Motionless, Book 1: Sudden and Unexpected - TavernMoth (2024)

Chapter 1: Prologue/Part 1: VBH

Chapter Text

Bridget was bored. She hated mornings when she woke up too early and couldn’t get back to sleep. She checked the clock again and knew that Aidan wouldn't show up for at least a couple of hours. Pinned to her back, the only thing in arm’s reach was a book she had finished the night before. Unable to do much of anything in her condition, she stretched out her arms and rested them on the floor above her head. She kicked her useless legs and let out a soft moan of frustration.

Trapped as she was by the immense weight of the fleshy boulders attached to her chest there was no chance of reaching the bookshelf on the other end of the huge room. Aidan had brought in more than a dozen new books for her to read just a few days before and she had already finished more than half of them. She supposed it didn’t make much of a difference. Even once Aidan showed up it was bound to be yet another boring and pointless day of trying to ignore the outside world passing her by. It was surprising how quickly you could run out of fresh material when all you could do to occupy yourself was read books, watch movies, and play videogames. Strange as it was, while so many people were fantasizing about staying home all day, she would have killed to get out and work a job.

A thought occurred to her and she tilted her head back and lifted her chin until the top of her head rested flat on the floor. She got an inverted view of the low table just behind her and another groan escaped her lips. Her laptop was also beyond her reach. Now that she thought about it she remembered asking Aidan to leave it there. They had spent a few hours binge-watching a show the night before and he’d left it there so she wouldn’t accidentally crush it in her sleep. It had happened before. Sometimes she managed to shift just enough weight in her sleep that things left out in the danger zone ended up trapped under hundreds of pounds of boob.

Utterly defeated, Bridget gave her breasts a dirty look and then let her head fall back to the floor with a thump. She would just have to wait until someone came along to help her out. She knew there was no chance of dozing off again now that she was awake. More to occupy her mind than for any real purpose, she wondered if she could twist herself around enough to shift positions on her own. She hadn’t tried it for a long time. It wouldn’t do much good if she got onto her feet, but she could at least do some of her stretches and squats. A little exercise a few times a day was the best way to prevent muscle atrophy since she couldn’t move on her own anymore. Plus the routine she had worked out made her ass look spectacular.

She considered her breasts. They lay at rest to either side of her body, somewhat flattened against the floor under their own immense weight. Even so, they were so huge that they loomed over her like a pair of flesh-colored mountains. Far beyond her reach, she knew her nipples were out there somewhere, but she hadn’t so much as glimpsed them in years. She’d outgrown bras ages ago and no brand made anything close to her size since high school. Now it was laughable to think how much raw material it would take to construct even a single cup capable of containing her enormity. It wouldn’t do any good anyway. She wasn’t nearly tall or strong enough to lift her titanic mammaries. The world was her bra.

Unable to occupy her mind in any other way, she began to think back to her childhood. To the days when her strange and unnatural condition first reared its head.

VBH

“What do you want to do today, Bridge?”

“I dunno. We could bike to the creek and try to catch one of those bullfrogs we saw last time.”

“Oh yeah! We could really freak my sister out if we caught one. Let me run inside and grab my jar.”

A sandy-haired boy of about twelve dropped his bike to the pavement and sprinted back into his house. The friend he called “Bridge” was a girl around the same age with curly red hair and a splash of pale freckles over her nose. She leaned over her handlebars and rested her cheeks on both fists, squashing her face into an absurd gargoyle squint as she waited for him to return. She wore old jeans with holes forming in the knees and a t-shirt with a character from a cartoon about super soldiers that fought monsters from another dimension emblazoned on the front. The blond boy returned with an old gallon pickle jar cradled in his arms and rushed down the front step towards his bike. He knelt beside it and began to tie the jar to its frame with a series of leather straps he had rigged up as a sort of cargo harness

“Geez, Aidan, you think it’s big enough?” The girl teased as he stood up and lifted his bike off the ground. “Did you punch holes in the top?”

“How dumb do you think I am?” Aidan scoffed. “I kept a lizard in there for a few days before my mom made me let it go. He always seemed happy enough.”

The girl rolled her eyes and performed some quick calculations as she checked the position of the sun in the sky.

“Let’s just get going. The sun’s gonna set in a few hours.”

“Way ahead of you, Bridge,” the boy crowed as he blew past her on his bike, pedaling like mad.

“You—!”

Bridget growled and pushed off the sidewalk to chase him down. Their races were always close, but she was in the lead with one extra victory and she didn’t intend to let him tie it up again. He could pedal faster because he was a little stronger than her, but he was bad at pacing himself and she weighed less so she almost always caught up to him once he started to wear himself down. This time was no different. They sped across town, following the drainage ditch just north of their street, and the creek came into view ahead of them. It was an almost two mile ride, but they made short work of it. Both were breathless and red-faced as Bridget began to close the distance between them at a steady clip. Aidan put on one last desperate burst of speed, but his lungs were burning and he couldn’t maintain that pace for long. With just a few yards to go, the redhead caught him and they passed the sign they used as their finish line at exactly the same time.

“TIE!” The girl roared as she screeched to a halt and stood with one leg on the ground. “Still 18 to 17, you freaking cheater!”

Aidan coughed and laughed at her as he sucked in a huge breath of air and clutched a stitch in his side.

“It’s all strategy!” He said as he set his kickstand. “But I guess that kind of thing is over a girl’s head.”

“That’s sexist!” Bridget accused. “And you’re still a cheater!”

Aidan squatted down to untie the jar, still trying to catch his breath. Once he freed it he stood up and held it out for her.

“I’m just teasing,” he said. “Don’t get your panties in a wad.”

Bridget took the jar, growling through clenched teeth like an angry cat. Her hair almost seemed to bristle as she glared at him, but he walked toward the creek bed without a care in the world. He always teased her when he lost a race and she hated how good he was at getting under her skin. He wasn’t a sore loser about it, but he still always made her victories feel less fun. Especially when he made sure to remind her that she was a girl. Especially today.

She followed him to the water’s edge, seething. She considered pushing him in as he leaned out over the bank and looked up and down the little stream, but then he pointed to something a few feet away to their left. She looked where he indicated and saw a huge, dark green frog sitting in the shallows. It seemed to be watching a bunch of horse flies swarm near the water’s surface. Then it closed its eyes and its tongue shot out and snatched a fly out of the air so fast that Bridget wasn’t sure what happened until she saw its jaws working and heard the tinny crunch of an exoskeleton.

“Oh, man, he’s a big one!” Aidan whispered.

“How do you know it’s a he?” She retorted.

“Males are bigger, for one,” he hissed, holding a finger to his lips. “And you see those flat circles behind the eyes? They’re sort of like his eardrums. If they’re bigger than the eyes, it’s a male. Now watch and learn.”

He crept forward and waited; crouched in the frog’s blind spot. Unsure what he was waiting for, Bridget watched as he drew something out of the thigh pocket of his cargo shorts with cautious and deliberate movements. As soon as the frog had snapped its tongue out at another fly, Aidan leapt from his position and spread an old dish cloth between his hands like the world’s most pointless parachute. He hit the muddy water with a splash that sent muck flying all around and brought it down over the unsuspecting amphibian. Bridget watched the way he used it and understood it was both to get a better grip on the slimy creature and as an improvised sort of net to prevent an easy escape. It struggled and kicked as he rose from the filthy water, spitting mud and laughing in triumph. Bridget had to admit she was impressed.

“Open the jar, Bridge!” He shouted, holding the bundle out at arm’s length in her direction.

She unscrewed the lid and moved towards him. Their quarry made low growling sounds that built into an almost catlike screech. Aidan stuffed it into the jar and Bridget screwed the lid back on. She tucked it under one arm and smiled at him as the terrified creature tried to locate an escape route. They high-fived and smiled at each other as Bridget wiped the mud he’d left behind on her jeans.

“Way quicker than I thought it would be!” Aidan said, wiping mud out of his eyes.

“Where’d you learn to do that?”

“My dad. He and Uncle Denny grew up near this restaurant down south where they made frog legs. The owner paid people for them and that’s how they made money during the summer when they were kids. He got pretty good at catching them.”

Bridget tried to imagine a young Mr. Crosse tramping through a southern swamp, but she couldn’t see it. Aside from the occasional cookout, she’d never seen him in anything but a suit. He seemed too clean cut and grown up to do something like chasing frogs.

“Anyway, let me get a closer look at him.”

Bridget handed the jar over and Aidan lifted it up. Their captive frog was pressing its forelegs against the glass and looking frustrated. It let out one deep and reproachful croak and then went silent.

“How come the males are so much bigger?” Bridget asked. “Doesn’t seem fair, really.”

“Females are bigger than males with a lot of other species. Bugs, spiders, fish, lots of things.”

“Hmph. Not people though.”

“Nope.”

Aidan grinned at her and she stuck her tongue out at him. He pulled a hideous face in return and went back to looking at his prize. Bridget went quiet and looked out at the shallow water trickling by as if something had occurred to her.

“Hey, Aidan?”

“What’s up?”

“You’re not gonna get all weird around me when we start growing up are you?”

Aidan didn’t look away from the jar, which he was now holding above his head and tilting in different directions so he could view it from other angles.

“What are you talking about?”

“Well, we’re almost teenagers and I’m probably gonna, you know…start growing soon.”

“You mean like getting boobs and stuff?”

