It had been a warm summer of happy moments. Each day had burst open, like a flower, with an intoxicating blend of fun and learning. There had been some innocent and very intriguing flirtation with shy, eager boys that understood romance and chocolates. Overhead, the sun had overseen a forced march of perfect cloud-free days.
That was the version of the summer Emily had sold to Courtney.
It was the only way her reluctant roommate would commit to spend her summer as a Counselor at Camp Science Preparation. After all, the money was crap. She had no altruistic reason to aid the twelve recent High School graduates that made up the female camper component of Camp Science Preparation.
The summer had not gone according to plan.
There had been no warm moments.
There had been no flirtation.
And, most of all, there had been no sun.
The sun had disappeared once again behind clouds three days ago. Steady rainfall pattered on the leaky roof of the Camp Hall. Underneath, Courtney and Emily waited in the corner, by the punch bowl. Chaperoning.
Courtney had lapsed into a dark silence, punctuated by fits of sarcasm.
“How are you smiling?” Courtney growled. “Is that just how you were born? Did your Mom push you out with that grin?”
Emily had maintained a hopeful smile all day.
Her teenage years, raised on 80s movies, had convinced her that the Camp Dance would produce something… magical. Eyes would meet across a crowded dance hall. Boys would turn, stare at the attractive and amazingly intelligent scientist they had ignored all summer.
She had imagined a spotlight dance with Brian, her boy of choice, a thin boy with a trembling smile. There was something familiar and comforting about his easy laugh. It called to her.
In the actual world, the other male counselors had ditched chaperone duties immediately, then stumped back en masse to play Team Fortress 2. The only people left were the eager, geeky boy campers, with their sweaty hands and asthmatic wheezing. It was embarrassingly easy to spot straining boners in their freshly-ironed khakis. They surrounded the dozen nervous girl campers and spasmed in place, with their feet set.
“Why are we even chaperoning?” Courtney groused. “If one of our girls lets a geek into their pants, they deserve what happens next. It’s like an intelligence test.”
Courtney slumped against the wall. She had made an effort. The dark blonde had pulled out her new purple dress, with the short sleeves and the frilly hem. It hit just above two knobby knees. Courtney looked like a female scarecrow at the best of times, and the dress searched in vain for something to hug and accentuate.
Not that Emily was much better. She looked down. The petite asian girl had convinced herself that the dark black dress, with the sash, looked demure and feminine. Instead, with her hand-me-down black leather shoes and boyish figure Emily looked like she was about to give a piano recital.
“This is sad,” Courtney said, shaking her head. “I fear for the species.”
On the dance floor, Tribe Butterfly of Camp Science Preparation Girl Campers danced close together, for protection. Half were the same stick/reed types as Courtney, with limp, drab hair. Then three girls that looked like volleyballs. Two more that could’ve been anything, behind layers of black clothes. And…
“Courtney, what’s going on over there?” Emily said, puzzled.
The boys had clumped together, like dried pasta, around a girl dancing by herself. By process of elimination that had to be Samantha, one of the sickly girls, with glasses so heavy they showed your reflection.
“I really don’t care,” Courtney said, but dragged herself off the wall when Emily strode out into the center of the room.
All the guys had enormously happy smiles, and didn’t notice her arrival. Emily pushed two more boys aside, and blinked, startled.
The girl in the middle looked very little like Samantha.
Samantha didn’t have tits.
This girl had huge ones, and they came without a bra, swaying and gyrating in time to the music. Her nipples popped against the Camp Science Preparation t-shirt, which had been altered into a sort of crude sling for her mammoth chest. Sweat trickled, lewdly, down the center of a healthy valley of cleavage.
Samantha, if that was her, danced furiously, thrusting herself at the ecstatic boys in a circle around her. Her legs—long, dancer legs—were shoehorned into the Camp shorts, which gripped at a magnificent rear end. She locked onto nerds with smoky blue eyes, and winked indiscriminately.
All to the music of Jock Jams II, over a single Sony CD player.
Her hands were the worst. Emily stood, shocked. They kept rubbing, more then suggestively, at the juncture between two sexy thighs. Every so often another hand would grab at her stretched-out nipples, and tease at the tips.
The crowd was half a second away from simply throwing her onto the floor and masturbating onto her boobs. Samantha looked like she would enjoy the experience.
Emily broke out of her reverie, thrust her way into the middle of the circle, and grabbed Samantha by the arm.
“Party is over!” she snapped, to dozens of groans and almost as many snarls. Courtney, picking up the slack, grabbed Samantha’s other arm and yanked her out. Her boobs jiggled as the two chaperones escorted her, firmly, to the Camp Administration room.
Behind them, dozens of boys looked around, then sneaked off into the bush to do something about aching-hard erections.
“Who are you, and what happened to Samantha?” Courtney said, leaning back on the desk. They had put Samantha in the Trouble Chair. It was usually reserved for students who had gotten into a fight, or cheated on an assignment. It had never hosted a dim-looking blonde who still dripped with sweat.
Samantha looked confused. Closer up, it WAS still Samantha… or her very attractive sister. She had Samantha’s long, pointed nose, and her silver-ring earrings. It was just that the rest of her had been inflated. With helium, apparently.
