothering voice of Goddess 

caressed him, allowing him to relax.  As he did, he found his 

breathing to come easier, yet slower and much shallower than it 

had been.  "What is wrong with me?" he frightenedly inquired 

while lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. 

     "Nothing.  You are wearing a corset." 

     He reached for his torso and discovered around him the 

heavily boned, thick, leather corset which he had placed on his 

companion earlier.  He tried to set up, but found that the 

garment made that difficult to do.  He slowly managed to get to 

his feet, and he walked to the mirror.  In the mirror, he saw 

both a bizarre, and ridiculous sight.  Just as it had on his 

companion, the bodice covered him from his hips to his chest, and 

it forcibly constricted his thirty-four inch waist until it was 

even tinier than his companion's, until it measured an 

astonishing seventeen inches, the same as that on the statue of 

Goddess, and it compelled his back into a stiff, vertical line 

which pulled his shoulders back, throwing out his chest. 

     He noticed, in the mirror, that his companion was standing 

behind him, and he saw the surprise in her eyes, and discovered 

that the corset he was donning was not the one he had been given 

to place on her, for she was still adorned with hers.  His eyes 

returned to the reflection of the garment he was wearing and saw 

a somber sight.  His corset, unlike his companion's, and more 

comparable to her fetters, was a permanent fixture about his 

waist.  It had no hooks down the front, and no lacing up the 

back.  He turned and stared into the eyes of his companion and 

saw the same confusion he had. 

     "Why am I wearing this?" he inquired of Goddess. 

     "To show you your error," she softly informed him. 

     "I do not understand." 

     "If your waist can be sculpted as such, then so too can that 

of your companion." 

     "I see."  He understood then. 

     "You will continue?" 

     "Yes, Goddess."  He went to his companion, and she turned 

willingly.  He withdrew the bow and untied it, then, starting at 

the bottom of the corset, proceeded to pull and tighten the laces 

with more strength than he had possessed before, until her waist 

was compressed even more, until it matched, both, his own tapered 

waist, and the one on the statue, then he retied the excess laces 

and stuffed them back out of the way. 

     As the two of them tried to adjust to the restricting 

garments, time continued to pass, and they, once again, fell 

asleep.  He dreamt again.  It was the same pleasant dream he had 

dreamt before.  It was of a world of laughter, color, and beauty; 

unlike his world.  He dreamt of sweet, fresh air; cool, soft 

grass beneath his feet; and the warm, loving hand of his 

companion gently placed in his.  They laughed, talked, and 

touched as they walked through a field of clover on a breezy, 

warm, sun-filled day. 

     ...Time continued to pass, and, as it did, he, once again, 

grew more and more restless.  His companion seemed to become more 

beautiful with each awakening, and his longing to touch, caress, 

hold, and make love to her increased.  But, even more than that, 

his desire for freedom was overwhelming.  Even with his companion 

there he could feel the madness of his situation returning. 

     "Number twelve," he heard Goddess whisper as he awoke. 

     "Yes, Goddess?" 

     "You have not visited my statue recently.  Please come there 

now." 

     He did so without hesitation, knelt before the statue, then 

stood.  As he caressed the form with his eyes, something stirred 

inside of him.  He thought of the statue not as an inanimate 

object, but as Goddess; the flesh and blood of Goddess.  He 

reached out with trembling hands and gently placed them on her 

majestic, heavenly breasts, and, as he explored them with his 

fingertips, he became aroused, and his manly member became 

engorged.  "Number twelve," Goddess cooed.  He dropped to his 

knees, his head lowered with shame and embarrassment, and he did 

not speak. 

     "Number twelve," Goddess whispered again.  "Do not be 

embarrassed...for I am the one who bestowed you these emotions.  

There is no reason for you to be ashamed of them." 

     "Yes, Goddess."  He stood; his effector no longer aroused; 

and looked, once more, at the image of Goddess, and discovered a 

small, cylindrical object resting atop her breasts.  He carefully 

lifted it and noticed that one end was extremely tiny and very 

sharp.  "What is it?" He was tremendously curious. 

     "A gift." 