Bridget’s pale skin turned scarlet and she grunted as she slapped a hand to her forehead. She scrunched up her face, shut her eyes, and clamped her mouth shut as she groaned to herself in embarrassment. She couldn’t believe he had just come out and said it.

“Yeah, Aidan,” she sighed. “Boobs and stuff.”

He shrugged, but she was still looking away and didn’t see it.

“I dunno,” he said. “I haven’t really thought about that kind of stuff. I don’t really think of you as a girl most of the time.”

“Oh, really?” She spun on him, her cheeks still pink beneath her freckles. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, we’re friends, right?”

She co*cked one hip and crossed her arms as she scowled at him.

“You know, my mom says girls grow up faster than boys. Maybe you’re just too immature for me.”

“Maybe?” Aidan said with another shrug as he put the jar under one arm. “What’s wrong with you all of a sudden? I thought we were gonna go back and mess with Penny.”

“That’s what I mean!” Bridget groaned. “All we do is kid stuff!”

“We are kids, Bridget. Why do you suddenly want to grow up?”

She was so caught off guard by the use of her full name that she didn’t respond immediately. Aidan had shortened her name to just Bridge when they were about seven, and he only used her real name when he thought she was being difficult. Out of nowhere, she was annoyed with him. She wanted to yell at him. She was hormonal. She didn’t know how to talk to him about how things were going to change for her very soon and how she was going to start to look different. How much did boys actually know about what happened to girls their age? She wanted him to grow up with her, but it wasn’t going to work out that way and she knew it. Her mom had tried to tell her. Men were slow, but boys were practically frozen.

“Just forget it,” she grumbled.

She moved past him and mounted her bike. She started pedaling as she yelled back at him.

“Let’s just go back so you can torment your stupid sister and get it out of your system.”

Aidan watched her glide away, unsure what he had done to make her so upset.

“Alright,” he said, mounting his own vehicle without bothering to tie up the jar again. “Race back?”

“No.”

He stopped talking then and they rode back in silence. He let her stay in the lead. He told himself it was because he was holding a jar in one arm and had to steer one-handed, but that wasn’t it. If he was honest with himself he was just afraid of pissing her off anymore than he already had.

A few weeks later, as the freedom of summer vacation drew so close he could almost taste it, Aidan biked over to Bridget’s house. She had stayed home from school the day before, but now it was Saturday and he hoped she was feeling well enough to bike to the park. When he knocked on her front door and her mom answered he knew that probably wasn’t going to happen.

“Oh, hi, Aidan!” She said, leaning on one side of the doorframe. “Bridget’s still not feeling very well today. I’d hate for you to catch something.”

Catherine Thomas was a pretty and curvaceous woman to the point that Aidan’s older brother always referred to Bridget as his “friend with the hot mom.” He looked up at her and then turned his face away. He wasn’t sure why, but he had felt weird around her lately. Something like shame and something like excitement that made his heart race. His eyes kept drifting to her hips and her chest if he tried to look at her.

“Um, alright,” he muttered at the front steps. “Sorry to bother you, Mrs. Thomas.”

“It’s okay, honey,” she said with a smile. “Do you want me to tell her anything?”

“Uh, no thanks.”

Aidan practically fled the house and jumped onto his bike. As he pedaled away Catherine smiled, shook her head, and shut the door. She turned around and went upstairs to tell her daughter that he had come by to check on her. She hoped it would make her feel better. It was good for a girl her age to feel wanted.

“Bridget, honey?” She called through the door just after knocking. “Can I come in?”

A few seconds passed in silence and then she heard a weak reply.

“Okay.”

She pushed the door open and found Bridget sitting on her bed with her knees drawn up to her chest. She looked so pale and small. Catherine smiled sadly at her only child, fully aware of what she was going through but powerless to do anything about it.

“Aidan just stopped by,” she told her as she sat down beside her. “I told him you were still feeling sick. I think he was hoping you’d want to ride around a little.”

Bridget gave a soft grunt in reply and turned her head away.

“It’s going to be okay, baby,” Catherine told her. “We all go through this at some point.”

Bridget remained silent, still staring towards the end of the bed.

“I know it’s hard, but you get used to it. I promise.”

Catherine got up and went to the door. Bridget finally spoke up just before she walked out of the room.

“Why does it have to be like…this?” The girl asked.

She lacked the words to say what she wanted, but Catherine understood the question all the same. She thought it over for a second and decided honesty was the best policy.

“I couldn’t tell you, honey,” she said. “Mother nature just does it this way.”

Bridget and Aidan reunited a few days later when she was feeling better. They went on their usual adventures, but Bridget started to notice things changing between them from then on. She found some of the things they used to do boring and pointless. She got angrier at his teasing than she used to. He accused her of being moody and mean when she snapped at him over little things. They still spent time together, but he suddenly had a lot more homework to do than she did some days.

One weekend, she came home for dinner after a day of running around with Aidan and her mom was oddly insistent that she take a shower and change before coming down to eat. She obeyed, without argument, and took a quick shower before running to her room to change into a fresh outfit. Then she saw it.

There, on her bed, was a simple white training bra. It was something she had never even considered she needed. She looked down at her flat chest and scoffed. She found more of them arranged on one side of her underwear drawer and understood that her mom wasn’t being all that subtle about wanting her to start wearing them. She returned to the bed and held the undergarment up at eye level. She stared at it for a while, unsure how to proceed. Then she heard a knock at the door behind her.

“Do you need some help, honey?”

Bridget winced and held it close to her chest.

“No!” She shouted over one shoulder. “I’m fine!”

It was stupid. She had bought it for her. She had left it there. Her mom obviously knew she had seen it. She probably knew how much she was struggling with the notion of wearing it as well. This was a doorway into womanhood that couldn’t be walked back. She would change a little if she put it on. No matter how she tried to hang onto her tomboyish nature, this was an exclusively girly thing to do.

“Okay,” her mom said, sounding unconvinced. “Just let me know if you need anything.”

Bridget waited until the sounds of her footsteps on the stairs faded entirely away before she started to attempt to put the thing on. She entered the dining room almost ten minutes later, tugging awkwardly at the band cinched around her ribcage. She wasn’t sure she would ever get used to the feeling. It was itchy and obnoxious, and she couldn’t understand how her mom put up with it all the time. It reminded her of how she couldn’t get used to wearing a watch no matter how much she tried.

Her dad was already sitting at the head of the table with his laptop set to one side. He closed it and smiled at her as she took her usual seat to his left. He always had to bring work home with him, but he still tried hard to make time for his daughter when he could. Catherine had already filled him in on Bridget’s situation and he wanted to help make her feel normal.

“How’d your day go, sweetie?” He asked.

“Fine,” she said, pulling on one of the shoulder straps beneath her shirt and screwing up her face in irritation.

“Did you and Aidan do anything fun?” He said, trying to ignore her discomfort for the time.

“Um, not really. We just sort of rode out to the creek and sat around.”

She left out the part where they got into an argument and she rode off in a huff again. Much like the annoying contraption wrapped around her chest, everything about Aidan was rubbing her the wrong way lately.

“Sounds kind of fun to me,” he laughed. “Better than working in an office all day.”

Her mom entered the room with a covered roasting pan and Bridget watched the way her hips swung with every step. She wondered if she was going to end up with a body like her mom’s. All curves, with big boobs, broad hips, and a fat butt. She’d overheard Aidan’s brother talking about how hot he thought her mom was, but she didn’t see it. It seemed like having all of that hanging off of you would just be cumbersome and uncomfortable. Catherine set the roaster down in the center of the table and lifted the lid to reveal a steaming roast chicken. The scent of buttery roasted onions and garlic hit Bridget’s nose and she forgot her troubles for a moment when her mouth started to water.

“That looks great, baby,” her dad said, grabbing her by the waist.

He pulled her closer and pressed his cheek to her side as he hugged her around the hips. When he released her, she leaned down and pecked him on the lips, then returned to the kitchen to grab the side dishes. Bridget rolled her eyes at their displays of affection. She thought she’d get used to bras long before she ever understood all the mushy stuff.

So never, basically.

“Mom!” Bridget shouted down the stairs, her voice high and strained. “Mom, I need some help!”

She had gotten up for school, the same as always, and jumped into the shower, the same as always. It hadn’t been until she started to soap up that she realized something was different.

More prominent.

Wrong.

“Mom!”

“I’ll be right there!”

Her mom shouted back just before her rapid, booming footfalls on the stairs announced her imminent arrival. Her tone betrayed her impatience and frustration, but Bridget was too panicked to care. She looked at herself in the mirror again and wondered if this was how it usually happened. It seemed way too fast. She turned to the side as her mom bypassed the bathroom and ran towards Bridget’s room. She realized her mistake on her own a second later and doubled back, stumbling through the bathroom door.

“What is it?” She puffed. “What happened?”

“Look!”

Bridget thrust her bare chest out for her mother to see. There, on her nearly thirteen-year-old daughter’s chest, hung a pair of fully developed B-cup breasts. She had been practically flat, just beginning to bud, when she’d gone to bed the night before. Now she had the kind of shape and definition Catherine would expect from a girl at least two or three years older. Even her nipples and areolae had enlarged to an unnerving adult shape and size. Somehow, in a single night, Bridget had skipped past several steps in her development. Catherine’s eyes popped, then widened even further as she considered what had happened to her daughter.

“This isn’t normal, right?” Bridget pressed, noting her mother’s reaction. “Am I sick or something?”

