Wednesday:
“No…” I said to myself in shock. “No, this…this can’t be.”
Somehow, overnight, my breasts had grown another cup-size. I was no longer the B-cup that I’d been so happy with the previous morning (andextremely happy with the previous night)—I’d somehow grown two cup-sizes in two days. I’d gone from being the nice, sexual, respectable girl…to being what Marty had called “Girl Plus”. Not a compliment, not when you knew what it meant.
C-cups…were easy. Not nearly as bad as D-cups, of course, but certainly not prudes. As someone who had been as un-easy as possible just a few days ago, I was barely adjusting to having a normal, healthy sex-life…now I was going to beeasy.
I stood in front of the mirror in shock, until the knock on the door pulled me out of my stupor.
“Sis?” Marty’s voice said, and when I didn’t reply, the door began to open.
“Coming!” I said, quickly turning and putting a shirt on.
I’d gone to school yesterday without a bra—I hadn’t had a choice. Originally I’d been planning to go after school and get myself a nice, new B-cup…but it looked like my sudden growth spurt wasn’t over yet. There’s only a certain tit-size that you can get away with going braless, and let me tell you—it certainly isn’t C.
I decided to wear three layers—surely, I thought, that would be enough to hide my nipples…but as I slipped a singlet on, I shuddered with pleasure and realized that I had another problem.
The sensitivity of my nipples had apparently doubled along with my cup-size, and as the material came into contact with them, I discovered that they were quickly becoming my most erogenous zone. Every time I moved, the thin fabric brushed across them, and try as I might, I couldn’t help but pause and enjoy the feeling.
On top of the singlet I wore a tight T-shirt, and then a thick woollen jumper above that. It wasn’t my most flattering ensemble (although I had to admit, having C-cups made almost anything look good) but it hid the constant-hardness of my nipples, and as long as I was careful with how I moved, I only stimulated myself every two or three steps.
If that’s how good my new boobs feel, I thought to myself as I descended the stairs, pausing in pleasure sporadically, I can’t wait to see what masturbating as a C-cup is like…
I tried to decline my brother’s offer of a milkshake—I wanted to leave as quickly as possible, and try to buy a new bra from the mall, anything that would help keep my nipples under control—but he was so excited about some new combination of flavors that I eventually gave in, and sat down to try it.
“Stella loved it,” he said, and I looked at him with confusion.
“Stella from my school?”
“Yeah,” he said casually, avoiding my eyes. “I went out with her last night. She’s really…fun.”
I couldn’t stop a smile from passing over my lips.
“Fun, is she?”
Marty looked at me and just grinned in response.
After a few sips of Marty’s new milkshake (which somehow managed to be even more delicious than the one he’d made yesterday) I tried to casually bring up the Big Tits Theory.
“Hey yeah,” Marty said, glancing at my new boobs. “I was going to ask you about that…”
“Oh, it’s, uh…I thought it might be a good idea to pretend to have larger boobs than I do. You know…get the boys in. Advertising.”
“False advertising,” Marty said with a laugh, nodding. “Classic A-cup. What did you want to know?”
“C-cups,” I said firmly. There was always a chance that my boobs hadn’t finished growing yet, but I’d cross that bridge when I got to it. “What can you tell me about them?”
“Well,” he said slowly. “I mean, my speciality is D-cups, but I can tell you a bit. Think of them like…like shy guys. Shy guys are always horny, and if they think someone likes them, they’ll make a move, and go pretty much as far as the other party wants. They won’t sleep with someone they’ve just met, but who’s going to turn down a b-job? They’re not freaks…but they don’t really play hard-to-get, either.”
I nodded. Everything he’d said made total sense to me—the nipple stimulation had ensured that I was horny from the minute I put some clothes on, and yeah…it definitely wouldn’t take much for me to take those clothes off again!
I thanked Marty for the milkshake, looked at the time, and cursed. I’d missed my chance to go to the mall…in fact, I’d have to run if I was going to get to school on time at all.
