“What’s going on with my breasts?” Heather wondered. She stood in front of her mirror, hefting first one boob, then the other. It took some definite effort. Until this morning, she had a pair of standard 32-Bs that were completely regulation. Her old breasts were properly sized, not too heavy, and comfortable.
These breasts were different. They dominated her upper chest, perky and noticeable. It wasn’t that they were so much bigger—although they were—as that they rode so high. Her muscles must’ve tightened overnight. They rode proudly just below her collarbone, cheerful and prominent. Even in her sleep shirt they poked a noticeable tent into the soft cotton.
They were sensitive. Her nipples were still cherry red from earlier. It had been a busy morning.
Heather had woken up around 6, hungry and thirsty. She spent a useless half-hour tossing and turning. “I can’t get up because I’ll wake David up, and he needs to sleep after yesterday,” she figured, shifting onto her side once again. Her brown hair spread out along the pillow.
She was a) hungry, b) thirsty, and c) horny. If she had to get up, get a glass of water, and make breakfast, she would a) wake up David, and b) create dirty dishes that he would need to clean. But David’s cock was right next to her. If she could get his cum out of him, a) and b) would be solved, and if she played her cards right, so would c). Then she would have the rest of the morning to work. Perfect!
How to extract it? There was always a handjob. But that risked losing lots of cum to the sheets, and she wasn’t sure a handjob was hot enough to justify waking David up. She could ride him, but again, that risked losing all of the cum. Last night she had salvaged much of it by reaching inside and pulling it out of her exhausted, happy pussy. The cum mixed with her own lubrication was a new and exciting taste, kind of metallic raspberry. But a lot of it was too far inside to reach. Besides, she had gotten so excited again that all the benefits of making love had been lost.
That left… oral sex.
“No,” Heather told herself, firmly. Handjobs were harmless, sex was inherently mutual, even when.. from behind. Oral sex was submissive. It was no wonder guys loved it. The girl, sitting passively in front of him, bobbing up and down with her eyes closed. She couldn’t even talk, or say anything, or do anything but quietly face-fuck her partner until he came. And then she was expected to swallow all his rich, delicious cum!
Her mouth was watering. Heather swallowed, and looked over at David. He sprawled on his back, the sheets shucked to one side. His boxers were exposed. All she had to do was reach inside, pull it out, and suck him off.
“I don’t need to be hung up on old thinking,” she told herself. Maybe it was a time for a new look at oral sex. Blowjobs. There, she had said it. First, list the benefits. One, if she kept her mouth in a tight enough seal, there was no way any cum would escape. Two, it was very fast and efficient, so she could get to work quickly afterwards. Three… Heather looked at her right hand, which was already reaching towards David’s boxers.
Well, she could think of the negatives while she was giving the blowjob.
Now that she had decided on it, her mouth was dry. That was easy to fix; Heather reached for the bottle of lubricant. The top was already open. She gave the bottle a healthy squeeze, squished it around her teeth.
Now, how to do this? Heather gingerly reached into his boxer shorts, pulled his cock out from where it was hiding. She looked at him. David was still sleeping soundly. Was it always this big, or was it just because her eyes were right next to it? It pulsed in her hand, red and hot.
Okay, time to do “Cons.” It was demeaning. Heather opened her ruby red lips and let it slip inside, carefully keeping her teeth out of the way. She half expected to immediately choke, and was pleased to feel him slide easily all the way to the back of her throat. His pubic hair tickled her nose. She slid it back all the way to her lips, teased the tip with her tongue, and went down again. This wasn’t so bad at all. It smelled good.
“Cons. What are the cons,” Heather thought, but it was hard to come up with any when she was so distracted with the demands of a proper blowjob. Keep your teeth up, lick the bottom of the shaft, keep up a steady rhythm.
Who knew that it was so difficult?
David was awake by now, but still half-groggy, confused. Confronted with Heather’s porn-star lips bobbing up and down on him, he did the only logical thing: he put both hands on the back of her head and urged her up and down.
Even as her pussy gave a hot tingle, Heather realized her new problem. How was she supposed to get off while pleasuring David? This was the great problem of oral sex, she thought. Now David would be satisfied, and she’d still be horny.
She could still fondle herself. That might help. Her hands were free, after all.
Heather reached up and grabbed her own breasts. Involuntarily, she moaned, had to fight herself to not lose the rhythm. Both hands grabbed at her boobs while she continued to bob up and down on David.
They were bigger. Definitely. And so sensitive that just flicking her nipples was causing her pussy to quake and shiver. Heather was used to a little breast play, but now she grabbed wildly at them, mauling her nipples left and right. David’s unbelieving gaze just urged her on. The unfamiliar and heavy weight sparked against her palms. For something so big, they felt magnificent, mounds of pleasure on the middle of her chest.
Her hands abruptly tweaked both nipples, just as David leaked the first bit of precum down her throat. Heather exploded. She gushed onto the bed, her nipples shivering points of pleasure. Through a dim orgasmic haze, she realized that David was cumming too. She had kept the rhythm up! She felt oddly pleased about it. The last few dregs of cum trickled down her throat.
