TITS ON A PLANE

V.

Under their blanket, Rickchad kept massaging the cheerleader's mammoth breasts. "They're so amazing, Bicky. This is like a crazy fantasy."

"We're all going to die!" she lamented.

"No, we're not, baby."

"They're going to explode and then this plane is going down!"

Rickchad changed his tune. "If we're going to die, then shouldn't we go out in style?"

"What do you mean, Rickchad?"

The jock squeezed her and rubbed her nipple. "This feels good, doesn't it?"

Bicky admitted, "It's too good. It's like the feeling has enhanced with the size. Damn it!"

"Then let's get back into that bathroom..."

"Rickchad! The fasten seat belt sign is on!"

"Exactly! Just like last time. No one else will be using the bathrooms. Let's double down on the Mile High Club, this time with Triple-Double-E boobs!"

Bicky felt crazy, her tits ruined and possibly moments away from a violent death. "If I wasn't so turned on by you, you wonderful, horrible asshole, I'd slap you again. But you're right. If we're going to die on a plane because of my exploding boobs, we might as well do it fucking on a toilet. I'll go out first."

She wrapped the blanket around her insane gazongas and went as quickly as should could to the back of the plane. There was chaos in every row as women were trying to reign in their expanding bustlines. Bicky wondered how many pounds this was adding to the plane's weight. She locked the restroom door and gawked at her funhouse mirror reflection. A minute later, Rickchad knocked.

In the cockpit, the Captain was on the radio making arrangements for an emergency landing in Samoa. "We're about forty-five minutes away, Tim. We should be able to make it, right?"

"I hope so," said her copilot. "You might want to take a look at the scales."

The Captain gasped when she saw what the scale read. "We're at 870,000 pounds? That's an increase of five hundred pounds!"

"Makes sense if every breast on every woman has now doubled in size. How heavy can we be and still be safe?"

"Maximum takeoff weight is 875,000. We can probably go over that a bit and still be safe." She called over the intercom, "Janine, how we doing back there."

The flight attendant entered the cockpit.

"Oh my God!" Tim said when he saw her. Janine was topless, having ditched her useless uniform blouse. Her breasts now were each larger than her head.

"I think they're growing faster!"

"How do they feel?"

"Well, they're heavy as shit. And they're extremely sensitive, like, they've become more erogenous than usual. I don't know how else to explain it."

"That's distressing," said the Captain. "So none of the breasts on this plane have stopped growing. Let's brainstorm. What are the possible outcomes?"

Tim scratched his head. "Well, the first one you just mentioned, that they somehow stop growing. But that's not happening yet. Second case scenario is we make it to Samoa before the plane gets too heavy and get these women some medical attention."

"My fingers are crossed," said Janine.

"Worst case scenario is that we have to land in the sea. Emergency ocean landings are dangerous, and it's not clear the females on board will be able to fit in the life jackets, or be able to swim with breasts like these."