Greetings,
This is another episode of Michelle’s ticklish ordeals. I hope somebody enjoys it, and I welcome any feedback.
G.
In Michelle’s 20 years, the college sophomore had never flown in an airplane. Although her mother, with whom she shared many characteristics, was terrified of flying, Michelle wasn’t. Opportunity never presented itself. This year, however, the astonishingly attractive girl received an invitation no money-deprived student could turn down. Several friends rented a townhouse during Spring Break in Key West. All she had to do was come up with the airfare, And, it meant she had to fly from her small California community to the southernmost point in the nation for a rocking time in Key West, she was game.
From the beginning, Michelle was not what anybody would call the lucky, or courteous, traveler. When she entered the check-in line, Michelle drew attention. Sure, any young, 5’8” woman with Nordic looks and a 36-26-36 body drew stares. She tried to dress conservatively. For her flight, she wore open-heeled, flat shoes (no laces – she couldn’t really see her own feet to tie shoes), loose-fitting jeans (fitting her from the hips down was never a problem), a long-sleeve black turtleneck shirt (she never wore shirts with buttons) beneath a rather form-fitting, lightweight beige cotton jacket.
Of course, this created a very flabbergasting silhouette. Michelle’s face was beautiful and always slightly flushed, her blonde hair long, glossy and shimmering, and her figure almost ideal. But the size, the sheer magnitude and the motion of her breasts shocked all and made people stare. Her natural breasts were gargantuan. Beneath her clothes and supported by her custom bra, each breast made it look as if she stuffed her shirt with two beach-balls. She had to walk slowly, otherwise she created such a flurry of jiggling, bouncing and shifting that she could actually knock herself off balance.
Which, unfortunately, is what happened to the person in the luggage line. Michelle turned left, and in so doing her breasts, which extended almost 3 feet in front of her, knocked into a small woman, sending her to the ground and spilling her purse.
“Oh my God! I’m so sorry,” Michelle exclaimed.
The woman was not amused. “What’s your problem! Look at all my stuff!”
Michelle tried to help her. Michelle looked down, but couldn’t see the woman’s spilled possessions. The other passengers were staring before, but now they really gawked. Michelle couldn’t see the stuff on the floor – her own bosom blocked her vision. It was almost an Abbott & Costello routine. Michelle would turn and twist, and in the process those gigantic, unwieldy breasts would knock into people, their luggage, burst her own jacket open (it was buttoned near her waist), and eventually knock a soda out of one customer’s hand.
Finally, past the metal detector and into the waiting area. Michelle heard of the security checks, but having never flown was new to them.
“Would Michelle Childers come to the desk please”.
Michelle had no idea what would happen. An older woman and younger man were responsible for clearing her while other passengers watched. Immediately, Michelle was defensive. She was used to being singled for attention. “I thought these were random checks!”
“Yes, Miss, they are”, the man said. “Would you take off your jacket please?”
“Why do I have to take off my jacket?” After a minute, Michelle complied.
“Would you raise your arms please?”
Michelle pouted a bit, but raised her arms. With her arms spread-eagle, her breasts bulged almost 1’ to her left and right. Her shirt revealed just the slightest hint of her lower back. Of course, it revealed her midriff as well, but her bosom occupied her entire torso.
The woman began to frisk Michelle’s flanks, and tried very hard not to touch her breasts where they bulged past her ribs. But, the second she touched Michelle, the busty girl shrieked and jerked.
“AHH!” Michelle bent forward. The other flyers really stared now. Not only were they becoming irate over the delay in boarding and takeoff, but the strange behavior of this beautiful but robustly-shaped woman was peculiar.
The security woman was irritated as well. “Miss, could you stay still please. Arms up.”
Michelle tried to comply. “OK, I’m sorry”, but once she felt her flanks touched, she wiggled – snakelike – and laughed. She also jumped away. The passengers started laughing as well, but mostly they stared. Michelle’s shimmy and shake sent her enormous bosom into motion.
Michelle turned around, almost smacking the guard in the face with her bouncing breasts. “I’m sorry, I really am. I’ll try again. I swear I’ll stay still”
“I’m really not trying to tickle you, Miss. I’ll be fast”.
“I’m not ticklish!” Just hearing the word ‘tickle’ frightened Michelle. She knew exactly where and to what degree she was ticklish.
Once again, the guard moved behind her. This time, the passengers had a great frontal view of Michelle. The frisking started. Michelle erupted.
“AHH! HA HA HA! OH! HA HA HA! OH! OH!”
Michelle writhed wildly and bellowed laughter. It was over in seconds, but those seconds were filled with raucous laughter and the volatile bouncing of those outrageous breasts. The other passengers were irritated with Michelle, but got a small measure of satisfaction watching the young woman get a quick, severe tickle.
The guard chuckled. “OK, Miss, you’re cleared to go on-board”. Michelle’s face was red with embarrassment. Michelle put her jacket back on, but left it unbuttoned. Her arms braced subtly against her sides to quiet her quivering bosom as she picked up her carry-on bag to board the plane.