     "What is it for?" 

     "It will give your companion beautiful breasts, such as 

those you idolize on my statue." 

     This startled him.  "Oh, no.  I couldn't do that," he told 

Goddess, replacing the gift. 

     "Why?  You find my breasts exceedingly pleasing.  Do you 

not?" 

     "Yes, Goddess.  They are...heavenly.  That is why I could 

not.  Such divine beauty belongs only to you.  They are much too 

grand for mere persons." 

     After a while he left the statue and returned to his cot.  

He found his companion awake and sitting upright.  She gazed 

questioningly at him as he sat down in front of her.  He told her 

of his conversation with Goddess, and, as he did, he tried to 

envision his companion with such breasts, but could not.  Since 

he thought them truly divine, he could envision them only on 

Goddess. 

     A wave of apprehension swelled over his companion.  He saw 

this and decided to calm her with stories of his dream world.  As 

he talked, she became more and more relaxed, and eventually laid 

down and began to contemplate the imagined world of his.  He had 

described it so vividly that she could picture it in her mind, 

and soon they were both fast asleep with dreams of a Utopian 

world swirling through their minds. 

     His dream this time, after sharing it with his companion, 

seemed much more real, and more beautiful.  It was of him and his 

ethereal world, and of his companion, who's bondage did not 

exist, and of, not only their love for each other, but of their 

love for the glorious world and everyone in it.  It was indeed 

Utopia. 

     As his dream progressed, he found the two of them, once 

again, in the field of clover, where they were running, jumping, 

touching; being free.  He then tripped, graceful falling forward, 

but was unhurt, and quickly got to his feet, laughing...but his 

laughter abruptly ended.  He saw that he was once again wearing 

the corset, which drastically constricted his waist, and that he, 

somehow miraculously, was supporting a pair of female breasts, 

the size and shape of those on the statue of Goddess. 

     This was most strange.  He had never had a dream like this 

before.  He shook his head, rubbed his eyes, then found himself 

awake and standing in front of the mirror.  It was then he 

realized the last part of his dream hadn't been a dream at all.  

He must have fallen off his cot, and as he stared into the 

mirror, he saw the breasts which hung on his chest, and which 

were being thrust forward due to the fact that his shoulders were 

drawn back, and his back was forced straight and erect by the 

corset.  His eyes were transfixed on the huge, round mounds of 

flesh which terminated in large, rigid, pink nipples surrounded 

by comparable areolas. 

     He did not want them!  They looked disgusting on him, and, 

even though they looked to be the same as those on the statue of 

Goddess, he was repulsed by them.  "NO!!" he screamed as loud as 

his breathless condition allowed.  His vociferation awakened his 

companion, who bolted upright, and he spun on his heels to face 

her, to see if she had been stricken with the same fate.  He 

stopped as he faced her and his back faced the mirror, but his 

lavish breasts didn't, and they continued their swing until they 

reached their apogee at his side, causing him to lose his balance 

and fall to the floor, painfully squashing his newly acquired, 

abundant breasts beneath him. 

     He staggered to his feet, and viewed his companion.  She was 

like him only the aspect of wearing a similar corset.  She did 

not have outrageous breasts, but rather her own simple, normal, 

gorgeous pair.  He did notice, however, that her eyes were filled 

with surprise at his physique, but that quickly faded, only to be 

replaced with something he didn't quite recognize.  Perhaps it 

was anticipation, or perhaps it was anguish, or maybe it was 

abhorrence. 

     Whatever it was, it destroyed his anger and brought 

rationality back to him.  He turned his back to his companion, 

for he didn't want her to see him, or his bulbous breasts.  He 

sadly, silently questioned why this had happened.  Why had 

Goddess done this freakish thing to him?  He did not know. 

     He walked, ever so slowly, with his unwanted, bounteous 

breasts undulating with each step, through the doorway, into the 

largest room of his minute, two room universe, and toward the 

statue of Goddess.  And as he did, he came to realize why he had 

been embellished with the bountiful breasts. 

     He reached the statue and stopped in front of it.  His pink, 

obtrusive nipples were just inches from those of the statue.  