Catherine reigned in her emotions and put a hand on either of Bridget’s shoulders.

“No, honey,” she said in as confident a tone as she could manage. “It’s a little unusual, but I’m pretty sure my cousin had something like this happen.”

It was a half truth. Her cousin, Kelly, had grown a lot over one summer, but she had just been a late bloomer. Big breasts ran in Catherine’s family and it wasn’t uncommon for girls to grow a lot over the course of a few months. Her own DDs were proof of that. Whatever was happening to her daughter was like nothing she had ever seen or heard of before. This had happened overnight.

Bridget cupped her chest in her hands and sniffed.

“They’re really sore, mom.”

The pure, unfiltered emotion in her voice made Catherine want to cry. She dropped to her knees and hugged her close.

“Let’s go see Dr. Jackson,” she said. “She’ll probably know what we should do. I’m sure she’ll just tell us we’re being silly.”

Catherine hoped her voice hadn’t given away the lie at the end, but Bridget just nodded as she tried not to break down and cry.

“Go get dressed and put one of your hoodies on for now, then come down and we’ll leave. I’ll call her and set up an appointment right now, okay?”

Bridget sniffed and nodded again, then rushed out of the bathroom. As soon as she was gone, Catherine covered her face in her hands and let out a long trembling breath. A single thought screamed through her mind over and over as she got up from the floor. It continued to echo as she rushed downstairs to call Bridget’s pediatrician. It was still there when she called her boss a few minutes later to tell him she wouldn’t make it to work that day.

What on earth is happening to my little girl?

Dr. Jackson had been just as shocked by Bridget’s rapid development as Catherine, but Bridget thought she did a much better job of disguising it. She had asked her to remove her top and stared just a little too long at her chest before saying she didn’t see anything to worry about. She asked her mom a few questions, then asked her a few more, then considered their answers before telling them she would refer them to a specialist. Just to make sure nothing dangerous was causing her curiously turbocharged puberty, she assured them. She was careful to mention that sometimes things started happening fast for some people and told them not to jump to conclusions.

They drove home a little while later and Bridget sat in the front seat of Catherine’s car with her arms crossed over her chest as she stared out of the window. Her newly grown breasts had filled out the baggy old hoodie that had always been a size too big for her and it was obvious she was uncomfortable with her situation. Catherine didn’t know what to do or say at this point. Dr. Jackson had pulled her aside before they left and told her that if she or Bridget noticed any further growth she needed to call her immediately. Until then, she said they needed to remain calm until they talked to the expert and ran a few tests in a couple of weeks.

Catherine had tried to argue that two weeks was too long, but there was nothing Dr. Jackson could do about it. She had written an official medical excuse to get Bridget out of attending the last few weeks of school and advised them to keep her at home for a while. Neither she nor Catherine thought it was a good idea for her to go back to school in her condition. At best she would receive a lot of unwanted attention, and at worst she might end up as the butt of a lot of jokes. They just had to wait it out and hope that nothing else happened. At least she would have a few months of summer to work out what was happening and explain why she looked so different once the next school year began.

And something else happened, of course. Before the end of the first week, Catherine performed the new nightly ritual of measuring her daughter as if she were fitting her for a bra. She had worked at a lingerie shop during her college years, so she knew the drill quite well and she was certain Bridget was already measuring as a C-cup. She was growing too fast for belief, but the numbers didn’t lie.

“What should we do?” Bridget asked, sensing her mother’s concern. “Did they get bigger again?”

“Just a little,” Catherine lied. “But I think we can afford to wait a little longer for now. You should try to get some sleep.”

Bridget wasn’t sure she believed her mom, but she tried to take her advice once she left the room to call Dr. Jackson “in secret”. She tossed and turned all through the night, just as she had the previous four, and finally got up to get her laptop. She sat down on her bed and opened it up, then realized she couldn’t see her keyboard over her boobs. She had yet to get the hang of typing without looking at the keys, so she had to move it further away from her body than she was used to. Everything felt so weird and foreign. She had to work around them a lot more than she ever dreamed she would.

She forced herself to swallow the building dread and ignore it for the time being and opened up a search engine. She started with things like “super fast breast growth” and “huge boobs puberty”, but nothing she read seemed to be all that helpful. Most of the results were just dumb kids asking the same questions and getting useless answers. She thought about it for a few minutes and tried something a little different. She had heard Dr. Jackson mention a particular phrase to her mom when she thought she wasn’t listening. She just wasn’t sure how to spell it.

It sounded like virgin breast…hyper-something…

She typed what little she knew into the search engine and the first suggestion gave her the answer she was hoping for. The words were a little complicated, but she sounded them out in her head and they seemed right.

Virginal breast hypertrophy…

She clicked a link that led to a medical website explaining a rare disease that made breasts grow way too big, way too fast. The more she read about it, the more it sounded right to her. It had to be what was happening to her. One site was a complicated wall of text that she did her best to read, but she wasn’t sure what it all meant. What little she managed to understand seemed to hint that a twelve year old girl, not so different from her, had suddenly started growing until her boobs were huge and red and looked like they were about to pop.

Is that going to happen to me? She asked herself as she continued to read more accounts of young girls whose bodies suddenly betrayed them.

“Oh, no…no, no no…”

“Bridge?”

Aidan’s voice echoed through the warehouse, startling Bridget out of her runaway reminiscence.

“Are you awake?” He called again.

She pushed herself up onto her elbows before she shouted her reply. It was best to try to throw her voice over her tit* if she hoped to be heard.

“Yeah! Thank god you’re here! I’ve been bored out of my f*ckin’ skull!”

She heard Aidan laughing, then felt his hand dragging along her skin as he walked around her monstrous chest. She felt her far distant nipple stiffen at his touch and bit her lip. She both loved and hated when he teased her like that.

“Don’t do that!” She whined. “Unless you’re planning to scale Mt. Lefty and go looking for my nipple, just don’t touch it!”

“Sorry, babe,” he said as he rounded the curve of her breast and made his way to the rest of her. “I just can’t keep my hands off of you lately.”

She blushed. She still wasn’t used to their new dynamic and found it weird to think of him as her boyfriend, but that was exactly what he was. Her mom had been overjoyed when she’d heard the news, and not just because it took some of the pressure off of her and her dad. She genuinely liked Aidan, and she was happy that her daughter wasn’t going to end up a lonely freak of nature. At least that was what Bridget imagined she was thinking.

“Did you want some help standing up?” Aidan asked.

“Yes, please,” Bridget replied, holding her arms out to him.

“Alright, up we go!”

He grabbed her by the wrists and pulled, careful not to pull so hard that her shoulders dislocated, but putting as much force as he dared into it. Bridget used his added strength to get her legs out from under her boobs. Once she had gotten her feet under her, he helped her stand up. She let out a sigh of relief now that she could move her legs more freely and stretched them out a bit.

She had gained a bit of weight in the intervening six years, but mostly in all the right places, breasts notwithstanding. Her waistline remained trim aside from the slightest bit of stubborn belly fat that kept her from obtaining the six pack she so craved. Every muscle in her back was well toned and defined, and her arms were lean rather than thin. Her butt was thick and round, with the perfect proportions of muscle and fat to give it a nice jiggle when she wanted it. Her glutes had built up nicely from lugging her giant boobs around when she still could, and she had maintained them since through targeted exercises. It had a nice shape and looked great in leggings in her opinion. Her thick thighs showed only the barest hint of cellulite, but she thought they matched her ass just right as they were so she didn’t sweat that too much. She had to take pride in what she could, and having a nice rear view was important to her because no one saw much of her from the front.

“I could watch you do that all day,” Aidan said as he watched her bending and flexing her ass and legs.

“Oh really?” Bridget asked, looking at him over one shoulder.

Her coppery hair cascaded down her back in a tumble of thick ringlets and she bent forward, resting her upper body on the massive wall of tit* before her. Her fingers sank into her flesh and then she dropped into a deep squat. The tight leggings clung to her flesh, leaving very little of her ass to Aidan’s imagination. Just to tease him a little more, she flexed her muscles and bounced each cheek individually a couple of times before standing up again.

“How about tha—oh!”

She was interrupted as Aidan closed the distance between them in an instant and pressed into her from behind.

“Are we doing this?” He whispered into her ear.

“Are we doing what?” She asked in a voice made husky by her need and dripping with lust.

Aidan didn’t answer, he simply dropped to his hands and knees and worked himself between her legs. He grabbed the waistband of her leggings and yanked them down in one rapid movement along with her panties. Bridget let out a squeak of surprise, but let him get on with it. He wrapped his arms around her hips, seized a handful of each cheek, and pushed her pelvis forward as he put his lips to hers and flicked his tongue out. He worked it upward to lap at her cl*t and she gasped and bit her lower lip again. She moaned and rolled her hips to grind her puss* into his face and Aidan didn’t miss a step. He waggled the tip of his tongue and then rolled it around her folds, repeating the process again and again until she was practically screaming.

One of the good things that came from her condition was that it took very little effort to get her off. There were pros and cons to that, of course, but she had decided long ago that the pros vastly outweighed the cons. Especially as a woman capable of experiencing multiple org*sms.

As she came all over Aidan’s face, he went on eating her out until she reached down and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Your turn, big guy,” she gasped through another org*sm. “Get back there and f*ck me.”

