Message-ID: <54565asstr$1158945002@assm.asstr.org>
From: "Samantha" <samanthak@fastmail.fm>
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Subject: {ASSM} Sam - Part 2  (FF, MF, tort, exhib, size, viol)
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Date: Fri, 22 Sep 2006 13:10:02 -0400
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Part 2 of 21

Part 3 showed up in ASSM, but not 2, so I am resubmitting Part 2.
-- 
  Samantha
  samanthak@fastmail.fm

-- 
http://www.fastmail.fm - A no graphics, no pop-ups email service

<1st attachment, "Sam - Part2.doc" begin>

Sam - Part 2
by Samantha K.
(FF, MF, tort, exhib, size, viol)
[comments welcome: SamanthaK(at)fastmail.fm]

The next day, after Cheerleading practice, I reported to Mrs.
Reynolds at the scheduled time.  When I stepped into the foyer,
she had me strip off everything above the waist before she took
me downstairs.  Leaving my sweater, blouse and bra upstairs, I
walked topless down to the family room, where she attached the
weights and started the timer.  I wandered slowly around the
room, looking for some way to take my mind off the pain and the
relentless pull of the weights.  I couldn't focus on anything.  I
just kept moving and changing position to spread the load of the
weights as evenly as I could.  The hour passed slowly.  When the
timer went off, I tried to cultivate patience while I waited for
Mrs. Reynolds to come and release me.  It was only a few minutes
before she appeared.  I was lying on the bench with my arms
behind my head and the weights hanging down on either side of the
bench, pulling my breasts apart and down.  My eyes were red from
the pain, but I wasn't crying.  When she came in, I sat up
carefully and waited for her. 
Mrs. Reynolds looked at my nipples where the clamps were
attached, apparently satisfying herself that they had not been
removed and reattached.  "Very well, you may take them off," she
told me.  I released the clamps and let the weights drop to the
bench.  I crossed my arms over my aching breasts and doubled
over.  After a minute, I straightened up and returned the weights
to the shelf.  Mrs. Reynolds watched as I went to the desk and
started in on my studying, then she went back upstairs.  The rest
of the afternoon passed quickly.  I was again watching TV when my
mother called to tell Mrs. Reynolds that she was home.
As promised, when I went back upstairs to get dressed, Mrs.
Reynolds helped me into me a new bra with larger cups.  It was
much more comfortable to wear than my old one.  It was a better
quality bra than my old one, too.  It was also much prettier, a
small consolation that I was surprised to find meant quite a bit
to me.
The rest of the week passed without a change in the routine
except for the predicted effects of the hormone pills that I
continued to take every day.  My voice became less husky and
sounded higher-pitched in my ears.  My pubic hair became so thick
and bushy that I considered trimming it or even shaving it  
something that I was certain would infuriate my mother in the
extreme.  
I seemed to be much more aware of my pussy than I had ever been
before.  I found myself thinking about sex all the time.  I
started going into the girls' restroom at school two, three, and
then four times a day to masturbate.  This almost got me into
trouble a few times because my orgasms were becoming stronger and
lasting longer.  If I took too long to cum in the restroom stall,
I would get to my next class late.  Often, I would sit through
the first part of a class with my eyes glazed over and my clit
throbbing in my panties, which seemed to be damp with juice all
the time.  I started taking them off and going bare under my
skirt so my pussy would not get itchy from the damp.  Once,
forgot to put them back on before cheerleading practice and spent
the whole practice doing the exercises, jumps, and tumbling
without remembering.  No one said anything at the time, but I
noticed later that practice started drawing a larger number of
onlookers; mostly boys.  
My breasts seemed to be getting heavier even as they were getting
longer and limper.  My nipples developed a constant tingle and I
was always trying to sneak a hand under my top to rub them.  I
seemed to be weaker and I had to work harder at cheerleading
practice to stay in shape to do the stunts and routines.  Even my
mother commented on how I seemed to be changing from a tomboy
into a very feminine young lady.

Through all this I dutifully reported to Mrs. Reynolds every day
after school or practice.  After the first couple of days, she
let me attach and remove the nipple clamps myself, under her
supervision.  That was good, because I could put them in a
slightly different place each day and that eased the soreness
afterward.
After the first week, she even stopped monitoring my weight
sessions, expecting me to keep to the schedule on my own.  I was
very careful not to abuse the privilege and I was meticulous
about setting the timer and not letting the weights be supported
in whatever position I assumed.  I vividly remembered the first
day when I was trapped on the weight machine and could not move
at all.  It was so much better when I could shift around to
different positions so that the strain was not all on one part of
my chest.
Every day when the weights came off, my nipples were a little
longer and my breasts drooped a little more.  This went on for
the better part of two weeks.  It was Thursday of the second week
when things began to change.  
I walked to the house at the end of the road as usual and pushed
the doorbell.  Mrs. Reynolds opened the door only a second or two
after I rang the bell.
"Come in, Samantha.  How are you today?"  She had on a sheer
blouse that draped over her hips and hung down to mid-thigh.  She
wore it as a short dress, unbuttoned, with a matching belt tied
in front, holding it around her hips.  It was open all the way to
her navel and displayed her cleavage completely.  I wondered if
this was the fifth or the sixth outfit she had worn that day.
"I'm fine, Mrs. Reynolds.  How are you?"  She looked surprised at
my greeting.  I could not tell if it was because I had returned
the greeting at all or because I sounded so cheerful.  I'm not
sure why I was in a good mood.  I guess you can only stay
depressed for so long, even in a terrible situation.
"I'm well, thank you, honey.  Come in.  Remember the rules..."
I was not even through the door good when I pulled my sweater
over my head and started undoing the buttons of my blouse.
"Here, let me help you with that," Mrs. Reynolds said
considerately, after she shut the door.  She took my sweater and
put it on the table in the foyer.  She would have helped unbutton
my blouse, but I had it off before she got the chance.  I handed
it to her and had reached behind me to unhook my bra when she
held out a hand and said, "Wait.  Let me do that."
I stood quietly as she put my blouse on the table and then turned
to me and put her hands on either side of my breasts and felt how
they were filling my bra cups.  She slipped her fingers into the
cups and felt for slackness.  There wasn't any.  My breasts
completely filled the DD-cups and bulged out of the top of the
bra.
"Very good," she said, "you're coming along nicely."  She reached
behind me, pressing her breasts against mine in the process, and
unhooked my bra.  She pulled it over my shoulders and away from
my breasts, which fell free and hung swaying on my chest. 
Before, they had merely bounced when I took off my bra, now they
dropped.  Mrs. Reynolds smiled to see the progress she was making
with me.  She picked up one breast and hefted it in her hand. 
Then she did the other.  She nodded and said, "You are getting
much bigger.  It is time for you to move to a larger cup.  I
think I might have something that will fit you."
I wondered how a woman who never wore a bra was going to have one
lying around that would fit someone so much smaller than herself.
 Then it hit me.  Half of the big house was probably filled with
her wardrobe.  She had most likely gone shopping and bought a bra
in every size that might fit me.  I envied her the casual way
that she passed it off as 'something I might have'.  She was
warped, but she had style.
"Come along, now," she said.  I picked up my bookbag and followed
her down to the family room, my breasts wobbling at every step.
Once downstairs, I put my bag on the floor next to the desk and
assumed the now-familiar stance.  She smiled to see me come to
attention.  She took my arm and led me over to the weight bench.
She sat me down and went over to the wet bar.  She came back with
a cup of water and three of the small white pills.  I tossed them
into my mouth and took the cup from her.  After I had swallowed
the day's dose of hormone pills, she took back the cup and
returned it to the bar.  As she walked away, it dawned on me that
she never checked my mouth to see if I had actually swallowed the
pills.  She never peeked at me to make sure I was wearing the
weights and she had stopped checking the timer.  She expected me
to follow her instructions and not to cheat.  It was ironic that
this woman, whose single-minded goal was to ruin my body,
apparently trusted me more than my own mother did.
I waited on the bench, expecting another series of injections,
but Mrs. Reynolds returned empty-handed.  Seeing me look at her
hands, she guessed my thoughts and said, "No injection today. 
We'll see how you do over the next few days before I decide about
that.  You are really making better progress than I expected."
I know it's weird, but I smiled and blushed to hear her praise
me.  
"All right," she said, "Time to put on the clamps."  She started
toward the shelf where the clamps lay, but she stopped when she
saw that I was going to beat her to them.  She watched as I
carefully positioned one clamp and then the other on my nipples
and then lowered the weights to the ends of the chains.  I
bounced on my toes to jerk the weights and get the clamps seated
firmly.
As I felt the clamps tighten and the familiar weight pull my
breasts down my body, I shuddered slightly at the pain.  I stood
still for a moment with my eyes closed, allowing my nipples to
become acclimated.  The pain drained away quickly and I smiled
with relief.  When I opened my eyes, I saw Mrs. Reynolds looking
at me.  She had a strange look on her face.  I wondered what she
was thinking.
"Don't forget the timer," she reminded me.  With the weights
swinging, I walked casually over to the box and rotated the dial
around to the 60 minute mark
She looked at the weights swinging from my stretched breasts and
asked, "You seem to be quite comfortable with those on now.  How
much can you do?"
In answer I bent over further and further until the weights were
pulling my breasts up instead of down and my hands were palm-down
on the floor.
"Very good!" Mrs. Reynolds exclaimed.  "Oh, but of course, your
cheerleading!  You must do a lot of exercises at cheerleading
practice.  Can you show me some others?"
I went through several of the flexibility and strength exercises
that I had done earlier that day at practice - lunges, leg kicks,
back bends, rotations, straddles, splits.  The only things I left
out were jumping and tumbling.  I tried to do everything as
smoothly as I could to keep from making any sudden changes of
direction, but many of them hurt like hell anyway with five
pounds of iron hanging from my nipples.  I'm sure much of the
pain showed on my face.  When I finished, there was a sheen of
perspiration on my body and tears were streaming down my cheeks.
I still flashed Mrs. Reynolds my Cheerleader Smile at the end,
even though my nipples felt like they were on fire.
She applauded generously when I finished and climbed out of the
full split to my feet again.  I saw her glance at the timer.  She
went back upstairs without a word.  I sat on the weight bench and
leaned forward and rested my arms on the barbell, allowing the
weights to hang free of my chest.  I had just caught my breath
when Mrs. Reynolds came back with her sons.
"Samantha?  Please, can you do that routine again?" she asked. 
The truth was, I had pressed myself to the limit the first time
through and my breasts were aching badly, but the prospect of
having a new audience motivated me and I went back to the middle
of the room and braced myself to begin again.
I had not seen Jim and Bud since Mrs. Reynolds caught me with
them.  I had been too preoccupied with my own situation to think
about where they had been, but since she had been able to round
them up on short notice, I had to assume that they had just gone
upstairs to another room of the house and had been warned to stay
out of the family room while I was there.  If that was the case,
then they must have heard me screaming the day their mother put
the weights on me for the first time.  They must have known that
their mother was torturing me, even if they did not know how she
had gone about it.  Now, they looked uncomfortable at being
called in as witnesses
Mrs. Reynolds and the boys took seats and I started my routine
over with the same moves that I had shown Mrs. Reynolds before. 
This time I tried to add more flairs and poses between moves,
both to give my presentation more polish and to give me a couple
of seconds between exercises to catch my breath.  Through the
first few moves, I could see Jim and Bud looking at me with keen
interest.  To them, this must have been very erotic.  A topless
cheerleader doing an exercise drill must have seemed like a
fantasy come true and they watched my first few moves intently. 
I noticed that Mrs. Reynolds was dividing her attention between
watching me and watching the boys.  Apparently, she had brought
them down not so much to have them see me do my routine or
witness my punishment, but so that she could see their
reactions.
The second time through was agony.  I tried to keep smiling, but
the pain had me in tears almost from the start.  I was still
tired from the first routine and I made several missteps that
made the weights jerk.  When that happened, my eyes would roll
back in my head and I would grimace, which spoiled my appearance.
 After the first of these I looked at the boys to see if they
noticed.  I could see that their expressions had gone from
excited to disturbed.  They were finding the sight of my breasts
being tortured to destruction to be less than erotic.  As I
continued with the routine, they started to glance away more and
more and their expressions ran more to horror and disgust as my
breasts became longer and more stretched from my movements.  I
could feel the weights start to slap against my hips, which meant
the clamps had pulled my nipples almost down to my navel.
After a while the pain began to take on a different color.  It
was as though my brain was being overloaded with signals and
started going haywire.  It still hurt like hell, but I was
starting to feel sexually excited as well.  It was almost as if
my nipples had their own connection to my clit and whenever they
throbbed, my clit throbbed as well.  I felt my pussy getting wet
and I knew my juice was leaking out onto my panties.  I wasn't
wearing the thick panties that went with the uniform because we
saved those for the games.  I had on a pair of my regular nylon
bikinis and if they got wet they would stick to me like a second
skin.  I decided not to worry about it.  My fate was pretty much
sealed, and this seemed trivial.  I wondered if I should even
bother to keep my skirt and panties on.  Surely my being
completely naked would suit Mrs. Reynolds' purpose better,
anyway?  I decided that it was not a good idea for me to be
stuffing the suggestion box with ideas on how to more effectively
degrade and abuse me.
All this distraction was helping me work through the intense pain
in my breasts, but did not seem to be dampening the fire that was
growing my pussy.  My workout seemed to be activating the
hormones that were by now saturating my body.  My judgment was
affected as well.  I began to get bolder in my routine.  I
allowed the weights to swing more and when they clanked together,
I felt the sharp vibrations shoot through my breasts and into my
clit.
I started pushing myself to the edge of what I could stand,
regardless of the damage I was doing to myself.  I managed not to
do any jumps, but I found other ways to show off.  I twirled
around so the weights would fly out away from my body and lift my
breasts into the air.  I bent over forward and let them swing
around in big circles.  I did a back-bend where I leaned back so
far that the weights were pulled around my sides and then over my
shoulders to hang behind me.  That went so well that I put my
hands down and turned the back-bend into a handstand and then
swung my legs over into a toe-touch.  When I stood up, I was
really proud of myself and I decided to do a front walkover into
a split for a dismount.  I put my palms back on the floor and
leaned into a handstand and kicked my feet over and down, pulling
one leg behind me to land in a full split.  I finished with the
weights and clamps hanging down behind me, and my breasts
stretched up over my shoulders.  They were stretched out so much
that I could not even see my nipples.  I threw my arms up in a V
and flashed a big smile.  I had never been so proud of a routine.
 The pain in my breasts seemed far away.
I looked over at Jim and Bud.  They looked like they were about
to throw up.  The expression of disgust on their faces made it
clear how they felt about my routine.  
"Ingrates," I thought, "They have no appreciation for the degree
of difficulty involved in that performance.  I'd like to see them
do that with iron weights on their nipples!"
I looked at Mrs. Reynolds.  She threw a nasty look at her sons
and then she looked back at me and smiled from ear-to-ear and
gave me a one-woman standing ovation.  "Bravo!" she said. I bowed
my head briefly in acknowledgement and lowered my arms.  I was
exhausted and dizzy.  I put my hands behind me and leaned back so
I could swing my leg around in front of me.  I sat on the floor,
trying to catch my breath.  I considered moving the weights
around to my front, but my breasts actually did not hurt as much
with them draped over my shoulders, so I let them stay there.  A
different part of me was being stretched in this position and it
was a profound relief to have the weights pulling me backward for
a change.  I put a hand up and touched my right breast where it
went over my shoulder.  I could feel my nipple where the clamp
had it pulled down to my shoulder blade.