Sated, she gave David’s cock one last satisfied lick, turned over, and went back to sleep.
Now, hours later, and hours behind on her work, she stood in the closet. She couldn’t even see her toes anymore, and her nipples were huge, the aureola sprawling lewdly on either side of her boob. Impulsively, she squeezed them together, and watched a deep line of cleavage form.
This wasn’t the only difference, either. Her butt looked amazing, well-toned and firm. Even though it had been a few days since she had shaved, the hair on her legs and her pus… her vagina.. had barely grown back at all. Even her hair looked bouncy and fuller.
“What is going on with me? Growth spurt? At 24?” she thought. She walked out into the living room, where David was reading.
“David, are my breasts bigger?” she asked. She squeezed them for emphasis. “Be honest.”
“Window, Heather!” David lunged for the shades and closed them. Heather shrugged. There hadn’t been anyone outside. And so what if there was?
David shifted on the couch. “I can barely move, Heather. No more, for a few hours, at least.”
“No, I mean it! It really is bigger. My bra doesn’t fit right. Don’t I look different to you?”
David cocked his head and examined her. Despite herself, the frank gaze started to get Heather excited.
“Maybe,” he concluded. “I mean, I’ll take your word for it. But to be totally honest, I’m not used to seeing your figure at all.”
Heather flushed. She deserved that.
“If they’re really bigger.. don’t girls normally have times when they swell up?”
“They don’t have times of the month when their butt gets sexier. Look at it!” She waggled it at him. This was definitely not going like she had hoped. She had to clench a muscle to keep moisture from getting out.
“So, go to the doctor?”
“I guess I will,” Heather said. She sighed. “My hormones must be going wild. I wonder if… no, that’s not possible.”
“What?”
She slipped next to him on the couch. Even when he was spent it was nice to be nearby. “I’ve been thinking through a new theory of male/female relations,” she said. “As part of which I’ve been experimenting with a new model of relationships.”
“Is that why we’ve been having so much sex?” David asked.
“Of course! Relationships require a equilibrium, and part of that has to include sex. Isn’t it working out for you?”
“Uh, sure,” David said. He examined her chest. “It is bigger,” he noted.
“It is! And maybe part of being in an actually healthy, happy relationship is that your body is healthier too.” Heather’s mind fired up with the idea. “I mean, before I was sitting at a table for twelve hours a day, no sex, frigid.. that has to be bad for you. All this exercise and activity is just waking up my body. That’s why I’m… filled out today.”
“That sounds… like an interesting theory,” David said. He tried to hide his “are you kidding me?” expression, and failed. Heather didn’t notice. “Are you going to get any bigger, you think?”
“I hope not,” Heather said. “This already means I’m going to have to go shopping today.”
David went to take a shower. Heather lingered over the implications of her theory. What if she was onto something big here? What if the unhappy, sexless relationships of the modern era were warping women and men into pitiful, pale versions of themselves? She had an image of herself in tiger skins, serving David grapes, her breasts barely constrained under a makeshift bra…
She had to write this down!
Jenny looked in the mirror and fought to keep from crying.
Every morning she went on a run. Up the hill, down the avenue, through the bad part, and then through the park.
Everything had started out well. She was still basking in that good mood from yesterday, and had spent most of the night goofing off with some old Jane Austen movies. This morning she was ready to get back into the swing of things. She had pulled on her running tank top, her black shorts, and headed out for her run.
Right away she recognized the first problem. Her boobs hurt. This was strange, because Jenny didn’t really have any. She never bothered with a sports bra. But when she looked down her shirt, there they were: two firm, apple-sized boobs. Her nipples tingled from being bounced around against her shirt.
“Hormones,” she told herself, slowing her pace. Less speed didn’t help her at all. Now her boobs didn’t hurt, but her nipples still skidded along the inside of her shirt, and it felt… surprisingly good.
Soon afterwards, her underwear started to chafe. She reached behind her, felt unbelievingly at her butt. It was oddly firm, even protruding, and her underwear cut into her hips. Then her hair fell loose from her tie, which (of course) fell away, and whipped about her face. Still, she ran on. She had run through driving rainstorms, and even that hadn’t stopped her.
A young guy, about her age, possibly Korean, ran by on the opposite side of the street. Jenny turned her head, followed his heavily built legs, and tripped into a bush. “You were checking out his ass!” she accused herself. Her! Jenny! The girl voted “Most Independent” at her Girl’s School! AND she had gotten wet between her legs, a steady stream of sticky lubrication oozing out of her red and aching lips.
Ass swaying, boobs bouncing, spitting hair, Jenny had somehow made it home. She stood on both toes in front of the mirror and fell back on her heels. Her pneumatic chest bounced up and down, reluctantly coming to a complete halt. The first time, she had put her hands up to stop their carefree back and forth, but grabbing her nipples had been distracting. Her hands itched to do it again.
