Thursday Morning:
I woke up, and was unsurprised to discover that my bra, despite being brand new, didn’t fit.
After school the previous day, I’d finally made my trip to the mall. A quick fitting had confirmed my suspicions—I was a large C, but still a C-cup. I’d put a bra on, breathed a sigh of relief when it relieved the stimulation from my nipples, bought it and returned home just in time to see Marty off on another date.
I was getting pretty good at estimating bra-sizes by that point, but I didn’t even need to—he mouthed “D” to me as he left. She looked strangely familiar, but it didn’t click until a few hours later—it was one of Marty’s old teachers. She’d been at the school when I started, but I’d never had any classes with her, and she’d left to get married a few months later.
Oddly enough, in my memory she was extremely flat-chested…but of course that had been before I paid attention to such things.
I’d spent the rest of the evening masturbating, stopping only to try on my bra and sigh in relief when it still fit. It was increasingly tight, yes, but I could definitely still get it on…
…until I awoke the next morning.
I barely managed to squeeze into one of my shirts—my huge new tits filled my top so much that it barely even covered my midriff. That sort of look with pants wouldn’t have made any sense, so I wriggled into one of my old miniskirts, and went downstairs to pick Marty’s brain.
“Wow!” he said when he saw me. “Sis, are you…”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said, and unable to stop himself from staring at my tits, he just nodded. “D-cups…what do you know about them?”
“A lot,” he said, one eyebrow raised, still talking to my breasts. “Are you…—”
“Not now, Marty!” I interrupted, stamping one foot petulantly. The motion rippled through my body, and made my tits bounce….Marty’s attention was beginning to make me feel warm, but I really didn’t want to think about that right now. “Please! I need…I need to know.”
“Well…” he said, pulling up a stool and placing a milkshake in front of me. “Where do I start? D-cups are easy…really easy. Like, look at them the right way and they’ll fuck you easy.”
I took a sip of the impossibly delicious milkshake and swallowed nervously as he continued.
“There’s pretty much nothing that they won’t do—anal, pearl necklaces, spanking…you name it, they get off on it. Oh, and they take any excuse…and I mean any excuse to get their kit off. They enjoy themselves, too, in my experience. They cum like firecrackers. The smallest thing will set them off. Yeah, you gotta love D-cups…they’re always up for it.”
I nodded, and then a horrible thought came into my head.
“And…Marty?” I asked softly.
“Mmm?”
“What…what do you know about E-cups?”
“Oh, E-cups are total freaks. I tend to not even mess with them…when you get up to E-cups, you’re looking at porn stars, that sort of thing. There’s nothingan E-cup won’t do…hell, they’ll probably even fuck their own family, given half a chance.”
My eyes widened in shock. I had to find out why my tits were suddenly growing, and stop them…before it was too late.
I gulped down my milkshake, and ran out the door, feeling Marty’s admiring eyes on my legs as I left.
The decision to skip the first few classes of the day was an easy one, now that I knew what I was. Hell, I would probably have gotten to school and dragged some boy into the bathroom with me, and just let him bang me throughout the first few classes anyway…the thought was appealing, but I had to remember—I was on a mission.
First stop: the mall.
I ran into the lingerie shop I’d visited yesterday, avoiding eye contact with everyone. My cheeks burned red as I realized that everyone, everyone was staring at the girl with the huge rack and the long legs and the high heels—why had I worn high heels? She was the kind of girl who you could tell was easy, a girl that drew everyone’s attention…
And that girl was me. If I looked up, I knew that I’d catch some guy’s eye, and a few minutes later we’d be in the back seat of his car, and I’d be getting pounded like I so desperately needed…
No. Had to concentrate. I got into the lingerie show, relieved to find that it was a girl at the counter. She looked at me with a strange mix of disgust and professionalism, but it was obvious that she didn’t want to fuck me. Which was almost a pity, because I’d never been with a…focus! Focus. I was here to get a bra.
I grabbed the first D-cup that I could see, and in the changing room, sighed with relief. It fit. A tiny bit snugly, but I was definitely a D-cup. I went to buy it, but couldn’t resist going with the more transparent option…if my shirt were to accidentally come off, I’d hate to be embarrassed by my boring brassiere, after all.
Once I was out of the bra store, my tatas receiving slightly more support, I relaxed slightly. Next stop: a medical professional.
As I marched into our family doctor’s office, I was relieved to find that he hadn’t replaced his secretary—for as long as I’d been going (which was since I’d been a little girl) Ms Weiser has manned the front desk. A part of me had been worried that the professional older woman would have been replaced with someone younger, maybe a body-builder working at the doctor’s office part-time.