By the time she’d gone down the ramp and made it to the plane entrance, Michelle realized something she had not considered: airplanes are small. Well, this was a large liner, but the space through which one had to move was small. The stairs into the plane, the doorway, the hallway to the seats and the seats themselves were small and narrow. Michelle became nervous. Not because she was claustrophobic (she was not), but she really wondered how she’d physically fit.
Take away her gigantic breasts, and Michelle would be a fit, lean-but-curvy woman at 5’8” and 130lbs. But with those heavy, bulging breasts, extending over 3’ in front of her, easily 1’ past either side and occupying the majority of her torso from waist-to underarm, and Michelle had some problems. She was a 230lb woman who couldn’t fit into a phone booth, much less navigate the insides of an airplane.
The pilot and flight attendant saw Michelle as entered the cabin. The flight attendant, Trisha, was a stunning brunette, and was almost appalled at Michelle’s body. Her immediate thought was “porn star implants – bitch”. But all she said was “welcome aboard” in a cheery voice. The pilot, Greg, gazed at the Nordic beauty and almost doubled over with lust.
Michelle felt as if she were on display as she walked to her seat in 14e. It was the middle of 3 seats. She thought “how on earth can I fit in there!”. She watched the other flyers, and reached above her to stow her bag. As she leaned forward, both of her massive breasts smacked the man in 14f right in the face. He jerked downward, embarrassed and shocked (but not unhappy). The sudden stroking friction against Michelle’s bust caused her to jump backwards into the aisle and drop her bag to the floor. Meanwhile, the line of passengers built behind her.
It wasn’t easy for Michelle to pick up her bag. She felt around with her foot for it, backed up into another flyer.
“Excuse me!”
“I’m sorry, I’m just trying to get my bag”. Michelle braced her arm against the seat of 14d, twisted, reached beneath the shadow of her swinging bosom and picked up her bag. Again, she reached upwards, leaned forwards and again her pillow-like breasts landed all over Mr. 14f. He was terribly embarrassed. He sunk low into his seat, as low as he could. He could see a bit of Michelle’s hip, so he reached out, touched her and said “Uhhh, Miss?”
Of course, once she felt something graze her hips, Michelle darted backwards. With her butt against the seat 14c, her breasts still blocked most of the aisle. There was a small opening between her breasts and 14f, so a passenger tried to squeeze through, but once Michelle felt the contact against her chest, she shrieked.
“EEE-HEEE NO!”
Passengers were getting mad. What was this damn woman doing. “Why can’t we board! Hurry up up there! Sit the hell down!” Trisha felt a rebellion coming on. She worked past the queue of angered flyers towards Michelle.
The man in 14d tried to help. “Can I put your bag under your seat?”
“Well, thanks, but what if I need something from it? I won’t be able to bend down there to get anything out!” Michelle leaned forward to try the upper compartment again. This time, Rich leaned backwards. As Michelle stretched, she felt a hand graze her right side. She shouted “AH!”, jerked away from the hand while turning to the right and dropping her right arm to protect her side. In this process, she pounded the flight attendant Trisha with her right breast while her left caught against the seat 13d.
Trisha jumped back. “Miss, I can take your bag for you. I’ll put it up front and if you need anything, I’ll get it for you, ok? Thanks, take your seat please”.
Michelle squeezed past Rich towards her seat. Her monstrous bosom grazed the heads in front of her while completely hanging over them as she worked her way in. Her body fit into the seat perfectly, but her even with her back all the way in the chair, her breasts touched the seat in front of her. She couldn’t even open her tray table. Worse still, her left and right breast occupied several inches of space into the seats next to her. Greg in 14d and Alan in 14f were perplexed. What does one do if the woman sitting next to you has breasts so large, they fall over onto you?
Trisha, who bore great resemblance to the former playmate and actor Brandy Ledford, checked for buckled seatbelts. When she got to Michelle, she couldn’t see past the busty woman’s bust. “Miss, is your seatbelt buckled?”
“Oh, no it isn’t. Here…” Michelle twisted and struggled. She couldn’t feel the belts, and she certainly couldn’t see them. Alan and Greg tried not to stare. As Michelle twisted, her breasts rippled like jello. After a few seconds, Trisha (who started to hate Michelle), offered assistance. “If you could, um, just lift your, lift up, I could fasten the belt”. Michelle sighed and leaned back as best she could . She hoisted her breasts upwards – no mean feat given their bulk and weight, but she got them up enough so Trish could see the belt and buckle. Trisha leaned in and started to move the pieces. Of course, her hands brushed against Michelle’s waist and belly.
“AH HA HA HA! HA HA HA HA! HA HA HA HA! OHHH! Oh! Thank God that’s over” She tossed her head and hair. Trisha just smiled and went back to work.
Alan looked at her. “She really is beautiful. Is she a porn star? Those can’t be real”, he thought. “Hi, my name’s Alan”
“I’m Michelle. God, this is awful”
“What is? Getting tickled?”
