Full Moon Effect
The arrangement of Nurse Becky exclusively covering Dean for two shifts each weekday paid off handsomely: he showed steady albeit gradual and slight improvement nearly every day. Weeknights were OK, both because he slept through them other than the one 2 AM vitals check, and because Nurse Paulette always awoke him gently and spoke softly.
Weekends were no fun, and he tended to deteriorate over their course. Noting this, Becky arranged with Dr. Jameson to try a little experiment.
Not minutes after Nurse Mandy finished taking his early afternoon vitals and emptying his urine bottle, Dean heard a knock on the door.
“Happy Saturday, Mr. Evans!”
It was Nurse Becky! On her day off, in street clothes, and to Dean, looking hotter than Hades. Simple cotton pants and a t-shirt could not possibly be called dressy, yet being much more form-fitting than her nurse’s uniform—especially on the bottom—they made her mid-body assets quite obvious. His eyes couldn’t choose between watching her breasts bounce, with their more-than-usually visible cleavage and top surfaces, or her bounding belly and wiggly soft hips.
“Nurse Becky! What are you doing here today?”
“I just happened to be passing by. Thought I’d check in on how my favorite patient is doing.” Which quite literally is what she was up to: tracking changes to his vitals between his usual weekend afternoon reading not knowing she’d appear, and now with her unexpected presence. As she predicted, all the readings as well as his visible appearance showed a surge of excitement. “You don’t mind, do you?”
“Not at all! I thought you’d be sick of me and relish two full days off.”
“Oh, I’m not sick of you at all! Angel 20 is another matter. Nice place as hospitals go, but I think we all know that hospitals tend not to be places people choose to be.”
“Can you stay awhile… please?”
“Only about an hour.”
He looked sad and his pulse jittered a bit.
“Believe me, I’d love to stay longer. But during the week all I do is drive home, crash into bed, then clean up and get going in the morning to get back over here. Which is fine, but leaves me no time for shopping or laundry or paying bills or any of that. So I really do need to take off later. Oh, I saw a hilarious bumper sticker on the way over….”
They shared another joyous hour and 1/2 together, during which time Dean couldn’t help staring at her body as if seeing it for the first time… especially her fat belly, wide hips, and thick butt, normally concealed by the looseness of her uniform. Becky noticed this but couldn’t admit to herself that what she thought might be happening—his finding her very attractive—really was happening.
They said their goodbyes and she took her leave, promising him she’d be back on duty no later than 8 AM Monday.
Amongst the other things she did on her weekends, Becky tended to eat like a mad woman. She had no regrets about working the double shift, though she wished she felt better about taking off for some real meals and that there were more worthy eateries close by. She didn’t and there weren’t, so by the time Saturday morning rolled around, she tended to be ravenous.
No question that she was active, out and about doing shopping and laundry and whatnot. Yet there was still plenty of weekend time for naps or sitting and resting, often with some tasty fast food she’d picked up while out and about, or else something homemade and filling, like a hearty pasta meal with plenty of garlic bread.
All together, the net result of the double-shift change was additions to her curves. Nothing dramatic nor extreme, nevertheless for herself living in her body and at least one other person outside it, obvious.
Wednesday of the week following her Saturday visit was two days before the full moon. In his healthier years, Dean thought he’d noticed a pattern whereby people tended to get a bit more wild a couple days before and after the full and new moon phases. Not one who believed in such things, he figured his mind was merely pattern-matching selected events filtered through his internal biases and that there wasn’t anything real about this imagined pattern. Given what he noticed of his own behavior extremes over the years and how he tended to find they correlated with this pattern when he checked the moon phase (not previously knowing where it was in its cycle), he could not completely dismiss his conclusions as being entirely a fabrication of his own mind.
Dean hadn’t seen a calendar with moon phases since entering the hospital system for this final round death spiral. He’d completely lost track of them, and no longer consciously thought about his theory. All he knew is that he’d been feeling more amorous towards Nurse Becky as each day passed, and especially so since her surprise weekend visit and his ability to see more of her figure.