I’d feared that as soon as I entered, he’d throw me a smouldering glance, tell me that the doctor was out, and that I’d uncontrollably step toward him, our eyes locked, until I leaned across his desk, showing off my now-ample cleavage…he’d brush everything aside, expense be damned, and throw me down, kissing me passionately, and fucking me so hard that I’d have trouble walking afterward…
So when I saw that my fantas…that my fear was misplaced, I sat down, disappointed, and waited for Dr Lorne to see me.
“It’s been too long,” the doctor said as I entered. In fact, he’d seen me just a month beforehand, but one advantage that I was discovering a fuller chest gave you was that people tended to remember you a little better.
“It’s…well, I’m a bit worried about the growth spurt I’m going through,” I said, and at the doctor’s quizzical look, gestured to my chest.
“Ah, yes,” he said, putting on his glasses and having a look. “Well, probably nothing to worry about…a lot of girls are just late bloomers in that regard.”
I giggled at that, and Dr Lorne gave me a strange look. My eyes opened in innocent shock—I genuinely had no idea why his comment had drawn a chuckle. Dr Lorne was just suddenly so…attractive. Authoritative. He must have been thirty years older than me (at least) but he was still a man, and what’s more, one who was staring at my chest…
A man staring at my chest, I was quickly learning, was my favorite kind of man.
I arched my back, trying to give him the best possible look at my new assets. My “late bloomers”, I thought with another giggle. If I was going to get to the bottom of this, then a medical professional was obviously the way to go…
“If you’d feel more comfortable,” Dr Lorne said, “I could get a nurse in here to look. But if you don’t mind, I’d like to have a look—check for stretch-marks, that sort of thing.”
“Oh no, doctor…” I said, inadvertently dripping sex with every word. “I’d lovefor you to have a look.”
That strange look returned—Dr Lorne pursed his lips, and after a few second’s thought, came to some kind of silent decision.
“If you wouldn’t mind,” he said, gesturing to my T-shirt.
A part of me was tempted to rip the shirt off—it was already straining—but if I was going to work out why my breasts had abruptly started expanding, I knew I had to hide the real reason I was here. No, wait…finding out why my breasts were growing was the real reason I was here. Wasn’t it? Everything was suddenly so confusing.
The shirt lifted my boobs slightly as I pulled it off, and I was gratified to see Dr Lorne staring at them as they fell, bouncing slightly as they settled back into place. He continued to stare at them, as if entranced, as I reached behind myself and undid my bra. It fell away, and my perky pink nipples came into view—Dr Lorne shifted slightly in his seat, and a cheeky grin appeared on my face as I realized that though he may have been a medical professional, he was also human.
“What do you think, Doc?” I asked, lifting each one individually, and then letting them go. My fingertips brushed across my nipples, and I stifled a moan of pleasure.
“Well…” he said, sounding slightly flustered. “How long have you been going through this growth spurt?”
I thought for a second—the math was surprisingly hard. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday…
“Three days,” I said, and he looked at me with one eyebrow raised.
“Three days?”
“That’s right, sir.” I said, the last word slipping out unprompted. “On Monday, I was an A-cup…”
Dr Lorne had been jotting notes down in a small pad, but as I spoke, he slammed it shut, and threw me a dirty look. Not the fun kind of dirty, either.
“Oh, please…are you trying to tell me that your breasts have grown four cup sizes in three days?”
“Three,” I said. “I a D-cup, not an E-cup.”
…not yet, I added mentally.
“Please, doctor, you’ve got to help me…I can’t just keep on growing.”
“My dear,” the doctor said, continuing to look at me unhappily. “First of all, growing three cup-sizes in three days is medically impossible. Secondly, if youhad grown that much that quickly, you’d have stretch-marks. And if you have a look here…”
The doctor reached out and grabbed my left breast, moving it left and right. My eyes fluttered back in my head—it felt so nice to have someone else touching me, and without meaning to, I let out a small whimper. I hadn’t gotten off all day, and between all the men at the mall, and the male model that Dr Lorne hadn’t hired, and now him…a real man, touching me…
I needed release.
“…you can see that there’s no sign of any growth at all.”
With that, he stood up, and gestured for me to put my clothes back on.
“Now, if you’ve finished wasting my time, I do have other patients…”
I don’t know what I must have looked like at that moment. I’d accidentally slipped into fantasy—acknowledging my own arousal had been a bad idea, because my mind was now racing with different ways that I could find release. I could ask the doctor to watch me get myself off, to “make sure I was doing it right.” He could help me out, teach me, take me…
But whatever expression I had on my face, Dr Lorne must have interpreted it as anguish or fear. He sat down next to me, on the thin bed.
“Unless,” he said softly, “that’s not why you’re here…”
Looking back, I can see that he was trying to be sympathetic. He was worried that I was having trouble at home, or perhaps that I was pregnant…I don’t even know what. But in that moment, at that level of arousal, I interpreted his words as a come-on.
And I, after all, was a D-cup…like all D-cups, I was incapable of resisting a come-on.
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