“I’m not ticklish! It’s just funny. It’s this airplane! I just can’t fit in here. Look, I’m taking up part of your seat”
Michelle, in fact was horribly ticklish virtually everywhere on her voluptuous body. Ironically, her freakishly large breasts were the most sensitive. Any prolonged tickling there could cause a rather severe physical reaction. She couldn’t stand taking a shower because the water tickled her too badly. Michelle was tickle-tortured, sometimes several times a day, while growing up. It was a terrible weakness to her, and just psychologically knowing that anytime, anyone might exploit it caused her much stress. She had no idea why she had to be so sensitive, other than knowing her mother and sister were also extremely ticklish too.
Alan had consumed a few drinks. “It isn’t that bad”, and he gently scraped just a small part of Michelle’s left breast – where it bulged over into his seat so he could explain it – with a finger.
“EEEE!”. Michelle’s body jerked and her bosom quaked. By now, the passengers were also getting sick of Michelle’s loud cackling and shouting.
“What, what!” Alan asked.
Michelle looked at him with deadly seriousness. “Don’t touch me. Just don’t touch me.”
“Fine, ok”, he said. “Bitch”, he thought. She was so beautiful, with her long blonde hair and full face, he couldn’t believe her body and he couldn’t believe she was so…touchy.
The plane ran down the runway for takeoff. Vibrations filled the plane. Michelle’s breasts felt every one of them. They shook, jiggled and rippled like bowls of jello on a roller coaster. Greg and Alan tried not to stare, but they couldn’t help it. Greg even started to laugh at her.
Once in flight, Michelle started to get hot. She took off her jacket. Of course, this meant standing up, moving into the aisle, bouncing her bosom off multiple passengers, including a man returning from the bathroom, and actually knocking many of the drinks and snacks off the refreshment counter before reseating herself. The other passengers wanted their drinks, but they had to wait while Trisha reloaded the cart.
After 40 minutes, the passenger in front of her reclined his chair. Michelle did the same to give herself a little more room. The armrests between her seat and those to either side dug into her breasts. “Hey, guys, would you terribly mind if I raised the armrests? They’re really killing me”. Fine, up they went. Michelle’s breasts spilled further to the sides. Michelle reached up to open her vent. With her arm raised, Greg thought “why not”. He poked her right armpit.
“AH! Don’t do that!”
“What, this?” Greg poked at her ribs as best he could. “AAHH! STOP!”
“What did he do, something like this?”, Alan asked. With the armrest up, he had a great shot at her side. He pinched her repeatedly for several seconds. It was quite a stimulating effect.
“OOOH HOO HA HA HA HA HA! HA HA HA HA HA! HA HA HA!” Michelle shook and chortled very loudly. Her legs kicked the seat in front of her and her body jerked away from the tickling fingers. Michelle’s breasts bobbled up and down with her laughter and flopped more towards Alan as her body bent towards Greg. Greg pinched her side, causing Michelle to shift violently away and back towards Alan. Slowly, ponderously, her mountain-like bosom flopped to her right and towards Greg. They made a loud “thump” and they splashed down.
“NO! STOP! PLEASE! HA HA HA HA HA! HA HA HA HA HA!”
The woman to the front and right of Michelle turned around to speak to her. “Miss, would you hold it down, please. Your shouting is INCREDIBLY annoying”.
“I can’t help it, they’re…”
“I don’t care! Just keep it down! Quit tickling her!” The crabby woman, ignorant of Michelle’s plight, turned away from her and went back to her magazine.
Michelle caught her breath and rearranged herself. She said with an apologetic tone “I just can’t stop laughing, I can’t stop”. Then to Greg and Alan, very quietly. “OK,fine, I’m ticklish. I’m really, really ticklish. Please don’t tickle me, ok?”
Greg and Alan did stop, more or less. For the next thirty minutes, they would “accidentally” stroke or prod Michelle’s breasts where they spilled into their seats. Whether it was an inadvertent finger, the edge of a pen used while writing, or the swiped of a book while reading, for thirty minutes Michelle twisted, jerked and gasped periodically. She bit her lip very hard to keep from laughing – she didn’t want to give in. Finally, she had to excuse herself.
“Excuse me”, as she stood, “I have to go to the bathroom”. Michelle hoisted her breasts over the seat in front of her. The passengers looked up, only to see her tremendous bosom jiggling above them. Michelle squeezed into the aisle and walked to the bathroom. The passengers stared as walked, with her breasts bouncing and rebounding with every step. One man leaned out of his seat in front of her with paper and pen in hand.
“Hey, can I have an autograph?”
Michelle stared at him, confused. “For what?”
“Aren’t you a…you know, some kind of…celebrity?”
“No! But thanks, I guess…”
“Well, you should be.”
When she made it to the bathroom, she was astonished. She thought to herself “I can’t get in there! It’s so small!” Michelle opened the door and stared at the small bathroom and tiny doorway. Trisha watched her. Michelle wasn’t sure what to do. The sheer girth of her bosom prevented a straight entry.
Michelle twisted so that her right breast entered first, while the left was left outside the space. She backed her way into the restroom and clumsily shut the door. She really didn’t have sufficient space, and her breasts were squeezed by either wall.