I pulled my feet under me and got up unsteadily.  I wobbled over
to the weight bench and lay down with the back of my neck resting
on the end of the bench and the weights hanging down behind me.
"Boys," I heard Mrs. Reynolds say, "I don't see any further
reason for you to not to be able to use the family room.  You may
come and go as you please.  I think we can all get along now." 
Jim and Bud glanced at the TV at the far end of the room, and
then retreated back up the stairs to their rooms.
Mrs. Reynolds came over to stand beside the bench.  "That was
really marvelous," she said.  "I congratulate you on an excellent
performance.  You continue to amaze me with your progress.  The
timer ran out some while ago, I'm afraid.  I could not bear to
interrupt you."
"It's OK," I said.
"Would you like me to take the clamps off?" she asked.
I nodded.  She knelt down and released the clamps and returned
them to the shelf.  With the weight gone, my breasts continued to
droop limply on my chest.  They had very little tautness and
resiliency left.  I stroked them absently.
Mrs. Reynolds came back and held out a hand to help me up.  When
I was standing again, she moved close to me and untied the belt
around her waist, allowing her shirt-dress to fall open.  She was
naked underneath.  "Now for your reward, Samantha," she said,
"You may touch my breasts."
I put my hands reverently over the ends of her breasts, my palms
pressed to her nipples.  I squeezed gently, feeling their
impressive mass, admiring their imposing presence.  Her skin was
soft, but her flesh was remarkably firm.  I cupped them in my
hands.  They were so large I could only support a fraction of
their bulk.  As usual she wore high-heels, so that her breasts
were just below my eye level.  I moved closer to her and put my
face into the space between her breasts, inhaling her fragrance.
I pressed them against my face.  I moved closer and felt her
pubic hair brush my stomach.  Boldly, I put my arms around her
and hugged her body to mine, my belly against her pussy mound, my
face buried in her huge breasts.  I sighed.  I felt so warm, so
content.  I held her and felt her breathe in my arms.  I lay my
head on her breasts and listened to her heartbeat.  After a
moment, I felt her put a hand on my head and stroke my hair and
caress my cheek.  I hugged her closer and she put her arms around
me as well and hugged back.  We stood there for a while, sharing
the warmth of our bodies.  Then I felt her take a deep breath and
release it as a sigh.  She kissed me on the top of my head and
then put her head down on mine.  Time seemed to stand still.
I don't know how much later, she relaxed her arms.  I took that
as my cue and let go of her and stepped back.  She stood and just
looked at me, a small smile on her lips.  She reached out and
stroked my drooping breasts.  They came down well below my rib
cage now and seemed almost flat against my body.  She felt my
nipples, which now hung straight down, instead of sitting up
perkily, as they had before.  They were over two inches long and
limp.  Mrs. Reynolds twined my nipples around her fingers and
pulled, lifting my flaccid breasts from my chest.  She let my
nipples slip from her fingers and my breasts fell back with a
plop.
"Come with me," she said, and turned to go up the stairs.  I
followed right behind.
She led me to a small room at the back of the house that seemed
to be primarily for storage.  I recognized the cardboard box
sitting on a table in one corner, but Mrs. Reynolds went instead
to a cabinet and began poking around inside.
She reached up and took down a green bottle.  The label simply
had a code number written on it with a marker.  It said, "901". 
Mrs. Reynolds put it aside and opened a drawer and took out a
hypodermic in a sterile plastic pouch.  Opening the package, she
took out the hypo and filled it from the bottle.  The needle
looked to be at least six inches long.  The fluid in the hypo was
bright orange.  She swabbed both my nipples with an alcohol patch
and said, "You will need to hold them out for me, Samantha."
My hands were shaking as I anticipated the needle, but I did as
she asked.  I held my right breast straight out while she pushed
the needle directly through the tip of my nipple and shoved it
all the way in until the base of the needle pressed on the tip of
my nipple.  The feeling was horrible, but I was careful not to
move a muscle.  She pushed on the plunger and shot the entire
load into my breast, withdrawing the needle at the same time so
that the orange fluid flooded into my breast from base to nipple.
 She refilled the hypo and did the same thing to the other
breast.
"Now listen carefully," she told me as she massaged the drug into
my breasts, "this is very important.  Do not touch your breasts
unless you have to.  Do not wear any tight clothing.  Do not wear
any bra except the one I will give you.  Sleep in it tonight.  Do
not take it off except to bathe and then put it right back on
after.  Do not sleep or lie on your stomach.  No jumping.  No
violent exercise.  Find some excuse to skip cheerleading practice
tomorrow and come directly here instead.  Do you understand?"
"Yes, Mo...Ma'am."  I blushed.  I almost called her 'Mom'.  I
looked at the floor, embarrassed to meet her gaze.
She put her hand under my chin and lifted my head so she could
look into my eyes.  Her own seemed unusually watery.
"One more thing   you will probably be very hungry tonight.  I
will give you some sandwiches to eat later.  Now, go do your
homework," she told me.
I went back downstairs and sat down at the desk and got out my
schoolbooks.  I was careful to let my breasts hang free as I
worked.  After I finished my assignments I sat wondered what the
latest injections would do to me.  Mrs. Reynolds had described in
detail how the other drugs she had given me would combine to
devastate my breasts, but she hadn't told me what to expect from
the orange stuff in the '901' bottle.   I looked down at my
chest.  My firm D-cup breasts had been brutally stretched out
into mostly empty sacks that could be pulled up to and almost
over my shoulders.  They were well on their way to becoming
udders, as she had predicted.  It seemed to be happening so fast.
 A few more weeks of what I had been through already and they
would be just loose bags of skin with cow-teats hanging from
them.  What more could she do to me?
I put away my books and went over to sit on the sofa and watch TV
until time for me to leave.  While I was there, Jim and Bud came
in to watch, too.  They did not speak and barely looked at me. 
They sat down as far from me as they could get.  After a few
minutes I remembered Mrs. Reynolds admonition to let my breasts
hang free as much as possible and I leaned forward and braced my
elbows on my knees so that my breasts would hang between my legs.
 I had no sooner done this than I heard Bud go, "Eewwww!"  When I
looked over he was staring at my dangling bags.
Both boys got up and went out in the yard, leaving the French
doors open.  I continued to watch TV.  A few minutes later, I
heard someone come back inside, but I did not care to turn to see
who it was.  I heard them walk around the room, breathing hard,
then they came over and stood next to me.  I still refused to
acknowledge their presence.  Both boys were on my permanent
shit-list for the way they had reacted to my performance earlier,
not to mention not standing up for me after getting me in trouble
with their mother in the first place.
Whoever it was, was breathing all over me.  I finally got annoyed
enough to respond.  I turned with a fierce look on my face and
found myself face to face with the biggest dog I had ever seen. 
I guess I knew they had a dog.  Somebody had mentioned it,
sometime, but I had been too engrossed in my own problems to
think to look for one.  I had never been in the backyard and this
was the first time the door had been left open, so we had not had
the chance to become acquainted until now.
I stared at the dog with a feeling of deep uncertainty.  He was
seriously huge.  His head was several inches above mine and I was
sitting on the sofa while he was still standing on the floor. 
His breath was hot, but it did not smell bad.  It felt kind of
good on my naked skin, like standing in front of a heater after a
cold shower.  He did not look mean or anything, but he was much
bigger and, I had no doubt, much stronger than me.  I noticed a
tag hanging from his broad leather collar.  It said, "Brute" in
all capital letters.  The dog continued to stare at me as though
he was fascinated by me.  Perhaps he had a right, how many
topless teenaged cheerleaders could he have met, anyway?
"Hi." I whispered.  I did not mean it to be a whisper, but it
came out that way.  The dog did not answer back, which was just
as well.  Any sound he made at the current distance of under two
feet would have scared me silly.  I wondered how he would react
if I tried to pet him.  I decided not to risk it.  As the dog and
I continued our staring contest, I got a good look at him. 
Except for being so darn huge, he was a good-looking animal.  His
coat was short and shiny.  The muscles under his skin bulged
impressively.  His eyes had an intelligent and kind look to them.
 The more I looked, the more I decided that I liked him.  I had
never had a dog and I had only brief meetings with the pets of
friends, so maybe I felt deprived.
Eventually, I got bored with the staring and I worked up my
courage to move.  Slowly and cautiously, I put out my hand in
front of his nose.  He looked at it and sniffed it, then he moved
closer to me.  He stepped in front of me and put his huge neck
directly in front of my face.  I had to move my head back or he
would have hit my nose.  I could not think what to do.  I wasn't
about to push him or try to climb over him.  I did the only thing
that occurred to me, I reached out and put my arms around his
neck and hugged him.  I don't know what possessed me.  It just
seemed the right thing at the time.  Once I had hold of him I had
the strangest feeling.  Having my arms something that big and
strong must have stirred some very primal feelings in me.  I felt
very small and helpless.  I felt entirely at his mercy.  I wanted
to surrender to his strength, to ask for his protection.  I
stroked his coat with one hand.  I felt the powerful muscles
ripple at my touch.  I felt connected to this huge animal.
He moved and I let go of him.  I sat back on the sofa to see what
he would do.  He turned his handsome head to look at me and then
he sat down on the floor and put his head in my lap.
I was so relieved that I was ecstatic.  The dog liked me.  I
stroked his head and played with his ears.  He rolled his head
and looked up at me with his tongue hanging out of his mouth.  It
was the size of a washcloth.
We sat there together and I watched TV with Brute's head in my
lap.  He seemed content to just sit there with me and I certainly
had nowhere to go at the moment so we just enjoyed each other's
company for a while.
After a bit, Brute climbed up on the sofa with me and stretched
out across my legs, pinning me to the couch.  I suppose he was
doing his best to be a lap-dog, but he was so big and I was so
small that he covered me from my knees to my shoulders.  His
weight pinned me down, but it was mostly on my legs and I could
still breathe OK.  I draped my arms over him and lay my head down
on his back.
The beating of his heart sounded like a bass drum.  His breath
rushed like the wind before a storm.  The heat of his great furry
body against my skin was like the noontime sun in midsummer.  It
flowed through me, making me perspire, but I held onto the dog,
refusing to move.  I had never been so close to an animal this
large before and I wouldn't have been more impressed if it had
been a lion in my lap.
"He's not supposed to be in the house."
Mrs. Reynolds had come down so quietly that I hadn't known she
was there until she spoke.  Now, she stood looking down at the
two of us cuddled on the sofa.
At the sound of her voice, Brute raised his head.  He looked at
Mrs. Reynolds guiltily, knowing he was breaking some rule.  Then
he looked at me and I patted his side.
Brute took that as a signal and climbed down off the sofa and off
my lap.  He sat down on the floor and looked at me.
Mrs. Reynolds said, "See if you can get him to go back outside."
I stood up and walked to the open door.  Brute followed closely,
his head bumping my hip.  I stopped in the doorway and pointed
outside.  The dog padded through and into the backyard.
"That's more than he will do for me, most of the time," Mrs.
Reynolds told me.  "Let me run upstairs and change.  I want to
walk you home.  Meet me in the foyer." 
I sat in the desk chair and tried to cool off from my
doggie-sauna.  My pits and my crotch were soaked.  I flipped my
skirt up and down to try to dry the perspiration in my lap.  When
that didn't seem to work, I slipped off my panties and stuffed
them into my bookbag.  Then I spread my knees and flapped my
skirt some more, this time with better effect.  When I thought
Mrs. Reynolds had had enough time to change, I pulled myself to
my feet and made my way upstairs, flapping my arms. 
I timed it perfectly.  I got to the foyer just as Mrs. Reynolds
came down the front stairs.  She was wearing a gray tailored suit
with a short skirt and a jacket that showed off her cleavage but
did not announce the fact that she had nothing on underneath. 
She had on a pair of sensible walking shoes and she was carrying
a couple of bras and a small shopping bag.  She took one of the
bras and held it out, cups up.  I leaned over and lowered my
flaccid breasts into them.  She hooked it on me tightly.  When I
stood up, I noticed that the cups were very stiff and a good bit
too large for even my stretched out breasts.  Still, it felt
comfortable to have them laying in there, supported by the
extra-firm cups. 
Mrs. Reynolds tested the fit of the cups and the band to make
sure it would stay put.  She put the other bra in the shopping
bag and picked up a paper lunch-bag from the table. 
"These are the sandwiches I made for you for later," she said. 
"Now remember, don't take that bra off and don't put any pressure
on your breasts.  If it's too tight in the morning, here is
another one you can change into." 
I nodded my understanding of her terms, if not the reason for
them, and put the second bra and the sandwiches inside my
bookbag.  I picked up my blouse from the table and put it on.  It
barely fit over the stiff bra, so I left the top couple of
buttons undone.  I pulled my baggy sweater over my head.  It was
loose enough to accommodate the larger bulge, but just barely. 
As we walked out the out the door, I said, "I think Brute likes
me." 
She laughed and said, "I had rather got that idea.  You seem to
be fond of him too." 
The walk home was very pleasant.  Mrs. Reynolds and I talked
about nothing in particular for a while, and then just walked
along in silence.  I thought about what Mrs. Reynolds was doing
to me, and how I felt about it.  I thought about how oddly she
behaved for someone who was doing something so cruel.  She had
only seemed mean for the first day or so.  After that, she'd
seemed positively friendly, even kind.  At first, the business
with me playing with her breasts had made a kind of warped sense
if she was really trying to be vindictive.  But it was pretty
obvious that she enjoyed it very much, and I had to admit that,
as warped as it seemed, I had been enjoying it too.  Now she was
acting all mysterious, but she seemed happy   even relieved about
something.  Here she was; walking me home like we were best
buddies and I was happy to be with her.  'Weird' doesn't begin to
describe our relationship at that point.
When we got to my house, my mother was waiting at the door, as
usual.  She was very surprised to see Mrs. Reynolds. 
"Hello, Yvette," Mrs. Reynolds said. 
"Hi, Bambi," Mom answered.  
"'Bambi?'" I thought.  I looked at Mrs. Reynolds.  The look I got
back told me all I needed to know about even considering calling
her 'Bambi'.
We all went inside and Mom showed Mrs. Reynolds into the living
room.  I had started to flop on the couch when Mrs. Reynolds
said, "Samantha!" in a clipped tone of voice.  My training kicked
in and I was on my feet at attention with my shoulders back and
my hands behind me in under a second.
"Yes, ma'am."  I answered in my polite, compliant voice.
Mrs. Reynolds smiled at me and said, "I'd like to talk to your
mother privately.  Please run along to your room.  And don't
forget what I told you."
"Yes, ma'am."  I responded.  I grabbed my bookbag and moved out
smartly.  The last thing I saw as I left the room was my mother
looking at me like I was some kind of imposter.
I was on the way down the hall to my room when I heard my mother
say, "You certainly seem to be having a good influence on her. 
I've never seen her so...attentive."  I shut the door loudly
enough for it to be heard in the living room but not loudly
enough to be mistaken for a slam.  I leaned on the door and tried
not to think about what Mrs. Reynolds and my mother would have to
say to each other.  I did not succeed very well.  I really had no
idea what Mrs. Reynolds wanted to discuss with my mother, but I
was pretty sure I wasn't going to like whatever it was.
I took off my sweater and blouse and started looking though my
closet for blouses that I could wear over my new bra.  I was
disappointed to find that most of my clothes were too small now.
