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Dr. Hooters #19: Love Comes to the Amazon
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
DR. HOOTERS - Part XIX
Love Comes To The Amazon
[by Servax]
Marsha got a postcard from Sherry in North Carolina. She turned
it over. What a beautiful spot to spend the summer, she thought.
Sherry said she was busy, making lots of new friends, that she
missed Marsha 'mucho, mucho, mucho'. No mention of any changes.
Marsha got a sheet of stationery out, and a pen. God, she
thought, this paper is so tiny! Its like writing on a cash regis-
ter receipt. She crumpled up the letter paper and pulled a sheet
out of her school notebook. Grabbing the pen like it was a cray-
on, she began to write:
-Querida del alma (beso) (beso) (beso)
-Hola, chica!
-I can't believe its only been a month and a half since my
quince! You -wouldn't believe the changes around here. Well, ac-
tually, the changes in me. You won't believe it, but I've re
ally been putting on weight. No kidding! I weigh over four hun-
dred pounds now, but everybody says I look just great!
-I ought to tell you, I'm eight feet four inches tall. Yeah, re-
ally. I'm sure it has something to do with Amanda. I told Mom,
and she's been real cool about it. I don't fit in my bedroom
anymore, so when you come back, we'll have to hang out in the
living room, which is where I'm living now.
-You didn't mention anything about anything happening to you.
Did you grow any tits? Mine are just huge now. I love it. You
should see 'em. They grew faster than the rest of me, and Mom
says that if they grow any more, she'll have to bust out the
windows to make room for 'em. I'm sending a picture, so you can
see for yourself. That's all me in the picture, too.
-Do you have a VCR? If you do, you can see me on 'Sabado Gi-
gante'. Mom taped it. Its a hoot. Don Francisco barely came up
to my belly button, and he never stopped staring at my tits all
the time he was interviewing me. The models were a pain in the
ass. They were so jealous, they kept dropping things all around
me to distract me. I can't really blame them. Don Francisco
made a lot of jokes about my tits. I think he hires all those
skinny flat-chested models so he can humiliate them publicly.
I wouldn't take the job, thank you.
-Anyway, there's really only two things wrong with 'the new me'.
First of all, I haven't had a date since my quince. Even your
brother Marty hasn't called. I think he's probably still waiting
for Amanda to show up. I think guys are scared of me.
-The other problem is that I am hungry all the time. Mom says I
eat like a house burning down. Its not my fault, though. Its
just that now that I'm so big, everything else looks so small.
A chicken looks like a Rock Cornish, and fills me up about as
much. Mom says its a good thing were making so much money, or
she couldn't afford to feed me!
-Other than that, its great being this size. I can do pretty
much whatever I want, and no one gives me any shit. I'm stronger
than hell. Even though I don't really look muscle-bound or any
thing, I can lift the front of a car right off the ground!
-When you get back this fall, maybe we'll try out for cheerlead-
ers together.
-Couldn't you see me as an eight-foot cheerleader? I love it!
Maybe I'll just try out for the football team. If they could
get a set of pads to fit around my tits, I think I'd be great at
blocking kicks!
-Lots of love (beso) (beso) (beso)
-Tu Marsha
*************************
Marsha's two problems were solved the same week.
When she arrived at the warehouse one morning, she saw that her
Mom had hired a new guy. He wasn't a Guatemalan or anything
weird. He had sandy blonde hair, blue eyes, and a wide grin. He
stared at Marsha openly and frankly, but she could sense that he
wasn't looking at her as a freak or a monster.
No, with her inerrant Latina instinct, she knew he was looking at
her as an attractive, desirable girl. She blushed a little, and
smiled back.
"Hi", she said, sitting on the dock beside him. Seated, her
height wasn't as overwhelming.
"Well, hi, big gorgeous!", the guy replied. Marsha flushed
again, and dropped her eyes. This was insane! Was she gonna fall
for this guy?
"My name's Matt!", the guy continued, not noticing Marsha's dis-
comfort. "I go to school up in Gainesville. You must be Marsha.
" He was grinning widely, and he was obviously delighted to meet
her. Marsha was almost completely undone. This guy was so con-
fident, she couldn't believe it. She looked him over. He wasn't
small. He looked to be about six -five or six-six, and well-
built, with a slim, muscular build. He was dressed like a
surfer, with a tank-top, baggies, and a visor. He wasn't hand-
some. He had a cracked tooth in his mouth, but he wasn't at all
afraid of her, and he looked like the kind of guy who was used to
getting what he wanted from girls.
Marsha extended her hand. Matt took it in his own. She noticed
he had large, strong hands. They shook hands. "How did you know
my name?", she asked. "Hell, the whole street was talking about
you when I came down yesterday to fill out the application. ", he
replied.
"You speak Spanish?" The whole area around the warehouse was en-
tirely Spanish territory. Marsha doubted that there any native
English-speakers for forty blocks around.
