Jillion Orgasms (Commission, Multi-Breast, Machine-Gun Orgasms, Cock Growth)
Story by Tosaku No Kishi
Back with another random commission - though this became an early b-day present for KC55.
Jill is a woman with four breasts and an unusual condition; she cums way too often and way too fast.
Jill had an unorthodox life to put it simply. Being quad breasted was unusual, though she knew more than a few people with the same condition, and sheâd stayed a virgin throughout school and college, but she had friends that were the same. Neither of those qualified for strange really. It was her daily routine that few knew of, but was prevalent throughout.
That would be her orgasms. They werenât exceptionally powerful life some she heard about, nor were they hard to come by, in fact, it was the opposite. Hers were quick affairs, like a pinch but pleasant, however they came in droves. The first person she told about it claimed the same thing, that they came ten or twelve times just masturbating, yet were nowhere near Jillâs level. Perhaps if she came a few hundred times, then sheâd be more relatable.
âFuck, thatâs a strong one,â Jill murmured after she yawned, muscles clenching and triggering a powerful climax in the process. The sharp intake of air almost set off another. She scooted off her bed, cumming a little with each movement, and got up to relieve herself, resulting in few more bursts of pleasure. This was her existence; to cum over and over from the smallest, most menial action.
Yet she managed. Jill had a decent paying job in a maid café, her own apartment, a group of close friends and some nice acquaintances, and she even got along with her co-workers. School had been a nightmare, though. Her condition hadnât flared up until puberty was in full swing and, while growing her second pair of breasts had been tumultuous, they were paltry against the onslaught that faced her. Looking back, she laughed at when it first started and she had PE. Imagine trying to do a balancing act and cumming the whole time.
Since then, sheâd adjusted. Parts of life were harder than others, such as brushing her teeth. The vibrations of her toothbrush, the bristles running along her teeth, and slight motion across her body sent her climax count skyrocketing. One⦠ten⦠twenty⦠usually she counted at least fifty before she rinsed out her mouth and had another. Itâd become a habit early into her condition, to try keeping a mental tally of her orgasms.
Showering and drying and getting dressed brought the total to eighty that morning alone. Luckily, her clothes were made to be as light on her skin as was possible, denying her haywire nerves the stimulus they needed. Of course, she still needed her bra.
âOh shit,â she groaned as her four nipples scrunched up against the cups. Whether it was her condition or just natural, Jillâs breasts refused to stop growing. And they were fast to boot. The J cups she bought two weeks ago were already snug, which meant disaster for someone like herself. With the cups and straps digging into her flesh, each little adjustment she made triggered another climax. She almost didnât bother with panties since they were usually drenched after an hour.
Without them, however, she risked living a trail. Last thing she wanted was someone slipping on her emissions, not that it was always possible to avoid. Maybe on a good day sheâd get home without changing them, but most days she had at least one switch. Bad days forced her to keep at least four or five spares on hand. And today would absolutely be one of those days.
Sheâd lived with it for so long that she could just tell after waking up. Nevermind the bra, her sensitivity was racked up high that morning, and, in her expertise, it wouldnât diminish. Probably a 400 day, Jill thought as she came from putting her shoes on. The weather claimed it wouldnât be too windy at least, so her hair shouldnât trigger anything.
That was a fucking lie. Once at work, her once neat hair was a mess and her panties were already useless. Trails ran down her leggings, put in place to minimise outside sensation, and nearly sent her spiralling time after time. But work didnât care about how her morning went, so long as she still turned up. Jill changed into uniform, a traditional French Maid ensemble, which her leggings suited perfectly. The gloves helped too.
âTough morning?â Samantha, a friend and co-worker, asked in the changing rooms.
âThat obvious?â Jill sighed.
âPretty much. Well, just gotta power through, right?â
âIâll try,â Jill said and forced a smile. Not too wide, since straining those muscles alone could trigger her. Small mercies came to her in that she got to play as the âindifferent maidâ, the kind that treated everyone courteously and little else. Expressing herself too much could have consequences.
As expected, work tormented her to no end. It was a Saturday, one of their busier days, an
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