When it was time to leave, she tried the same move. This time, though, she couldn’t turn around. She wedged her right breast into the aisle, while her left smashed against and above the bathroom sink. She tried to squeeze her body through the door, but couldn’t make it. Michelle tried to back out and go again, but…she was stuck. Half-in and half-out the bathroom, and several passengers were waiting.
Trisha approached her. “Can I help you?”
“Please,” Michelle whispered, “I’m stuck!”
Trisha wasn’t sympathetic at all. She whispered back “that’s what you get for having such crazy porn-star implants” and jabbed a finger into Michelle’s plump right breast.
Michelle felt the jab and shrieked. “AAHH!” She tried to recoil, but couldn’t. Her right breast rippled when Trisha’s finger dug in. Michelle still spoke softly. “They aren’t implants! I’m not a porn star! I’m just a college student, and I’m stuck. Help me out of here!”
“Sister, there’s no way these are real”, and Trisha poked Michelle’s breast again. Michelle’s head jerked back as she swatted with her free arm towards Trisha’s hand. “No-ho! Don’t do that!”
“Sensitive, huh?” Trisha raked her fingers from the edge of Michelle’s breast near her armpit to the nipple area. Michelle burst into high-pitched laughter, tinted with panic as she felt the fingers get near her nipple. The passengers were mesmerized.
“AH HAAHAAHAAHAAHAA! HAAHAAHAAHAAHAA! NO! NO!”
Trisha stopped short of the nipple region, much to Michelle’s relief, and helped Michelle extract herself from the bathroom. Trisha was quite confident she found a weakness in the beautiful, buxom passenger.
Michelle’s face was bright red when she made it back to her seat row. Once again, she contorted herself to get past Greg, and hiked her unwieldy, wobbly breasts over the passengers in front of her. As she started to take her seat, the plane lurched momentarily. It was enough to cause Michelle to fall over the seat in front of her. Those humongous breasts landed squarely over the 18-year-old boy in 13E. As soon as the 100-pounds hit him, he panicked.
“Bwa! Huh!!!” He started to push, shove and prod to get Michelle’s heavy breasts off him. Of course, the contact made Michelle hysterical.
“EEE! HO-OH NO! HAAA-HAAHAAHAAHAAHAAA! HAAHAAHAA!”
Once he realized just who was essentially smothering him, he changed his tune. “Hey, this is ok!”
The boy’s mother (the crabby woman who asked Michelle to be quiet earlier) looked over at him. She saw Michelle’s cackling face and those breasts draped over her son’s head. “Get off him! What are you doing!”
Michelle shook her head. She wasn’t “doing” anything. She just wanted the tickling to stop and to return to her seat. Greg and Alan grabbed her waist and pulled her back to her seat. The woman was irate. “Keep your… to yourself, do you understand!”
Tricia came forward. “Miss, if you don’t calm down I’m going to have you placed in custody when we land!”
Michelle, who’s face was beet-red and who’s breasts undulated still from the jerking and laughing tried to explain. “I can’t help it! I’m sorry! I’m getting…”
Alan finished her sentence and punctuated it with a jab to her side. “Tickled!”
“Like this!” Greg squeezed her ribs, giving them a very vigorous rub. Michelle screamed, slid down from her seat and found herself in the awkward position of having her legs jammed beneath the seat in front of her, her breasts pinned against the trayback and her head and arms upright against her own seat. From Tricia’s position, she only saw Michelle’s gargantuan bosom pushed into her own face. Greg and Alan had great views of her underarms, bosom, and sides.
Tricia didn’t really care at this point. “Try her chest, she’s sensitive there”.
Michelle looked at her, eyes wide open. “Help me! Help me up!”
Michelle felt her shoes slide off. The boy in front held one, and his mother the other.
“NO! What are you doing! EEEEEE!” She felt fingers drag across both soles. Michelle’s feet were very ticklish, but she had a peculiar phobia about it. Her mother’s feet were insanely ticklish, and just seeing her mother get tickle-tortured on her feet, and knowing her own feet were so sensitive, scared her. Michelle’s belly, sides, ribs, pits and certainly her bosom were more sensitive than her feet, ,but it frightened her.
Greg and Alan weren’t as shy. They gave Michelle’s sides – and the bottoms/sides of her breasts, a serious massage.
Michelle was so shocked she couldn’t even laugh. Her feet twitched wildly, her head rocked to and fro, her arms flailed She tried to say “no”. She tried to say “please stop”, but nothing could come out. Well, except a small spot of urine.
The inevitable by-product of having her breasts tickled was an orgasm. It had been that way since she was a young teen-ager, and it was that way now. It happened right here on the airplane.
Between the weight of her bosom in that cramped space and the tickling, Michelle couldn’t breath. Her face was almost purple and she was in amazing distress. Finally, they stopped. Tricia made them. The plane was landing.
Michelle climbed back into her seat, coughing, gasping and soaked with sweat. Her wet jeans didn’t enhance her comfort. Her lungs ached, her stomach ached, she was completely humiliated. Of course, this wasn’t the first time she’d ever been abusively tickled, and she knew it probably wouldn’t be the last.