“This is ridiculous,” Jenny thought. She bounced up and down again. In fact, she had been doing it for a good ten minutes. Impulsively, she leaned forwards, watched her breasts pull down against her chest. Her brown-chestnut hair fell on both sides of her face, framing her lips. Jenny’s lips formed an O. “Completely ridiculous.” Her toned, muscular physique looked soft, lost underneath a sheen of soft tan skin. She let her eyelids droop. If she cast the mirror a baby-doll expression she looked exactly like the silly Geishas from her Japanese Women’s History books. Except that they weren’t soaking the front of their severe, basic panties. Any wetter and she’d be a water balloon.
Jenny fought to keep from smiling. If she smiled, she must as well say “free boobs, men! Come and get!”
Whenever she relaxed her guard, the silly smile wiped from ear to ear once again. It was like a disease. Her clothes didn’t fit, she had lost all her credibility, and she was smiling.
“This doesn’t make any sense whatsoever,” Jenny said. It had all started yesterday, when Heather had forced her to switch skirts. Ever since then she had been flushed, heated, filled with a relaxed pleasure that sloshed around her, leaking out in warm, wet places. She would have to wash her sheets this morning. And her comforter.
“Heather got me sick,” she realized. Little prickles of unease spotted the back of her neck. It made sense. Heather must have some strange virus, which she gave to Jenny, something that made her nerves tingle and her body react strangely. One way to find out. Jenny reached into her panties, felt down into her pussy. She pulled her finger out, examined it grimly, then licked it clean.
Strawberries. The same warm strawberries and cream she smelled around Heather. Jenny put another three fingers in to make sure. Sweet strawberries, a surefire sign of infection. And, she noted clinically, she had contracted the same wetness problem Heather was fighting against. No matter how fast she dipped her fingers in, they emerged sopping wet, even once she was on her ass in front of the mirror, four fingers working in and out as fast as they could. Her other hand was locked around her tit… to keep it from bouncing. Her clit felt like a light bulb.
Jenny screamed when she came. It was mortifying, an ear-splitting screech of pure pleasure that echoed across her spartan apartment. It bounced around a substantial library of post-feminist literature and died on the sheets of her single-occupant bed.
Exhausted, she peeped around the lewd image of her own body sprawled in front of the mirror, her pink sex glistening in reflection.
“This is weird, and it’s all Heather’s fault,” she told herself. “Look what she’s done to me! I’m wasting my entire morning getting off in front of a mirror!”
At least, she thought, relieved, her face had never lost the half-frown she had affixed to it. She didn’t want to lose control.
Pleased with her self-control in spite of severe provocation, Jenny licked her fingers clean and went to find a bra that fit.
Candice examined herself in the mirror.
“What are you wearing?” her roommate, Melinda, asked. “A skirt? Where did you get a skirt? Was it in the trash?”
“It’s for a study project,” Candice told her, stepping back and forth. She practiced putting one foot in front of the other. Candice dimly remembered that it made something sexier… somehow.
“You have to wear a skirt for a study project?”
“It’s for my mentor. Heather. I told you about this. Some sort of exploration into sexuality.”
Melinda grunted on the bed. “You never explore sexuality. I wasn’t sure you had one. You have one color of underwear. One. And it’s not even white, it’s grey.”
Candice let her arms droop. It DID feel strange, she admitted to herself. She wore a black eyelet skirt that fell just a little north of her knee, exposing a length of pale skin. Up top she wore a red pleated cami. It showed a little cleavage, and on Candice, a little quickly became a lot. The cami did a lot to hide her weight, which, fortunately, had unexpectedly dropped in sympathy. She had lost three pounds almost overnight. She wobbled back and forth in unfamiliar heels.
After some debate, she had kept her hair in a ponytail. Down it just felt greasy and uninteresting.
“I think she might be exploring my self-esteem,” Candice said. “I don’t know. Something about making everyone feel pretty. She’s so theoretical it’s hard to say.”
“Not much theoretical about those boobs,” Melinda said. “Hey, when you get back, we’re watching Au Revoir Les Enfants?”
“You know it.”
Melinda watched her walk out the door. Candice carefully put one foot in front of the other and wobbled. She caught herself, lifted her substantial chin, and swayed her ass out the door.
“Jenny. Again. Come in,” Heather said, eyeing the flushed girl with mild unhappiness. Jenny eyed her suspiciously. Heather practically glowed. Her brown hair shone with vigor, bouncing lightly around her lips. Her complexion was perfect, and her eyes were framed with long, sleepy eyelashes. She wore a sensible brown halter top that nonetheless clung to her breasts and comfortable khakis.
Even seeing Heather made Jenny smile inadvertently. There was just something about Heather. You couldn’t be unhappy around her. She was so.. put together. Even when she didn’t seem happy.
“Look, Jenny, I know I promised you could come over, but it’s not a good time. I’ve got a brand new research proposal to write, and I just wasted an entire hour on Dawson’s Creek.”
No beating around the bush, then. “Are your boobs bigger?” Jenny demanded.
