Kinktober 7 - Deserted Island (Patreon)

Kinktober prompt:
Deserted Island

Contains: Breast Expansion

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Kinktober 7 - Deserted Island

Clementine knew she shouldn’t have taken the yacht out alone. But her husband always criticized her driving—on land and water—and she wanted to prove to herself that she could do it. Now, she’d run aground on an island out of sight of the mainland in nothing but an Oye bikini and a Nordstrom beach robe. The worst part was that she was anxious—and anxiety always made her hungry. And the yacht was always very well stocked.

Desperate to avoid having to commission all-new swimsuit tops, Clementine decided to explore the island. Forging a path through the jungle in nothing but spandex and a thin layer of silk wasn’t easy, especially because she couldn’t see the path past her P-cup breasts.

Clementine found the island surprisingly charming. The birds chirped out a constant clangor of melodies, and the bugs weren’t even that bad. She found a small river running down to the coast, and the water was clean and cool as she splashed it on her lithe limbs.

Then, a low growling followed by a hiss signaled the presence of some kind of puma or ocelot. Clementine didn’t know which, and she didn’t care—she was on her way back to the beached yacht as fast as her Dior pumps would carry her.

Clementine made herself a Gin and Tonic to calm her nerves and paced. Her phone had no service, so she couldn’t call for help. She was certain the boat had a radio, but she had no idea how to use it, even if she knew where it was. Ignoring the rumbles of need from her plump breasts, Clementine sat and played sudoku on her phone.

The alcohol wasn’t helping her hunger, and the boredom was making it worse.

“Maybe just some pretzels.” She said to the empty yacht.

The cabinet filled with dry snacks from Williams-Sonoma held tins of pretzels beside boxes of crackers, which made Clementine think of the pre-sliced meats and cheeses in one of the boat’s many refrigerators. Another held cold beverages—mixers for cocktails and dessert wines. The dessert wine reminded Clementine that the freezer below decks held frozen cheesecake.

***

Jeffrey leaned over the rail of the Coast Guard boat, peering into the distance through a pair of high-end binoculars.

“What about that island over there?”

“Please, sir, let the Crew do their jobs; we’ll find your wife,” The Sergeant said.

“I see something there, Sergeant. A boat run aground!”

Jeffrey aimed his binoculars where the crewman had pointed and identified his yacht. “That’s it! That’s the Seaward!”

“The C-word?”

“Seaward,” Jeffrey said with a grimace. “My idiot brother named it.”

***

Jeffrey climbed onto the deck of his beached yacht, where he found his wife—equally beached by a pair of breasts the size of his Tesla.

“Clementine?”

“Hello, Darling,” Clementine said with shame in her voice. “I cheated on my diet a bit…”

Jeffrey walked around the massive orbs while the Coast Guard crewmen averted their eyes from the topless woman.

His mouth gaped as he took in the sheer size of her. “Lovie, what happened?”

“Oh, Jeffrey, I was so anxious and scared. You know how I get. I couldn’t help myself from indulging a little.”

“Good god! Did you empty the larders?”

Clementine’s cheeks flushed. “There wasn’t much in the freezer when I could still fit down there. I was alone here for so long!”

“Clementine… You left the dock three hours ago.”