THE END
This is another episode of Michelle’s ticklish ordeals. I hope somebody enjoys it, and I welcome any feedback.
G.
In Michelle’s 20 years, the college sophomore had never flown in an airplane. Although her mother, with whom she shared many characteristics, was terrified of flying, Michelle wasn’t. Opportunity never presented itself. This year, however, the astonishingly attractive girl received an invitation no money-deprived student could turn down. Several friends rented a townhouse during Spring Break in Key West. All she had to do was come up with the airfare, And, it meant she had to fly from her small California community to the southernmost point in the nation for a rocking time in Key West, she was game.
From the beginning, Michelle was not what anybody would call the lucky, or courteous, traveler. When she entered the check-in line, Michelle drew attention. Sure, any young, 5’8” woman with Nordic looks and a 36-26-36 body drew stares. She tried to dress conservatively. For her flight, she wore open-heeled, flat shoes (no laces – she couldn’t really see her own feet to tie shoes), loose-fitting jeans (fitting her from the hips down was never a problem), a long-sleeve black turtleneck shirt (she never wore shirts with buttons) beneath a rather form-fitting, lightweight beige cotton jacket.
Of course, this created a very flabbergasting silhouette. Michelle’s face was beautiful and always slightly flushed, her blonde hair long, glossy and shimmering, and her figure almost ideal. But the size, the sheer magnitude and the motion of her breasts shocked all and made people stare. Her natural breasts were gargantuan. Beneath her clothes and supported by her custom bra, each breast made it look as if she stuffed her shirt with two beach-balls. She had to walk slowly, otherwise she created such a flurry of jiggling, bouncing and shifting that she could actually knock herself off balance.
Which, unfortunately, is what happened to the person in the luggage line. Michelle turned left, and in so doing her breasts, which extended almost 3 feet in front of her, knocked into a small woman, sending her to the ground and spilling her purse.
“Oh my God! I’m so sorry,” Michelle exclaimed.
The woman was not amused. “What’s your problem! Look at all my stuff!”
Michelle tried to help her. Michelle looked down, but couldn’t see the woman’s spilled possessions. The other passengers were staring before, but now they really gawked. Michelle couldn’t see the stuff on the floor – her own bosom blocked her vision. It was almost an Abbott & Costello routine. Michelle would turn and twist, and in the process those gigantic, unwieldy breasts would knock into people, their luggage, burst her own jacket open (it was buttoned near her waist), and eventually knock a soda out of one customer’s hand.
Finally, past the metal detector and into the waiting area. Michelle heard of the security checks, but having never flown was new to them.
“Would Michelle Childers come to the desk please”.
Michelle had no idea what would happen. An older woman and younger man were responsible for clearing her while other passengers watched. Immediately, Michelle was defensive. She was used to being singled for attention. “I thought these were random checks!”
“Yes, Miss, they are”, the man said. “Would you take off your jacket please?”
“Why do I have to take off my jacket?” After a minute, Michelle complied.
“Would you raise your arms please?”
Michelle pouted a bit, but raised her arms. With her arms spread-eagle, her breasts bulged almost 1’ to her left and right. Her shirt revealed just the slightest hint of her lower back. Of course, it revealed her midriff as well, but her bosom occupied her entire torso.
The woman began to frisk Michelle’s flanks, and tried very hard not to touch her breasts where they bulged past her ribs. But, the second she touched Michelle, the busty girl shrieked and jerked.
“AHH!” Michelle bent forward. The other flyers really stared now. Not only were they becoming irate over the delay in boarding and takeoff, but the strange behavior of this beautiful but robustly-shaped woman was peculiar.
The security woman was irritated as well. “Miss, could you stay still please. Arms up.”
Michelle tried to comply. “OK, I’m sorry”, but once she felt her flanks touched, she wiggled – snakelike – and laughed. She also jumped away. The passengers started laughing as well, but mostly they stared. Michelle’s shimmy and shake sent her enormous bosom into motion.
Michelle turned around, almost smacking the guard in the face with her bouncing breasts. “I’m sorry, I really am. I’ll try again. I swear I’ll stay still”
“I’m really not trying to tickle you, Miss. I’ll be fast”.
“I’m not ticklish!” Just hearing the word ‘tickle’ frightened Michelle. She knew exactly where and to what degree she was ticklish.
Once again, the guard moved behind her. This time, the passengers had a great frontal view of Michelle. The frisking started. Michelle erupted.
“AHH! HA HA HA! OH! HA HA HA! OH! OH!”
Michelle writhed wildly and bellowed laughter. It was over in seconds, but those seconds were filled with raucous laughter and the volatile bouncing of those outrageous breasts. The other passengers were irritated with Michelle, but got a small measure of satisfaction watching the young woman get a quick, severe tickle.
The guard chuckled. “OK, Miss, you’re cleared to go on-board”. Michelle’s face was red with embarrassment. Michelle put her jacket back on, but left it unbuttoned. Her arms braced subtly against her sides to quiet her quivering bosom as she picked up her carry-on bag to board the plane.