I found one pullover that did not look too tight, but that was
about it.  Some of my clothes had fit really well, too.  I knew
Mom would not be happy about having to buy me a lot of new
clothes.  Her job at the plant did not pay anything like what Dad
used to make.
As soon as I thought of Dad, I got sad and sat down on the bed to
mope.  This was all old and well-trodden ground though, and I was
able to get past it without breaking into tears.  
I was trying to get my mind somewhere else, when out of nowhere I
realized that I had no idea how my mother knew Mrs. Reynolds. 
They were obviously on a first-name basis and Mom had been
willing to send me over there in the first place, even if she did
have a fit of paranoia after the fact, so I had to assume that
they knew each other fairly well.  Even though we lived within
walking distance from each other, they never visited and I had
never heard of Mrs. Reynolds before the last couple of weeks. 
They must have met long ago, then.  They had probably been
friends before either of them got married.  Even though she did
not look it, I knew Mrs. Reynolds could only have been a year or
two younger than Mom.  I did the math and came up with an
interesting number.  Mom was 38.  If Mrs. Reynolds was 37 and had
a 19-year-old son, even allowing for her being pregnant at the
altar, she must have married in, or right after High School. 
This meant they could have been friends in school, probably at
the same age I was now.  I did not see how I could follow-up on
that without knowing her maiden name and I didn't remember if any
of the articles in the society section of the paper had mentioned
it.
I tried to approach it from another direction.  Mr. Reynolds had
been in his late 40's when he died.  He must have been around 30
when he married her.  Old enough to be established in business or
at least on his way up the ladder.  I thought Mrs. Reynolds must
miss her husband terribly.  She had several pictures of the two
of them in the hall of her house.  I looked at them whenever I
passed and I remembered thinking that he looked a lot older than
she was in them.  I remembered some were formal photographs like
you have taken in a studio.  Some were taken at parties, and some
were vacation shots, taken of them on the beach.  I recalled one
of them with Mrs. Reynolds in a really skimpy bikini, her
impressive bust practically hanging out of her top.  They both
looked so happy in that one and Mr. Reynolds had looked young as
well.  I thought that might have been taken on their honeymoon. 
There was another photo near it that was of them at their
wedding.  There was something about that one that rang a bell,
but I could not put my finger on it.
I was still trying to put the pieces together when there was a
knock at my door.
"Come in," I said, and it opened.  Mom and Mrs. Reynolds came in.
 I popped to my feet and came to attention again for Mrs.
Reynolds.  This was going to be a hard habit to break, I thought.
 I had been taught submissive obedience under circumstances that
guaranteed I would remain so a long time.
"Samantha," Mom said, "Mrs. Reynolds has been telling me what a
nice young lady you are and how much she enjoys your company."  
I blushed deeply.  That was plainly a load of crap that Mrs.
Reynolds had handed my mother, but it still made me go all fuzzy
inside.  Praise was something I rarely heard.
My mother continued, "She would like to invite you to stay with
her over the weekend.  You have my permission to go, if you want
to.  I have a chance to work some overtime and the extra money
will certainly help us out.  Not having to worry about you being
unsupervised would be a great load off my mind.  Would you like
to spend the weekend at Mrs. Reynolds' house?"
"Yes, ma'am," I said, eagerly.  I was looking at my mother, but
Mrs. Reynolds knew I was talking to her.  I was suddenly so happy
I could not keep still.  I broke my position of attention and
started wiggling.  My big bra waved one way and then the other as
I twisted back and forth.
Mrs. Reynolds looked past me at the pile of too-small clothes I
had pulled out of the closet.  She said to my mother, "I'd also
like to take her shopping, if you wouldn't mind.  I think she is
having a growth spurt and she needs some new clothes.  I'd love
to buy her a new wardrobe.  There are some darling things I would
like to see her in."
Hearing that the woman who wore more beautiful clothes in a day
than I was ever likely to own in my life wanted to buy me a new
wardrobe was the best news I had heard since I was five and Mom
woke me up on Christmas morning to tell me that Santa Claus had
come and left me a room full of presents.  I started bouncing
with joy, just like I was a little girl again.
Mrs. Reynolds whipped her head around and gave me an imperial
look that froze me in mid-leap.  "Stop!" she said sharply, but in
a normal tone of voice.
The words "No jumping.  No violent exercise," echoed in my head.
I had disobeyed.  My body knew the penalty for disobedience.  I
nearly wet myself.  The memory of the cold steel blades of the
shears biting into my skin jumped into my mind and burned with a
cold fire.  My nipples wrinkled up so quick I thought my breasts
were trying to crawl out of my bra.  I snapped back to attention
instantly, and focused on Mrs. Reynolds with every fiber of my
being.  If she had snapped her fingers, my heart would have
stopped in my chest.
My instantaneous response to her simple command was not lost on
my mother, who stared at me with an incredulous look, as though
she had seen a magic trick and could not figure out how it was
done.  She began to ask, "Ah, how..."
Mrs. Reynolds interrupted her, "Yvette, may I speak with Samantha
alone for a minute?"  She backed my mother out the door with the
force of her presence and closed it.  Mom was still looking at me
with her hand to her mouth as the door closed and cut her line of
sight.
Mrs. Reynolds waited until we could hear Mom walking back up the
uncarpeted hallway to the front of the house.  She turned to me
and stepped closer.  I was frozen.  She thought for a second and
then she unbuttoned her jacket and opened it.  The sight of her
breasts broke my trance.  They meant reward, not punishment.  I
stepped close to her and put my palms over her nipples.  I put my
face between her breasts and breathed a deep sigh of relief.
She pulled my face firmly to her and stroked my hair.  I kissed
her tenderly between her breasts.  She stroked her hand down my
back all the way to my bottom and then she slid her hand under my
pleated skirt and squeezed my naked cheek.
"I thought so," she said.  "You better get your panties on before
your mother notices."  She patted my bare behind for extra
emphasis.
I grinned and went to my dresser and got out a clean pair.  I sat
on the bed and pulled them on.  As I did so, Mrs. Reynolds closed
her jacket.  My expression revealed my disappointment at this.
Mrs. Reynolds smiled and said, "Quickly now.  Get the other bra I
gave you."
I reached under the clothes on the bed and pulled out my bookbag.
 I took out the bra and handed it to her.
"Bend over here and let me take that one off."  I bent at the
waist and she unhooked the back of the bra.  "Keep your head up
for me, you're letting them droop," she said.  I raised my head
and looked straight ahead while she dropped one bra off and
slipped the other on.  She hooked the back and I felt three
separate tugs.  I stood up and could tell that this bra had a
wider band and even firmer cups.  These cups looked enormous on
my small body.  I could feel the air inside them on my breasts. 
I supposed that they were to hide my deformity, but she still did
not explain and I dared not ask her to.  I looked down at the
bra.  It was cut very modestly, and showed no cleavage and no
part of my breasts.  "Just as well," I thought.
"Listen!" she said, emphatically, pointing a finger at my nose. 
"Keep this on until I take it off.  I know you'll feel dirty in
the morning, but take a sponge bath instead of a tub bath or
shower.  No cheerleading.  Come straight to me after school.  NO
jumping!"
I nodded as hard as I could until I wondered if nodding qualified
as exercise and stopped abruptly.
Mrs. Reynolds reached out and touched my cheek, then she opened
her jacket again and said, "Say goodbye, now."
I stepped up and kissed both her breasts, then I stepped back and
grinned.  I would play that game any time she wanted.  It made us
both happy and it was just so deliciously naughty to be playing
it with my mother down the hall.
She opened the door and stepped out.  As she walked away she
called out, "See you tomorrow, then!"
With my door open I could just make out their voices down the
hall.  I heard Mrs. Reynolds ask my mother if she had noticed
that I seemed to be 'filling out on top'.  I heard my mother
agree and the rest of the conversation was inaudible.  I pulled
on the one blouse I owned that had a chance of fitting over the
bigger bra and sat down at my vanity to brush my hair.  I was
looking at the bulge that the bra made under my top and comparing
it to Mrs. Reynolds size when something I had seen but not
noticed at the time came vividly into focus.  When I had kissed
Mrs. Reynolds' breasts I had seen a lipstick smudge on her
nipple.  I wasn't wearing any lipstick, but I knew the color.  It
was called Coral.  It was the color that my mother was wearing.
A big piece of the puzzle fell into place like a thunderbolt in
the night.  It explained a lot about Mrs. Reynolds and my mother,
it explained a lot about my mother and my Dad, and it explained a
lot about me.  As I turned it all over in my head, I understood
that it also explained a lot about Mrs. Reynolds and me.  There
was still a big piece missing, though; but I was too hungry to
think any more about it.
I finished my touch-up and went down the hall.  Mrs. Reynolds had
left and my mother was just putting our dinners into the
microwave.  "Bambi, er...Mrs. Reynolds seems to think the world
of you," she said.  "Do you like her?"
"Yes, Mom.  I like her a lot.  At first, I didn't think I would.
But as I've gotten to know her better, I realize that I do."  I
had been prepared to BS my mother as thoroughly as Mrs. Reynolds
had, but as the words came out of my mouth, I realized that I had
spoken the truth.  I decided to stick with that as far as I
could.
"You seem to have a lot of respect for her."
"Oh, yes!  She's much more strict with me than you are.  But I've
learned a lot from her, too."
 "Oh?  What has she been teaching you?"  
"I don't think you can say she's been 'teaching' me.  The things
I've learned have been more stuff that I've learned on my own
from being around her."
"Like what?"
"Obedience.   But you've probably noticed that.  It's strange. 
Once I learned to obey, it opened the door to a lot of other
stuff.  I learned that I can do things that I never thought I
could do.  I learned that sometimes there are consequences that
have to be faced.  I learned that trust is more powerful than
fear.  I learned that sometimes when you lose something precious,
you get something even more valuable in its place.  And I learned
that knowing someone and understanding them are completely
different things."
Mom looked at me with the same "I don't know you" expression I
had seen before.  Before she could think of something else to ask
me, the microwave went off and she got busy setting the table and
serving the food.  Neither of us said anything for a long time. 
I guess we both had things to think about.  I wolfed down my food
and when she saw how hungry I was, she gave me half of hers, too.
 I was on the last mouthful before she spoke again.
 "Mrs. Reynolds asked me if I had noticed that you seemed to be
having a late growth spurt.  I am quite aware that you have
matured physically, but now I see that you are growing up in more
ways than one."
I could see her looking at my bulging blouse.  I looked away from
her for a moment.  I realized that I would not be able to hide
what was happening to me from her forever.  Eventually she would
find out.  I was terribly sad about it, but I had resigned myself
to losing my breasts over the past few days.  Over and above Mrs.
Reynolds instructions not to discuss it, I wanted to keep it from
Mom as long as possible.  It would hurt her terribly, especially
if she found out how it happened.
As soon as I thought about protecting Mom from being hurt by what
Mrs. Reynolds had done to me, another piece of the puzzle fell
into place.  I understood why she had been treating me the way
she had.  I understood why she put her own ideas of what was best
for me ahead of our relationship.  I understood why she had such
a hard time relating to me as a person and why she and Dad never
really got along.  
Their marriage was doomed from the start because Mom got married
for the wrong reasons.  She married Dad because it was something
she thought she had to do, not something that she wanted to do. 
I realized that I was lucky to have been born at all.
There was still something missing, though.  I still did not have
all the pieces.  I decided to ask a very leading question.
"Mom, when did you and Mrs. Reynolds meet?"
She looked like I had touched a raw nerve.  I thought she would
evade the question or just refuse to answer.  She was quiet for
so long that I was tempted to change the subject, but as long as
she was thinking about it, I decided to wait for her. 
Eventually, she worked herself up to talking about it.
"We met in school when we were both a bit younger than you are
now.  We...we were really good friends for a couple of years. 
Then I graduated.  She got married...I got married.  I thought it
would be best if we....  This was all a long time ago."
"Mom, I understand that sometimes we do things we don't want to
for lots of reasons, because we think it's what we are supposed
to do, or what we are expected to do, or think we need to do"
Mom was on the verge of tears.  I could see that the shame and
the guilt of years of living a lie had taken a toll on her.  I
wanted to tell her what I knew, and I had come very close to
blurting it out, but that would have meant throwing the
sacrifices she had made back in her face and I couldn't do that
to her.
"Mom...I want you to do something for me.  I want you to promise
me something."
She blinked back the tears and looked at me.  She was so
seriously messed up that I did not know if there was anything
that could be done that would not just make things worse. 
"What's that, dear?" she said.
"I want you to think about what you want to do for a change.  I
want you to do something because it's what YOU want, without
consideration for anyone or anything else, OK?  Don't feel you
have to work that overtime on our account.  We'll get by without
it.  While I'm at Mrs. Reynolds', go do something for yourself. 
Please?"
She did not trust her voice.  She just nodded at me.  She was
losing it.  I could see the tears coming.  She was going to have
herself a cry.  She was entitled.  She got up and bent over me to
kiss my cheek, something she had not done in a long time.  I
indulged in one of my bad habits.  I pushed my luck.  I turned my
head so that it wasn't my cheek she kissed, but my lips.  
Before she could pull away, I threw my arm around her neck and
held her mouth to mine.  I kissed her as good as I could.  After
a second, she kissed back.  She kissed me so intensely that I
knew in that moment, it wasn't me she was kissing, it was a girl
named Bambi that she had never stopped loving.  The kiss ended
too quickly.  She moved away and I let go of her.  She backed
away from me and smacked into the kitchen counter so hard I
thought she would fall, but she caught herself and stood there
looking like I had stripped her naked. In a way, I suppose I had.
 I regretted pushing her buttons, but I could not have lived with
myself if I had not tried to undo some of what she had done to
herself for 18 years.  Much of it was on my account after all.
I wanted her to know what I could not tell her.  I wanted her to
hear the words I could not say.  I wanted her to understand that
I forgave her for not wanting me, for accepting me as the
consequence of a mistake made years earlier.  I knew all about
the consequences of mistakes.  I tried to think of something I
could say to her that would ease her pain, but anything that
would not make it worse would only be like bailing the ocean with
a teaspoon.  So before she bolted, I said the only thing I could
think of, as lame as it was.
"Thank you." I said.  Her face was so screwed up that I could not
read anything in it, so I could not tell if it helped any or not.
 She ran off to her room and shut herself in.  I could hear the
sobs even through the closed door.  I never thought that I would
be sitting in the kitchen, listening to my mother crying her eyes
out and think of it as a good thing.  Sometimes bad things are
really good things.  Sometimes our worst enemies are our friends.
 Sometimes our lovers are our worst enemies.  Sometimes the world
is just a really fucked-up place and if you find any joy at all
in it, you should consider yourself damn lucky.  I told myself I
was too young to be this cynical.  I got an image of a raised
middle finger back for my trouble.  I laughed.  "Just do what you
can," I told myself.  "Don't focus on the pain and the futility.
Focus on the good, however small it may be."
I cleaned up the kitchen and sat down to watch some TV until
bedtime.  My bra was itching and starting to feel hot and tight.
I already looked forward to getting the darn thing off.
I went to bed at the usual time, but I had a hard time getting to
sleep.  I usually sleep on my back, so the bra wasn't really in
the way.  I felt like my whole system had gone into overdrive. 
My heart was beating really fast and I could hear it pounding in
my ears.  I was sweating and I kept having the creepiest feeling
in my breasts.  I can't even begin to describe what it felt like.
