"Boob flu" Part 1

“Jenny, did you see this?” Amanda yelled across the dorm room to her roommate. “Someone’s got titty flu on campus!”

“What!” Jenny’s head popped out of her bedroom. “You’re kidding.”

“No, it’s on the Herald’s website, and I got an email saying classes are cancelled.”

“Shit, we gotta find out who it is.”

Amanda nodded vigorously and started texting friends for rumors.

Jenny and Amanda were sophomores on the Emeryville Polytechnic University campus, and they were a perfect pair. They were both, to put it simply, obsessed with breasts. Each one had been the bustiest in their hometowns by a long shot, and upon meeting during the chaotic first week on campus had discovered they shared both a bra size (36K) and an almost encyclopedic knowledge of serums, lotions, herbs, and hormones that were supposed to give women bigger boobs.

And they’d tried them all, of course. Neither of them was willing to merely accept how generous mother nature had been to them. Bigger was always better.

The holy grail for anyone boob-obsessed was, of course, the titty flu, but outbreaks were so carefully controlled that neither of them had ever been close enough to swoop in and catch the strain before it’d been locked down. Amanda had tried, once, and ended up driving across the entire state just in time to find the CDC had identified and quarantined everyone just a few hours before she arrived.

But right here on campus? They were golden. Both of them knew any red-blooded male in town would tell them anything they wanted to know if they just flashed a little boob for them.

It took only about twenty minutes of furious texting from both of them (and three topless selfies) before they had a name and a dorm: Susan Wilkinson, in the Valor building. They shook on it and split up, both knowing that they’d infect each other if only one of them was successful in catching it.

The CDC was keeping an eye on the main entrance, but Jenny texted a friend in the building who let her in a back door. I need to get a book from someone but they’re not responding to texts was a surprisingly unquestioned cover story.

Meanwhile, Amanda decided to go in the front door. “What’s going on? Why are you wearing a paint mask? I left my pass in my room, I’ll stay put once I’m back in my dorm room, I promise.” Eventually, the underpaid staffer out front relented, assuming the busty college student wasn’t dumb enough to try and make her already huge boobs any bigger by catching the flu.

His mistake.

She checked the mailboxes first, to see if Susan’s name was on any of them. No luck. Instead, she’d have to just roam around looking for something out-of-place. She started making her way down the first hallway she came across, listening for the two tell-tale sounds of titty flu: sneezing and moaning.

Jenny had a similar idea, but decided to start on the top floor and work her way down. Halfway down the second hallway, she saw a room with a big orange QUARANTINE sticker stuck to the front. Jackpot.

Drawing as much seriousness into her bearing as she could, Jenny knocked on the door. “Susan? I’m a researcher with the CDC. I need to speak with you for a minute.”

There was a shuffling noise inside. “I was told not to open the door for anyone unless they were bringing meals,” a nasal voice said from the other side of the door. A small light could be seen in the peephole.

“It’s alright, I’ve already had the flu once,” Jenny said, thrusting forward her chest, “so I can’t catch it again.”

A pause, and then Susan opened the door.

Susan was a CS major in her final year of school, and had until now would been most accurately described as “a little plain.” 5′5″, 167 pounds, she was on the chubbier side, but carried it well.

Now, however, the pudgy senior’s frame was absolutely dominated by a pair of massive tits, each one easily as big around as a bowling ball. She’d stuffed them into a t-shirt that was clearly too small, the old-school ATARI logo over the chest stretched to the point of absurdity.

“Come inside quick, I don’t want anyone else catching this.”

The room was a mess, piles of half-finished meals and dirty laundry strewn about. “Sorry, I don’t have much energy right now to clean up.” She sat heavily on the bed, massive bust jiggling obscenely as she did so. “What do you need to know? I’ve already answered all the questions about where I was and who I’ve spent time around.”

“I’m a researcher on the virus and its effects on its victims, and being able to interview an actual patient during the process is a rare opportunity,” Jenny said, lying through her teeth. She pulled out her phone and set it to record, just to make it look all the more official. “Can you describe the sensation of the growth? When did you first realize you were sick?”

“Well, I thought I just had the flu for the first day or so, because I was achy all over and very, very tired. I figured my boobs were just retaining water until the lactation started, then I called the nurse, and from there the CDC got involved.”

“Oh, you’re lactating too? I wasn’t told. May I have a sample for my research?”

“The other folks took a bunch already… but sure, not like I’m hard up for it.”

Jenny grabbed an empty glass off Susan’s desk and held it out to her. “I didn’t bring a sample kit because I wasn’t warned ahead of time. This will work in a pinch.”

Susan shrugged and pulled off her shirt.

Jenny watched, rapt, as Susan nonchalantly squeezed spurt after spurt into the cup. Her breasts were perfect, in Jenny’s eyes: huge, of course, but still just natural-looking enough to dissuade anyone from thinking they were a pair of implants. The nipples had stayed in proportion to the breast, there were no excessive stretch marks, the veins weren’t bulging or overly visible…

“Is that enough?” Susan looked at Jenny as the glass neared three-quarters full.

“Oh, uh, yes, that’s plenty. Thank you.” She made up a few more questions and then excused herself, telling her that there would be no more out-of-the-ordinary visits.

As soon as the door closed behind her, she whipped out her phone and texted Amanda. all set, meet you back home

Escaping from the dorm was simple, just pop out a back door. Walking around with a glass full of milk was perhaps not the most inconspicuous thing, but whatever, the campus was deserted anyway.

Amanda was waiting back in the dorm room. “You found her?”

“Better than that!” She held up the glass. “Fresh milk, straight from the tap, positively brimming with titty flu!” Careful not to spill, she poured half into another cup, and held it out for Amanda. “Ready?”

“On three.”

“One, two, gulp.”