"Enough", Matt replied, "but I prefer to speak English. You
speak it pretty well. " Marsha laughed, tossing back her wild
mane of dark hair. "I was born here! Mom and Papi came over from
Cuba in the 'sixties. They met and married here. I'm a hundred
percent American!"
"And a hundred percent gorgeous", Matt added shamelessly.
"You don't think I'm, well, too big?", Marsha asked. It was the
first time she had the chance to ask a good-looking boy this
question, and she needed to know the answer.
"You're just the right size, for you", Matt answered. "If you
were hideous, yeah, I'd say you were too big, but honestly", and
he looked at her as openly and sincerely as a newborn child, "as
beautiful as you are, you could be twice your size, and I
wouldn't think you were too big. How can you have too much of a
good thing?"
Marsha stood up to her full height. Matt's praise touched her
deeply. She felt powerful, queenly, and utterly desirable. Matt
stood up as well. She was glad to see he came up to the tops of
her boobs. At least he could see her cleavage the way it was
meant to be seen.
She gathered her courage and gave him back some of his own.
"You're quite a guy, Matt, she said, "I think I'm gonna like hav-
ing you around. " She opened the warehouse, and started setting
out the palletes. Matt helped her, and she saw he could hold his
own with her.
Martha found out that Matt was twenty years old, a sophomore at
the University of Florida. He had come to Miami for the summer
to improve his Spanish, which was his minor subject at the Uni-
versi ty. He was staying with his grandmother in Bal Halbour.
Most important, she discovered he was attracted to Latin girls,
and the taller, the better.
All that day, the other workers noticed the chemistry between the
new gringo and the boss's enormous daughter, and they made cruel
jokes in Spanish. Marsha winced at their crudity. Matt didn't
let himself be taken advantage of. He turned and cursed them
all, and all their female relatives, living and dead, in fluent,
heavily accented Spanish. The illegals left them alone after
that. Matt and Marsha ate lunch together on the loading dock.
Matt had a CD player, and he played a couple f sides for her,
Nine Inch Nails and the Fields of the Nephilim. "I like the Goth
stuff OK", he admitted, "but I prefer Industrial and Techno.
What about you?"
Marsha had to admit that she didn't know much about alternative
music, but she ran to the car and got out some Willy Chirino and
Juan Miguel Guerra. As it poured out over Matt's CD player, she
could feel her emotions rising. She felt like grabbing him and
dancing.
"That's some pretty hot stuff", he admitted. "You're gonna have
to take me dancing some day".
Marsha was elated! There! He had all but asked her out! "Only if
you promise to take me to take me where we can dance to your mu-
sic too", she replied.
Matt laughed. "Marsha, you'd make a hell of a Goth! I can't wait
to dress you in black silk and take you to the clubs. You'd
scare shit out of all of
Marsha stared at Matt through slitted eyes. The salsa had turned
her on. She thrust her enormous breasts out at Matt, her quar-
ter-roll-sized nipples pushing through the flimsy fabric of her
cotton top. Her breath was starting to come in little gasps.
"Hey! Big Gorgeous!", Matt warned. "You gonna rape me my first
day on the job?"
Matt's remark disarmed her completely. She dissolved in laugh-
ter. She grabbed his arm. Her huge breasts shook like great
tubs of Jell-O from the force of her laughter. "Only if you want
me too", she gasped in reply.
"God, who wouldn't want to?", he laughed, "but I gotta learn to
walk before I run. You're a lot more woman than I'm used to, and
I'm used to a lot!"
*********************************
So Marsha acquired a boyfriend. Matt made good on his promise,
and took Marsha to the beach clubs. She pierced her nose, and
Matt bought her huge silver ring to put into it. "I'd buy you a
nipple-ring, Big Gorgeous", he admitted, "but, damn, it'd have to
be the size of a horseshoe, wouldn't it?"
Then, it was Marsha's turn to introduce Matt to Miami's Latin
night-life.
First, she permed her hair. It took two stylists the better part
of the day, and cost over 300. But it was worth it. Marsha's
thick dark hair now looked positively lethal. She put on a black
mini-dress, the size of a small tent. An average-sized woman
could have walked around inside it, but on Marsha, it was a
skimpy, feathery, little mid-thigh nothing. She and Matt hit the
salsa- dromes. She even had the balls to wear heels, great fuck
me pumps that boosted her up to just under nine feet(274cm).
For Matt, dancing with Marsha was like dancing with a hurricane
or some other primal natural force. She plastered his head
against her beach-ball sized breasts, and rubbed against his
chest with all the urgency of her womanhood. Matt pushed back
against her pulsating crotch. He could feel the volcanic heat
generating there. It wouldn't be long before there was an erup
tion. His own hard-on was practically exploding with its own ur
gency. He rubbed it against Marsha's thigh, just above her knee.
She got the message.
The band struck up a Colombian cumbia, one of the most openly
sexual of all Afro-Latin dances. Matt could feel the raw sensu
ality in the music, and Marsha began to dance with an abandon
that made her almost dangerous. The other couples left the
floor, watching from the sidelines as Matt danced alone with his
titanic partner. She filled the room with the perfume of her
hair, with the restlessness of her desire. The salsa band coop
erated, becoming more and more animated as Marsha became more and
more frenzied.