 After I had lay there for an hour, trying to sleep, I started to
feel hungry again.  I got up and dug the sandwiches out of my
bag.  I ate them all, one after the other.  When finished I was
still hungry, but I climbed back into bed and waited for sleep. 
Sometime during the night, I finally drifted off.
When I woke up I was starving again.  I felt dizzy, too.  I had
trouble with my balance and I kept falling forward.  The bra was
digging into me, like it had shrunk up in the night.  The
shoulder straps bothered me.  I kept tugging on them.  I did
remember to take my sponge-bath.  I tried to find some clothes to
wear, but none of my tops fit over the bra.  I gave up and just
pulled my cheerleading sweater on with just the bra underneath. 
Even then, the sweater hung away from my stomach, making me look
pregnant.  I was beginning to really want this bra off, bad.
Mom had already left for work, so I made my own breakfast.  I had
cereal, eggs, toast, juice, an apple, a banana, some more cereal,
and I was gulping milk from the carton when time came for me to
leave for school.  I crammed a couple more apples into my bookbag
and started for the bus stop.  I would have stayed home and eaten
myself into a stupor if I hadn't had a math test that morning.
School dragged by.  The test was easy, thanks to all the time I
had spent studying at Mrs. Reynolds' house.  I wasn't even
bothered by my need to masturbate every two hours, which was a
nice break.  It was like the hormones she'd been feeding me were
taking the day off.
At lunchtime I was starving again.  I had eaten the apples after
my first class and I had not had anything for three hours.  I ate
everything on my plate and then I went through the line again and
bought another lunch and ate it too.  I was in front of the candy
machine, cramming all my change into the slot, when the bell rang
for the next class.  I shoveled my pile of chocolate bars into my
bag and ran like a thief.  It was all I could do not to try to
sneak one in class.  I managed through sheer will-power to ration
them out for the rest of the day.
When time came for cheerleading practice, I had no trouble
begging off.  I said my stomach was bothering me and I left.
The walk to Mrs. Reynolds' made me feel better.  The fresh air
and the exercise perked me up and my insatiable hunger started to
fade.  I was still having problems with my balance, though.  I
kept tripping on nothing and I caught myself walking bent over a
few times.  I had to keep reminding myself to hold my shoulders
back, which was hard, because the bra straps had rubbed sore
spots on my shoulders.
When I got there, I practically ran up the walk to the house.  I
was so anxious, I rang the bell twice.  It seemed to take Mrs.
Reynolds forever to come to the door.  When she opened it, I
almost ran her down getting inside.  I dropped my bag and
furiously fought my way out of my sweater.  I was standing there
in my bra, reaching behind me for the hooks, when she said, "Hang
on.  Not yet.  I know you want to get that off very badly, but
wait just a little while longer."
I was near the end of my rope.  I must have looked at her crazy.
She took a deep breath and almost yelled, "Samantha!"
My deeply ingrained training took over.  I snapped to attention.
I got hold of myself.  I fought the fever that gripped me and
slowly I won out.  My breathing slowed.  My pulse faded in my
ears.
"Don't move," she said.  I braced, my shoulders back, my chest
out, my arms stiff behind my back.  I twined my fingers and
clenched them together.  
"Answer my questions.  When did you last eat?"
"Two hours ago, ma'am."
"Are you still hungry?"
"No, ma'am."
"Did you take the bra off?"
"No, ma'am."
"Good.  Try to relax.  Take a few deep breaths.  It's almost
over."
I breathed deeply.  When I inhaled, the damn bra felt like it was
squeezing the life out of me.  Slowly, I relaxed.  When I was
breathing normally, she put her hand on my shoulder.
"Come with me."  She led me down the hall toward the stairs.  On
the way we passed some of the photos of her and her husband
hanging on the wall.  The one of them at the beach; a couple of
the studio shots; the photo of them at their wedding.... I
stopped in my tracks.  I turned toward the wall.  I looked at the
wedding photo.  I looked at Mrs. Reynolds.  I looked back at the
wedding photo.  I put my head against the wall and blinked.  The
last piece fell into place.  The one thing I needed.  I almost
had it all.  I knew the rest would come out sooner or later, but
I had the only piece of information that mattered at the moment.
The wedding photo was completely normal.  Mr. Reynolds and his
wife, feeding each other the wedding cake.  There must be
millions like this in albums and on walls everywhere.  They faced
each other, so the picture was mostly of them in profile.  He had
on his tuxedo and she had on her wedding gown.  He had a hand to
her mouth, smearing frosting on the face of his very flat-chested
wife.  It was unmistakably her and it could only have been taken
a month or so before the honeymoon photo next to it.  Somewhere
between the two pictures, Mrs. Reynolds had gone from an A-cup to
an F-cup, practically overnight.  The logical assumption would
have been implants, but I knew that couldn't be.
I pulled my head off the wall and looked at Mrs. Reynolds.  The
look on my face must have told it all.  She took a step back and
waved to me to follow her.  We went down the hall to the storage
room in the back.  It was an appropriate place.  She pulled the
drapes on the window as far open as they would go to let in more
sunlight.  She motioned to me to turn around so she could get to
the hooks of the bra.
"I guess this won't be quite the surprise I expected it would be,
now," she said.  "You are really too smart for your own good, you
know.  I never should have left that picture on the wall, but I
couldn't bear to take it down.  You're the first one to notice it
in years."  She pushed the hooks together and released them all
at once.  The relief I felt was indescribable.  She pushed the
shoulder straps off and I pulled my arms out, leaving the cups
stuck on my breasts.  I turned around to face her and she took
hold of the band and pulled the bra off of me.
I stood and stared down at my chest.  My breasts rose high and
curved out from my body a long way before they curved away.  I
could not see my nipples for the swell of flesh.  There was a
narrow open space between them at my sternum, but my cleavage
closed as the flesh curved inward.  My breasts hung together like
two blimps in the same hanger.  My two very full, very enormous
breasts.
I put my hands on my stomach and moved them upward.  I could not
see them except directly down my chest and I had to cock my head
to do that.  I felt the curve of my belly and the bottom of my
rib cage.  I felt one rib and then the curve of flesh.  There was
no wrinkle and no sag below my breasts.  I ran my hands under
them both   out and out and out.  My elbows were at my sides when
I felt the upward curve.  I followed it to my nipples, which had
been stretched out over the ends.  They still stuck out half an
inch or so past my areolas, which felt like they were the size of
coasters, only puffier.
I looked at Mrs. Reynolds.  She held up the bra that she had
peeled off of me and let me read the tag.  It said 34H.  The band
size was the same, but the cup size was one I had never seen
before.  I didn't even know how many sizes I had grown.
"I think you are an HH, now." She said.  "You might go up another
size by Monday.  We'll see."
There was a full-length mirror under a cloth in the corner.  She
pulled off the cloth and turned it so I could look.  I was
speechless.  My breasts were magnificent.  I kept touching them.
I could not take my hands off my body.  I turned this way and
that, admiring my new shape.  I was deliriously happy.
Mrs. Reynolds took off her own blouse and stood beside me.  We
were quite the pair.  Or a pair of pairs.  We could not both get
in the reflection at the same time.  I looked at her and then at
me and then back at her.  My breasts were bigger, much bigger.
"I'm an FF," she said.  "I couldn't take the pain as long as you
did.  I kept cheating on the timer, so I did not get stretched as
much.  You amazed me.  When you did your cheerleader routine I
knew you would be bigger.  When you did it the second time, I
knew you deserved to be bigger.  You earned it."
She went to the cabinet and took out the green bottle.  She held
it up to the light from the window.  There were just a few drops
left in the bottom.
"My husband used half of it on me.  I used the rest of it on you.
 It's all gone now.  It was an experimental batch that came from
a lab that was destroyed in a fire.  The records went up in
flames and the man who developed the formula died in the fire. 
They were never able to reproduce it.  I kept the bottle all this
time, wondering it I would ever get a chance to use it.  Then you
came along.  I decided to use it on you."
"Not me.  You didn't know me.  You used it on Yvette's
daughter."
She looked at me like my mother had the night before.  It was the
same, "Do I know you?" look.  
"You know!  What do you know?" she asked.
"I know my mother still loves you."
She looked out the window for a moment.  When she looked back at
me her eyes had teared up.
"I will always love her, too.  But I am bi and she is gay.  I
wanted a husband and family.  All she wanted was me.  From her
point of view I betrayed her for a man.  To her, I'm a
traitor...and a pervert."  She sighed.  I waited.  She would tell
it in her own time.
"She's as queer as a three-dollar bill and she got married and
had a child and I'm the pervert!"  She took a few deep breaths. 
I watched her magnificent breasts rise and fall.  I looked in the
mirror again.  I was magnificent, too.
"I was willing to keep seeing her after I got married.  My
husband knew, of course.  He thought it was erotic, the randy
bastard, being married to someone who liked women, too.  He liked
to hear about the women I seduced.  God, I miss him!"
I saw a tear roll down her cheek.  I knew she had loved him
deeply.
"She refused.  It was him or her, no having it both ways.  She
stopped talking to me.  Months of silence.  Then I heard that she
had got married too.  I did not understand what she was trying to
prove.  That she was straight?  That was absurd.  I had known her
too long to believe that."
I said, "She wanted to be like you.  You had it all.  The great
husband.  The child.  The house.  And you could still see women.
She envied you.  She tried to copy you.  It was doomed from the
start.  They should have divorced after a few months.  But there
was a small problem.  She got pregnant.  Probably happened on her
wedding night.  She was stuck.  She could not back out.  She had
to live with her mistake.  Me."  Now I was crying too.  "She's a
terrible mother, you know.  No talent for it.  And she is
incapable of dealing with the idea of me with a boy.  The idea
that I might want to be with a member of the male sex scares her
to death.  The idea that I might get pregnant makes her
psychotic.  It sounds to her like I might make the same horrible
mistake she did, and she wants to prevent that at any cost, even
the cost of any relationship I might have with her.  I'm her
cross.  I'm her albatross.  I'm her burden."
Mrs. Reynolds said, "So she sends you to me.  Out of the blue,
she calls and asks me to take care of her daughter in the
afternoons after school.  What was I going to say?  'No'?  You
are the living, breathing, walking, talking embodiment of my
lover's self-crucifixion over my betrayal of her.  I owed you.  I
owed you more than I could ever repay.  If I had not left her,
you would never have been born.  In an odd way, I am as much your
mother as she is."
"It was mostly about sex.  She knew she could not relate to me. 
To her, I'm even more of a pervert than you are.  She thinks I'm
straight. She knew she could not help me.  Her bias, her
reactions, her attitudes were all wrong.  You had succeeded where
she had failed.  She thought you could teach me."
"So here you are, on my doorstep.  I took one look at you and
fell in love five different ways.  I wanted you.  I had to know
if you were straight, gay, or bi.  I rubbed myself all over you.
You loved it, but you thought you were straight.  I knew you were
just like me and nothing like your mother.  That sealed it.  I
wanted you, but I also wanted you to be my daughter, my niece,
and my friend.  
"At the same time, I owed you the best I could do for you.  I
only had one thing to give you.  One unique, priceless thing. 
But it's a damn hard pill to swallow and you were already
beautiful.  How was I going to convince you to let your breasts
be destroyed so I could give you the same miracle that my husband
gave me?  It was hopeless.  I agreed to it because I was so damn
flat-chested anyway and I trusted my husband completely.  You
didn't know me at all and if I had told you what I wanted to do
to you, you would have run screaming from the house and I never
would have seen you again.  
"Then I walked in on you and those two testosterone-poisoning
victims that call themselves my sons.  It was perfect.  I could
do anything I wanted to you and you would have to take it.  I had
you cornered.  All I had to do was be convincing as the
vindictive mother.  It was hard.  Oh, you'll never know how hard
it was.  I was hurting you when I wanted to hold you.  I was
making you hate me instead of love me.  I couldn't stand to be in
the same room while you were hurting like that.  Then you did the
most amazing thing.  You loved me anyway.  You let me hurt you
terribly and then you came to my arms and loved me in return. 
You took the pain and the horror and you looked at me with love
in your eyes and asked for more.  When you did your cheerleader
routine for me it broke my heart."
"Why did you bring Jim and Bud down?"
"I wanted them to witness the greatest example of courage and
love I had ever seen.  They didn't get it.  I'll have to explain
it to them.  Boys!"
"Then you gave me the formula."
"I couldn't wait any longer.  You were already far better
prepared than I had ever hoped."
"Listen to me," she said, her voice becoming serious but with a
smile flickering on her lips.  "These are dangerous weapons." 
She pressed her breasts nipple to nipple against mine.   I
noticed for the first time that she wasn't wearing heels.   I
felt both our nipples begin to harden.  I think we both knew
where this was going.  
"You have no idea how powerful they are," she told me.  "Men will
throw themselves at your feet and beg you to spit on them.  Girls
will be drawn to you like a magnet, even those who are insanely
envious of you.  You are a goddess.  That is what I can teach
you:  How to use them to your best advantage.  I can show you how
to walk, how to dress, how to act, how to get whatever you
want."
 "Uh, you're not going to believe this, but I'd like to go get
something to eat." I said.
"Oh no!  Don't tell me they're still growing!"
"Gotcha!" I laughed.  We spent the next few minutes trying to
work out how two very busty women can hold each other without
someone's boob getting in the way.  It wasn't easy, but it was
sure fun.  After a while, we decided to try it lying down, so we
went up to her bedroom.  She taught me a few things about making
love to a woman and I taught her that teenage girls have lots
more stamina.
Later, we were lying in a tangle of arms, legs, and breasts,
trying to work up the energy to get dressed.
"Ah, Bambi?" I said.  I regretted it immediately and shut up.
"That's OK," she said.  "You can call me Bambi if you want.  It
is my name, as much as it makes me sound like a refugee from a
cartoon."
"OK.  Bambi, there is something I've wanted to say to you for
several days now.  I guess this is as good a time as any."
"What?  You can tell me anything.   Anything at all."
"It just this:  I love you.  I love you four different ways.  I'd
love you five different ways, too, but I can't figure out the
fifth.  You'll need to teach me that one."
We spent a long time crying all over each other.  When we ran
dry, I decided that there were a few questions I still wanted
answered.
"The pills you gave me; will I still need to take those to keep
my hormones up?"
She started giggling.  I pinched her and she quit.
"OK, OK.  Stop that.  The pills weren't hormones.  They were
prescription pain-killers.  Didn't you wonder how you were able
to tolerate the pain so easily?"
"I figured I just got used to it.  Wait a minute!   If they
weren't hormones, what the hell makes me need to cum every few
hours?"
"Don't they teach sex-ed in school anymore?  Any hormonal changes
in you are the work of your own body.  That's just your own
healthy little libido, honey.  I'm sure some of it may have been
the power of suggestion.  I told you that you would be turned
into an insatiable sex-kitten and you took that as a license to
become one."
The idea that I had been doing all that to myself was scary. 
Being able to blame it on the pills had been kind of comforting.
Was I really the kind of girl who needed sex all the time?
"Oh my goodness!  Do you know I have to cum five or six times a
day?  I can hardly keep my panties on!"
"Me too, honey.  But it's not the drugs.  It's just us."
"But the other injections.  The stuff you said would make me
lactate.  What about that?"
"Sterile saline.  Mostly because I needed to be absolutely sure
that when the time came for the real thing, both of us would be
able to do it without a hitch.  I had only one dose and only one
chance to administer it.  It also helped hydrate your tissues for
the rapid growth spurt."