The day started out normally enough, but didn’t remain that way for long.
She tugged at the waist of her scrubs.
“Uncomfortable?” he asked.
“A little bit. Getting fatter and the elastic’s cutting into my belly more. It’s beginning to split into two rolls of fat. Pretty soon I’ll have to address them as North Belly and South Belly.”
Lust coursed through Dean’s veins. “I noticed the buttons on your top seem to be under a touch more strain.”
She blushed in her all-too-obvious fair-skinned way. “Oh yeah. The girls are growing too… again. I meant to order some bigger bras this past weekend, but didn’t get around to it. Not to mention I’m not sure whether they’re going to continue growing nor how fast. They sure don’t seem to be getting any smaller! Which is pretty much true for all of me.”
His vitals and the rest of him went crazy as he struggled to contain his desire.
“Are you alright today, Mr. Evans?” Nurse Becky asked.
“As alright as someone in my position can be” he replied. “Why do you ask?”
“Your blood pressure’s up, along with your pulse, and your breathing’s shallower. Anything going on that you know of?”
“Yeah” he said as his pulse rate crept higher. “It’s so hard!”
“What is?”
“Keeping it stuffed inside.”
“Keeping what stuffed inside?”
“My feelings for you. The all-encompassing lust and affection I feel towards you.” His words were breathy and he stared at his favorite body parts of hers, only occasionally checking in with her face. There was no going back.
“I’m gonna die soon Becky… we both know that. This may be my last chance to stare at a super sexy woman up close. I can’t go another day without sharing my true feelings with you, even if it means you run away and leave me to die that much sooner.”
She didn’t need a thermometer to know his temperature had shot up—the sweat beads developing on his forehead were more than sufficient.
“You’re beautiful, Becky. I hope you know that in your heart. The only way I can imagine you being any kind of ‘closer’ is if patients choose to die with you as their final vision, believing they’ll see you again in a few moments when they arrive in heaven, given that you appear to be an angel somehow here on earth.”
Compliments tended to be few and far between in Becky’s life, especially given that her rigorous work schedule left little time to interact with anyone outside of work. The intensity of these shook her up.
“I don’t believe in any of that, and if I did, I’d be headed to Hell, because every cell in my body lusts after your succulent fat body! I dream at night of being healthy and that you’re my lover. We’re naked and you let me caress, squeeze, and fondle you all over. You let me explore your bountiful soft flesh… your hips and belly and butt and especially your breasts. And in my dream you like it—you enjoy my explorations! Sometimes we make love…. I give myself to you any way you want me. You just… you just… smile and open up and invite me inside you, telling me how you want me to make love with you!”
She felt his forehead: he was warm but not feverish; it was unlikely he was hallucinating. Herself on the other hand, she couldn’t be so sure. All she knew was his heartfelt admission was punching her lust and romance buttons as fast and hard as she used to punch her daddy’s mechanical typewriter keys as a little girl. As with the old typewriter, she felt her mechanism jamming up inside, in the sense of swirly lusty passion confusion.
Tears joined sweat as sources of moisture on his face. “I want you so badly, Becky… but I can’t have you… not even for a day!” The quiet tears exploded into child-like crying through an adult male voice. “I’m sick and I can’t ever ever get better! Only you keep me alive, but being near you and unable to touch you intimately kills me!”
He seemed to be spiraling out of control: alarms on the monitor went off every which way.
She panicked. “Dean! Take my hand!” It was more of a command than a request, and in fact more a statement of her intent than anything else: she grabbed his hands in hers as she spoke, not intending for him to respond. “Listen to me! Breathe deep, now.”
He did. The crying receded.
“In, slowly… hold… slow out… hold.” It was working: the crying ceased. “Good! Keep going.”
“You’re leaving me, aren’t you?”
“No. Promise me you’ll keep breathing and keep hoping.”