Aidan slipped between her legs again without argument. He removed his clothes with a speed born of desire and positioned himself behind Bridget, who was already bent over and flattened against the great wall of boob again.

“Come on,” she said, wiggling her ass at him. “Do you know how long I’ve been stuck down there wishing I could touch myself? I need it.”

Aidan began to think that if he got any harder his co*ck would fly off of his body. He grabbed it by the base and moved into position. He slid it over Bridget’s puss* a few times, lubricating it in her juices as he teased her. She moaned and rubbed her thighs together, helpless to make him do anything.

“Quit teasing me and shove it in!” She barked.

Aidan smirked and pushed up to the hilt on the first thrust. She arched her back and squealed in ecstasy as she came again. Another of the perks of getting off so easily was the effect that had on Aidan’s ego. He felt like a sexual dynamo, which made him want to work even harder to please her because he could see how much she enjoyed it. He started thrusting in and out with as much speed and power as he could muster and she quivered and convulsed under his assault. Everytime he pushed into her, her head was pushed forward in turn and squashed into the soft barrier of her tit*. As she often did when she was overcome by sensual bliss, she started rubbing as much flesh as she could reach. Tingling thrills of pleasure shot through her hypersensitive breasts like lightning. She felt her nipples harden and wished she had someone around to suck and play with them for her.

Aidan kept up the pace, f*cking her as hard as he could until he started to grunt with the effort. Bridget could tell he was close, and as she reached her ninth org*sm in the last ten minutes she didn’t begrudge him the chance to let loose.

“I’m gonna cum,” he mumbled to her.

“Go ahead,” she moaned. “Cum all over me!”

He pulled out as he started to blow and emptied his load all over her ass and lower back. She shook her ass as his seed coated her cheeks and ran down her thighs.

“Come here!” She ordered, opening her mouth.

Aidan obediently went around to her right side and finished cumming on her face. She liked that for some reason. It was just a little thing she could do for him in return for everything he did for her. She’d had to learn to embrace her submissive side since she became fully immobile and found that she enjoyed it now.

She stretched her neck out and enclosed Aidan’s shaft in her mouth, sucking off the leftover cum and releasing it with a pop.

“All clean!” She giggled.

“Goddammit,” he groaned. “We’ve got to do that again in a little while.”

“Oh, we will,” Bridget told him with a grin as she watched him gather his clothes over her shoulder. “But could you put the plug in me in the meantime? I think we should try some buttstuff later and I want to be ready for you.”

“Yes-f*cking-ma’am!” He said, running off to their toy chest for the vibrating butt plug she spoke of.

Chapter 2: Accomodations

Chapter Text

Aidan worked the opening shift at a coffee shop so he could be around to help Bridget out during the majority of her waking hours, but he still had to sleep sometime. Exhausted and satisfied following their third round of sex, he had helped her clean up and dry off before retiring to the small modular office in one corner of the warehouse. Bridget had thought about playing a game, but settled on curling up with one of her new books. It was a dense sci-fi epic that claimed to be a more grounded story about astronauts and their encounters with an alien vessel.

An hour in, it had proven to be pretty dry in her opinion, but she wanted to give it a proper chance. She turned the page and sipped the coffee Aidan had brought home for her. After passing a night with her breasts bare she had felt a little chilled, but now she enjoyed the cozy embrace of a gigantic blanket. At her request, Aidan had lowered it down on top of her with the aid of a pulley system built into the ceiling. It was about 800 square feet of microfleece, and she adored it. Nothing else in the world that she was aware of could possibly cover her tit*, and things got drafty in the warehouse sometimes. It wasn’t like she could put on a sweater whenever she got cold. Even if she had something that could fit them, there was no chance in hell that she could ever put it on by herself.

She shifted on her cushion and let out a moan of pleasure as the heavy plug in her ass buzzed and made her body tense up from the abs down. She flexed her toes and ground her thighs together. The plug was an expensive model that could be set to a reactive mode that increased in intensity with movement. She’d bought it on a whim when she was first getting into kinkier stuff and it had become one of her favorites. She could leave it in when Aidan wasn’t around and it helped to take the edge off. She didn’t know if it came with the territory of her gigantic boobs or not, but sometimes the need to get off grew so intense she went almost feral if she couldn’t relieve herself. She’d talked to her doctors about it, but they just told her to keep a vibrator handy and deal with the problems as they arose.

She remained as she was for the next several hours, reading her book and soaking up a long, satisfying half-gasm sustained by regular stimulation from the plug. She would occasionally wiggle her hips to set it off and enjoy the vibrations deep within her body, but never quite let herself reach full climax, just how she wanted it.

By the time noon rolled around she was ready for a nap. She had found that at her size a lot of sleep was absolutely crucial. Though her body had somehow managed to adapt to its own immensity, she needed lots of rest to allow time to recover from the stress of simply existing with her giant tit*. It suited her fine since she couldn’t spend her time in many other meaningful ways. Especially when Aidan was sleeping or otherwise not around to help her relocate or reach something she wanted. She could only stand to read for so long. She didn’t feel like playing any of her games just then, and she hadn’t felt like watching anything lately, so a quick catnap to pass the time until Aidan came to wake her up seemed perfect.

She set her book aside with a yawn, stretched her arms out over her head, then reached down into her leggings and pulled the plug out of herself with a small grunt of effort. She turned it off before putting it in a bag with some of the other toys Aidan would need to take care of once he got up again. She settled back down on her cushion, warm and content under her blanket, and tried to clear her mind.

As they so often did in that meditative state, her thoughts were a drifting cloud of seemingly random information and memories. She thought of her past. The fateful summer when everything changed and the subsequent school year from hell, in particular. She considered how much she had adapted since then.

Humans have proven, time and again, that we’re nothing if not adaptable.

It was a line she had just read in her book half an hour ago. The idea was hardly groundbreaking, but it certainly rang true to her. In a strangely common experience for Bridget, recollections of her past began to shift into more dreamlike recreations of events as she started to doze off. She almost felt as if she were reliving the memories by the time she fell asleep.

“You need to talk to him at some point, sweetheart,” her mother insisted. “He just wants to make sure you’re okay. All he knows is that you skipped the last three weeks of school and haven’t left home since. He’s probably scared for his friend.”

“I don’t care!” Bridget fired back. “I don’t want him to see me like this!”

She tried to cover her chest with her arms, but there was too much there. She had reached a size where Catherine had given her some of her bras, but she was already straining their limits. In the intervening months since puberty had hit her like a freight train, Bridget had only grown larger.

“I know it’s happening fast, but you’re growing up. It’s silly to hide from your friends just because you’re starting to look more like a woman.”

Bridget scoffed, face reddening as her temper mounted. Her mom just didn’t get it. She grabbed her breasts, sinking her fingers into the soft flesh and pulling at them as if to tear them away from her body.

“I’m a freak!” She cried, raising her voice to a panicked half scream. “I already have bigger boobs than you!”

Catherine knew that was true. She had measured her the night before and the girl was already inching her way to a DDD. The rate of development would have been impressive if it hadn’t been so terrifying.

“What about school?” Catherine asked after a long uncomfortable pause. “Summer won’t go on much longer and you have to get an education. It’s non-negotiable.”

Bridget looked like she’d just been slapped. She took a few slow steps backward into her room.

“You can’t make me go back like this,” she said, voice trembling. “I’ll die. If anyone finds out I’ve got something wrong with me—”

She trailed off, unable to continue as she thought about their visit with the specialist, Dr. Fielding. He had confirmed Bridget’s suspicions of VBH, but also told them her case was extraordinary. He pointed out that in cases like hers—where onset was sudden and growth was rapid—the growth usually ended just as suddenly as it began. Unsure how long it would go on at the current rate, he had prescribed her a few medications intended to help reign in her hormones. So far, they didn't seem to work, but he had told them there was still a lot they didn’t understand about the different forms of macromastia. According to him, nearly everyone that developed the condition was different enough to make proper treatment hard to nail down.

Then he’d gone on and on until Bridget felt like she would faint. By the time he explained that the condition was so rare they didn’t know how to stop it aside from the total surgical removal of the mammaries she was on the verge of tears. He stressed that if they took that option they would probably need to wait until her growth leveled off or risk further complications. If leftover breast tissue could begin to regrow post-surgery he thought it could be catastrophic in her case. Thus far her skin had managed to accommodate the extreme growth without showing any signs of stress or damage, but there was no way to know how long that would hold out. If they attempted surgery and she kept growing at her current rate it would likely do more harm than good. He advised waiting until Bridget was at least 16 and told them they could set implants of practically any size she chose, so they didn’t need to worry about her appearance if it came to that. He meant to reassure her, but it hadn’t helped at all.

“They’ll understand and be nice,” Catherine told. “Or else they’ll have a long talk with your principal. I already talked to him about your situation.”

“Why?” Bridget was almost screeching now. “Why would you do that?”

Tears had started to roll down her freckled cheeks. Her angry gaze was more accusing than questioning. Catherine steeled herself and went on. She could only hope her chosen course of action would work out in the end.

“He called last week,” she said, keeping her voice low and calm to set her daughter at ease. “He wanted to make sure you would be able to come back to school next month. I told him you would, then explained your condition. He said he’d personally make sure no one gave you a hard time.”

Bridget’s eyes widened.

“Did you not go to school?” She groaned. “No one cares what the principal says! They'll just wait till he’s gone or busy chewing someone else out and then go for the kill!”