"And the 'nipple sealer'?"
"Liquid bandage.  Came out of my medicine cabinet.  Keeps the
nipples from getting torn from the clamps.  I wish I had had that
when I wore them."
"So you made all that up about the effects of the drugs?"
"I was making up every word as it came out of my mouth, Sam.  A
lot of it did not make any sense, but you were not in a position
to critique my logic or my performance."
"You should get an award.  I was scared to death you were going
to cut my nipples off."
"I was scared I would too.  I didn't have time to blunt the
blades on those clippers.  I was being as careful with them as I
could and still convince you I was serious."
"Oh, you did!  You did!  I'll be your little slave forever."
"Promises, promises.  By the way, that's the fifth way: 
daughter, niece, friend, lover, and slave."
"You still owe me for scaring me like that."
"And I'll do anything to make it up to you.  What can I do?"
"Take me shopping?"
"Done.  Lets get dressed.  There is a little store near the mall
I want to take you to.  They have some darling things that I'd
like you to try on."
"Bambi?  One more thing:  What can we do for Mom?"
"I think I know, honey.  I think you do too.  So you tell me."
She was right.  I knew.  I just didn't want to say it.  It meant
my whole life had to change and I didn't know where it would go
from here.
"I need to get away from her.  I hate it, but it's best if she
doesn't have me there to constantly remind her of how she ruined
her life and how she has to keep on doing it for my sake.  Maybe
she can go back to being herself again."
"I think you are one very smart young lady, Sam.  You are
perfectly welcome to live here with me, if you like.  I know I'd
like that very much.  And you are old enough to make that
decision for yourself."
"I'd like that very much too   Mom, Auntie, Bambi, Dearest Love,
and Mistress of Pain."
"Maybe we better leave it at four, honey.  I should think you've
had enough pain for a long time.  Besides, whips, chains, and
leather are sooo out this year."
Since there was no way I was going to put that bra back on, I
slid my sweater on without it.  It had fit well enough before,
but now it was really too small.  It felt heavy and
uncomfortable.  The back of the embroidery was scratchy and it
hung on me like a tent.  School spirit be damned, there was no
way I was going to be able to wear a regular uniform now.  
It was clear that I was not only going to need a different size,
but a different type of clothes, now that my boobs were so much
larger.  I hoped that I would not have to give up cheerleading,
but I had to admit that it was going to be really hard unless I
could get a bra that could give me some support without killing
me.
After we got dressed, Mrs. Reynolds showed me to my bedroom.  It
was on the third floor, one floor above hers, down the hall from
Jim and across from Bud.  When she opened the door I almost
fainted.  The room was so gorgeous and beautifully decorated that
I though a visiting Princess would have been comfortable in it.
There was a big four-poster bed with a floral bedspread in pink
and white, a couple of big dressers, a vanity, a blanket chest at
the foot of the bed, and some really pretty wallpaper with roses
all over it.  If I had seen it in a magazine, I would have cut
out the photo so I could look at it and wonder if I could ever be
lucky enough to live in a place like that.  I would also have my
own bathroom and a walk-in closet, each of which were the size of
my old room.
When she saw how happy I was with the room, Mrs. Reynolds told
me, "When we built the house, we were planning on having a boy
and a girl, so we decorated two bedrooms with that in mind.  When
Bud was born, instead of redecorating this room, we put him in
the room next to his brother.  That room was originally to be a
guest room and now the boys share a connecting bathroom.  That
doesn't bother them, since boys don't need as much time in the
bathroom as girls do.  It also gives them an incentive to keep it
cleaner in there than if just one of them were using it.  I
wanted to keep this as a girl's room, in case we had more
children.  I always wanted a daughter, but it never happened. 
There are two other rooms on the second floor across from my
bedroom, but I thought you would like this one better."
"Oh, I do!  I really do!  It's lovely.  Thank you." I said.  "But
don't say 'never'.  Say 'until now'."  I could see by the tear
that brought to her eye and the way she hugged me that was the
best 'thank you' I could have given her.  Again I thought how
different things were going to be for me, living with someone who
loved me and wanted me rather than someone who regretted the day
I was born.  I wished that I had some things to move into my new
room to kind of make it mine.  I knew I would have to go back
home sometime soon to pack.  I didn't want to try to carry over a
lot of stuff that would remind me of my life before, but there
were some personal things I would need to get   makeup, hair
stuff, books, keepsakes and stuff.  I had brought enough with me
in my overnight bag to get by for a couple of days, and Mrs.
Reynolds agreed to drive me over on Saturday morning to fetch the
rest.  I didn't want to postpone moving out any longer than I had
to.  The sooner Mom and I got away from each other, the happier
we both would be.
We had a really great time shopping.  I won't bore you with all
the details, but I got some really nice things that I just have
to mention.  The store that Mrs. Reynolds took me to was a
discreet little place that specialized in clothes for women with
large busts.  A really nice man named Morton ran it.  He seemed
very excited about finding things that looked good on me.  He
even told us he could resize my school sweater while we were
there.  Most of the clothes he showed me were too long and too
snug, but he promised he could alter all of it in only a couple
of days.
I tried on several blouses and tops, both sheer and opaque; a few
dresses with varying amounts of dcolletage; some suits; some
lingerie; and a variety of casual clothes.  The casual clothes
were the best fit and I picked out several outfits that would be
suitable for school wear and some that were too revealing for
school, but which I had no problem wearing anyplace else.  
My favorite was a pair of boy-shorts in lycra and a loose
crop-top that draped over the front of my boobs and hung just a
few inches below my nipples.  The shorts looked just like a pair
that Mrs. Reynolds had.  The top was made of a lightweight
synthetic fabric that felt weightless on me.  I could move easily
in it and only had to worry about a stiff breeze or my own sudden
movement making the top fly up.  I asked if I could wear that one
out of the shop.
"Of course, of course," Morton said.  "The fit could be better,
but if you like it, by all means." I really did not see how the
fit could be improved.  Morton was obviously a perfectionist.  
Mrs. Reynolds picked out a mini-dress and had me try it on.  It
was similar to one I had seen her wear, basically a short robe
with a belt that could be tied loosely to leave the front open as
far down as I wanted to show more, or tightly to pull the dress
closed so that only the tops of my breasts showed.  I was
impressed at how comfortable it was and how light it felt on me.
It came almost to my knees and the front would not close all the
way over my bust, but Mr. Morton assured us that it would be
perfect when we came back to pick it up on Tuesday.
Morton showed me a pair of shorts that were just too cute, but I
could not think where I could wear them.  They were little more
than a four inch wide belt with a large rodeo-style buckle that
had a panty built into it.  It rode so low on me that the crack
of my ass showed as well as the top of my pubic hair.  I could
see that I would have to shave to be able to wear it.  The wide
elastic waistband made it feel very secure to wear, even though
it looked like it was about fall off my hips at any time.  The
top was just a pair of bandanas that tied behind my neck and
looped under each breast.  My back was totally bare down to my
callipygian cleft.  With a cowboy hat it would be a really cute
country-girl outfit.
I also tried on a really attractive outfit in a gray wool blend
that had a lot of stretch woven into it.  The skirt was a mini
that fit snugly around my hips and butt and came down to
mid-thigh.  The blouse was a lacy bloused-out tube-top that had
two elastic bands that held it above and below my breasts.  Over
this went a short jacket that matched the skirt.  It was almost a
bolero-style it was so short and it only came two-thirds of the
way around my breasts.  My midriff was bare.  The effect was to
frame my breasts and show them off, while still giving an overall
conservative look.
We decided on a good selection of even more conservative clothes
for me to wear to school.  Most were the white-blouse, pleated
skirt kind of retro ensemble that was the current 'thing', much
to the relief of the school administration.  Last year, they came
very close to imposing a dress code because several girls came to
school wearing see-thru blouses and dresses and quite a few had
shown up in Brazilian-cut bikini tops and shorts cut off so high
that they were little more than denim g-strings.  Threats of
lawsuits had stifled the urge to dictate school attire, and the
inevitable retreat of fashion back from the verge of total nudity
made the whole thing irrelevant.  It was the sort of thing you
could expect in a part of the country where Winter was the two
months of the year that you didn't have to run the
air-conditioning very often and the best thing to wear the rest
of the year was as little as possible.
I picked out a little black dress in stretch velvet that had a
high neck with teardrop cutouts in front and back.  I got a green
empire-waist dress that made me look like a little girl  
although one with really big boobs.  I got a slinky gown that
just draped over my front and had slits up the sides all the way
to my waist.  It tied behind my neck and was so loose, that if
the tie came undone, the whole thing would just slide right off.
As our selections piled up, I noticed that almost none of the
clothes allowed for underwear to be worn with them.  They were
all either too close-fitting or too revealing for anything but a
pair of thong panties.  I decided that I needed something at the
other end of the scale as well.
"I'm going to need some workout clothes and a good sports bra,
too." I said.
Morton didn't have anything like that, apparently neither
exercise nor underwear was popular with his customers, but he
suggested a maternity-wear shop down the street where I might
find a bra.  I was put off a little by the idea of shopping in a
store for pregnant women, but I figured if anyone would have a
bra that could give support to my huge boobs, then that would be
the place.
I picked out a couple pairs of casual knit shorts and some
t-shirts that would cover a bra if I wore one and we left Mr.
Morton to work on altering those things that were too long or too
loose.
As I put on the shorts that I wanted to wear instead of my
uniform, Mr. Morton brought back my sweater.  When I tried it on,
it fit much better than before.  My breasts did not feel confined
and it only hung away from my stomach a little bit.  He had moved
the embroidered patch so that it was directly across the front of
the largest part of my chest.  No one was going to miss which
school I attended.

I was surprised at how nice the maternity-wear shop was.  It was
called "Moms".  Mrs. Reynolds had to point out the significance
of the missing apostrophe to me.  I still thought it sounded more
like it should be a restaurant.
The clerk was a woman who liked to mother her customers.  She
told us to call her Madge.  We hadn't been in her store for a
minute before she had us sitting in comfortable chairs and
offering us snacks.  I could see why she would be very popular
with the pregnant women who were the majority of her clientele.
"And what may I do for you and your lovely daughter today?" Madge
asked Mrs. Reynolds.  Being mistaken for Bambi's daughter
shouldn't have been a big shock to me.  We have the same basic
coloration: blonde hair and lightly tanned skin.  Her eyes are
ice-blue and mine are sort of green, but I think the clerk was
going by our other obvious shared attributes when she assumed
that we were related.  I really didn't think Mrs. Reynolds looked
old enough to be my mother.  I thought she looked more like my
older sister.  Bambi did not even bat an eye at being taken for
my mother, though.  I realized that she had been serious when she
said she thought of me as a daughter, among other things.  I
reached over and took hold of her hand, which I thought was a
very 'daughterly' thing to do.  She held it and patted it with
her other hand   a very 'motherly' response.  I could see that
the clerk's misapprehension was not going to be corrected and
from the way Bambi was holding my hand in both of hers that she
was perfectly willing to be 'Mom' for the moment.   It dawned on
me that by choosing to move in with Mrs. Reynolds, I had
basically consented to be adopted and that the beautiful woman
holding my hand had already agreed to be my mother in fact.  
I was almost overcome by the feeling of warmth and closeness that
I felt for her then that my eyes started to tear up.  The strong
emotion must have showed on my face, because both Bambi and Madge
reached for tissues to give me.  As I dabbed my eyes, Madge said,
"It's all right, dearie.  It's perfectly normal to feel bursts of
joy and sadness for almost no reason.  The hormones are jumping
all over for someone in your condition."
I held the tissue to my face to hide my grin and looked at Bambi
to see what she thought about 'my condition'.  She smiled warmly
at me, as she pictured me pregnant.  I waited for the other shoe
to drop and I could tell instantly when the word 'grandmother'
surfaced in her mind.  Her eyes opened wide and her mouth dropped
open with a look of horror.  It was really delicious to see her
become a victim of her own fantasy.  I almost burst out
laughing.
Madge had to have me help her get the tape measure around my
bust.  When she read off 48 inches she sounded impressed.  She
said she had never seen a 48-inch bust that could pass the
'pencil test'.  Bambi had never heard of the 'pencil test' and we
had to explain it to her.  Basically, you lift a breast and put a
pencil right underneath against your ribs.  You let go of the
breast and then the pencil.  If the pencil falls, you pass.  It's
supposed to be the way you know when your breasts are big enough
so you need to wear a bra.  I heard about it from my friends at
school.  I thought that story had been around, like forever.
They had a sports bra in my size that felt really good.  It had
strong underwire that was padded, a wide band with Velcro instead
of hooks, and reinforced cups made with spandex so they gave a
lot of support when I jumped.  I was very glad to have something
that would make it possible for me to stay in cheerleading.
Madge also wanted to show us a bra that she said would make
nursing easier for me.  At first I hesitated, but I couldn't
think of a polite way to avoid trying it on and I was glad I did.
 The band didn't have hooks; instead, it stretched enough that I
was able to pull it on over my head.  The cups were lycra and
felt really soft and smooth.  Madge showed us how the cups were
made so they could each be pulled aside with one hand.  The one I
tried on was really smaller than my size but the cups felt so
good that I didn't mind at all.  I bought a couple to wear under
my school clothes.
On our way out of the store, Madge gave me a pamphlet on
breastfeeding and how to induce lactation so I would be ready to
nurse when the 'big day' arrived.  Ever since Mrs. Reynolds had
used the threat of making me lactate as part of her campaign to
scare me into allowing my breasts to be tortured, I had been
thinking about that.  The image of milk coming out of my breasts
had figured in many of my fantasies.  Now that I was so much
bigger than before in the boob department, I found the idea even
more interesting.
Bambi saw me reading the pamphlet and said, "In case you are
wondering: Yes, they will work.  You will be able to breastfeed
when the time comes.  I had more than enough for my boys.  In
fact, I probably overdid it.  I let them decide when to stop
nursing."
"How old were they when they quit?" I asked.  This was something
I had guessed at and I would never have a better opportunity to
get an answer.  At first I thought she wasn't going to say, but
she finally mumbled something I did not quite catch.  I asked her
to repeat it.
"Three," she said.  "They were three and a half, actually.  Well,
closer to four."  She trailed off at the end.  I got the
impression that they had really been closer to five, but I didn't
want to embarrass her.
"You breastfed for four years?"  I tried not to sound
incredulous, but I'm sure she heard it in my voice.  I had always
heard how hard it was on the mother and how they used to
recommend bottle-feeding babies because of the toll it took on
you.  I knew that had changed, that breastfeeding was the best
thing you could do for a baby, but a lot of girls still thought
it was something you had to endure for only the shortest possible
time.
"Yes.  I did.  I enjoyed it.  They enjoyed it.  Look, I know
everyone thinks that's an awful long time, but one day you will
find out for yourself that feeding your child from your own body
is the most beautiful and emotionally satisfying experience you
will ever have.  I know some women find it exhausting, and it
does take quite a large amount of energy to make all that milk,
but if you are in good shape you should have no problem.  And one
of the benefits is you get to eat like a horse...well, actually a
cow, but you get the idea."
"So you think I should do it?"
"What?  Breastfeed your children someday?  Certainly. 
Wait...what are you asking?"
"Should I induce lactation and donate the milk?"
"What?  Let me see that flyer.  Hmmm.  Human Milk Bank
Association of North America.  Locations.  Qualifications. 