It was a rhetorical question. Heather had clearly expanded, filling out her bra to overcapacity. They rode high on her chest. Heather sighed.
“Maybe you should come in,” Heather said. Jenny took a step back.
“No! I’m already breathing in.. whatever weird boob-virus you’ve got. I’m going to the Doctor. I just wanted to confirm…”
“Jenny!” Heather said, firmly. “There’s no such thing as a boob-virus. Listen to yourself! You can’t take ink blot tests because you think they look like ink, and now you’re coming up with boob-viruses? Here, come in, lets talk about this.”
Jenny’s feet moved her into the apartment. She took a deep breath. The scent of infection was everywhere, that evil strawberry scent. It was insidious, the way it followed you around, filled you up, got you wet. Even now, she thought, it was at work deep inside her pussy, tickling her lubrication glands, spilling out gallons of the stuff. She had collected a good dose in Tupperware. For the Doctor.
She sat down at the table and waited quietly for Heather to speak.
“You’re bigger too, aren’t you?” Heather said. She put both hands on Jenny’s chest and caressed both boobs lightly. Ripples echoed through Jenny’s body. She batted Heather’s hand away.
“Well,” Heather said, smiling apologetically, “most girls do want to be a little bigger,”
“It’s not just the boobs,” Jenny snapped. “The wetness! The… vaginal moisture! I’m as wet as you were yesterday, look!” She was wearing tan khaki shorts that fell to the knees. They were soaked through. “I feel like a cheap Sorority Girl! You could probably stick a phone book up there.”
Heather shook her head. “It’s not about the wetness thing. Look, I’m not wet anymore,” Heather said. She stepped closer to Jenny. “Go ahead, check,” she offered.
Jenny put her hand out. “Wait,” she thought. “I’m not going to check to see if..”
“Just check!” Heather insisted, heated. She grabbed Jenny’s hand and pulled it towards her V.
“I guess she must really want me to check,” Jenny figured. Jenny ran a trembling hand over the zipper. She was only inches away from Heather’s warm interior.
“Alright, you’re dry. So what? You still look like a porno star on a weekend,” Jenny said. Her hand felt strange where it had touched Heather. Hot. She drank the wine she was holding. When had Heather put it in her hand?
“It’s because I think I’ve made an important discovery,” Heather said. “It’s about relationships and women. You know, my thesis. I’ve realized something important.”
Jenny looked at the carpet. It was marked with spots that went from couch to kitchen table. Heather refilled the wine glass in her hand. Jenny sank it down. Strawberry, same as before. It was excellent.
“This is all crazy,” she insisted, with less sincerity. Her hand was so warm. She felt so dizzy.
“It’s not crazy! It’s just common sense about how relationships work,” Heather said. She waved her hands for emphasis. That set her tits off, and they bounced joyfully inside her shirt.
“Alright, so we’re mammals, right? And we have relationships with men. Now, the entire reason we enjoy sex is because sex is good for the species, right? So it only stands to reason that being in a committed, mutual relationship leads to other pleasure opportunities for both men and women. I’m betting that any… growth is a sign that my new arrangement with David is good for me emotionally and for my health.”
Jenny didn’t even know where to begin. The mysogny? The bizaare biological truisms? She focused on something her needy pussy could understand.
“I’m growing and I’m not in a relationship,” she said. She kept her eyes fixed on Heather’s taut hips. Once Heather got wet she would understand. And she would. Any moment now.
Heather pointed at her, triumphant. “And that’s why you’re so wet! Now that I have a healthy sexual relationship with David, the wetness is redirected towards sexual activity, where it belongs. If you’re excessively wet, it’s just a sign that your body wants you to be in a relationship. QED.”
Jenny felt crushed to the chair by Heather’s illogic. Her legs tightened around the chair. She could feel her pussy twitch. Jenny looked down.
“Oh,” she said, faintly. “I’ve gotten your chair all wet. I’m very sorry, Heather.” Somehow she had drunk another glass of wine. Alcohol always went straight to her head.
Heather barely noticed, lost in her own revised thesis. “Yes, it does create significant problems for the working woman. Time, mostly. And it is a challenge to balance career with a relationship. But I’m pretty sure I can make it all work out. David’s cock will understand.”
“Fight back!” said a tiny part of Jenny, a deep core lost somewhere within her. It struggled to be heard, adrift in a sea of happy strawberries and a considerable amount of alcohol. Did Heather just say something about a cock?
Instead, she listened as Heather propounded on her growing theory, nodding in a haze of wine and happiness. The virus thing was kind of silly, she thought. And even if Heather’s theory was a little bit… off… at least she understood that there was nothing inherently wrong with the female body, no matter what it looked like.
“Listen, there’s something you can do about the wetness in the short term,” Heather said.
Jenny blinked. “What’s that?”
“Go shave. It helps with the moisture, keeps the body from overperspiring. Worked for me.”
“I don’t.. usually need to shave,” Jenny mumbled. Heather eyed her critically, ran a hand down Jenny’s leg. It felt soft.