She held her head in her hands, her fingers tense and pressing hard into her flesh. Catherine recognized the hallmarks of a panic attack and moved in. She pulled Bridget’s hands away from her face, saw the marks her fingernails had left behind in her skin, and changed tack.

“Even if that does happen, Aidan will have your back, won’t he? If you invite him over we can sit down and have a talk to explain what’s going on. He’s a smart boy. I’m sure he won’t let something like this—”

“He’s a boy, Mom!” Bridget burst out, her voice still rising in both pitch and volume. “He won’t be able to understand everything that’s going on. You can’t bring him here!”

“You cannot shut yourself away and pretend things aren’t going to move on without you.”

Bridget froze in place as she recognized her mother’s new tone of voice. It was the lower, icier version that instilled fear in the hearts of husband and daughter alike. She looked up at her and their eyes locked together. Like a bird transfixed by a snake, Bridget found herself unable to move or look away. Her mother was going to lay down the law, and that was that. She knew then she didn’t have a real choice. Her mom was going to force her to do something.

Then, in a strangely detached way, she felt strong arms wrap around her shoulders and then a hand pressed her cheek against something soft, comforting, and familiar. Bridget tried to fight her impulses, but couldn’t help it. She broke down and cried like a baby at her mother’s breast.

“You’re my daughter and I love you,” Catherine told her, stroking her fiery curls. “I’m going to do everything I can to protect you, but you’re growing up. I can’t say I went through this at your age because that wouldn’t be fair. I didn’t. But I went through some of it and I learned back then that bottling up your feelings and hiding yourself from people who want to help you will only leave you to deal with your problems alone. Do you understand?”

She held Bridget out from her by the shoulders to look her in the eyes again. The girl sniffed once, then choked back a sob. Her voice was thin and nasally when she finally spoke.

“Y-yeah, but I’m scared.”

“It can be a scary time, but you have to be brave and face it. I had to. So did your father. All the other kids at school are going to have to, if they aren’t already.”

Bridget sniffed and wiped her eyes.

“Aidan is going to have to. Don’t you want to be there for him when he needs you?”

Bridget coughed and let out a short, trembling sob this time, unable to hold it back any longer.

“He’s gonna think I’m a freak!” She bawled.

“That boy loves you,” said Catherine. “As a friend, maybe like a sister.

Maybe something more, she thought to herself as she wiped a tear from Bridget’s cheek with her thumb.

“He would never want to hurt you like that.”

She sat with Bridget on her bed and let her cry it out for a few minutes. When she was finished, she seemed much more prepared to discuss her future.

Aidan stood on the front step of the Thomas residence for the first time in weeks. The last few times he’d stopped by Bridget had been sick, out of town with her dad, stuck with extra homework for missing the last month of school, or had some other excuse for not coming out to see him. He knocked on the door and her mom answered again.

“Hi, Mrs. Thomas,” Aidan said, already prepared to be sent away. “Bridge called and asked me to come over today. Is she here?”

“Yes, she is,” Catherine said with a smile. “But hold on just a second.”

She bent forward, exposing a line of cleavage as her shirt fell open at the collar. Aidan quickly diverted his gaze to a nearby window as she whispered into his ear.

“She’s feeling kind of sensitive lately so be careful what you say, alright?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, unsure what that was supposed to mean.

Catherine stood up straight again and nodded.

“Good. And try not to stare. Let’s go wait in the den for now.”

She stepped backwards through the doorway and held the door for him. Without a clue of what was going on, he entered the house. He had spent almost half of his young life there, but it had never felt so foreboding as this. He felt like he was in trouble and about to answer for whatever he’d done. His mind was racing as he walked to the den by muscle memory alone.

What did she mean by that? Was she in some kind of accident?

He tried not to imagine his best friend’s hypothetical injuries and followed Mrs. Thomas into the den. He took a seat on the couch to wait for Bridget to come down and Catherine left to get them something to drink when a teenage girl he didn’t recognize entered the room an instant later. She was wearing a silvery button up blouse that was noticeably strained at the chest. A few of the upper buttons were struggling to hold the stretched fabric closed and he could tell at first sight she was even bigger than Briget’s mom. He thought she must have been one of her cousins here for a visit or something, but then he noticed she was wearing worn jeans that didn’t match her blouse. Uniquely damaged and stained jeans that he recognized. He forced himself to look above her chest and saw a thick tangle of bright red, curly hair.

“Bridge?”

His voice betrayed his surprise, but Bridget remained outwardly unphased. She crossed the room and sat in one of the chairs beside the couch. Her mom had spent the last week training her to maintain her posture with the new weight pulling at her back and shoulders. She wanted nothing more than to slump forward to try to hide the size of her chest, but she’d been told about a thousand times that doing so would only leave her muscles weak and make her back hurt. Instead, she kept her back straight and her shoulders squared. Her chest felt like it was pushed out ludicrously far in that position, but she held it all the same. She forced herself to ignore the dark shadows creeping into the lower edges of her vision and looked Aidan in the eyes.

“Hey,” she said with a weak grin and a half-hearted wave. “How’ve you been?”

He stared at her without responding for a few seconds and then glimpsed Mrs. Thomas pouring drinks through the kitchen doorway. He remembered her earlier comment about trying not to stare and looked towards the floor. He cleared his throat and tried to act like nothing was different as he answered her question.

“I was spending a lot of time playing videogames with my brother,” he muttered. “But he got his hands on some fireworks around the 4th and blew up some lady’s mailbox. He’s grounded, like, forever.”

Bridget, who had never liked Aidan’s older brother much, couldn’t suppress a derisive snigg*r. She saw Aidan look at her and grin and things almost felt normal between them. Then she felt how much her chest bounced when she laughed and became self-conscious all over again. Catherine re-entered the den with a tray loaded down with three tall glasses of iced tea that had already started to sweat. She set it down on the coffee table in front of Aidan then handed him a glass.

“Thanks,” he said, taking a sip to wet his dry mouth.

She handed another to Bridget then sat down on another chair opposite her daughter with her own glass in hand. She took a short sip and crossed her legs as she leaned back.

“So,” Catherine began. “Aidan, I’m sure you’ve been wondering where Bridget has been lately and she wanted to invite you over to explain. I’m just here to keep an eye on the two of you and answer any questions that come up.”

“Mom…”

Bridget started fidgeting with the rim of her glass, her eyes planted firmly on her knees. Her posture shifted from straight and proper to a pronounced slouch as her shoulders started to slump with embarrassment. She wasn’t sure she was ready to do this now.

“I mean, it’s alright,” Aidan said, feeling more awkward than he ever had in his life. “You were just sick for a while, and then you were busy with make-up work from school, right?”

“That’s not—” Bridget began, but then she cut herself off, unsure how to go on. “I mean, I wasn’t. Not really.”

Aidan looked confused as she trailed off. She twisted a lock of her hair around her finger, still staring down towards her lap. Most of it was blocked by the bulging front of her mom’s old blouse.

“Well then what was up?” He asked. “Do you just not want to hang out with me anymore?”

He remembered how she had acted the last few times they had gone out for their usual bike rides. She had been short and peevish with him and he had worried he was annoying her somehow. Then excuses had started pouring in and she had practically disappeared from his life. Now that he saw her again she even looked different. Really different.

“No! It’s nothing like that. I just…”

She floundered and looked to her mom for help. Catherine leapt into the conversation.

“You must have noticed that Bridget is maturing into a young lady,” she told Aidan, putting it as delicately as she could.

Aidan’s eyes widened and his face went red as he realized what she was referring to. He didn’t feel ready to have a conversation like this.

“I, uh…”

“It’s okay,” Catherine assured him. “She’s starting to look different and that’s normal.”

Aidan felt overwhelmed. This was all weird and uncomfortable, but he wanted to be there for Bridget. He looked over to her and saw she was still avoiding his eyes and seemed to be chewing on her lip and pulling her hair now. She looked miserable as Catherine continued her explanation.

“What’s not so normal is how fast this is happening to her. Normally girls take months to change as much as Bridget has, but she has a rare condition that’s making things happen a lot faster. Does that make sense?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Aidan said. “I think so.”

Catherine had watched his face closely as she spoke and smiled at him. He had done well so far. She wasn’t sure he would be able to handle this sort of conversation with an adult, but he was sticking it out. Still, she didn’t think she was helping as much as she’d hoped she might. It seemed to her like the best option was to let the kids sort it out themselves from there. She got up, glass still in hand, and moved towards the kitchen again.

“I think I should let you two talk for a little while,” she said. “I’ll be right in here if you need me, but just try to get along like you always have, okay? Nothing is really all that different here.”

So saying, she left the room and a long, pregnant silence filled the air between boy and girl. Desperate for something to take his mind off of how awkward he felt, Aidan sipped his tea and really focused on the flavor. The amber liquid was a little bitter and a little sweet, with a hint of lemon in the aftertaste. He remembered Mrs. Thomas telling his mom how she made it at a barbeque the previous summer. Something about simple syrup and lemon zest, whatever those were. Suddenly, Bridget interrupted his wandering thoughts.

“That was weird, wasn’t it?” She asked, chewing the end of her thumbnail. “Sorry. I don’t know how I let her talk me into this.”

Aidan could tell she was getting agitated and he wasn’t sure how to put her mind at ease, but decided to try anyway.

“No, it was alright,” he said. “I mean, it was a little weird, yeah, but grown ups are always weird.”