By the time she’d gone down the ramp and made it to the plane entrance, Michelle realized something she had not considered: airplanes are small. Well, this was a large liner, but the space through which one had to move was small. The stairs into the plane, the doorway, the hallway to the seats and the seats themselves were small and narrow. Michelle became nervous. Not because she was claustrophobic (she was not), but she really wondered how she’d physically fit.
Take away her gigantic breasts, and Michelle would be a fit, lean-but-curvy woman at 5’8” and 130lbs. But with those heavy, bulging breasts, extending over 3’ in front of her, easily 1’ past either side and occupying the majority of her torso from waist-to underarm, and Michelle had some problems. She was a 230lb woman who couldn’t fit into a phone booth, much less navigate the insides of an airplane.
The pilot and flight attendant saw Michelle as entered the cabin. The flight attendant, Trisha, was a stunning brunette, and was almost appalled at Michelle’s body. Her immediate thought was “porn star implants – bitch”. But all she said was “welcome aboard” in a cheery voice. The pilot, Greg, gazed at the Nordic beauty and almost doubled over with lust.
Michelle felt as if she were on display as she walked to her seat in 14e. It was the middle of 3 seats. She thought “how on earth can I fit in there!”. She watched the other flyers, and reached above her to stow her bag. As she leaned forward, both of her massive breasts smacked the man in 14f right in the face. He jerked downward, embarrassed and shocked (but not unhappy). The sudden stroking friction against Michelle’s bust caused her to jump backwards into the aisle and drop her bag to the floor. Meanwhile, the line of passengers built behind her.
It wasn’t easy for Michelle to pick up her bag. She felt around with her foot for it, backed up into another flyer.
“Excuse me!”
“I’m sorry, I’m just trying to get my bag”. Michelle braced her arm against the seat of 14d, twisted, reached beneath the shadow of her swinging bosom and picked up her bag. Again, she reached upwards, leaned forwards and again her pillow-like breasts landed all over Mr. 14f. He was terribly embarrassed. He sunk low into his seat, as low as he could. He could see a bit of Michelle’s hip, so he reached out, touched her and said “Uhhh, Miss?”
Of course, once she felt something graze her hips, Michelle darted backwards. With her butt against the seat 14c, her breasts still blocked most of the aisle. There was a small opening between her breasts and 14f, so a passenger tried to squeeze through, but once Michelle felt the contact against her chest, she shrieked.
“EEE-HEEE NO!”
Passengers were getting mad. What was this damn woman doing. “Why can’t we board! Hurry up up there! Sit the hell down!” Trisha felt a rebellion coming on. She worked past the queue of angered flyers towards Michelle.
The man in 14d tried to help. “Can I put your bag under your seat?”
“Well, thanks, but what if I need something from it? I won’t be able to bend down there to get anything out!” Michelle leaned forward to try the upper compartment again. This time, Rich leaned backwards. As Michelle stretched, she felt a hand graze her right side. She shouted “AH!”, jerked away from the hand while turning to the right and dropping her right arm to protect her side. In this process, she pounded the flight attendant Trisha with her right breast while her left caught against the seat 13d.
Trisha jumped back. “Miss, I can take your bag for you. I’ll put it up front and if you need anything, I’ll get it for you, ok? Thanks, take your seat please”.
Michelle squeezed past Rich towards her seat. Her monstrous bosom grazed the heads in front of her while completely hanging over them as she worked her way in. Her body fit into the seat perfectly, but her even with her back all the way in the chair, her breasts touched the seat in front of her. She couldn’t even open her tray table. Worse still, her left and right breast occupied several inches of space into the seats next to her. Greg in 14d and Alan in 14f were perplexed. What does one do if the woman sitting next to you has breasts so large, they fall over onto you?
Trisha, who bore great resemblance to the former playmate and actor Brandy Ledford, checked for buckled seatbelts. When she got to Michelle, she couldn’t see past the busty woman’s bust. “Miss, is your seatbelt buckled?”
“Oh, no it isn’t. Here…” Michelle twisted and struggled. She couldn’t feel the belts, and she certainly couldn’t see them. Alan and Greg tried not to stare. As Michelle twisted, her breasts rippled like jello. After a few seconds, Trisha (who started to hate Michelle), offered assistance. “If you could, um, just lift your, lift up, I could fasten the belt”. Michelle sighed and leaned back as best she could . She hoisted her breasts upwards – no mean feat given their bulk and weight, but she got them up enough so Trish could see the belt and buckle. Trisha leaned in and started to move the pieces. Of course, her hands brushed against Michelle’s waist and belly.
“AH HA HA HA! HA HA HA HA! HA HA HA HA! OHHH! Oh! Thank God that’s over” She tossed her head and hair. Trisha just smiled and went back to work.
Alan looked at her. “She really is beautiful. Is she a porn star? Those can’t be real”, he thought. “Hi, my name’s Alan”
“I’m Michelle. God, this is awful”
“What is? Getting tickled?”