“Well, it couldn’t hurt…” she said. She looked Jenny straight in the eye, puzzled. “Jenny, did I just get you drunk?”
“I’m.. maybe a little tipsy,” Jenny said. She slumped backwards. Her tits were on fire underneath her shirt. She would do anything to set them free.
“Gosh, I must’ve given you three big squeezes…” Heather murmured. She gave one of her sighs. “I really wanted to work on my thesis. You know I haven’t written anything in over 48 hours? C’mon, I’ll take care of shaving you. Quickly!”
Jenny closed her eyes. When she re-opened them, she was in Heather’s tiny bathroom, the door closed, her leg covered in shaving cream. Heather crouched in between her legs. Her ass felt cold on the toilet seat. Heather’s boobs hung when she crouched, the shirt hanging off her chest. It was warm and wet in the shower. She leaned back, her hair brushing against the wall.
“When’s the last time you were in a relationship?” Heathers asked.
Jenny’s head felt a little more clear. “Never,” she murmured. “…Not quite never.” She extended her foot so Heather could work more smoothly. Wherever the razor passed, it left behind a perfect, feminine asian leg. “We’re having girl time,” she told herself. “That’s perfectly okay.”
“Not quite never?”
“There was one guy. Start of college.” Michael. When she had been just another airhead University girl, swooning over pop stars and addicted to thongs.
“It didn’t end well.” In fact, it had ended with his coke-bottle cock and a lot of pain and tears. Too bad. Right now she could probably fit him. Plus both hands. He had a magical way with hand jobs. Maybe he was still around.
“Was it.. traumatizing?”
“It wasn’t why I went into Women’s Studies,” Jenny said. “But it did clarify things for me.” She started to look around. Her dimly remembered virus theory started to re-emerge from the wine-induced haze she had lost it in. So why was she in the bathroom if it was a problem? Heather had explained it in sensible evolutionary terms, not amateur virology. Heather was smart.
“Okay, shorts off.”
Right, shorts off. Jenny wriggled them over her smooth hips. Thank god. She was already embarrassed enough, staining Heather’s chair. She’d have to buy her a new one. “I’m going clothes shopping later today, if you want to come. For new business clothes,” Heather said. “You should come.”
“Sounds great,” Jenny said. She gasped when the cold shaving cream hit her pubic mound, woke up a little bit more. “Whoa! Heather. Just the legs. We’re not that close.” Jenny put a hand on the wall and on the sink. She spread her legs a little more widely. They already gaped open. She felt so vulnerable, so weak.
“No, this is the key to the wetness issue. Gotta get at the heart of the problem,” Heather insisted firmly. “Let just get this done with so I can get back to work.”
Jenny watched as the razor neared her pussy. She felt so.. girlish. “Don’t be a baby,” she told herself. “If it was a cock, you’d be okay with it. I mean… a tampon.”
The front door slammed. Both girls froze. A dim part of Jenny realized that David might be confused by finding her girlfriend shaving a friend’s privates in their shared bathroom. Heather cursed. “Why do I even try to work.” she murmured. She thrust the razor into Jenny’s hand. “Finish up, then sneak out.” Jenny froze, her hand on the razor. The walls were paperthin, and it was easy to listen in to everything on the other side.
“Hi babe. How’re you? You get some work done?” David said. His voice was deeper then she remembered.
“Not really… I’ll be up late tonight. Whoa! Where are you going?” Heather said. The knob turned. Jenny stared at it. Her legs were gaping wide, she realized. She just couldn’t seem to close them. He’ll see my tits, she thought.
“…Bathroom?”
“You don’t notice anything about me?”
Inside, Jenny cheered. No boyfriend could walk away without answering that line. And there was a lot of Heather to look at.
“Um. You did something with your hair? No? You put makeup on? You... you’re wearing lipstick?”
“I don’t wear lipstick. David! Think like a guy!” Heather said.
“Your… new shirt?”
“David, my tits! God! Look at my tits! I have boobs!”
David sounded a little hurt. “We already talked about that. Are they even bigger now?
“I just thought… you’d like to see them personally!” Heather’s voice made an abrupt turn towards husky. Jenny heard a ripping noise.
There was a long reverential silence outside. “Shave!” Jenny thought. “Heather is out there… taking a… bullet for you, and you can’t even manage to work a razor. It’s the least you can do for her.” She worked the razor around the edge, rinsed it off in the sink. Her legs weren’t coming together until she shaved, she thought.
“They feel so firm,” David said. “So… your nipples are huge!”
“I know, isn’t it annoying? Big boobs are nothing but trouble.” Heather said. Jenny heard a buckle unsnap. Heather wasn’t wearing a belt. “Back problems. Changes how people see you. Sensitivity… I can barely wear a bra without setting them off… new wardrobe. Here, let me get this slick for you. Mm, you’re slick already! Thinking about me?”