Clinical uses.  I had no idea.  I never knew about this when I
had my children.  This is interesting.  You think this is
something you would like to do?"
"I do seem to be qualified." I said.
"According to this, if you don't drink, don't smoke, don't do
drugs, don't have any diseases and can produce milk in a
reasonable quantity, you qualify.  I guess we both do.  Actually
we are more qualified than most.  I remember I could produce a
pint a day from each breast while I was nursing both boys. 
That's...almost two gallons a week.  It says here they want about
half that per donor as a minimum.  You might be able to do three
gallons a week, the shape you're in.  And I mean that both ways,
honey."
"May I do this?"
Bambi stopped walking.  The mother-daughter thing had just become
very real to her.  "I need to think a minute." She said.  She
looked around at the storefronts around us and pointed to one. 
"Let's go in this coffee shop and talk it over."
We bought a couple of iced decaf lattes from the cute redheaded
girl at the counter and then, even though the place was almost
empty, we took a booth way in the back so we could talk in
private.  As we sipped our coffee Bambi thought over my question.
 She looked me in the eye and said, "Sam, you are a very smart
girl.  If this is something you want to try, then go for it.  I
am not going to tell you that you can or that you can't.  I am
going to give you the best advice that I can and then you can
make up your own mind.  OK?"
I nodded.  Mrs. Reynolds was treating me like an adult.  This was
a first for me.  To go from Warden Mom to someone who respected
me enough to discuss things with me rationally without using that
awful "I'll decide what's best for you" crap was a heady
experience.  I made up my mind right then not to do anything to
give Mrs. Reynolds a reason to change her mind about me.  If she
advised me not to do something, I would not do it.  If she made a
suggestion, I would take it.  
Seeing that I was listening attentively, she said, "OK.  First,
even though you are legally an adult, and even very mature for
your age, my immediate reaction is that it's still too soon for
you to be getting into something like this.  Second, this is a
big commitment in time and energy.  You will have to work around
your school, cheerleading, and dating.  Third, this is not
something you can change your mind about once you start.  It
takes a week or two so to start up and up to a month to taper
off.  So once you start, you will be committed for at least a
couple of months.  Fourth, your new breasts need some time to
rest before you start using them to pump out gallons of milk.  I
didn't start lactating for several months after I got the
treatment, until I had Jim.  Looking back, it would have been
better to have induced before childbirth, so it would not have
been so much of a shock to my system."
"Does me being a virgin figure into it?" I asked.
Bambi looked startled at that piece of news.  She hadn't thought
about me being 'virgo intacta', a term I picked up in the
Languages of the World section we had done in Social Studies
class, and all the fun we had earlier did not involve any
insertions, so she wouldn't have known.  She reached across the
table and took my hand and looked at me like I had just got
several years younger.
"I didn't know." She said.  "I guess I didn't even think about
it.  Well, honey, as far as becoming a milk factory goes, your
virginity does not matter.  Being pregnant does not figure
either.  Your womb and your breasts are completely separate.  You
can lactate without being pregnant and you can even stay a
virgin.  Do you want to stay a virgin?"
I laughed.  "No one has ever asked me that.  Mom would have kept
me in a chastity belt if she had one.  I had almost resigned
myself to being an old maid.  Right now I'm a virgin who needs to
cum every few hours or I get too horny to think straight.  I
fantasize about getting laid all the time.  I really want to get
in the game.  I certainly don't want to stay a virgin just to
stay a virgin.  I need to get my cherry busted bad.  Damn, I'm
getting wet just thinking about it.  Let's get back to the
subject.  I don't think I'm too young to donate milk.  The more I
think about this, the more I want to do it.  But you are right  
I don't know enough about what it will do to me to be able to say
how I will handle it with school and cheerleading and everything.
 As for dating, would boys mind if I were lactating?"
"Some might be turned off," Bambi said.  "I think most would
think it was cool...do they still say 'cool'?  But think of this,
it would be a fantastic ice-breaker.  You tell your date what you
are doing and warn him that you might have a leak and to let you
know if he sees any wet spots on your blouse.  We can assume he's
going to be looking anyway, so now he has permission to stare at
your breasts.  If he seems OK with it and you want to get more
intimate, you ask him if he wants a taste.  Heck, tell him that
you are hurting and you need him to help you get some relief. 
Any boy who refuses to help a girl in distress isn't someone you
want to be dating anyway.  Come to think of it, this would work
equally well on girls, too.  Maybe better.  It would help them
get over being envious of your size."
"That's brilliant!  I hadn't thought of any of that.  You know,
you started to talk me out of this, but now you're giving me more
reasons to do it.  Still, you're right about waiting.  But how
about this   I'll wait until the end of the school year.  That's
only a little more than two months.  School and cheerleading
won't be a problem then.  I'll have time to try it and decide if
I want to keep it up.  How's that?"
"That sounds like a very mature decision.  If you don't mind,
I'll hold this pamphlet for you."  She folded it and put it into
her purse.
"Sure, no prob.  Say...you're not thinking of doing this too, are
you?"
"Well, it does sound interesting.  It's for such a good cause. 
It's not like I would be doing something new.  I have some years
of experience, after all.  And I would like to get a head start
on you, young lady.  If I'm going to try to keep up with you, I'm
going to need all the head start I can get."
"That's great!  We'll be our own little herd of milk-cows.  We
can even share the pump.  I bet I'll still beat you.  I bet I can
produce more by the end of the summer than you can.  Want to bet
me?"
"You're on.  You have youth, enthusiasm, and bigger tits; but I
have experience.  It should be fairly even.  But if you quit, I
win by default."
"There you go, talking me into it again." I said.
"I guess I am, aren't I?  I put the idea in your head and here I
am, urging you on.  I must have a milk-fetish or something. 
Better watch out, I might sneak into your room at night and suck
you dry while you sleep," she said playfully.
"You kinky so-and-so!  I think you just want an excuse to play
with my breasts."
That produced an awkward moment during which we both realized
that there was more than a grain of truth in that comment.  I did
the only thing I could think of to relieve the tension.  I
grinned at Bambi from ear to ear.  She grinned back.  I decided
to change the subject.
"If I am going to start having sex, I guess I will need to be on
the pill.  Can I go to your doctor?  I'd rather not go back to
the one Mom was taking me to."
Mrs. Reynolds dropped her eyes and stared into her glass.  I
didn't need a building to fall on me to figure out what that
meant.
"You know me better than I know myself," I said.  "How long?"
She still couldn't look at me.  She opened her purse and took out
a pill dispenser.  When she handed it to me I could see that five
pills were missing.
"You've been on the pill since Monday," she told me.  "I was
going to say something, but it never seemed to be the right time.
 I'm sorry.  It seemed like a good idea.  After the first week
with the weights, you didn't need the same dose of painkillers
and I thought instead of just giving you a placebo, I would
substitute the birth control.  I knew Yvette would never have let
you take them and if you decided to go back and live with her, I
wanted to give you a going-away present."
"You wanted to give me a sex-life, even if you weren't part of
it?  That's so sweet.  If we weren't in a public place, I'd kiss
you."  I guess I knew when I said it that it would not end there.
 Without even looking around to see if we had an audience, Bambi
slid out of the booth and came around to my side of the table. 
She bent over and kissed me.  Not a peck, not a buss, but a very
thorough, very deep kiss that got my heart going fast.  When I
realized that she was not in a rush, I took her hand and pushed
it up under my top and put it on my naked breast.  She caressed
my breast expertly as she kissed me.  I tried to kiss back, but I
was getting better than I was giving.  When the kiss was over, I
was in something of a daze.
Bambi sat back down on her side of the booth and took a sip of
her coffee.  When she put the glass down, she had an ice-cube in
her teeth.  She dropped the ice into her hand and reached across
the table and rubbed it on my bare nipple.  I jumped and pulled
my top back down over my breast.  I hadn't even noticed that it
was exposed.  I looked around the caf, but we were the only
customers at the moment and I could not see anyone behind the
counter from where we were sitting.
"I know what I want to do about my virginity," I said.
"What?" Bambi asked.
"I want you to take it.  I want you to break me in.  I'm sure
there is some way we can do it."
"Well, yes.  There is.  Are you sure about this?"
"Oh, yes.  Very, very sure."
"You're not just saying this because I got you hot?  Don't you
want to wait and think it over?"
"Yes, I'm saying this because you got me hot!  I can't think of a
better time to make this decision than when I'm horny as hell and
I sure don't want to wait any longer than I have to.  Can we go
now?"
On the way out of the caf, we passed by the counter and the girl
behind it smiled at me.  She looked familiar, like she was
someone from school that I'd never been introduced to, and she
was seriously cute.  Those freckles were adorable!  I smiled back
politely.  As I was going out the door, I saw the mirror near the
ceiling in the corner.  The one that let anyone behind the
counter see everything that was going on in the back.  I turned
again to look at the girl.  She was still smiling at me, but she
looked like she was too shy to speak.
Bambi and I were crossing the parking lot when I said, "Go on
without me.  I'll meet you at the car." I walked quickly back to
the caf.
The chime rang when the door opened and the girl looked up and
saw me come back in.  She looked like I had just made her day.  I
went over to the counter and leaned over to talk to her.
"Hi, I'm Sam." I said.
"I'm Neeka."
"Neeka?  That's a cute name."
"It's really Monique, but everyone calls me Neeka."
That settled it.  There was a red-headed Monique in my class. 
It's funny how you sometimes don't recognize people when they
appear out of their usual place in your world.
"Neeka, did you see something back there in the booth?"  She
dropped her eyes and nodded, hesitantly.  "Did seeing her kiss me
get you hot?"  Another shy nod. "Do you like my breasts?"
This time she found her voice.  Her eyes flicked up to look at my
chest.   "Oh, yes!  They're gorgeous!"
"Would you like to see them?"  Suddenly we're back to nodding.  I
raised my top and leaned over the waist-high counter.  Neeka's
eyes got really wide.  I could see that I had her hooked.
"Kiss them," I ordered, to see if she was as playful as I hoped.
Neeka was on them on a flash, kissing and licking.  After only a
few seconds I pulled my top back down and said, "OK, that's
enough."  The look of disappointment on her face almost broke my
heart.  "Why don't you give me your phone number?" I asked.
Neeka grabbed a paper menu off the counter and wrote her name,
address, phone number and even her email address before I could
get the menu away from her.  I crooked a finger at her to lean
closer and when she did I gave her a quick kiss.
"I'll call you," I said, stuffing the menu in my pocket.  "Oh,
one thing   Do you like boys too?"  Neeka nodded again, with her
eyes on the counter.  The shyer she acted the cuter she looked. 
I'd always heard that the shy girls were the wildest under the
sheets.  This one was probably a tigress in bed.  
All I had up to now was a bunch of rumors, old wives tales and
half-baked theories about sex.  Here was an opportunity to check
out some things for myself.  Neeka seemed interested.  I was
interested and curious and horny.  And Mrs. Reynolds had shown me
that boys were not the required participants that I had always
assumed they were.
 "Perfect!" I said.  "We can have a lot of fun, then.  Bye now!"
All the way back to the car, I tried to get the smile off my
face.  I must have failed miserably because I had no sooner shut
the door than Bambi asked, "Well?  Did you get her number?"
I started to act surprised, but then I thought I should probably
get over being so transparent.  Bambi and I were just so alike
that it was if she could read my mind.  I knew our relationship
was going to be complex, but I was going to have to get used to
bouncing from mother to lover to sister to friend all the time.
"Not jealous, are you?" I asked.
"No.  Proud.  Was that the first time you've asked a girl for her
number?"
"Yeah.  It was an impulse thing.  She just looked so cute when
she smiled at me like that.  When I knew she had seen us, I just
had to go back and talk to her.  When I went back in, her face
lit up like she was so happy to see me.  It was like it was her
birthday and I was her present.  It this what you meant when you
said I would be a magnet   that I could have sex with anybody I
wanted?"
"That's it exactly.  Moths to a flame.  You need to be careful,
because you can't turn it off.  Now, can I give you some more
advice?"
"Please."  Advice, not orders.  I still couldn't get used to
this.
"Put yourself in her place.  When would you want her to call
you?"
"As soon as possible, if not sooner.  I'd want to know she hadn't
changed her mind.  I'd want to know if we were really going to
get together, even if it wasn't right away."
"Good.  One more tip for you   when you talk to her, even if it's
just to say you'll call her again tomorrow; give her something to
think about."
"Like what?"
"Something that will keep her thinking about you until she can be
with you again.  Tell her what you like about her.  Tell her what
you want to do to her.  Give her an assignment, like 'don't wear
panties until I see you again'.  Be creative."
"Gotcha.  Thanks.  Could you step on it?  If I don't cum soon I'm
going to die."
"Why don't you start without me?  I don't mind."
"What?"
"Go ahead.  Take your shorts off," Bambi said.  I hesitated.  We
were driving along a public street and the rush hour was just
getting started.  There were cars all around.  I looked out my
window and there was a man in a blue sedan driving beside us.
"Get out of those shorts!" She commanded.  I obeyed by reflex,
skinning out of my shorts in no time flat.
"The panties too."  I pulled off my thong panties as well.  Now I
was naked below my chest.  Anyone looking down into the car would
be able to see I was bottomless.  I pressed my thighs together
and squirmed my butt around on the leather seat.  My pussy felt
like it was burning up.
"Now the top," Mrs. Reynolds said.  "Do it!"  I pulled the
crop-top over my head.  My breasts were just below the level of
the window.  Anyone in a truck or a van could look down and see
all of me.
"Put your clothes in the back seat," she ordered.  I tossed
everything over into the back.  Now I could not cover myself
unless I crawled over the back of the seat to retrieve my
clothes.  The fire in my pussy was spreading all over my body.  I
could not sit still.  I squirmed and pressed my legs together,
squeezing to try to put out the fire.
"Spread your legs."  I spread open as far as I could in the front
seat.  My knees were pressed against the door and the center
console.  My pussy was soaking and my nipples were as stiff as
wood.
"Show me your clit."  I pulled my pussy lips apart and skinned
back the hood of my clit.  It stood up, hard and pink.  I pressed
down on either side of it and it throbbed and got bigger and
harder.  When I took my fingers away, it continued to stand up. 
I could feel it throb with my pulse.
"Feel your breasts."  I rubbed them, squeezed them, stroked them
and caressed them.  I rolled my fingers over my nipples and
pulled on them.
"Rub your clit."  I stuck my fingers into my pussy to wet them
with my juice.  When I touched my clit it felt like I had touched
it to a live wire.  I closed my eyes and arched my back.  My clit
was too sensitive to touch it directly, so I rubbed all around
it.  I stroked my labia.  I curled one finger into my pussy as
far as it would go would go.  I forced a second finger inside me
almost to the second knuckle and fucked myself with two fingers.
I was so wet I had a hard time keeping my fingers in me.  My
pussy seemed to be trying to squirm away from my hands.  My ass
wriggled all over the seat.  My legs banged into the dashboard
and the door as I thrashed around.  I moaned.  I squealed.  I
cried out, "Oh, God!  Oh, Damn!  Oh! Oh! Oh!  Oh, fuck!
OOOOOOOWWWWW!"
Gradually, I got to the point where I could sense my climax was
really close, but I was so hot and feeling so good that I didn't
really want to cum.  I had reached a place where I felt like I
was floating.  My eyes were screwed tightly shut as I savored the
feeling.  My whole body was doing a slow burn   a burn that would
burst into an inferno if I let myself reach climax.  Every muscle
in my body was tensed.  My butt was up off the seat and I was
supporting myself on my shoulders against the seat and my knees
against the door and the console.  I felt no sense of effort to
stay in this position.  It seemed like my pussy was pulling me up
off the seat.