Bridget finally looked up at him again with a grateful gleam in her eyes.

“Oh my god, yes,” she wheezed. “I’ve been dying all summer without someone else to talk to.”

“Then why didn’t you come out and talk to me all those times I came over?”

Bridget looked troubled by his question, but she looked back up at him and shook her head.

“I don’t know. I was being silly I guess.”

“Well, yeah, Bridge,” Aidan told her. “You’re a girl.”

All discomfort and awkwardness was forgotten as Aidan’s teasing took her mind straight back to the old days.

“You’re such a jerk,” she snapped, sitting up in her chair and glaring at him.

She was acting more like herself then, and Aidan noticed. He smiled at her as they started up their old game of teasing and name calling.

“And you’re a butthead,” he shot back.

“Chauvinist,” said Bridget with a satisfied smirk. “Sorry, do you even know what that is?”

Aidan laughed and sipped his tea. He was starting to feel comfortable again. Then Bridget started laughing too, and her chest pressed out against the tight fabric of the blouse as it shook with her giggles. Aidan watched her, his eyes naturally drawn to the movement and then instinct took over and he found himself unable to look away. Bridget noticed and stopped laughing. He realized he had been staring again and looked into her face in horror.

“Aidan…” She mumbled. “You…”

“I’m sorry, I…”

He had nothing to say for himself. He had been warned she was feeling sensitive about things lately and he had still managed to screw things up. He knew she had been short-tempered and emotional from when they were still hanging out just before summer started. He should have known better. He braced himself for the end.

“You..PERV!”

He felt a pillow hit him in the head and spilled iced tea down his front as he almost toppled over from the sudden blow. It hadn’t really hurt, but it took him off guard. He spun his head back around to see Bridget’s squinted eyes burning into his wide open ones. She had raised another pillow and had it co*cked back over one shoulder. Then he realized she was smiling at him through the faux-anger, and he was so relieved he failed to react as the second pillow flew towards his face.

“Ow!” He groaned, rubbing his left temple where a zipper had struck it. “That one really hurt, Bridge!”

“Quit staring then, perv!”

She put a nasty emphasis on the last word and he really hoped that wouldn’t be a name that stuck going forward. Still, he was relieved it had all worked out as it did. If she hadn’t chosen to take the high road their friendship, already shaken by months without contact, might never have recovered.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Honest. I’m gonna have to get used to some things.”

Bridget scoffed and shook her head. A hot flush crept into her face, but she tried not to let it bother her. Aidan was doing his best, and she knew she had to do the same. Her mom had told her that the best way to get used to her new body was to spend time around other people until it felt normal again. It wasn’t going to be easy, but Aidan was a good start.

“Do you want to come over to hang out some more?” She asked him, trying to hide her blush by looking out a window. “I’m not sure I want to go outside anytime soon, but maybe we could stay in and play videogames or something.”

“Sure,” Aidan said. “If that’s what you want, let’s do it. But can I get a towel or something? I spilled tea all over myself.”

Catherine, who had been listening carefully the whole time, brought him a large wash cloth. While Aidan was occupied, she gave Bridget a proud smile and nodded. She nodded in return, calm and collected despite how much her heart was racing. She wanted to trust her mom, but she wasn’t sure Aidan hanging around and leering at her was ever going to make things feel normal again.

I hope I don’t regret this.

Within a few days of their little meeting Bridget was sorry she had wasted so much of her vacation shutting herself away. Now that she looked back, she wasn’t sure why she had made such a big deal out of everything. She still felt it was weird that she had grown so much all at once, but as long as Aidan was around to reassure her she didn’t mind. On top of that, her growth seemed to have slowed or even stopped. Catherine thought the meds Dr. Fielding prescribed may have finally taken effect.

Bridget knew she was huge, especially for a girl her age, but she thought the worst was over. Aidan didn’t seem to care that her boobs had gotten bigger than her head. They stayed inside a lot more and she wasn’t sure she’d ever figure out how to find her balance on her bike again, but he still treated her like his old friend. She had caught him looking at them sometimes, but her mom had warned her it was just what boys did. It wasn’t worth getting worked up about it unless someone tried to touch her. She really didn’t mind. Some small part of her that she tried to ignore even got a little excited when he looked at her.

The final weekend of summer vacation came all too quickly. School was going to start up in just three days and they had to go out to the mall for some new outfits. She was still nervous about being seen as she was now, but she knew she would have to get used to it with school looming just ahead. Since Catherine’s clothes wouldn’t fit her well enough to go out in public, they stuffed her into one of her dad’s button-downs. It was loose and baggy and didn’t look great, but it was also the only thing they could find that was big enough to fit without making her look like a poster-child for parental neglect.

“We’re probably going to have to stick to the women’s department,” Catherine told her as they pulled into the parking lot twenty minutes later. “And I’m pretty sure only the lingerie shops will carry anything close to your size, but we can see what the department stores have first, I guess.”

Bridget nodded. She had expected something like that. Most of her wardrobe had come from the boys’ department over the last several years. Now, even if she looked for the largest shirts available, the odds were not good that anything there would fit her anymore. The girly stuff—with all its bright colors and sparkly frills—had always made her want to vomit, but she knew she probably wouldn’t have much of a choice. Her dad’s shirt was already proving that men’s clothes weren’t going to have the kind of fit she needed. Her best hope was that grown women weren’t as limited in their choices as their daughters.

“I’m proud of how you’ve been coping with everything lately, sweetheart,” Catherine told her. “I mean it.”

“Mom…” Bridget rolled her eyes and tried not to look as embarrassed as she felt. “I get it okay.”

“It’s important, though. I want to encourage you to hang tough like you have been.”

“I know, Mom.”

“Do you want me to let you out at the doors? I can catch up to you after I find a parking spot.”

“No, I’ll be alright.”

In truth, Bridget didn’t want to make that sort of trek in her condition. Lugging around all the extra weight on her chest wasn’t exactly easy, but she also didn’t want to be left alone for people to stare at and whisper about while she waited for her mother to catch up. As they turned down a lane to find a parking space Bridget started to feel a fresh wave of anxiety build up and butterflies fluttered madly in her stomach. The hair at the back of her neck stood up and her heart began racing as they moved towards the first available spot. It was far enough away from the doors that it would require a short hike over the asphalt in the scorching August heat. The few times Bridget had gone out to the backyard for some sun, at her mother’s request of course, she had become all too well acquainted with boob sweat. Lacking a bra, she didn’t want to think about what the shirt was going to look like by the time she got to the doors.

“Ready?” Catherine asked as she stopped the car and got a look at Bridget’s face. “We can wait a minute if you want.”

She left the car running as she retrieved her purse from the backseat and awaited her daughter’s reply. Bridget swallowed hard, dreading the imminent shopping experience more than she thought she would. Now that she was actually here, it felt much more real and intimidating.

“No. Let’s get it over with.”

She grabbed the door handle and stepped out into the oven heat of the parking lot. Catherine got out of the car as well and led her towards the front doors of the food court. It took longer than it should have, even if Bridget was having trouble carrying the weight of her breasts, which she really wasn’t. She felt like her legs were betraying her. They kept trying to turn her back towards the car, but she knew she had to do this.

“Just remember, honey,” her mother said over one shoulder. “No one is judging you, they’re just curious.”

Bridget nodded, gulping down her anxious thoughts. She focused on putting one foot in front of the other and they were inside the mall before she knew it. A cool air-conditioned breeze washed over her and relieved the worst of her physical stress. Her mind was racing as she saw the huge crowds of people wandering the food court like zombies, however. They had entered the center-point of the mall. People of every kind rushed around, loaded down with trays of food, bags full of brand new toys, fashionable clothes, and trendy gadgets. She stared in horror at the sight, then noticed her mom was trying to catch her attention.

“Huh?” She mumbled. “What is it?”

“I said, where do you want to start?” Her mom asked. “Formal clothes or casual?”

“Um, I guess let’s just go casual for now. It might be a little easier to find something that’ll fit.”

Catherine nodded and pointed to the left of the food court.

“Let’s go that way then,” she said. “Lansen’s always has the best sales this time of year.”

Bridget followed her mom along the path towards the big department store at the end of the western wing of the massive building. She tried to ignore the hordes of people they passed, but couldn’t help catching a few of them—men and women—staring at her. Their expressions ran the gamut from confusion to disgust and everything in between. A few looked concerned, others seemed to pity her, and she hated all of it.

Of course they’re staring at you, a cynical voice in her head told her. You’re barely five feet tall, about ninety pounds soaking wet, and you have a forty inch bust.

That wasn’t helpful, and she knew it, but those thoughts came to her sometimes. It was a small, unhappy side of herself that she couldn’t quite lock away. She watched her mom walk ahead of her, always so confident with her own curves. She expected people to look. She might have even welcomed it. She owned her good looks and everyone could tell. Bridget, on the other hand, felt ugly and misshapen. She didn’t have two decades of confidence to rely on.

They’re just curious.

She tried to fall back on her mom’s advice. She repeated it over and over again like a mantra, but it didn’t seem to help much other than to stop her from looking around at everyone leering at her. She saw her mom stop just ahead of her and she ground to a halt behind her. Catherine was looking to her left at a shopfront on the other side of a raised flower bed. Bridget couldn’t see over the elephant ears and colorful lilies growing out of it, but her mom motioned for her to follow and cut between the bed and a seating area beside it. She crossed in front of a group of high school girls wearing trashy outfits, all of whom openly stared at Bridget as she rushed past them to catch up to her mother. She heard one of the girls in the group shout to her friends, who started murmuring to each other.