"Goddess?" he whispered reverently. 

     "Yes, number twelve?" 

     "You have given me these breasts to show that they are not 

divine, but rather can be possessed by mere persons?" 

     "Yes.  I wish for you to give them to your companion.  

Having this knowledge, will you do so now, number twelve?" 

     "I...I cannot.  I know them now to be extremely heavy, and 

very cumbersome.  They are most impractical." 

     "Are they not also beautiful...and pleasurable?" 

     "...Yes," he hesitated. 

     "Then you will fulfill my request?" 

     "I..."  He did not know how to tell Goddess that he wished 

not to.  It was a very troubling conflict for him. 

     "Do you wish to leave this place?" Goddess asked of him. 

     "Oh, yes.  More than anything," he informed Goddess once 

again. 

     "Then this must be done, and soon you will be free." 

     "Very well," he said humbly. 

     There was a blinding flash of pure white light, and, when 

his eyes slowly readjusted, he noticed the long cylindrical 

object, once again, lying atop the pre-eminent breasts of the 

statue.  He reached for it, shakily, and, as he did, his taut, 

sensitive nipples brushed those of the statue, bringing a 

heretofore unfelt exhilaration surging through him, causing him 

to gasp, startled, yet delightfully pleased at the sensation. 

     As he gazed at the instrument in his hand, he suddenly knew 

what to do with it, yet could not remember ever having seen one 

before.  But then, he still couldn't remember anything of before.  

If there ever had been a before.  "Goddess?" he asked. 

     "Yes, number twelve?" 

     "Will it be painful?" 

     "No." 

     As he turned to leave the room and fulfill his task, he 

stopped, surprised, when he came face to face with his companion 

immediately behind him.  Her shoulder was being submitted, 

seemingly eagerly, to him.  He inserted the needle into the soft, 

round flesh of her shoulder, pressed the plunger, then withdrew 

it, turned, and placed the empty cylinder back on the breasts of 

the statue of Goddess.  Once more he brushed his nipples across 

those of the statue.  This time he was expecting the thrill which 

ran through him, and he enjoyed it immensely, even more than he 

expected. 

     "Goddess?" 

     "Yes?" 

     "It is done.  Will I be leaving now?" 

     "No...but soon." 

     "Where will I go?" 

     "Wherever you choose." 

     "There is a world of which I dream.  It is a beautiful 

place.  I would like to go there.  Is it very far?" 

     "No...not far." 

     "Then it does exist?"  He was thrilled. 

     "Yes.  This place, where you are, is only one of many 

worlds." 

     "Are they as beautiful as the world in my dreams?" 

     "There is beauty everywhere.  You only need look." 

     "I do not understand.  There is nothing beautiful in this 

place." 

     "But there is, number twelve.  Your world is full of 

beauty." 

     He did not know where.  This prison he found himself in was 

dark, ugly, and loathsome.  Beauty did not exist here, he 

thought.  He stood there for quite some time with his head 

lowered, his eyes fixed on his prodigal breasts, which seemed 

only to confirm his thinking, and he decided that he was right. 

     As he turned to join his companion in the smaller room, he 

noticed the movements of his overflowing breasts, and found that, 

as he moved, they seemed so vibrant and stimulating, almost with 

a life of their own.  They gently, almost erotically, swayed, 

bounced, rolled, waved, and undulated in every way possible, in 

rhythm with, not only each step or breath he took, but with each 

subtle move he made.  They were beautifully fantastic. 

     He reached his cot and sat down, erectly, with his awesome 

breasts thrust outward, toward his companion, who was sitting 

opposite him on her cot.  He was thankful that he reached his cot 

quickly, for as he was walking, his generous, sensitive breasts 

were gently caressing each other and arousing in him an 

uncontrollable passion of ecstatic pleasure, which he could do 

nothing to stop. 

     The more he thought of it, and the more he walked, the 

greater the pleasure became, until he was almost at a frenzy.  As 

a man, the thoughts which were flooding him, repulsed him; 

thoughts of his unfettered companion suckling his yearning 

nipples while tenderly massaging his round, firm, bountiful, 

pleasure-starved breasts.  And yet...he noticed that his manhood 

was erect and throbbing, almost painfully. 