I had a finger on either side of my clit.  I tugged gently every
second or so to keep myself on the orgasmic plateau I had
reached.  The longer I stayed there, the harder I knew my climax
would be.  Even as I tried to stay in that place, I was being
drawn closer and closer toward climax.  I was riding a wave that
was rushing toward the shore, one that would sooner or later
crash over me and send me tumbling into ecstasy. 
"Open your eyes!"  I heard Mrs. Reynolds tell me.  She seemed a
long way away.  I was so consumed by what I was feeling that I
had totally lost track of where I was.  I slowly relaxed my
squinched-up eyes and opened them.  I looked over at Mrs.
Reynolds in the driver's seat.  She was looking at me with a sly
smile on her face, as if she knew a secret.  I saw her eyes flick
across me to the window and I rolled my head in that direction. 
The car was stopped at a traffic light.  Outside the window I
could see a double-cab pickup truck stopped right next to us. 
The lettering on the door said Brownville Construction, Inc. and
there were three men hanging out of the windows, watching me
stroke my clit and wave my pussy in the air.
I was so hot I discovering that I had an audience kicked my
arousal over the edge and sent me spiraling into a climax.  I
arched my back even further and pushed my hips even higher to
give them a good look at my pussy.  As I stared back at the guys
in the truck, I felt my orgasm spark in my clit and rush out to
the rest of my body.  I needed no more stimulation on my clit, so
I grabbed my breasts and squeezed them.  As my climax exploded in
my head, my eyes shut by themselves.  I shrieked as loud as I
could so the men could hear me cum as well as see me, then I lost
myself in my climax.   
I don't remember the car starting up again or the rest of the
ride back.  The next thing I knew, we were pulling into the
driveway of Mrs. Reynolds' house, my fingers were back in my
pussy, and I was heading for another climax.  I was finding it
easier to reach the place where I was so aroused that I could
just float along with the least amount of stimulation to my hard
clit or my engorged nipples.  It was like spinning up a top so
that it would stand on its own.  I could keep humming along on
the verge of orgasm with just a tweak here or a squeeze there. 
It was wonderful.  I supposed it was like being drunk, which I
had never been, but there was a fuzzy mental haze and a sense of
relaxed euphoria that I thought must have been like that.  There
was also a sense of excited anticipation of the orgasm that was
just about to hit me.  I started to wonder if I could walk around
like that, just coasting along on a pre-orgasmic high with my
clit bulging out between my pussy lips.  
Mrs. Reynolds parked the car by the side door so we would not
have to carry our shopping bags any further than necessary.  When
she stopped the car, I jumped out and ran around to the trunk to
help with the bags.  She popped the trunk open and we grabbed a
couple of bags apiece and carried them into the house.  It wasn't
until we were inside that Mrs. Reynolds reminded me.
"Sam, did you forget something?"
"Hmmm?"  I was really zoned out.  I must have had a goofy grin on
my face as I stood there holding my shopping bags, flexing my ass
and jerking my hips to keep my clit buzzing.
"You left something in the back seat.  You better run get it."
"OK."  I put down the bags and walked back down to the car.  It
wasn't until I opened the rear door and stuck my head in that I
realized what she had sent me for.  My clothes were laying on the
car seat and I was standing in the driveway completely naked.  I
had been so fuzzy when I got out of the car that I hadn't thought
about my clothes.  It never even occurred to me to be shocked at
standing outside in the nude.  I picked up my clothes and folded
them neatly before carrying them into the house.
"Let's leave the bags here." Bambi said.  "Come on upstairs with
me.  We have some unfinished business."
I followed her up to her bedroom like a puppy.  I was so looking
forward to getting my cherry popped that my pussy juice had run
down my legs to my knees.  I hopped up on the bed and started
rubbing my pussy again.
Bambi undressed quickly.  She must have been nearly as aroused as
I was.  After all, she hadn't cum in the car.  She had to sit and
watch me cum my brains out for the guys in the truck.  She ran to
the bathroom and came back with a bath towel that she stuck under
my ass.  I realized that this was to keep my blood off the
bedspread and I got even more excited.  I was about to be changed
from a girl to a woman.
I watched Bambi as she went into her big walk-in closet and come
back with a pink plastic dildo attached to some straps.  She
stepped into the straps and pulled them up around her waist and
her legs.  When she tightened the straps the dildo stood straight
out from between her legs.  It looked like she had a pink cock. 
She squirted something from a small clear bottle into her hand
and rubbed it over the head of the dildo.  When she came over to
the bed, I got so excited that I started to breathe hard and
fast.
I must have looked scared, laying there on the bed, waiting on
her to stick that big pink think in me and make me bleed.  She
took my hand and put it on the dildo.  She started fucking the
dildo through my fingers.  I could feel the slick lube on the
plastic.  The dildo must have been only about six inches long,
but to me it seemed gigantic.
I had one hand on the dildo and one on my pussy, stroking both. 
I slowly started to pull the dildo toward my small opening. 
Bambi responded to my pull.  She pulled my legs toward her so
that my rear end was almost hanging off the edge of the bed.  She
put the head of the dildo into my pussy, slid it in until she
felt the resistance of my hymen and looked me in the eyes.
"Last chance," she said.  "Are you sure you want to do this?"
I was breathing so fast I was close to fainting.  My clit was so
hard I would have cum if she blew on it.  The feeling of the
dildo in my pussy was pushing me quickly over the edge into
another climax.  I nodded and said, "Do it.  Fuck me!"
She grabbed hold of my ass and braced her legs against the bed
frame.  She pulled back her hips a couple of inches.  Before I
had a chance to change my mind, she rammed her hips forward,
driving the dildo into my pussy.
The sensation of the base of the dildo grinding into my clit
fired off my orgasm.  My legs went around Bambi's butt and
locked.  I pulled her into me and held on as tightly as I could
while I came all over the dildo inside my pussy.  She lay down on
top of me and put her arms around my arched back, riding me as I
bucked like a wild horse on the bed.  I was so keyed-up and my
orgasm came so quick after she pounded the dildo into me that I
didn't feel any pain at all.  It wasn't until several minutes
later when my orgasm had faded, that I felt anything other than
pure pleasure.
Bambi pushed herself up off me and slowly pulled the dildo out. 
I felt a slight sting, but nothing like the pain I had been
expecting.  When it was out, I could see a couple of smears of my
blood against the plastic before she wiped it off on the towel. 
She unstrapped the dildo and stepped out of it.  Then she pulled
the towel up between my legs like a diaper and closed my legs
over it.
"You just relax," she said as she pulled a blanket over me. 
"I'll check in a minute to make sure the bleeding has stopped,
then we'll give you a douche to clean you up.  Now, I'm going to
go make us reservations at the Four Oaks for dinner."
I opened the blanket and reached out to her, dragging her up onto
the bed with me.  I pulled the blanket over both of us and we
snuggled together while we waited for the bleeding to stop.  That
was one of the most tender moments I had ever felt, laying there
cuddling and kissing with the woman who had just taken my
virginity.
Later, after I had washed thoroughly, inside and out, I put on
one of my nice outfits.  It had a nearly sheer white jacket with
a lace pattern that fastened at one point below my breasts and
left my cleavage and my stomach bare.  The pants were flared
low-riders in red lycra that looked like a second skin.  I could
have worn a thong under the pants, but there was no way it
wouldn't show and I think having your underwear hanging out looks
tacky.  When I had to pull the pants up into my crack to get them
high enough to cover my pubic hair, I decided I really had to
start shaving down there so I would not have to worry about that
problem any more.  
We didn't get me any shoes when we went shopping, so I had to
wear my walking shoes.  They were white, so they matched, but I
thought some strappy heels would have looked better.
After I finished dressing to go out, I went downstairs to the
family room.  Mrs. Reynolds was still getting ready, but Bud and
Jim had already changed and were on the sofa watching TV.  The
last time they had seen me, my breasts were flat, stretched-out
bags.  I knew they would be surprised to see me now.  As I walked
quietly up behind them, I thought about how I felt about them. 
To put it mildly, I had not been impressed by their behavior
either before or during my 'torture' sessions.  I particularly
remembered the "EWWWW!" comment that Bud made about my breasts
and especially the looks on both their faces when I did my
cheerleader routine for them.  I had to remind myself that that
had been barely 24 hours ago.  My body and my life had completely
changed in that time, but I knew that they had not changed.  They
were both a couple of spoiled brats who badly needed to be taught
to be considerate of others.  Their mother loved them too much to
do it.  I guessed that made it my job to train them.  I smiled to
myself as the thought of training the boys came to me.  Mrs.
Reynolds wasn't the Mistress of Pain   I was.  I had taken it and
I was now qualified to dish it out.  
I put my shoulders back and held my head high as I stepped around
the couch and walked over to the TV.  I punched the power button
to shut it off and I turned to face Bud and Jim with my hands on
my hips.
"Hello, boys," I said.  Their reaction was everything I hoped it
would be.  Their eyes locked onto my chest and their mouths fell
open.  Their little brains were as transparent as glass.  I
expected them to start drooling any second.  I let them have a
good, long look at me.  I turned and posed some, trying not to be
too obvious about it.  Although I don't think it mattered a bit
to them how obvious I was being.  Their mother was right about
one thing   my 48-18-28 measurements could reduce boys to
quivering jelly.
I started to play with the one button below my breasts that held
my top closed.  I plucked at it and ran my fingers around it as
though I couldn't figure out how to operate it.  I mimed tugging
and pulling at my jacket as though it was suffocating me and I
was trying to get it off.  I stroked my stomach and my hips and
let my fingers flutter over my pussy as if I were about to start
fingering myself.  When I thought they had been teased enough, I
put my fists back on my hips and stamped my foot to get their
attention.
"Where are your manners, guys?  Don't you stand up when a woman
walks into the room?"
It was as though they had been reeled up on a line.  Both of them
rose to their feet.  I could see their hard cocks tenting their
dress slacks.  I smiled sweetly at them and looked pointedly down
at the bulges in their pants.
"Oooo.  I see you like me.  It looks like you like me a lot. 
That's nice.  Would you like to show me how much you like me? 
Why don't you take those hard cocks out and let me see how much
you like me?"
Both flinched a hand toward their zippers, but they both stopped
short of pulling their dicks out.  They needed some more
encouragement.
"Aw, c'mon.  Show me.  Pleeeeese?  I promise not to bite...hard."
 I licked my lips and flicked my tongue at them.  Both zippers
went down at the same time.  I stepped around the coffee table to
stand close between both boys as they pulled their cocks out for
my inspection.  It was funny how easy it was to get them to do
what I wanted.  It was as if their brains shut down when their
cocks went up.
I was surely no authority on cocks, but they both seemed to have
really large ones.  Neither was completely hard yet, but Jim's
curved out from his groin and hung down to a couple of inches
above his knees.  It had to be over 10 inches long   maybe over
11.  Bud's was only a little shorter, but his cock looked a lot
thicker than his brother's.  I smiled at both of them to reassure
them as I reached out with both hands to stroke their cocks at
the same time.  The way they each moaned when my hand closed
around his manhood made me feel really powerful and in control. 

I stood and stroked them for a while   just for the novelty of
it, I told myself   but I also got a big thrill from having a
cock in my hand.  Having hold of two at once would have been a
very heady feeling, but holding cocks that I suspected were on
the upper end of the scale size-wise was making me so hot I was
getting dizzy.  For a second, I thought of going easy on them.  I
thought about stroking them until they came and I almost decided
to do it, just to watch them spurt.  
Then I thought about what it would feel like to have one of those
inside me and it was almost my undoing.  I felt such a rush of
heat through my body that I knew I had to push that thought away
quickly or I would surely give in to the temptation.  If I
dwelled on it, I might lose the upper hand here and end up on the
floor, begging them to teach my newly deflowered pussy what a
real cock felt like.  They could probably teach me some new ways
to beg.  The idea of me lying on my back, showing them my pussy
and pleading pitifully for some cock even gave me a mini-orgasm.
I mustered all my resolve and tried to think about something
else.
My next thought was about sucking them.  I had never done that
before and I wondered what it would be like.  I especially
wondered what their jizz would taste like.  I managed to resist
that one too.
I hated to hurt them, but I had to teach them an important lesson
that would lay the groundwork for our future relationship, so I
squared my shoulders and got on with matters at hand.
"Guys?  Your cocks are really nice.  They are really big.  And
they are really hard.  I want to tell you something.  It's
something important, so listen up.  Do you remember yesterday,
when you looked at me and made those awful faces and that awful
noise?"  
They nodded.  If all the blood hadn't left their brains for their
cocks, they might have figured what was coming.
"Well, do you remember watching me do my cheerleading routine for
you while wearing five pounds of iron hanging from my nipples? 
There is a lesson that I want you to learn from that.  The lesson
is..."  I squeezed their cocks as hard as I could and hung on
tight as they started to shriek.  "The lesson is that I can take
one hell of a lot of pain.  Can you?  I can function perfectly
well, and even smile pretty, when I am in excruciating agony. 
How are you doing?"  
I took pity on them and let go.  They both dropped to the sofa,
clutching their bruised genitals.  It made me feel bad to have
hurt them, but I reminded myself that I could have been rougher
on them   I could have squeezed their balls.
"This ends the lesson.  If you missed it, I will repeat it for
the slow learners:  I am tougher than you are.  Make no mistake
about that.  If you are nice to me, I will be very nice to you. 
We can have a lot of fun.  I might even let you two fuck me.  I
think I would like that, actually.  But you will be nice to me,
or I will hurt you.  You will be courteous.  You will be
considerate.  You will be polite.  If I ask you to do something
nicely, you will smile and say, "Oh, yes.  Happy to."  If I have
to ask twice, I won't be smiling, and shortly, neither will you.
Now.  Are we clear on the rules?"
"Yes," they both croaked together.  They were watching me now
like I was a dangerous animal that had got loose in the house.  I
knew they never suspected that all my acting skills had been
learned from their mother.
 "Good.  Now, stand up and let me see those cocks again."  They
hesitated, as I expected.  "UP!  Now!"  I said in a commanding
voice.  This time they both jumped to their feet.  "Remember what
I said about telling you twice?  Now let's see those cocks.
They both pulled their deflated cocks out to show me.  I looked
each one over carefully.  There did not seem to be any damage.  I
smiled and got down on my knees in front of them.  I took both
cocks in my hands again and started stroking.  I did not wait for
them to get hard again.  I leaned over and kissed Jim's cock. 
Then I opened my mouth wide stuck my tongue out and licked the
head.  It tasted pretty good.  I sucked it into my mouth for a
good taste.  I washed my saliva all over it and sucked it clean
again.  I pulled his cock out of my mouth with a pop and kissed
it again, looking up into his eyes.  Then I did the same to
Bud's, which I had some trouble getting my mouth over, because it
was larger and it had swollen considerably while I was working on
his brother.  When I had given both cocks a quick tongue-bath and
a kiss, I stood up.
"OK, guys.  That's all.  Put them away...for now."  I smiled and
winked at both boys.  I waited until they had zipped up and
sorted themselves out again.  I tried with all my might not to
let them see that letting go of their cocks was very hard for me
to do.  Having had a taste of cock, I found that I liked it.  I
liked it a lot.  In addition to the feeling of power it gave me
to have them at my mercy, I liked the sensation of handling,
touching, tasting and even smelling their vaguely musky scent.  I
especially liked the looks on Jim and Bud's faces while I was
sucking their cocks.  It was a really wonderful feeling to make
someone feel that good.  I decided right then that I was going to
get very well-acquainted with these two guys.