“I am Samantha?” she said, uncertain, and put her pinky in her mouth. Her nails were painted pink.
“What happened to you?” Emily exploded.
“Huh?” Dim comprehension struggled behind her eyes. “Oh! You mean my boobs, right? Why my boobies got real big?”
“Sure, fine,” Emily said. She paced in front of the bimbo. “What kind of growth spurt did you have?” The previous Samantha had been as small-boobed as the rest of the sad tribe of girls. She had been especially good at matrices, and was bound for Carnegie Mellon.
“Umm… this is gonna sound weird…” Samantha said, halting, “…but I think it was this stuff that gave me… tits.”
She reached into her mouth, and pulled out a small, dripping wad of gum.
It smelled sweet.
Even from fairly far away Emily could smell it. Sugary, candy-strawberry gum. Something else floated in the scent, something hard to identify. It wasn’t a bad smell. Not a bad smell even a little bit. She inhaled hard, to grab a little bit more of the door.
“Keep talking,” Courtney prompted. Samantha popped the gum back into her plump, perfect lips and restarted chewing.
“I, um…” Samantha’s train of thought barely made it to the station. “I started chewing this gum, okay? And my boobs started growing like crazy! Plus it made my body feel totally good! Did I do something wrong?” She blinked, innocently.
Her hands crept up to her parody of the camp uniform, and started to lightly caress her tits.
“Samantha, can you wait outside?” Emily said. “I think we’re going to need to talk about this one.”
“Okay, what the hell was that?” Emily said. Samantha had been maneuvered outside. When she walked, she put one foot in front of the other, as if she was modeling.
The scent of the gum lingered in the room, long after the usual camp mustiness should have driven it away. It hadn’t stopped being appetizing, either. Her mouth watered, and she kept swallowing.
“I think it’s pretty obvious,” Courtney said. “Samantha has been chewing some sort of magic gum that gave her huge breasts.”
“You really think so?” Emily said, wide-eyed.
Her best friend snorted. “No! Of course not, geez. Samantha is, in my professional opinion, the smartest person in this entire Camp. She’s trying to get us to send her home.”
“Huh?”
“She had a growth spurt over the summer,” Courtney explained, as if she was a slow child. “Then she realized that instead of living the life of the female science major, which is to say, horrible and boring, she decided to go home and do something fun with her life.”
That made a lot more sense then magic gum, even if it was also depressing and insulting.
But that glazed pleasure in Samantha’s eyes… had she really been faking that?
“What about the dancing?” Emily insisted.
“If I had tits like that, I’d show them off, too,” Courtney said, waving it off. “I’ll bet it’s fun to have all the guys looking at you. You could have your choice.”
They both paused, remembering the choices. “Not necessarily here, of course,” Courtney conceded. “Back at college.”
Emily looked at the chair Samantha had just vacated. There was a smear of wetness on it, where her slit had been pressed against the wood. That sort of thing seemed hard to fake, but…
“C’mon,” Courtney said, lowering herself from the table. “Lets get the Administrator awake, and give Samantha’s parents a call. Won’t they be surprised.”
It was the next afternoon.
“And so if you conjugate this function, you can use the divisor…” Emily said. She blinked through gummed-up eyes. Her head felt cold and foggy. Flashes of last night’s weirdness kept floating through it.
The now-eleven girls sat in front of their Camp computers. They were in Lab. One to Three was Programming Instruction, taught by Emily. Then Free Time, then a back-breaking two hours of Group Lab, then dinner.
Her charges tapped dutifully on the computer. As usual, Courtney sat in the back corner, her feet up on an ancient stool, and let Emily do the work. Outside, more rain fell on the muddy campgrounds.
A hand went up. One of the front-row beanpoles, Candice. “Yes? Candice?”
“Ummm.. what happened to Samantha?” Candice asked.
Emily had watched from a distance as Samantha had been bundled into her parents’ little brown hatchback at eight in the morning. Happily, she had been wrapped in a big green blanket, against the cold. Her parents wouldn’t discover the sudden knockers and boy-friendly attitude until she was halfway home. Lord willing.
Emily had been dreading that conversation. “Yes, well, Mom and Dad, girls do grow up a little. Sometimes a lot. Sometimes until they have monster boobs.”
“Samantha… went home. I’m sure that you all noticed she had something of a…” what was a good word? “…a growth spurt.”
Emily blinked. Were the two black-wearing Goths chewing gum? They looked particularly bored, leaning heads against black-painted fingernails, and slowly chomping on something.
“Uh, anyway. I’m still confident we can finish our project in time for the campfire…”
All the ‘tribes’ had to present something at the end of summer campfire. Emily had hit on computer animation. Originally they had planned on a version of the (female) tortoise and the (male) hare. Then the rabbit had been dropped due to time restrictions. They were still struggling to animate a single lipstick-wearing turtle making it to the finish line.
Mentioning the Project had been a mistake. All eleven High School graduates looked beaten down. A sudden crack of thunder, outside, didn’t help. Courtney, in the back, strangled herself with a pretend noose.