“Holy sh*t! Did I really just see that?”

Bridget tried not to let it bother her, but it didn’t work. She felt like she was about to cry. They all had normal bodies and were confident enough to show them off. She couldn’t stop herself from comparing her freakish proportions to their perfect, girlish figures. She was so preoccupied with her misery that she almost bumped into her mom as she entered the shop.

“Mom, what the hell?” Bridget snapped, her irritation bringing out the kind of language her mother didn’t like her using. “Why are we here?”

She hadn’t even noticed the name of the shop. The high schoolers had distracted her too much. She looked around and saw clothing racks hung with all sorts of blouses, dresses, skirts, and pants. The walls to either side were covered with cube shelves with neatly folded graphic tees and jeans of every style and color on the right, while the left displayed bras and panties of every kind. Full-bodied mannequins stood on displays, modeling outfits, while their headless, armless, and legless cousins hung from brackets above the shelves on the left wall, showing off all kinds of underwear and lingerie. The mannequins had unusual proportions, as she soon realized. Some were thicker around the middle than the ones Bridget was used to. Some had big, wide hips, like her mom, others were well-endowed like herself, and a few had it all.

“Whoa…”

“Hi, there!” A bubbly female voice called out from somewhere towards the back of the shop. “Be with you in just a second!”

A girl that looked barely out of high school stepped through a curtained doorway under a sign that read Dressing Rooms. She’d pulled her black hair into a spiky sort of bun at the top of her head and wore dark lipstick, heavy eyeliner, a purple measuring tape draped around her neck, and what looked like three pounds of shining steel jewelry in her ears, nose, and right eyebrow. As she stepped out from behind a rack of clothes Bridget saw that she matched a few of the mannequins just a few feet behind her. She had a full chest, flat belly, and a trim waistline, which she showed off with the help of a pair of low-rider jeans and a tight shirt that ended just above her belly button. Despite her otherwise thin build, Bridget’s eyes widened when she saw how her hips flared out even wider than her mom’s.

“Welcome to Kurvaceous!” She greeted them. “My name is Kylie. What can I do for you ladies?”

The girl had looked at Bridget without batting an eye and she wasn’t sure if she felt good about it or just confused. Catherine put one hand on her hip and glanced around the store.

“I’ve never noticed this store before,” she said. “Did you just open up recently?”

“Just last month,” Kylie said with a grin.

“So is this supposed to be a specialty shop for the more well-endowed?”

“Mostly, yes,” she said. “But we carry as many different sizes as we can. All-inclusive sizing is the goal.”

“That’s a lucky break,” Catherine said, turning to Bridget with a smile. “Isn’t that right, honey?”

“Um, yeah,” Bridget mumbled. “I guess.”

“My daughter only recently started developing,” Catherine said as she pointed to Bridget, who went red and stared at the floor. “But she’s already outgrown even my wardrobe. Do you think you’d have anything for her?”

“I think we can find something,” Kylie told them. “How are you doing today?”

Bridget looked up and tried to meet the curvy girl’s eyes, but she couldn’t manage it. She was too mortified about everything going on. She felt like everything was spiraling out of control. She couldn’t get used to one thing she had never experienced before she had to jump headlong into another. Kylie walked over and bent forward to look at her.

“Aw, I know it’s tough. Can you tell me your name at least?”

Bridget was sure the older girl didn’t mean to sound as condescending as she did. She supposed she just meant to be friendly. She was obviously trying to be nice. She tried to convince herself that all of that was true, but she failed.

“I’m not a little kid,” Bridget snapped. “So don’t talk to me like that. And my name’s Bridget.”

Kylie looked surprised, then let out a snort of a laugh and stood up with her hands on her hips.

“Little firecracker, ain’tcha?” She chuckled. “Well I like your spirit, Bridget. Sorry if I offended you. Start over?”

She held out a hand, smiling down at her, and Bridget suddenly realized how tall Kylie was as she shook it. Her mom was tall for a woman, but Kylie was at least a head taller. She had to be almost as tall as her dad. Kylie nodded at her and went over to the left wall.

“Do you know your bra size?” She asked.

Bridget was too busy watching her enormous butt wobble and shake with every step to pay attention. She hadn’t heard the question, so when she realized her mistake it was already too late. Fortunately, her mom jumped in for her.

“I measured her as a 30J,” she said. “But you might want to check my work. It’s been a long time since I did a real bra fitting and I suppose things may have changed since my day.”

“Eh, the sizes are still pretty stupid and inaccurate, really,” Kylie chuckled, pulling the long purple measuring tape off of her shoulders. “But we make do with what we have. Arms up, Bridget!”

Bridget looked at her mom, unsure how she felt about a person she barely knew touching her chest, but Catherine smiled and nodded. She obediently lifted her arms out to her sides and Kylie moved in, wrapping the tape around her back and making sure it was straight before pulling it tighter around her boobs. She cinched it a bit and made sure that it was around the fullest part of her bust, then checked the numbers.

“Forty-point-five!” She announced, bouncing a loose fist off of Bridget’s shoulder. “Not bad, kiddo!”

The newly minted teen didn’t think that measurement was anything to celebrate. Hearing it said out loud made her notice the bulk hanging from her chest all over again and made her feel even more self-conscious about her freakish proportions. Kylie noticed Bridget’s expression and seemed to realize her misstep. She put a hand to her back and led her towards the bras on display.

“Don’t let it worry you,” she told her. “We definitely have some cute stuff over here that’ll fit you.”

“I don’t want cute,” Bridget murmured, more to her own chest than the shopkeeper. “Just something that fits me.”

Kylie glanced up at Catherine, who shrugged.

“She’s a little bit of a tomboy,” she told Kylie.

“I definitely get that,” Kylie said, tapping her chin and nodding. “There was a time when I’d rather die than wear a dress. But there’s no shame in embracing a little bit of your femininity. Guys go crazy for a cute girl with a boyish side. Especially curvier girls like us.”

She nudged Briget with one elbow, winked at her, and then hustled her over to the underwear. She gave the younger girl a few words of encouragement and steered her towards the best choices for her shape and size. Catherine was impressed and happy to stand back and let her work. Within half an hour, Kylie’s infectious cheeriness had drawn Bridget out of her shell and they were talking almost like a big sister teaching a younger one about the finer points of womanhood.

“Nah, you don’t want to go with demis at your size,” she explained when Briget held up a model with wide, shallow cups. “Not yet anyway. Those are gonna lift your boobs and hold them towards the center of your chest, and that’ll just make them look even bigger. They also tend to get pretty uncomfortable if you aren’t used to them. You want to stick to full-coverage and underwires. Let me show you.”

“Hm, you know, at your size you might want a minimizer for when you want to reign the girls in a little. Those are over there by the sports bras.”

“As big as you are, the strapless bra is your mortal enemy. Keep that in mind for stuff like tube tops, too. Got it?”

Bridget soaked up all of her advice like a sponge. Once she was more comfortable with Kylie she even started to ask questions. Catherine felt comfortable enough to go off and see about a new pair of jeans for herself. After Bridget had picked out half a dozen bras they moved on to panties. She noticed some of the mannequins modeling lingerie and asked why anyone would want to wear a string up their butt all day.

“Well,” Kylie said, screwing up her face and rocking her head from side to side as she thought about how to put it to an inexperienced teen. “When you’re wearing tight pants, skirts, or dresses, especially ones made out of thinner fabrics, they’re good for hiding your pantyline.”

She checked to make sure Catherine wasn’t paying too close attention to them and leaned in to whisper in Bridget’s ear.

“Personally that’s about all I wear nowadays,” she said with a giggle as she patted herself on the butt. “With this booty, almost everything winds up in there anyway. Plus most guys think they’re super hot. Remember that for when you’re a little older.”

Bridget went pink, but nodded, and Kylie punched her arm again. With her underwear problems sorted out, they spent the next hour picking out various outfits. Bridget tried on each and every one to get Catherine’s approval and found she even liked some of the skirts and dresses once she had put them on. She also found that the new bra Kylie let her put on for the process was a huge relief. It fit like it had been made for her and offered perfect support. The weight of her breasts was still very much there, but having something to take some of the pressure off of her back was so much better than what she had suffered over the past weeks.

When they finally checked out, Bridget cringed as Kylie told them their total, but Catherine handed over a credit card without batting an eye. Kylie thanked her for their business and told them to come by anytime. Catherine gathered up the bags, sincerely thanked her for her help and went for the door. Bridget started to follow her out, but Kylie caught her before she took more than a few steps.

“You’re alright, kiddo,” she said. “If you happen to grow out of any of that stuff come by and see me again sometime, yeah? Keep your chin up.”

“Sure,” Bridget said.

She had planned to leave it at that and catch up with her mom, but then she was talking again before she could stop herself.

“And thanks. For helping me out and not freaking out about how I look, I mean...”

“Don’t sweat it,” Kylie grinned. “When you look a little different, especially the way we do, you tend to draw the eye. Some people get mean about it, but I think they’re mostly jealous. Try to enjoy your gifts, okay?”

Bridget wasn’t sure she’d ever think of her breasts as “gifts” but she nodded and tried to smile up at Kylie. She hoped that if the older girl could be happy in spite of her unusual height and huge butt, she could eventually feel more comfortable in her own skin too. It gave her a little more hope for her future, if nothing else.