“I’m not ticklish! It’s just funny. It’s this airplane! I just can’t fit in here. Look, I’m taking up part of your seat”
Michelle, in fact was horribly ticklish virtually everywhere on her voluptuous body. Ironically, her freakishly large breasts were the most sensitive. Any prolonged tickling there could cause a rather severe physical reaction. She couldn’t stand taking a shower because the water tickled her too badly. Michelle was tickle-tortured, sometimes several times a day, while growing up. It was a terrible weakness to her, and just psychologically knowing that anytime, anyone might exploit it caused her much stress. She had no idea why she had to be so sensitive, other than knowing her mother and sister were also extremely ticklish too.
Alan had consumed a few drinks. “It isn’t that bad”, and he gently scraped just a small part of Michelle’s left breast – where it bulged over into his seat so he could explain it – with a finger.
“EEEE!”. Michelle’s body jerked and her bosom quaked. By now, the passengers were also getting sick of Michelle’s loud cackling and shouting.
“What, what!” Alan asked.
Michelle looked at him with deadly seriousness. “Don’t touch me. Just don’t touch me.”
“Fine, ok”, he said. “Bitch”, he thought. She was so beautiful, with her long blonde hair and full face, he couldn’t believe her body and he couldn’t believe she was so…touchy.
The plane ran down the runway for takeoff. Vibrations filled the plane. Michelle’s breasts felt every one of them. They shook, jiggled and rippled like bowls of jello on a roller coaster. Greg and Alan tried not to stare, but they couldn’t help it. Greg even started to laugh at her.
Once in flight, Michelle started to get hot. She took off her jacket. Of course, this meant standing up, moving into the aisle, bouncing her bosom off multiple passengers, including a man returning from the bathroom, and actually knocking many of the drinks and snacks off the refreshment counter before reseating herself. The other passengers wanted their drinks, but they had to wait while Trisha reloaded the cart.
After 40 minutes, the passenger in front of her reclined his chair. Michelle did the same to give herself a little more room. The armrests between her seat and those to either side dug into her breasts. “Hey, guys, would you terribly mind if I raised the armrests? They’re really killing me”. Fine, up they went. Michelle’s breasts spilled further to the sides. Michelle reached up to open her vent. With her arm raised, Greg thought “why not”. He poked her right armpit.
“AH! Don’t do that!”
“What, this?” Greg poked at her ribs as best he could. “AAHH! STOP!”
“What did he do, something like this?”, Alan asked. With the armrest up, he had a great shot at her side. He pinched her repeatedly for several seconds. It was quite a stimulating effect.
“OOOH HOO HA HA HA HA HA! HA HA HA HA HA! HA HA HA!” Michelle shook and chortled very loudly. Her legs kicked the seat in front of her and her body jerked away from the tickling fingers. Michelle’s breasts bobbled up and down with her laughter and flopped more towards Alan as her body bent towards Greg. Greg pinched her side, causing Michelle to shift violently away and back towards Alan. Slowly, ponderously, her mountain-like bosom flopped to her right and towards Greg. They made a loud “thump” and they splashed down.
“NO! STOP! PLEASE! HA HA HA HA HA! HA HA HA HA HA!”
The woman to the front and right of Michelle turned around to speak to her. “Miss, would you hold it down, please. Your shouting is INCREDIBLY annoying”.
“I can’t help it, they’re…”
“I don’t care! Just keep it down! Quit tickling her!” The crabby woman, ignorant of Michelle’s plight, turned away from her and went back to her magazine.
Michelle caught her breath and rearranged herself. She said with an apologetic tone “I just can’t stop laughing, I can’t stop”. Then to Greg and Alan, very quietly. “OK,fine, I’m ticklish. I’m really, really ticklish. Please don’t tickle me, ok?”
Greg and Alan did stop, more or less. For the next thirty minutes, they would “accidentally” stroke or prod Michelle’s breasts where they spilled into their seats. Whether it was an inadvertent finger, the edge of a pen used while writing, or the swiped of a book while reading, for thirty minutes Michelle twisted, jerked and gasped periodically. She bit her lip very hard to keep from laughing – she didn’t want to give in. Finally, she had to excuse herself.
“Excuse me”, as she stood, “I have to go to the bathroom”. Michelle hoisted her breasts over the seat in front of her. The passengers looked up, only to see her tremendous bosom jiggling above them. Michelle squeezed into the aisle and walked to the bathroom. The passengers stared as walked, with her breasts bouncing and rebounding with every step. One man leaned out of his seat in front of her with paper and pen in hand.
“Hey, can I have an autograph?”
Michelle stared at him, confused. “For what?”
“Aren’t you a…you know, some kind of…celebrity?”
“No! But thanks, I guess…”
“Well, you should be.”
When she made it to the bathroom, she was astonished. She thought to herself “I can’t get in there! It’s so small!” Michelle opened the door and stared at the small bathroom and tiny doorway. Trisha watched her. Michelle wasn’t sure what to do. The sheer girth of her bosom prevented a straight entry.
Michelle twisted so that her right breast entered first, while the left was left outside the space. She backed her way into the restroom and clumsily shut the door. She really didn’t have sufficient space, and her breasts were squeezed by either wall.