“Okay, why don’t we all take a break? We’ll meet again tomorrow. Go Tribe Butterfly!” Emily said, weakly.
Dinner had been joyless. Many of the smarter boys had had the presence of mind to take cellphone pictures of Samantha, most of them with hands firmly attached to tits or genitals, and they clustered around the tiny screens. Courtney had disappeared after quickly working through the Monday Burrito.
Emily had retreated to their shared cabin shortly afterwards.
“Look what I found!” Courtney sang, letting the screen door slam. She tossed off her raincoat. Behind her, more rain thudded down, relentless.
“A decent summer?” Emily said, sprawled on the bed.
Courtney blinked. “Wow, negativity from you. Surprising. No, I meant I rifled through Samantha’s bunk. Look what I found underneath her mattress.”
She let it fall onto her own messy bedspread. Six packs of gum, without labels, wrapped in white tape and kept apart by kleenex.
“Is that… homemade gum?” Emily said, sitting up. “You don’t think…”
“I do think. Here, have a sniff. I’m sure you remember what it smelled like.”
She absolutely did.
Sweet, with a hint of spice underneath. And just like last time, the scent quickly filled up the musty interior of their rain-soaked cabin. It even seemed warmer. Emily’s mouth started to water.
They both stared at it.
“So… are you going to chew some?” Emily said, quietly.
“I don’t see why not,” Courtney said. Both of them looked long and hard at the nondescript jumble of gum. “Heads, I get boobs. Tails, I chew gum. Edge, I go home. It’s an automatic win.”
“Not that I really think it’s going to do anything,” Courtney added, quickly. “I’m still sticking to the growth spurt hypothesis.”
“I don’t think this is the sort of thing—“ Emily began. But Courtney was already unwrapping a stick, her fingers shaking. Her nose flared, and she crammed it inside her mouth. Her blonde friend with the boring body chewed on the stick, switching it from one side of her mouth to the other.
It was silly, but Emily kept looking at Courtney’s nonexistent chest. “Well?” she prompted.
“No udders yet,” Courtney reported, thoughtfully. “But this is really amazing gum. It’s sweet, and there’s something hot and spicy in it. It’s even a little salty. You want some?”
The candy cane scent was tempting. And Emily couldn’t help but look down at her boobs. They weren’t just boyish. They were downright mortifying. You could nearly balance a wine glass on her chest.
Courtney walked across the room, chewing as she went, to offer Emily a stick. She leaned up close. Emily inhaled. Courtney’s breath was now sticky and sweet.
“No thanks,” Emily said, quickly. Courtney shrugged, tossed her the pack anyway. “Suit yourself,” she said, and went back to her bed.
To chew.
“I’m going to bed,” Emily announced, hours later. The effort of animating a realistic turtle-walking sequence had given her a splitting headache. Courtney hadn’t made it any easier. She was a noisy and lip-smacking gum chewer, rolling the stuff around in her mouth.
Courtney started out of her reverie. “Bed? It’s…” she checked the clock, and her eyes opened. “Ten thirty? Really? But I just… huh. I thought it was, like, eight.”
“Time flies when you chew gum, huh?” Emily said, unsympathetic.
They tossed on pajamas, and climbed into bed. Emily clicked the light off.
She waited ten minutes. “Courtney, stop chewing the damn gum!”
“Huh?” Courtney sounded startled. “Oh… right.
“Right.”
It was still dark out, and the clock read—actually, it was impossible for Emily to read without her glasses, but there weren’t a lot of digits. Outside, the rain had subsided to the overnight drizzle that had been their constant companion.
Usually, by now, the room was a soulless suck on any warmth, forcing Emily to huddle underneath the Camp blankets. But tonight that sweet scent had fought the cold off. It was almost… warm.
The gum that Courtney had handed her waited on her bedside. Before she could think too much about it, Emily sat up, took out a colorless stick, and popped it into her mouth.
It DID taste good.
Not that she was a gum person, but she remembered her gum experiences as a burst of artificial sugar, followed by a hard, cardboard-y aftertaste. This stuff began with a starburst of cinnamon-sugar. Underneath was a hint of heat, not quite spicy, but almost.
It only seemed to grow stronger as she chewed, anxious for it, swallowing rapidly and hard.
“Just ten minutes,” she told herself, staring at the clock. Then she would go back to sleep. The gum couldn’t last longer then five, anyways.
If this stuff worked, ten minutes would just add a little weight, a firmness, enough that she could wear a bikini without the stupid thing falling off. So she didn’t look like a twelve year old girl just out of pigtails.
“Boobs,” she said, out loud. She could have boobs. She could be a scientist and have boobs. The two weren’t exclusive, despite the evidence available.
How long had it been? Emily surveyed the clock with bleary eyes. It had been…
“Thirty minutes?” she whispered. Where had the time gone? And why had the gum still kept its sweet flavor the entire time? Emily reluctantly took the gum out, surveyed the still-tasty stick, and stuck it on the side of the bed. Where Courtney wouldn’t see.
The sugary, saccharine taste still coated her tongue when she woke up.
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