Jenny froze. What were they doing out there? It didn’t sound like an innocent distraction. She looked down, where her razor had finished the job. She was now the proud owner of a completely bald pussy. It sparkled with wetness. But Heather was right. She wasn’t dripping anymore.
“I guess they aren’t all bad,” Heather said. Her voice was muffled. The rhythmic sound of flesh hitting flesh echoed through the door. “Are you bigger too? I don’t remember you going from boobs to mouth. Maybe I’m just getting more flexible.”
She was giving him a breast-fuck! And oral too, from the sound of it. Jenny blushed scarlet. “I should stop this,” she told herself. Heather was out there demeaning herself, kneeling in front of a man, just for her.
Her hand was nearly on the knob before she pulled it back. “This was Heather’s plan,” she thought. “I need to respect that. She’s doing this for me!” Jenny put her clothes back on as quietly as she could. She needed to be ready to make a break for it.
“Getting close,” David whispered.
“Oh! Not yet!” Heather’s voice said. Jenny heard shuffling feet, then the squeak of the bedsprings in the next room.
“Now!” she decided. Jenny quietly opened the door, rushed to the living room and out the open door. She caught a brief glimpse of Heather’s legs, spread wide in the air, and David’s half-naked body standing at the side of the bed. Then she was free and racing back to her apartment.
Candice practiced putting one foot in front of the other. She was starting to get irritated. For the past several hours she had walked around campus like a bored tramp, swishing her skirt around while she patrolled aimlessly from place to place. “What am I supposed to be doing?” she wondered, not for the first time.
For the first half-hour she had simply enjoyed the walk. The air was cool on her exposed legs, and she practiced carefully the unsteady walk necessary in heels. She diligently kept personal notes on her own reactions to walking around in heels, the unfamiliar flush of air around her underwear, even the way walking in heels was giving her blisters.
Now she had been outside for well over an hour and a half, and we was getting tired of it. The sun was hot, and her boobs glistened with sticky perspiration. The strange, comfortable euphoria of the first hour had nearly worn off. Now she was just bored. At least she was losing weight in the heat. It was like she could feel the pounds melting off. Her skirt already felt loose.
“What is this supposed to tell me?” she wondered. If it was her own personal reaction, that she had already figured out. It was fun to play dress up and feel flirty, and now she was bored.
She stood on a shaded walkway halfway towards the dorms. Heather unexpectedly appeared. Candice was stunned. Her mentor—the pride of her Department—tottered on the arm of her boyfriend. The suddenly busty brunette was glued to his side, clutching his left arm protectively as they walked across campus. She looked like a sorority girl with her first boyfriend.
She wondered idly if Heather still had that odd, tasty candy from yesterday. She had been thinking about it all morning.
Candice planted herself in front of Heather, hands on both hips. At first Heather didn’t seem to register her, her eyes only on her unassuming man. Only gradually did she make the connection between the pale black-haired undergraduate from yesterday and the unhappy skirt-wearing girl today.
“Candice,” she said, nodding. Then she started to walk past her! Candice had to tap her arm to hold her attention.
“Hi Heather. I wanted to talk about this research project,” she said. Heather looked at her blankly for a moment.
“The research project! Yes!” Heather said. She nodded, reached into her purse, and gave a set of keys to her boyfriend. “David, is it alright if you go ahead and meet me in the office? I’ll see you there?”
“Sure thing,” David said. Heather rushed in for a kiss, and they locked in a deep embrace. Candice had to look away when Heather rubbed her chest against his. Disgusting. She sniffed. Heather smelled funny. She hadn’t noticed Heather’s chest before. Hers was bigger, but Heather definitely had heft.
“Okay, how is the project going?” Heather said, turning her attention back towards her. In front of Heather Candice once again felt ungainly, awkward. Overly conscious of her own weight, and her pale white skin. Heather managed to pull off attractive and competent, at the same time.
“Um. I guess it’s going alright,” she stammered. Pull it together, she told herself. “I’m dressed up, like you mentioned.”
Heather examined her outfit. Candice spun without being told to. She felt relieved. Heather knew what to do.
“The skirt could be a little shorter,” she concluded. “But I like the shirt. Also, hair goes down. That ponytail is wrapped so tight it could kill people. For this project you need an inviting, feminine figure.”
“Maybe I don’t have an “inviting feminine figure,"” Candice said. She frowned. “I’m a little overweight. Or maybe you hadn’t noticed.”
Heather shook her head. “Candice! You don’t understand what we’re trying to do here. Your body is a tool! We are studying what it can be used for. I don’t know many tools wearing plus size!”
Candice stood in mute shock. This was outrageous. Her advisor was basically telling her to dress up and lose weight. She was nearly ready to storm off. She gave Heather a moment only because of her deep respect for her work… and for a moment more because of that odd, intoxicating scent that seemed to hang around Heather. She had smelled it yesterday.
She would have to ask her about it before she went to the gym to exercise.
Candice shook her head. What was that? Exercise? Oh, right, to lose weight.