“Why?”
“Because I have something for you… something no one else but you wants. You promise you won’t check out on me?”
“OK.”
She gently lifted his hands, kissed them, then placed them on her breasts.
He gasped.
“Go ahead, explore… as long as you stay stable. Excited and lusty is OK; upset and wanting to die is not.”
Tentatively, he gave each one a gentle squeeze, then looked back up at her face. She smiled and nodded. His gaze returned to where his hands were, and he squeezed and moved them a little more.
“You like them?”
“Like them?! I’ve never been allowed to touch breasts anywhere close to this nice!” he enthused. “Thank you so much!” Tears were coming back.
“Those better be happy tears!” she warned.
He nodded.
“You know what? I have an idea” she said. “If you’ll please let me go have a chat with my colleagues, I think we can make this a whole lot better for both of us. I promise I’ll be right back—and that we’re not done with this yet.”
“I need some private time with Mr. Evans, immediately” Becky told Head Nurse Melissa. “It’s really important we not be interrupted.”
“OK. No problem.” Melissa handed her a Do Not Disturb sign to adhere to the door.
Becky locked the door behind her on the way in, and was greeted with Mr. Evans grinning and his sheet poking up rather obviously in a very expected location. “You really are glad to see me, aren’t you?”
“Always. And usually in this way.” He tapped his erection through the top of the sheet.
Back at his bedside, she bent over provocatively, brought her face nearly to the point of touching his, and softly said, “The door’s locked. I made sure no one will disturb us. This shirt’s feeling awfully tight!…. I’d like you to unbutton it… for me.”
She tore her gaze off his delighted grinning face for just a moment to confirm that his vitals were strong, stable, and in an optimal range, which they all were. Some edged slightly high from excitement, otherwise they were the best she’d seen from him.
Once he finished unbuttoning her top, she pulled it off and tossed it on a chair. She didn’t need to ask whether he liked her breasts, though she did need to ask about something else. “The belly too? You like it?”
He put his arms around her sides and gently guided her as close as she could get whilst standing, then kissed her exposed upper belly—North Belly—over and over, lovingly. “I like all your fat body parts” he answered dreamily.
She’d never heard of such a desire. “While I try to wrap my head around that, why don’t you get back to exploring my breasts. No one’s visited them for a very long time.”
He did so, but through her bra, which isn’t what she expected. “Do you want to unhook it or would you prefer I do it?” she asked.
“May I?” he asked with a tone of wonder.
“Please. Front hooks, staring right at ’cha.”
Tight hooks. He had trouble.
“Pull ’em in towards each other, fairly hard.”
“Won’t that hurt you? By squishing your… breasts together?”
“Not unless you intend to keep ’em squeezed tight continuously for over 20 minutes. They’re more resilient than one might think.”
He pulled the hooks firmly towards each other and met with success. Several undone hooks and a gradual release of each side later, her massive mams flowed out and down, completely exposed in their full majesty.
“Whoooaaaah!” is all he could say.
She used the pause of admiration to fully remove and toss aside the bra. The mammary motions added further to his marveling.
Back at his bedside, she again leaned over. “Have at ’em.”
He played with them every which way: squeezes, fondles, bounces, squishes, licks, sucks, nipple nibbles. She hadn’t seen a look of awe like his on a human’s face for years. Last time was probably about 5 years prior, seeing her cousin Anne’s infant daughter staring in awe at a mobile above her crib. Come to think of it, she’d only seen gazes of pure wonder like this on infants and young children… until now.
Dean’s world was one of immersion in breast lust. All worldly thoughts, definitely including all his worries, vanished for quite a few minutes. When they started to drift back, he realized that he truly could now die a happy and fulfilled man, having experienced great big soft fat breasts!
She leaned in further so her mams could whack his head from each side and cascade over his face, sending renewed rivers of pleasure flowing through him… and more than a little pleasure through herself as well.
He came up for air after a few minutes of full breast immersion, with a smile which could melt granite.
