Flees to a resistance meeting

Alex turned away from his mom awkwardly, breathing heavily as his cellphone chimed. Eyes grimaced tightly, he extricated himself toward the noise. He moved to the sideboard where his phone was charging.

"Alex, coming to the meeting?", says Brad, one of his closest friends. Brad is among the dwindling number of boys that he grew up with that have avoided bonding with a blessed one. Brad's family hasn't been touched by a blessed event; his mom, Joan, is flat as a board and insisted on home schooling her son. The meeting he asked about was at the library. A male only club plotting ways to manage a life without becoming enslaved. Mumbling to both his Mom and to Brad, he scurried from the house, opened his eyes and unplugged his e-bike from the wall.

Zipping past the neighbor's homes and onto the county road, Alex passed a small construction crew digging up a worn-out pavement stretch. While the aggregate was being ground in-situ, a magnificently buxom blonde woman was giving work instructions to the male crew of five. Her hard-hat and sunglasses were totally incongruous to being topless. Her breasts bronzed from outdoor work, oiled and dusty. Alex slowed to watch as the woman leaned forward to adjust the controls on a wet slurry mixer; the sides of the cement mixer had another one of those ubiquitous logos. The government logo read "ubera magnis rectores orbis terrarum" on a ribbon circumscribing a busty silhouette. But it wasn't cement in the mixer. Something new and different was going to be laid in the road, the slurry was hot, green and purple, emanating a soft glow. It smelled like seaweed and oysters. The lady's endowments undulated as she spoke to her crew, "Two more hours, then the carbon will start getting adsorbed from the air. We'll need this batch laid by then." Looking closer, she seemed recently satisfied as multiple streaks of white was splayed on her chest.

The library held a series of community meeting rooms on the second floor. Here, the Resistance was meeting again. Alex was late, but plenty of seats were up front. As usual, the back seats were most popular. Brad was talking to the younger ones in yet another history lesson, no doubt cribbed from his mom:

"So, when Oscar Felipe finished his post-doc in CRISPR gene editing, he also had a thing for big tits. What Oscar unleashed into the Groton Connecticut water supply was a batch of custom engineered micro-organisms that altered the women who drank them with a whole host of changes. We now call that the Blessing. You all know that this made their tits bigger, and that it made their sex drives very breast focused. The only reason why Oscar's totally illegal and immoral work was a success that got exported to most of the world is that the women affected got smarter and ruthless. A lot smarter; at least, when their boobs are sated enough to let them focus on other things. Now, did you bring your nose filters?"

Alex lost interest in listening, thinking instead about his mom. Sometime soon, he was going to have to either leave the house or get drawn into her dependency trap. The whole idea of running off to a Masturbatory colony with a bunch of guys was appalling. His dick wanted those tits, and the construction supervisor's, and the head librarian... But losing all free will to be just a sexual plaything or was a waste of his intellect, his drive, his mastery of self. Alex wanted something more.

Nature calling, Alex quietly slipped out to the John.

"Hello there handsome", purred a short and sultry brunette. The pale, spectacled woman stood inexplicably inside the Men's room. Her orange sweater was cut new-age style with a large heart cut-out in the front. Bulging impressively from within the sweater, her breasts were trussed by underwire into a long jutting cleavage sticking straight out about a foot. Level with the floor, they flounced only slightly as she spoke.

Pausing to pull her sweater up over her massive chest, she continue "Need a hand?", reaching for his zipper. Stunned, Alex was caught and constrained as his bladder yelled at his rapidly hardening penis. This was going to be trouble, not now! Blankly, he noted the woman wore a library name tag reading "Dinkley". Deftly, she slipped his cock from his pants and led him to the urinal. Pointing far too close to vertical, Alex couldn't pee without drenching both of them. Focusing slowly, Alex shifted his gaze from the tag to the heart shaped cut-out. Panicking, he reached out to push her away but thinking was really hard. Dammit, he wasn't wearing nose plugs and her sweat was wafting in his head like Congo drums. His hands found her chest and felt that cool sweat slide oily onto his hands. Her breasts were packed tightly by the underwire supports, the orange sweater strained in deformation. Alex lost his thoughts for a moment, and found himself running a finger into her cleavage. Rapidly, he began pushing that finger into her deep chasm and raised his face to look into her eyes. Dinkley gasped and stroked his cock with sweaty palms. Her pupils were dilating as she stared at him. Her chest was heaving. Somehow, her torso was jostling up and down without her head moving.

His bladder brought him back to reality, Alex shook his mind clear and grabbed onto her wrist with his left hand. He pulled her hand away from his dick, then caught her other hand with his right as she shook in protest. Flopping up, his penis drummed against his taut belly feeling 'I need to pee!' and 'I need to fuck!' made Alex rather angry. What the hell, in the restroom? Wrestling now with her, Dinkley fell to her knees in front of him. Angrily, Alex taunted her. "You did this, you bitch." He wanted to wedge his cock into that heart cutout, but the angle wasn't right and he knew he couldn't cum easily with a full bladder.

"You're just a stupid man, that club meeting is a joke." Dinkley flustered. She tried to nuzzle her breasts onto his dick but succeeded in only rubbing his balls onto her boob-shelf. Alex grunted and brought his strength to bear. She tried to work herself free, but only succeeded in sending her square glasses skittering onto the floor. "My glasses! I can't see without my glasses!" Her struggles became disjointed and frantic.