It became a duel between Marsha and the band. The tempo in
creased, the conga drums belting out an Afro-Cuban rhythm that
overcame Marsha like hot rum. She would show her gringuito.
These were her people, this music was like the pulse of her own
blood, unceasing, blatantly sexual. The floor of the salsadrome
began to shake with the vibrations of Marcia's fevered dancing.
The band increased the tempo yet again. Marsha matched them, for
ten, fifteen, twenty long minutes.
To Matt's credit, he was doing a valiant job to keep up. She
didn't want to wear him out. She glanced at the band-leader and
nodded. He took the band into a final horn coda and stopped.
The salsadrome erupted in applause. Marsha scooped Matt up and
headed for the door. She set him on the third step and began
kissing him feverishly from the ground, devouring him with her
huge, hungry kisses, and thrusting her famished crotch against
his turgid dick.
"Oh God, Matt, please! I've got to have you, please!", she
moaned. "No me niegues. Don't deny me. "
Denying Marsha's gargantuan appetites was not even a possibility
for Matt, who was completely undone by her performance in the
salsadrome. Before he knew it, he had passed his hands under
Marsha's dress, and was ravishing her mountainous ass, her loins,
her soft, pliant, incredibly large breasts with his hands. He
moaned with desire, his dick stiffening to the point of pain.
'Marsha!
Marsha!", he panted, "Marsha, I can't breathe for wanting you. "
Conio, thought the security guard as he watched from the balcony.
That big cubana's gonna fuck that poor American boy to the land
of Holy Mary. They decided to consummate their desires in the
warehouse, where, conveniently, there was a big pile of defective
T-shirts waiting to go into the shredder. Marsha barely got the
door open when Matt rushed in, and pulled her in behind him.
"Papito!", she giggled, "Be patient. "
Matt wasn't interested in patient. He grabbed Marsha around her
waist and pulled her to him. He was, as Marsha admitted, a pret-
ty strong guy. He pulled her down onto the pile of outs, and
straddled her. "See, Big Gorgeous", he said, stroking her hair,
her cheek, the immense breasts that thrust out towards him like
two small hills, "Lying down, we're all the same size!" He tried
to reach underneath Marsha to unbutton her dress, but couldn't
get around her titanic tits. Marsha smiled and helped him out.
Her dress fell off and she lay there in her bra and panties. She
unhooked her cavernous bra and lay it to one side. Matt gasped
at his first glimpse of Marsha's mighty mams. They glistened
with the sweat of her desire, and they shook tremulously as Mar-
sha twisted to get out of her panties. The nipples were the size
of Vienna sausages, set in areolae the size of tea saucers.
Matt threw himself on her, covering her face, her hair, her neck,
her giant breasts with hot, urgent kisses. He felt Marsha peel
back his shirt like an onion skin, popping all the buttons. She
reached one ham-sized hand down into his ass and pushed him to
her. He attempted to undo his pants, but Marsha beat him to it.
She ripped his pants off with the same force with which she had
savaged his shirt. Now only his boxers. . .
But Marsha had reached around his back, and with both hands,
ripped the fabric right off his loins. His hard dick shot in
stantly to attention.
"What's that?", Marsha screamed.
"My dick", stated Matt.
"It looks like two dicks".
"This is where I usually lose girlfriends, baby", Matt confessed.
"The doctors told me I was supposed to be twins, but all the fur
ther I got separated was right here. See? Its really two dicks,
joined at the head, and covered by some skin, sort of outer an
wrapping. Its too thick for most girls. That's why I was hop-
ing. . . "
"Hoping I'd be woman enough to take it inside? You bet, baby. No
me niegues, querido!"
Matt buried his double dick deep into Marsha. With a growing
sense of joy he realized, he fit. Marsha was obviously stimulat-
ed as well, as her passion began to mount and she began to roll
under Matt's powerful thrusts.
This is where I belong, he thought to himself in that explosion
of certainty that occurs to those fortunate men who, out of all
the women on the planet, have been able to locate the one woman
who seemed fashioned to accommodate him. He was bold enough to
suggest that Marsha get on top, and was rewarded by the sight of
her titanic breasts flopping and dangling only inches from his
face, while his double-barreled cock rejoiced in that special
blend of softness and strength that is a powerful woman's pussy.
Shortly, they both erupted in a conveniently timed double orgasm.
Matt crawled up and took Marsha's upper body onto his lap and ca
ressed her softly. Marsha was astounded. She knew how big and
strong she was, but this man made her feel so feminine, so pro-
tected and sheltered. She adored that, and snuggled against him,
basking in the warm afterglow of her titanic orgasm.
After a while, he spoke. "We'd better be getting you home, Big
Gorgeous! Your mother would tear me apart if she knew what I did
to you tonight. "
Marsha cuddled against his bare chest. "I'll tear you apart if
you don't do it again. Soon. "
"Is that a promise?"
*******************************************************************
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