The Good Life

Timothy Van was a teenager — he couldn’t remember another time in his life.  It was difficult being a teenage boy with breasts, but that wasn’t the worst of his problems.  He liked to remember happier times.  He always enjoyed life, but could never shake the sensation that something was not quite right.  Breasts came along at an awkward period in the boy’s life.   He had just started dating Betsy, a true beauty, every boy’s wet dream.  Timothy was smart and popular.  He lived with his parents in a ranch home in a garden suburb at the edge of the city.  He enjoyed school and excelled in sports.  His best friend, Tom, was a really cool guy who was good at everything he did.  Tom was part of the problem now that Timothy developed breasts.  Tom loved breasts.   Timothy’s life was becoming a nightmare — he had to hide from everyone.  His biggest mistake was confiding in his best friend.  Now, Tom was after Timothy just to cop a feel.  He always knew something was wrong.  It felt like the odd sensation his mother once described: arthritis creeping into her bones — a dull pain that seemed to get worse on rainy days — an unrelenting throb that erupted like a fire beneath the skin.  Timothy often got excited thinking about Betsy.  She had great breasts — spectacular, all natural, nothing artificial about them.  All the boys loved her breasts.  Betsy wanted to be appreciated as a whole person not just as a pair of breasts.  She started dating Timothy because he seemed different.  Television was part of the problem — flaunting sex and breasts.  New technology and social networks were also pushing the benefits of well-formed breasts.  Fulfilling orgasms were linked to good breasts.  Sex was everywhere and Timothy had to disguise himself by tightly binding his recent development, flattening his breasts and causing unbearable pain.  He could no longer date Betsy for fear of being exposed.  His sex drive was compromised due to his predicament.  Mom and dad started to worry because they noticed odd changes in their son.  He was becoming introverted, hiding from his friends and no longer participating in sports.  They had no idea about Timothy’s physical changes.  The dog knew … Timothy’s beloved pet, Rupert, could smell hormonal  changes and imbalance and it was driving the animal crazy.  Rupert constantly humped Timothy, riding up his lithe body nipping and licking at the boy’s breasts.

Timothy believed he was always a teenage boy with breasts who never changed or grew older — it seemed like eternal damnation.  The fish made everything much worse.  Red Snapper appeared in the streets during a freak rain storm.  After the rain, the fish did not go away.  They kept coming: large and small red fish snapping at the air, looking vicious, snapping at Timothy.  No one else seemed to notice.   Life seemed to plod along as if nothing changed.  The boy was certain the fish had something to do with his breasts … he saw the way the flat gelatinous-eyes seemed to stare at his expanding chest.  The fish began to die and the smell was horrendous, but nobody else seemed to notice.   Dead fish attracted parasites and hordes of insects led by fire ants who ate everything, living and dead.  Timothy felt the stings on his breasts, he was being consumed.  He saw the surrounding city pulsing like a blood-red heart.  The city was consuming everything.  Timothy was just another sacrifice, one of the damned, fodder for the Red City.



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