And running with my new tits was definitely not something I was looking forward to.
I managed to get through the first half of the day without doing anything to embarrass myself. Although, honestly, I was finding it harder and harder to work out what would embarrass me.
Boys had noticed. Of course they’d noticed, they were boys…and remembering what Marty said, I acted the part of the shy guy. I didn’t initiate anything, not even when some of the top contenders from yesterday’s list came to say hi.
But it was mid-June, and way too hot for three layers. I’d been at school for less than an hour when I caved, and took the woollen jumper off—I was drowning in sweat, and knew that I wouldn’t last the rest of the day buried under so many layers.
As I’d feared, without the jumper, my nipples were clearly visible. The T-shirt I’d bought back when my breasts were tiny was stretched obscenely by my new C-cups, bulging out and making it nearly impossible for any boy to keep his eyes on my face.
Worst of all, the stimulation hadn’t gone down, and drawing so much male attention did nothing but accentuate it. And so as soon as the bell rang for lunch, I got up out of my seat and ran (causing a bouncing that I’d seen on other girls but never expected to experience myself) straight for the bathroom to get myself off.
How odd, I thought, that something I’d never done before yesterday was suddenly so vital to getting through the rest of the day. And vital it was—as soon as I was in the stall, my shirt and singlet were up against my neck, and my pants were down.
Pinching and groping at my new tits, I moaned loudly. It felt so…so good. Yesterday’s session was like a light drizzle—this was more akin to a heavy rain. I plunged one hand down into my panties, and went straight for the clit—no foreplay was necessary. As I pinched and tugged at my left nipple, two fingers entered my virgin hole, over and over, and my thumb ran over my clit, lubricated more than enough by my freely-flowing juices.
I imagined pleasing all the boys that had spent the day staring at me—I imagined them pulling me aside, taking me into an empty classroom, forcing me to my knees, and pulling their cocks out. I wanted to suck them off, all of them—I wanted to feel their cum splashing against the back of my throats, taste their sweat. I wanted them to use me.
It was that image which made me cum—just like I had the previous night, my hips bucked forward, wanting to press and push against an imaginary cock. Some part of me wanted to be fucked, I knew that…but I was still a C-cup. Second, third base…that would satiate me.
For now.
I deliberately avoided thinking about what would happen if my tits kept growing, cleaned myself up, and left (after checking to make sure that there had been no one else in the bathroom).
As I walked down the corridor, I felt much more relaxed than I had all morning. I was okay. I was in control. There was nothing to worry about…
It was a feeling that quickly disappeared as I noticed the stares.
Some of them (perhaps even most of them) were undoubtedly because of my new breasts. But I couldn’t stop my imagination from running wild—what if someone had seen me go into the toilets, and heard what I did in there? I certainly hadn’t put any effort into being quiet. What if they knew about the Big Tits Theory as well, and they were laughing because they knew what I was now, what I’d do.
What if they were staring because they wanted me?
That last thought got stuck in my head, and my nipples (which had been soft for a few glorious minutes) began to plump up again, and rub against the material of my underthings. I suddenly wished that I had my sweater, that I hadn’t left it in my locker…I was conflicted, simultaneously wanting to cover up and expose myself, lift my shirt and show the world what was underneath.
What a distinctly D-cup thought, I reflected, before gasping as I turned the corner.
In front of me stood Patrick, champion of the school’s football team, and subject of my fantasy the previous night. He wasn’t the quarterback, but I didn’t know enough about the sport to understand why.
All I knew was that he was perfect.
Standing more than six foot tall, he towered over me…over every woman in the school. I’d heard girls talking about him in the past, about how much they wanted him, but until my latent growth sport, I’d never understood why.
Suddenly, it all made sense. He was muscled, tall, and so dominant that just standing near him made my knees weak. Yesterday I’d fantasized about being in a long-term relationship with him, but now…well, now I would have been happy to be face-fucked and thrown out.