When it was time to leave, she tried the same move. This time, though, she couldn’t turn around. She wedged her right breast into the aisle, while her left smashed against and above the bathroom sink. She tried to squeeze her body through the door, but couldn’t make it. Michelle tried to back out and go again, but…she was stuck. Half-in and half-out the bathroom, and several passengers were waiting.
Trisha approached her. “Can I help you?”
“Please,” Michelle whispered, “I’m stuck!”
Trisha wasn’t sympathetic at all. She whispered back “that’s what you get for having such crazy porn-star implants” and jabbed a finger into Michelle’s plump right breast.
Michelle felt the jab and shrieked. “AAHH!” She tried to recoil, but couldn’t. Her right breast rippled when Trisha’s finger dug in. Michelle still spoke softly. “They aren’t implants! I’m not a porn star! I’m just a college student, and I’m stuck. Help me out of here!”
“Sister, there’s no way these are real”, and Trisha poked Michelle’s breast again. Michelle’s head jerked back as she swatted with her free arm towards Trisha’s hand. “No-ho! Don’t do that!”
“Sensitive, huh?” Trisha raked her fingers from the edge of Michelle’s breast near her armpit to the nipple area. Michelle burst into high-pitched laughter, tinted with panic as she felt the fingers get near her nipple. The passengers were mesmerized.
“AH HAAHAAHAAHAAHAA! HAAHAAHAAHAAHAA! NO! NO!”
Trisha stopped short of the nipple region, much to Michelle’s relief, and helped Michelle extract herself from the bathroom. Trisha was quite confident she found a weakness in the beautiful, buxom passenger.
Michelle’s face was bright red when she made it back to her seat row. Once again, she contorted herself to get past Greg, and hiked her unwieldy, wobbly breasts over the passengers in front of her. As she started to take her seat, the plane lurched momentarily. It was enough to cause Michelle to fall over the seat in front of her. Those humongous breasts landed squarely over the 18-year-old boy in 13E. As soon as the 100-pounds hit him, he panicked.
“Bwa! Huh!!!” He started to push, shove and prod to get Michelle’s heavy breasts off him. Of course, the contact made Michelle hysterical.
“EEE! HO-OH NO! HAAA-HAAHAAHAAHAAHAAA! HAAHAAHAA!”
Once he realized just who was essentially smothering him, he changed his tune. “Hey, this is ok!”
The boy’s mother (the crabby woman who asked Michelle to be quiet earlier) looked over at him. She saw Michelle’s cackling face and those breasts draped over her son’s head. “Get off him! What are you doing!”
Michelle shook her head. She wasn’t “doing” anything. She just wanted the tickling to stop and to return to her seat. Greg and Alan grabbed her waist and pulled her back to her seat. The woman was irate. “Keep your… to yourself, do you understand!”
Tricia came forward. “Miss, if you don’t calm down I’m going to have you placed in custody when we land!”
Michelle, who’s face was beet-red and who’s breasts undulated still from the jerking and laughing tried to explain. “I can’t help it! I’m sorry! I’m getting…”
Alan finished her sentence and punctuated it with a jab to her side. “Tickled!”
“Like this!” Greg squeezed her ribs, giving them a very vigorous rub. Michelle screamed, slid down from her seat and found herself in the awkward position of having her legs jammed beneath the seat in front of her, her breasts pinned against the trayback and her head and arms upright against her own seat. From Tricia’s position, she only saw Michelle’s gargantuan bosom pushed into her own face. Greg and Alan had great views of her underarms, bosom, and sides.
Tricia didn’t really care at this point. “Try her chest, she’s sensitive there”.
Michelle looked at her, eyes wide open. “Help me! Help me up!”
Michelle felt her shoes slide off. The boy in front held one, and his mother the other.
“NO! What are you doing! EEEEEE!” She felt fingers drag across both soles. Michelle’s feet were very ticklish, but she had a peculiar phobia about it. Her mother’s feet were insanely ticklish, and just seeing her mother get tickle-tortured on her feet, and knowing her own feet were so sensitive, scared her. Michelle’s belly, sides, ribs, pits and certainly her bosom were more sensitive than her feet, ,but it frightened her.
Greg and Alan weren’t as shy. They gave Michelle’s sides – and the bottoms/sides of her breasts, a serious massage.
Michelle was so shocked she couldn’t even laugh. Her feet twitched wildly, her head rocked to and fro, her arms flailed She tried to say “no”. She tried to say “please stop”, but nothing could come out. Well, except a small spot of urine.
The inevitable by-product of having her breasts tickled was an orgasm. It had been that way since she was a young teen-ager, and it was that way now. It happened right here on the airplane.
Between the weight of her bosom in that cramped space and the tickling, Michelle couldn’t breath. Her face was almost purple and she was in amazing distress. Finally, they stopped. Tricia made them. The plane was landing.
Michelle climbed back into her seat, coughing, gasping and soaked with sweat. Her wet jeans didn’t enhance her comfort. Her lungs ached, her stomach ached, she was completely humiliated. Of course, this wasn’t the first time she’d ever been abusively tickled, and she knew it probably wouldn’t be the last.
THE END