     He was embarrassed by, both, his physical and emotional 

states, and did not look at his companion, but instead, just sat 

with his head lowered, staring at his marvelous breasts, which 

confused him so. 

     Sitting there, unmoving, with his eyes fixed in a glassy, 

hollow stare, trying to hold back the multitude of emotions which 

were swirling around inside him, he could hear his companion 

roaming restlessly about.  He settled nothing.  Especially the 

most sensual emotions.  His staff was still pounding, aching for 

relief.  When he finally got back up, he found his companion in 

the only other room of their small universe, sleeping contentedly 

in the mothering warmth of the old, large, overstuffed chair.  As 

he leaned in the doorway watching her, his anguish, confusion, 

and bitterness toward himself slowly faded, and a gratifying calm 

surrounded him, and he realized, for the first time, how 

childlike and innocent his companion was.  His effector was no 

longer tense and demanding, and he was grateful. 

     He grew tired, so returned to his narrow, flimsy cot to 

sleep, only to discover that lying down was no longer such a 

simple, fundamental thing to do.  He usually slept on his 

stomach, but, with his mountainesque breasts, he found this to be 

grossly impossible, unless there existed, which there didn't, a 

large opening near one end of the cot, through which his breasts 

could be placed and allowed to rest on the floor beneath. 

     He tried lying on his back, even though he could never sleep 

that way, and found that position, due to the narrowness of the 

cot, painfully uncomfortable.  As he laid back, with his arms at 

his sides, his mammoth breasts rolled to either side, hanging 

over the sides of the cot, trapping his arms, and painfully 

stretching the smooth, ivory skin of his chest. 

     Finally, he decided on a more realistic approach, and laid 

on his side.  He was as far to the edge of the cot as physically 

possible without falling off, and he could feel the rounded metal 

edge running up his right side, and he could feel the cold metal 

rod of the other side pressing against his breasts as his right 

breast lay in front of his face, and his left breast laid below 

it, in front of his midriff.  Both of which were hanging halfway 

off the cot. 

     He thought to himself that his little cot was now virtually 

useless, and that he would probably do better sleeping on the 

floor, but he was too sleepy to get up, and it had taken him so 

long to get in a, not really comfortable position, but one which 

he felt would allow him to sleep, that he decided to stay where 

he was.  Perhaps, he thought, the next time he was to lay down it 

would be on the floor.  Like this, he finally fell into a 

dreamless slumber. 

     It was the first time he hadn't dreamt in many a sleep, but 

it was a long, sound, refreshing, reenergizing repose; something 

he had needed for a long time. 

     When he awoke, he was joyous and carefree, and was once 

again ready to enjoy his little world.  He turned and thumped to 

the floor, where he instantly remembered his "condition" when his 

magnanimous breasts plopped down in front of him and laid 

joggling.  He laid there, temporarily, until his breasts came to 

rest, disappointed in himself for having forgotten, then he 

sighed and slowly managed to climb to his feet. 

     He ambled to the mirror, with his immense breasts quaking 

with each step, and eyed the bizarre reflection he saw.  It was 

the same one he had seen before, and he still didn't like it.  

However...he wasn't quite as adamant about his bulky, gargantuan 

breasts, which, he felt, on anyone else, such as Goddess or his 

companion, would have been glorious things. 

     His companion?  He had forgotten about her, like everything 

else.  Where was she?  It was then he heard a dull thud on the 

smooth cement floor somewhere behind him, and as he spun on his 

heels to investigate, he once again forgot about his more-than-

substantial breasts, and when he stopped, his massive mounds, 

again, brought him crashing to the floor, where he squashed them 

grievously.  He closed his eyes, grimaced, and slowly sat up, 

then massaged his agonizing, superabundant breasts until the pain 

subsided and was replaced with a warm, pleasurable sensation.  It 

was an exquisite pleasure, much like that he felt when his 

nipples brushed those of the statue's, and he didn't want it to 

end, but a muffled noise reminded him that he was looking for his 

companion. 



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