"Sit down.  Here, let me sit between you.  I want to talk to
you."  Unlike the last time we had sat on this couch together,
they made room for me. I sat down between them and they scooted
away to a respectful, even cautious, distance.
"It's OK, you can sit closer.  But no hands, unless I say it's
OK."  They slid back to a comfortable distance.  Not on top of me
this time, but close enough to touch.  I put a hand on the
closest thigh.  They twitched, but did not move away.
"This is the thing.  I want you to do me a favor.  Your mother
loves you very much."  I looked at them both to see if they were
paying attention.  As soon as I mentioned their mother they both
looked like the conversation had gone somewhere they had not
expected.  "I know you realize that she is a very touchy-feely
person?"  I looked for a response to this and they both nodded. 
I was beginning to think neither of them was exactly a sparkling
conversationalist.  "Well, you can do me a big favor if you will
both try to give her a hug or two every day.  It would make her
very happy and it would make me very happy.  It will certainly do
you no physical harm."  At the phrase "physical harm", both of
them became much more alert.
To my surprise, they even became vocal.  Jim said, "Sure.  We can
do that."
Bud looked doubtful, "But she keeps trying to rub her tits on
me." He whined.
"And you have a problem with women's breasts?" I asked.  "You
seem to like mine just fine.  Especially now."
"Gee, you know, she's our mother and all." Jim added.
"Guys, let me clue you in.  You may find this disgusting, but it
is information that you need to know.  The happiest time in your
mother's life was when she was breastfeeding you.  She misses
that.  I'm not saying you should each grab a nipple and start
sucking.  Although she might just love it if you did.  But try
not to avoid it when she feels like holding you to her breasts. 
It's OK.  Women like to do that.  Especially mothers with their
children.  It's not perverted and it's not really sexual.  It's
an emotional bonding....  OK, it's a girl-thing and you better
learn to like it.  Got it?"
"Yeah."  "Unhuh."
"Good, but let's work on that 'manners' thing we were talking
about, hmmm?  Can I get a 'yes, ma'am'?"
"Yes, ma'am!"  "Yes, ma'am!"
"Very good.  I think we're going to get along fine.  It you do
what I tell you; if you take my advice about how to treat girls,
you will find that your popularity with the opposite sex will go
way up.  Now, so you can get some practice, I want you to hug me
like you will hug your mother when she comes down.  Bud first."
I leaned over to Bud and he put his arms around me.  He was
unsure what to do with his head, so I pushed it down onto my
chest.  As he held me I went, "Mmmmmm."
When it was Jim's turn he caught onto the head on the breasts
business right away.  He even kissed me on the breast, which made
me tingle.  "Excellent!"  I told him.  "And I promise it won't
hurt when you do it to your mother."
"Well, you three seem to be getting along," Mrs. Reynolds had
snuck up behind us the same way I had snuck up on the boys. 
"What was that about doing something to me?"
I looked at both boys.  Neither moved.  I poked them with a stiff
finger.  They both got that "Oh, you mean ME" look so common to
boys with short attention spans.  Jim was the first out of his
seat.  He went around to his mother and gave her a big hug.  Bud
followed right behind.  Mrs. Reynolds looked shocked.  When both
boys pressed their heads to her breasts, she figured it out and
looked over at me.  I gave her a big smile and blew her a kiss. 

"Did you tell them about the new arrangements?" She asked me.
"No.  I thought I would let you explain that."  
Jim and Bud looked puzzled.  Jim asked, "What's going on?  What
arrangements?"
"Boys," Mrs. Reynolds said, "I told you that Samantha would be
staying for the weekend, remember?  Well, there has been a small
change of plans.  It looks like she will be with us for a bit
longer than that.  Jim.  Bud.  Say hello to your new sister."
I got to my feet and wiggled my fingers at Jim and Bud.  Their
expressions alternated between surprise, joy and terror as the
possibilities of having me as a permanent member of the household
flashed through their heads.  Their reaction to the news was
everything I could have wanted.
"Sam, you might want to call your friend before we leave for the
restaurant."  Mrs. Reynolds said, handing me the menu with
Neeka's number on it.
"Sure," I said.  "Is tomorrow night okay?  I don't have anything
planned.  I don't really know what she might like to do.  I
thought I'd just ask her to come over and hang out."
"That's fine.  You two can get to know each other and then if you
need a ride somewhere, I'll be happy to take you.  Let me know if
you need me to go pick her up."
I took Neeka's number and went upstairs to the phone in the
kitchen to get some privacy while I called her.  I was pretty
nervous since this was my first date with a girl.  I hadn't even
had that many dates with boys   certainly no 'real' ones   and I
wasn't sure at all how to go about this.  I called the number on
the menu with a big lump in my throat.  Fortunately, it was
answered on the second ring.
"Hello, Morgan residence."  A woman answered.  I guessed it was
her mother.
"Hi, this is Samantha.  May I speak to Neeka?"
"Just a minute, please."  I heard a hand go ever the phone and a
muffled conversation on the other end.  Then a new voice came
on.
"Hi, Sam.  This is Neeka.  Thanks for calling so quick."
"I wanted to call as soon as you got in.  Actually, I wanted to
talk to you some more this afternoon, but I had to go.  I'm sorry
about that."
"Oh, don't worry about it.  I know you were in a hurry."
"So, would you like to get together sometime?"
"Oh, yes!  Whenever is good for you."
"How about tomorrow night?  Are you busy then?"
"No.  Tomorrow is great.  Wow."
"I don't have anything special planned, I'm afraid.  I just
thought we could kind of hang out and get to know each other, you
know?"
"That's great, really.  When and where?"
"Well, would you like to come over to my house?  We can come get
you if you need a ride."
"No, I have a car.  My parents bought it for me on my birthday. 
I have to pay for the insurance and stuff myself.  That's why I
work in the coffee shop in the afternoons."
"Great!  We're on Ridgeway Court.  Do you know where that is?"
"I should.  We live there."
"WHAT?  Which house?"
"110.  Where are you?"
"115.  The house at the end of the street.  This is so wild. 
You're only three houses away!"
"The Reynolds house?  I never knew Mrs. Reynolds had a
daughter."
"Uh, she didn't.  I'm not.  Ah, oh heck!  This is complicated."
"Oh, don't worry about it.  You can explain it all to me
tomorrow.  What time?"
"Come on over about 6 in the afternoon.  We'll eat here.  OK?"
"Fantastic!  What should I wear?"
I was about to say 'jeans' but I remembered what Bambi had told
me about giving her something to think about.  Instead, I said,
"Do you have a short sundress?"
"Uh, yeah.  I have a pale green one.  I wear it over my suit when
I go swimming.  Is that OK?"
"Yes.  And Neeka?  Don't wear anything else.  I want to be able
to get you naked in a second."
"Oh, God!  Uh, all right.  Sure.  Oh, wow!"
"Great!  See you tomorrow, then?"
"Oh, yeah!  Six.  I can't wait."
"Oh, one more thing."
"Anything!"
"Don't you dare cum until I tell you to!  I want you to save it
for me, OK?"
"Oh my God!  Oh, jeez.  Oh, I mean...sure.  Whatever you say."
"Good girl.  See you tomorrow.  Bye now!"
"Bye."
As I hung up the phone I felt like a nasty bitch for telling
Neeka she could not cum until I told her too.  At the same time I
wondered if she would be able to keep her hands off her pussy for
longer than ten minutes until 6pm Saturday.  She sounded like she
was about to cum right there on the phone.  I knew if someone
told me I could not cum for 24 hours, I would never make it.  My
pussy was already getting damp from thinking about what I was
putting poor Neeka through.  I planned to make it up to her,
though.  I was going to make her cum until she begged me to
stop.
We were on the way to the restaurant to celebrate my new status
when I asked Mrs. Reynolds, "Do you know the Morgans up the
street at 110?"
"Well, yes.  Carl and Fiona.  Carl's a PR flack.  That means he
runs all over the country trying to pry his customers' feet out
of their mouths when they say something they shouldn't."  She
glanced into the back seat where Jim and Bud were riding.  I got
the impression she had something to tell me that she would rather
they were not privy to.  
"Fiona and I used to be close friends until a couple of years ago
  We would get together for lunch and spend a couple of hours
together before her daughter got home from school.  What was the
daughter's name, now..."
"Monique.  She goes by Neeka," I said.  I watched for Bambi's
reaction when she realized that I was seducing the daughter of
one of her own lovers.
"That's right.  How...Oh my goodness!  Don't tell me that was
Monique at the coffee shop?"
"Small world, hunh?"
"Damn near microscopic at times."
"Are you and Fiona still on good terms?"
"Oh yes.  We had a lot of fun for a few months.  Eventually we
lost the spark and moved on to other things.  I haven't spoken to
her in months, but that's something I need to fix.  She's on the
shy side, but she can be, ah, enthusiastic under the right
circumstances."
"Neeka seems to be just like her mother.  I took your advice, by
the way.  I gave her something to think about and something to do
  or not do."
"Good for you.  I wonder...."  She trailed off and looked
thoughtful.  I had a good idea what she was thinking.  I was
thinking the same thing.  Bambi and I were so alike it was almost
scary.  I could see that someday we might be able to have entire
conversations just looking into each other's eyes.
"I know what you're thinking." I said, giggling.
"I bet you do.  Let's wait and see what happens before we plan
anything."
"You think...."
"I do.  We'll just have to wait and see if I'm right."
When we got to the restaurant, the boys were perfect gentlemen. 
They jumped out of the back seat and opened both our doors and
escorted us inside.  When we were shown to a table, they even
held our chairs for us.  I could see that Bambi wanted to ask me
how I managed to turn those two into gentlemen, but she couldn't
very well bring it up in front of them.  I wondered if I should
tell her that I used the same pain/pleasure technique that she
had used so effectively on me.
Dinner was perfect.  The food was delicious and the service was
excellent.  Our waiter kept our glasses so full that I lost track
of how much I had had to drink and I had to run to the restroom
to pee.  On my way there I noticed that I was attracting a lot of
looks but I was too desperate to get to the ladies room to pay
any attention.  
When I finished, I checked myself over carefully in the mirror. 
Everything was where it should be.  I pulled my pants up into my
crack again to make sure that they covered my hair.  Some of my
girlfriends had told me that they hated thongs and g-strings
because they could not stand the feeling of having something up
their crack.  I couldn't understand that because I loved the
sensation of having something against my sensitive parts.  I
couldn't wear underwear with the clothes I had on, but having the
seam of the pants riding up between my cheeks and my pussy lips
was even better.  I smoothed the pants out so they clung to me
like a second skin.
The jacket was cut so that only the sides and front of my breasts
were covered.  The material was sheer enough to show the outline
of the parts that it covered and in a good light, like the bright
light over the mirror, you could make out the outline of my
nipples.  On impulse, I opened the jacket and pulled on my
nipples until they swelled up.  Then I closed the jacket again
with my breasts hiked up even higher, so that my nipples were
just covered but their outline was clearly visible through the
jacket.  Leaving the restroom, I walked slowly back to our table.
 
This time I looked around so I could appreciate the looks I was
getting.  I was surprised to see so many people stop eating to
look.   Some of them even pointed me out to their dinner
companions.  It seemed to me that I was attracting just as much
attention from the women as the men.  I had been afraid that my
clothes would be too much for this fancy restaurant, but I saw
many women who were showing just as much skin as I was.  Some of
the most admiring looks I got were from the women I would have
considered competition.  
It was looking like Mrs. Reynolds was right when she said even
girls who were envious of me would find me attractive.  I was
going to have to learn to relate to people completely
differently.  It was clear that I was going to attract attention.
 I could probably have walked through the restaurant wearing a
burlap bag and still attracted attention.  Wearing clothes that
showed off my figure would attract more, but I refused to
dishonor Mrs. Reynolds' wonderful gift, and especially the pain
and tears that I had contributed to the process, by covering up
the magnificent result.  I wondered if that made me egotistical.
I didn't feel that way.  I felt like the proud owner of a
beautiful work of art.  I wanted to show it off so everyone could
enjoy it.  I thought perhaps the other women who were looking at
me so admiringly understood this.  I smiled back at the next
woman who looked at me admiringly and I nodded to her.  She
looked me right in the eyes and for a second I felt that we
connected, that there was a sense of shared experience.    
It seemed that I arrived back at the table way too soon.  I
wanted to make another trip around the room.  I smiled at the
impulse.  Although I hadn't exactly been a wallflower, I had
never been that much of an exhibitionist before; but I was
certainly turning into one.  As I sat back down, I remembered the
construction workers in the truck watching me cum.  Knowing that
someone was watching me added a lot to the experience, as though
I were sharing my pleasure with them.  
Before, I had thought of sex as a personal, intimate thing.  This
may have been because the average number of people who had been
involved in each of my sexual experiences was equal to one.  As
my sexual horizon broadened, I understood that my sex life would
be far more varied; way more interesting; and probably a good bit
more public than I had ever dreamed.  As far as my appearance was
concerned, I may as well have been carrying a big flashing sign
saying 'LUST'.  This was one of the things that I would have to
rely on Mrs. Reynolds to guide me through.  She had years of
experience at dealing with being a public attraction that she had
promised to share with me.
"You seem to be very thoughtful tonight," Mrs. Reynolds commented
as I worked on my salmon filet.
"I was just thinking how lucky I am and how close I feel to each
of you."  As I said it, I looked each of them in the eyes, paying
particular attention to Jim and Bud.  I wanted the two boys to
feel that I cared for them, even if I had to be mean to them at
times.  The thought had just passed through my head when I
recognized it as maternal instinct.  It shocked me.  I had never
had a maternal thought before.  I tried to imagine where on earth
it had come from, but I couldn't blame it on anything specific. 
It had to be me belatedly growing up.  I was officially no longer
a girl.  I was now a woman.
I raised my water glass.  "To women," I said.  Everyone joined in
the toast.
We stayed in the restaurant quite late.  Late for me, anyway.  It
had been a very full day and I was ready for bed by 9PM.  When we
got home, Bud and Jim went downstairs to watch a video and I went
upstairs to bathe and get into bed.  The nightgown I had brought
with me was way too small, so Bambi loaned me one of hers, a
sheer babydoll with a cute ruffled panty.  It tied in front with
a ribbon at the neck, so my bust size was not a problem.  Bambi
thought it looked so darling on me that she insisted I keep it. 
"It's worth it just to see you in it, honey," she told me.
"I have another over at Mom's," I said.  It was so easy to start
calling my new house Home and the old house, Mom's.  "I'd like to
clear my stuff out of there as soon as possible.  Please, can we
go over first thing in the morning and pick it up?"  I hopped
into bed and crawled under the covers.
"Of course.  Whatever you'd like."
"I really want to cut the cord as soon as possible," I said.  "I
want to get it over with so it isn't hanging over me.  You
understand how I feel?"
"Yes.  I do.  When you make a hard decision, you want to act on
it immediately.  I feel the same way.  We'll go right after
breakfast.  Sleep well.  Goodnight."  She bent over me and kissed
me goodnight.  I felt so tired and so warm and good that I fell
asleep before she turned out the light and closed the door.



<1st attachment end>


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