"*Yawn!* Is it really time to get up?" asked the groggy girl (was she a girl, or was she supposed to be pretending to be boy now?). She opened her eyes.
"Hhunh?!?" She was holding a book...above her head...as she was lying on her bed. The muscles of her arms told her she had been doing this for a little too long. So, she lowered the book...to her belly...past her tits. Her tits??
She was looking at tits that stood well up from her chest!?!?
She sat up rapidly!! Her tits sort of slid down and "hovered" over her lap. There was no significant tug or strain on her shoulders. Testing one, she nudged it with a finger.
It wobbled easily. She nudged it a little harder. It wobbled and swayed away from her finger even further than she thought it 'should'. She nudged it with the same force; it moved from side to sternum like a well-oiled cupboard door with a spring.
Fascinated, she dropped her hand and shook her torso. Her tits swung and swayed all the way around to her upper arms, where they bounced off of them like fleshy, warm water balloons and flew around to bounce off the inner side of the other fleshy, warm water balloon. There was no drag, pull, tug, or yank from either of them against where they attached to the rest of her; there seemed little friction at all! In fact, they seemed to massage the muscles beneath and surrounding them! The sensations were so light, amusing and enjoyable she felt she could continue gaze at them for....
She woke up lying on top of her tits. They were being pressed down by her weight but not squashed; they were that firm in a natural not implant sort of way.
She moved her hand to lift herself off her bed...and bumped against a book. It was the book: the book that must have done this with its knowledge of titnosis. She sat up, taking the book with her.
Her tits stood out further from her than she remembered them having done before she read the book. She would have to learn to readjust how she did things to take in consideration her tits' new volume and (giggle) lightness.
She slid the book further down on her thighs, and her smile became an expression of wonder. There were passages highlighted with different colored markers. She recognized the study technique: It was hers. She had read some of the book before she had experimentally tried to titmotize herself. But she didn't remember highlighting any of it.
What time was it? "Shit!! I need to..."
Sun Aug 05 21:01:16 2018