Heather put an arm around Candice. “Sorry, that came out harsh. What I meant was that I’m studying male/female interactions. And, sadly, men only are willing to interact with women of a certain weight.. and dress. Now, how many erections did you tally today?”
“None,” Candice said. Yeah, she would hit the gym, right before dinner. No, skip dinner. Heather was right, overweight women were just shouting out their lack of control to the world. Same as overweight men, really. Wait. Erections?
“Erections?”
“Yes,” Heather said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “Male erections. Ten? Twenty?”
“What are you talking about?” Candice said, bewildered. She hadn’t gotten a boy hard in perhaps her entire life.
“Oh. I never explained it very well, did I? Your task is to examine male/female interactions on a general social level. It’s part of my overall relationship work. I’m curious to see if there are alternate relationships that have a positive effect on women.”
“What do erections have to do with it?” Although, now that Candice thought about it, there was her awkward—so awkward—prom date. Her date had a raging boner, and it had pressed warmly against her thigh. So warmly.
“That’s where you come in. Just walk around and see how many you elicit in a given day, so we can get a baseline.”
“I… didn’t get any,” Candice said. She felt embarrassed. An hour and a half she had been walking around, and not a single erection.
Heather sighed. “Candice. Please. They’re boys. It’s not difficult. They get erections if they blink extra hard. Lets get going on this.”
“Well what…” swallowing had become unexpectedly difficult. “What do you think I should do?”
Heather looked around and pointed at random to a boy, wearing glasses, reading out of an Electrical Engineering textbook under a tree. “There. Just go show some boob off or something. That’ll do the trick.”
“Oh… okay.” Candice said. This had to be okay if Heather was okay with it. It was so hard to think with her overpowering aroma hanging out. Warm strawberries, was that it? She walked towards the boy.
“Candice!” Heather warned. Candice sighed and put one foot carefully in front of the other. Her ass swayed. She neared the boy under the tree. Now, how did this go in the movies?
“Um… excuse me,” she said. Candice tried to make her voice sexy. She raised it an octavo. The boy didn’t even look up. “Excuse me!” Startled, the boy looked towards her. Candice bent over at the waist.
“Can you, um, help me see if I.. dropped my book around here?” she said. The boy looked at her, and gradually, gradually, his eyes dropped into the deep line of her cleavage.
“Yes!” she thought, and looked back towards Heather. She gave an encouraging look. “I, uh, lost it around here earlier.”
“Yeah! Uh, sure..” The boy looked around in the grass. Candice cursed. He wasn’t looking anymore. She searched desperately for an answer.
“Oh, maybe it’s… over here.” She said. Candice turned around and bent at the waist, legs primly together. She gave the boy a long, good look at her pink-panty clad ass before straightening, pulling her skirt down. It was so hot out today.
“Guess not!” she chirped, and nearly ran back to Heather’s comforting aura.
“Was that okay?” she said, timidly. “I gave him…”
“I saw! So, he had an erection?”
Candice blushed scarlet. She had completely forgotten to check! “I, um, hold on!” She ran towards the boy again. The book forgotten, he memorized her curves as she approached.
Out of breath, she panted. “Hey, sorry about this, but… did I give you an erection?”
The boy blinked at her. “…Yes!” he said. Candice looked down. His pants were distinctly dented with a hardon. She had done it!
“Oh! Good! Thank you!” she said, then went back to Heather.
“Yes, one erection.” Candice said.
Heather smiled. “Great! Now, get ten more and make sure to write down your reaction to each one. And his reaction. Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She strode off without another word.
Candice watched her go, noting how easily she seemed to make her butt sway from side to side. Ten erections. Still, this was a campus full of young boys, and she was a young independent woman with grace and tact.
Ten erections she could do.
“David. Hi David,” Rebecca said. David gingerly let the door close. “How’re you?”
“Hi… Rebecca,” David said. Even approaching sexual exhaustion, he could still appreciate Rebecca’s top-heavy features. She was a dark blonde, nearly a brunette, and wore another of the bulky sweaters that somehow called attention to her substantial chest.
“I stole this from Heather’s office,” Rebecca reported, holding up a water bottle. “I’m sure she won’t mind.”
David had no idea what Heather minded. His girlfriend had gone mad. The frigid, busy whirlwind of just a few days ago had become a busy whirlwind that insisted on surprising him with tit fucks in the hallway. And who liked getting fucked from behind while doing dishes. And insisted on pampering him in a hundred little ways. It was like all the nice things he had done for Heather were being paid back in just a few days.
He had written it off as her usual over commitment to her latest research project, plus long-overdue payback for his own sacrifices. But he was starting to wonder. Before they left she had insisted on vaccuming. Wearing only panties. And she had gripped the vacuum like she gripped her…
“I don’t know if Heather will mind,” David admitted. He slumped down next to Rebecca, in a comfortable office chair.
“Ah. I think I know why,” Rebecca said. She smiled slyly. “Smart girls, huh?”
“What do you mean?” David said, confused. “Oh, Heather let something slip yesterday,” she smiled smugly. “Men don’t like dating smart girls. Too brainy. Too overinvolved with their careers. Not paying attention to their needs.”