He saw me staring at him, glanced down at the double show I was inadvertently putting on for the whole school, and strode over to him. I leaned on the wall, trying to act casual, aware that with every movement I made, my tits wobbled slightly, and that it would be a strong man who could resist sneaking a peek…
“Hey,” he said, his deep voice making a chill go up my spine. “Patrick.”
“I’m, uh…” I paused, lost in his eyes, before shaking my head (again, causing motion on my chest that I knew would attract his attention) “…we haven’t met.”
“I’d like to,” he said with a grin, and before I knew what I was doing, I was pushing on his chest, taking him into an empty classroom, making my fantasy come true…
I knew that I wasn’t acting as shy as someone of my cup-size perhaps should, but I figured he’d definitely shown interest, and everything after that was okay, right? Besides, even though I didn’t want to admit it, I got the feeling that my growth spurt had continued into the day…I was now, at the very least, a large C.
Patrick didn’t say much, just stood there with a cool, amused look on his face as I grabbed his head and forcibly started making out with him. Not, of course, that he needed much forcing—he reached up and grabbed my hair with one hand, reaching out and cupping my boob with the other.
I don’t know if there’s a website that guys go to learn these moves, but when he pulled my hair and tilted my head back so he could have free access to my neck, it just drove me wild. “Please,” I panted, and he let go, looking at me with concern.
“Please,” I repeated, “…don’t stop.”
That cocky grin appeared on his face once more, and soon his tongue was back down my throat, and his hand was once more tweaking my nipple.
I was practically shaking with need—I’d thought that getting off in the bathroom would be enough, but it seemed to have just increased my hunger, like giving a slice of bread to a starving man. I didn’t know exactly what I wanted, but I knew that Patrick was going to give it to me.
The classroom I’d instinctively taken him to was mostly disused, and the lights were off, signifying that there would be no more classes there for the rest of the day. So I didn’t fight him as he slid my pants and then my panties off, and the flow of juices from my most private parts ensured that his hand faced no resistance at all as he slipped two fingers inside of me, and started slowly moving them in and out.
I was writhing with desire as my body took over, and I pulled my top off, finally freeing the breasts that all day had wanted so desperately to be seen. His eyes widened at the sight of them, and I reached down to feel his hardness.
I did that, I briefly thought, before reluctantly pulling his finger out from my wetness, and slithering down to his knees.
I’d never seen a cock before…in fact, except for one sleepover with my girlfriends where they’d insisted (despite my opposition) on watching a dirty film, I’d never even seen a cock before. But I listened to my boobs, obeying my instincts, and licked it a few times before moving the whole thing into my mouth.
Patrick seemed to know what he was doing as well, and his hands never let go of the sides of my head—he guided my mouth, as well as thrusting back and forth.
He’s fucking my mouth, I thought, wide-eyed and horny. He’s fucking my mouth…I’ve never even kissed a boy before today, and now Patrick Kent is fucking my mouth…
One of my hands reached up and started playing with my needy nipples, while the other went between my legs, stroking my clit. I didn’t want to come before him—that, I somehow knew, was rude—but I also knew that if he didn’t hurry up, I’d have no choice.
I kept my eyes wide opened, staring up at Patrick’s face as he smiled, enjoying the feeling of fucking the face of a girl he’d only just met a few minutes ago. I tried to avoid thinking about how full my mouth felt, tried to think about anything other than the taste of his cock, how good it felt to be orally fucked by such a sexy, dominant male…but I was right on the cusp when he grunted that he was cumming, and I stimulated the underside of his cock with my tongue, the best I could.
I don’t know what I was expecting, but as his cum shot into my mouth, its taste surprised me…until I came, putting all other thoughts out of my mind.
When I opened my eyes, Patrick was already redressed, staring down at me, that ever-present smile upon his face. I went red when I realized what he’d seen—my fingers, buried deep inside my hairy pussy…my tits, wobbling and jiggling as my hips thrust upward.
It must have been obvious how much I wanted to be fucked…but not today.
No, I wasn’t that kind of girl. Not yet.
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