“Have you ever had breast sex?” she asked.
“No” he shyly responded.
“Would you like to?”
“Really? Yes please!”
She moved down and leaned back over the bed as soon as he pulled away the sheet, swaying her upper body so that each of her boobs crashed and bumped into his hard wang like soft, sexy wrecking balls trying to pleasure a lusty skyscraper. “My hands or yours?”
“Mine, please.”
With high delight, he again gently squeezed each breast from the side, squishing them towards each other and engulfing his prong in pure-sex fat softness. He humped away for only a couple of minutes as she watched and smiled, before exploding deep within her squish-enhanced cleavage.
An unexpected giggle escaped her lips as she wiggled her upper body during the start of afterglow.
“How do we do this now? I didn’t arrange for a towel.”
“Just let ’em free when you’re ready. I’ll change whatever needs changing. It’s my job, after all.” She winked, as unexpected to her as it was to him—very much like her giggle.
After cleaning up her own front with a warm, damp washcloth, Becky cleaned up Dean.
“How do I make it up to you?” he asked as she worked.
“Make what up to me?”
“Pleasuring you however you might like, as you did me.”
“There’s no need. You do realize that a lot of women enjoy having someone they love play with their breasts, don’t you? I’m one of those.”
“I’d read that, but didn’t think it was true.”
“Well it is for me.” She sat down, pulling her chair as close to the bed as possible, so he could still reach her jugs of joy. “Probably not just me, though. Something about evolution ensuring that mammalian mothers would successfully nourish their offspring. Pleasure principle, I expect.”
“I wanna be fair, not selfish and greedy. Do you like having orgasms?”
Far too tough a question for Becky, who didn’t tend to think along those lines. She decided to channel his intentions another direction. “You truly wanna make it up to me?”
“Yes!”
“Then Get. Well.” She nose-doinked him with her nose to emphasize each word. “Thrive… so we can do this again… and other sexy stuff.”
“You’d let me do this again… with you?”
“Yes. This and more, as long as you keep healing.”
“But I don’t even have a home to take you to, much less a bed!”
“Don’t worry about it!” Her voice was stern, insistent, and loving, all at once. “Seriously Dean, worry is making you at least as ill as Crohn’s Disease! You’re not in this all by yourself. Other people care about you and want you to regain health and thrive—one of us in part so you’ll keep playing with her fat boobs and flattering her.”
As composure returned to Becky, she noticed the time. “Oh shit!”
“What?”
“I’m late for a meeting!” Fervently, she struggled into her bra and threw her top back on. “It’s just down the hall—daily staff meeting.” The buttons around her belly and bust seemed even more difficult to fasten than they had early this same morning. “I’ll be back soon as it’s over, probably about half an hour. “You heal! Take a nap, meditate, think good thoughts—whatever. We’ll finish our afterglow later… or maybe play some more.”
He marveled yet again as this beautiful woman swayed and swished swiftly out of the room, unlocking the door and leaving it in its normally fully open position.
This rather intense Wednesday turned out to be productive in the long run. Over the ensuing days, Dean stayed true to his word: he focused on healing thoughts and positive over negative thinking, despite it being one of life’s most difficult challenges for him. Becky stayed true to her word: sharing her naked breasts with him became an almost daily event, the exceptions being days when meetings or helping the other nurses with an emergency pulled her away. For her, it was one of the easiest and most pleasurable things she’d ever done as a nurse.
Taking SNS up to this higher level paid off handsomely: Dean continued to improve. His vitals stabilized, some of his strength returned via his exercising (sometimes with her help), and he even gained a little weight, bringing him away from the scary-hairy edge of starvation malnourishment back towards still too thin yet with a tiny safety margin.
She still wasn’t fully comfortable with his lust for her other fat body parts. Even so, going around the closed-door room topless at work for usually at least an hour or two each day and being admired nearly every minute she was there—topless or fully clothed—absolutely reinforced her self-esteem.