David shrugged. That came close to the truth, but something about it sounded off. “It’s not because they’re smart, it’s.. you know.”
“No, no. I do know, David. You want a girl that cares about what you have to say, who won’t challenge you on everything, who won’t boss you around,”
“Heather can be a little bossy,” he admitted. “Harder! Faster!” she had gasped, on the side of the bed. They would have to clean the comforter tomorrow. Or get a leather one.
“Not every girl is like that, you know,” Rebecca said. She kept smiling. David started to get nervous. That smile looked hungry. “Some of.. us.. like to just sit back, listen to their men, not try and overwhelm them with intellectual prowess.”
“Pretty big word, prowess,” David noted.
“I meant… ability!” Rebecca said. Her face darkened, then she smiled sweetly again.
“I guess what I meant to say, David, is that if you just want someone who you can talk to about stupid stuff like TV shows and movies and stuff that isn’t advanced academic research, give me a call.”
“Uh, okay,” Academics were all weird, he decided. David had caught a glimpse of Jenny legging it out of their bathroom. He had had the good sense not to ask about it.
Rebecca nudged the computer. The screensaver turned off. On the screen was a clearly drunk Rebecca, her skirt askew, wedged between two boys. She wore a shirt that said “Honk if you’re horny” across both nipples.
“Oops!” Rebecca said. “Guess I had that pulled up. I like to get a little wild like that.” She laughed. Her legs spread wide. She wore a short jean skirt, and it was only inches from becoming a scandal. David tried to fight down an erection. His “stay away!” sense was tingling. Rebecca drained the rest of the water bottle.
“Oopsie, spilled some on my sweater,” she said, giggling. “That was stupid.”
“Rebecca!” Heather said. She had come in unnoticed. Her eyes were wide with shock. “Hello! How are you!”
“Just fine,” Rebecca purred, smugly. David tried to hide his erection. He hadn’t meant to have one. These things just happened. It was no use, Heather had already seen it.
“I guess I’ll be leaving. Not to work. Just to… play,” Rebecca said. She put down the water bottle and sauntered out of the office, closing the door behind her.
“What did she say to you?” Heather said. She radiated anger. David could feel the heat.
“She came on to me. In a really weird way,” he reported. Lying would get him nowhere.
“Damn her!” Heather scowled. “Well, come on. Lets get you off.” She turned abruptly and walked into her personal office.
“What?” David said. He expected at least a scolding. Heather turned.
“I saw her boobs, and the water thing, and the skirt. And the voice she used. She got you turned on. I saw your erection. Now I have to get you off. Damn that woman!” Heather had already gotten his belt buckle undone, and pulled down his pants. “Why do I even wear a belt anymore?” David wondered, bemused.
Heather knelt down, giving him an expansive view of the valley between her boobs, and tugged lightly at his cock. After just a few strokes, she murmured “too slow,” and swallowed him whole, sucking on him with intensity and vigor. Her hands stroked her nipples idly while her mouth danced around him. It didn’t take him long to come, and David shot a reduced wad into Heather’s eager mouth. She came soon afterwards, shaking silently with the orgasm. She wiped her mouth and looked him in the eye.
“Watch out for her, she wants to steal you. It’s just girl jealousy stuff. You don’t want to get involved. If she ever gives you a hardon, come to me and I’ll take care of it.”
“Okay,” David gasped. What else could he say? His girlfriend was crazy!
“So close,” Rebecca growled to herself, stalking back to her apartment. It would’ve been the perfect revenge on perfect Heather, stealing his boyfriend. And the “dumb” angle would’ve been the perfect way to do it! Hanging out with Heather, David couldn’t help but want someone.. simple. Easy. Very easy.
Rebecca had gotten the idea while sitting in her office, idly drinking the pilfered bottle from Heather’s room. As the strawberry liquid coursed through her, the idea had sprung up unbidden. A perfect revenge, personal, and easy to execute for a girl like her, not as bright as Heather.
Another idea hit her. She laughed. This was going to be easy. She had a trip to make. But first, home. She had the itch something bad. Thank god for vibrators.
“Candice! We doing this? Au Revoir Les Enfants?” her roommate shouted.
“Later,” Candice gasped. She slumped in her chair. Ten. She had done it. The first nine had just been boob-shows. The last one, running short on men as the light dimmed, she had abruptly pinned against the wall, let the warmth of her boobs do the work for her. Then she had staggered home.
“Not tonight. I’m completely exhausted,” Candice said. Her feet hurt with blisters.
“For your research project?” Melinda asked. “What did she have you do?”
“Not tonight,” Candice repeated. She stumbled into the bathroom, pulled her skirt down, and stuck a finger into her needy pussy. Around boy 6 she had noticed that it was beginning to itch. By the last one she had nearly run home. But Heather had said ten, and Heather was in charge.
She felt her first lazy orgasm approach while she planned her outfit for the next day.
it sounds to me like candice's roommate needs some of that lube :P
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