Armed with a new wardrobe, a little bit of newfound confidence, and a carefully chosen arsenal of bras for almost every occasion, Bridget went to sleep early the following Sunday night. She slept better than she had in months. None of the nightmares that had plagued her lately disturbed her in any way.

Then she woke up the next morning with a hard lump of terror lodged deep in her throat. It was the first day of school and she was going to die. The outfit she had picked out had seemed perfect the night before, but now she found herself second-guessing every prior decision. The shirt was too tight. The bright colors were going to draw attention to her. Her new jeans were too new.

As she sat there, paralyzed by indecision, her mom burst into her room to make sure she was awake. Then she rushed her into the shower, telling her she needed to get a move on or they’d be late. Then she rushed her back out of it after what felt like two minutes but turned out to have been almost twenty. Bridget finished toweling herself off, grabbed her new bra, struggled to fasten the hooks behind her back, and then caught sight of herself in the mirror.

Is my hair really that bushy? She asked herself as she tried to smooth it down. And why am I so pasty?

She wished she had some makeup to cover her freckles and give herself some color. Then she realized she didn’t even know how to use makeup. She had always sworn to never touch the stuff, but now she didn’t want to go out looking white as a sheet. She thought about Kylie’s makeup at the store. Her even, creamy skin tone had contrasted perfectly with her dark lips and winged eyeliner. It had looked kind of cool to Bridget. She tried to picture how she might look if she adopted a similar style.

Maybe I should ask Mom about it…

No sooner had she formed that thought than she heard her mother call her name up the stairs.

“Bridget! Get dressed and come down for breakfast!” She shouted. “You have ten minutes!”

She fumbled with her bra straps, managed to get at least a few of the six hooks to catch this time, and sprinted to her room. Rather than the outfit she had picked out, she threw on a plain black T-shirt they had picked up and paired it with a pair of older jeans. The shirt hung from her chest like a curtain and it had the opposite effect of the slimming one she had hoped for. Still, it was at least harder to tell just how big she was. Without any time to think up an alternative she just went for it. Her mom noticed straightaway as she entered the kitchen.

“You don’t want to show off some of the new clothes we got?” She asked.

“Don’t wanna stand out,” Bridget replied, her voice clipped and almost robotic. “Maybe later in the year.”

“Alright,” Catherine sighed, serving two slices of French toast and a few strips of bacon onto her plate. “Eat fast. Mr. Finch wants to talk to us in his office before first period so we can’t be late.”

Bridget froze with a piece of toast halfway to her mouth.

“Why?”

Her voice sounded raspy and high to her own ears.

“Because he wants to be sure we’re all on the same page about your condition. Although now that you seem to have slowed down I think that conversation should be a lot simpler. Eat.”

Bridget took a few bites of the toast and bacon, chewed, and forced herself to swallow it down past that same lump of fear rising once again in her throat. She didn’t even want to think about what awaited her at school if she showed up and all the other kids saw her go straight to the principal’s office.

She wondered if they would recognize her. She’d changed a lot over the summer, or at least her boobs had. She mostly looked like the same scrawny ginger tomboy, otherwise.

It was pretty much her last hope.

“Did you see Bridget Thomas?”

“Oh my gosh! Bridget Thomas…”

“Bridget Thomas…”

“You know! That red-headed girl that always hung around with the boys?”

Everyone recognized her.

She could hear the hissing and droning whispers of dozens of middle schoolers trying and failing to keep their voices low as she followed her mom through the main hall. Seventh graders, her fellow eighth graders—even some sixth graders that couldn’t possibly have known her yet—her name was on everyone’s lips. She kept her eyes forward on her mother’s back and tried not to blush or show any other signs of weakness. It was going to be a long, hard day, but if she hung tough everyone would lose interest.

Eventually.

“Good morning, ladies!”

Mr. Finch, a balding and round-faced man who always wore eccentrically colored suits, greeted them when they entered his office. He wore an eye-searing electric blue paired with an indigo tie that day.

“I hope your day is going well so far.”

“A little hectic,” Catherine told him with a disarming smile. “But we made it. How are you Mr. Finch?”

“Oh, just fine, and how are you, Ms. Bridget?” He asked, offering a glass dish full of hard candy. “Would you like one?”

Bridget was doing her best to hide behind her mother’s broad hips like she had when she was younger. It didn’t work nearly so well now.

“N-no thank you,” she mumbled.

“Please, have a seat.”

He indicated the two ladder back chairs that were always in front of his desk. They were made out of metal with thin and uncomfortable cushions on the seats as opposed to the plush leather affair on his side. Catherine took the right chair, leaving her daughter exposed, and nodded suggestively at the left one when Bridget remained frozen in place. She moved stiffly, as if she were made of wood, and sat down. She slouched forward and tried to let her chest sink in, but there was too much there to disguise it all and she knew it.

“Look up and don’t slouch.”

Catherine perfectly disguised her whispered order with the aid of the hissing air spring in Mr. Finch’s chair as he sank into it. Bridget sat up, all too conscious of the bulging t-shirt in her peripherals.

“I know this is unusual,” he told them, taking on his more serious principal voice. “But I want to assure you and your mother that we’re going to make sure you have a normal school year in spite of everything, Ms. Bridget.”

“Okay…”

Bridget squirmed in her seat. Her face was hot with shame and she was uncomfortable with the subject—or rather subjects—of the conversation.

“So what’s the plan?” Catherine asked. “I think we both know how middle school kids, especially girls, like to gossip and spread rumors.”

“My first inclination is to make an announcement to the students,” he said.

Catherine raised an eyebrow at him and uncrossed her legs as if she were about to get up. Mr. Finch read her body language and held up a hand to head off her imminent argument.

“But I’ve already been advised that it would be a rather ineffective way of stomping out the problem. Children often do the opposite of what they’re told, I suppose.”

Catherine leaned back in the chair again, crossing her thick legs like a pair of coiled springs. Finch could see that she remained fully prepared to fight to protect her daughter.

“No, instead I think we should see how things play out this morning and meet up again at lunch to discuss it. If we need to take a few corrective actions, we can do so then.”

Bridget had been working herself up to speak and finally decided it was time to say what was on her mind. She couldn’t let things go too far or the other kids would never let her live it down.

“I don’t want anyone to get in trouble because of me,” she said.

Her voice was weak, and it broke a few times as she tried to get the words out, but both the principal and her mother heard her all the same.

“Honey, you don’t need to worry about that,” Catherine told her. “You won’t be getting anyone in trouble. They’d be doing it to themselves.”

“But if they think I went whining to Mr. Finch, they’ll kill me.”

Catherine got up from her chair and knelt in front of Bridget. She put one hand on the girl’s knee and the other to her cheek. Her voice was soft, but firm as she spoke.

“Sweetheart, you’ve got to stop worrying about everything or you’re going to have a stroke before you’re twenty. Let me handle this, okay?”

Bridget choked back her tears for what felt like the hundredth time that morning and looked into her mother’s face. She had always heard people say her mom was pretty, but she saw for the first time that wasn’t quite true. Her mom was beautiful. She was like a guardian angel, or a good fairy from some old story. She believed what she said. She was going to make everything okay.

“Go ahead and get to class,” she said. “I’m going to stay here and talk with Mr. Finch for a little while longer. I’ll see you again at lunchtime, alright?”

Bridget nodded and did as she was told. She went to the door and opened it. Just before she shut the door she felt like she had to say one last thing.

“Thanks, Mom.”

She saw her mother lean over Mr. Finch’s office, towering over the man in his chair and dominating the room with her impressive physique. Bridget shut the door with a click and knew that everything was going to work out. Even if it didn’t, she at least knew that it wasn’t because no one tried.

She found the school counselor and the nurse clearing up jumbled copies of class schedules at a folding table in the main hall. Once she got one for her grade and knew where she was going she jogged off to her homeroom at the end of the south hall. She quit trying halfway down it when she felt how much her boobs bounced with every step. It was the first time she had tried running with them and it gave her a new appreciation for all of her mom’s and Kylie’s advice about sports bras.

Her homeroom teacher turned out to be Mr. Gardner, one of the youngest teachers in the school and one of the few that most of the students thought was cool. He wore big square glasses, and had a neatly trimmed beard and a long mane of wavy brown hair that he usually kept combed back out of his face. She always thought he was cute, but she would have died before she ever admitted it to another living soul.

Aidan sat in the back row and waved to get her attention when she stumbled into the room. Everyone went silent and, nearly in unison, turned their heads to look at her. Even Mr. Gardner had stopped halfway through whatever joke he was telling a group of students at the front of the class. His smiling face turned towards her and his mouth went slack for a few seconds, then he cleared his throat and put his smile back on as he greeted her.

“Morning, Ms. Thomas,” he said. “I think Mr. Crosse said he was saving you a seat.”

Bridget looked back to Aidan, who pointed to an empty desk to the left of his own. It was the corner seat in the very back of the classroom; the most inconspicuous seat in the house. Bridget felt like she could have kissed him if she weren’t already half-dead from embarrassment. She felt all eyes on her as she shifted towards the back of the room, then Mr. Gardner checked his watch and decided to get started a little ahead of schedule for her benefit.

“Alright, we’re all here now, I think,” he said. “Eyes front. Speak up when you hear your name. You know the drill.”

Most of the students took their eyes off of the wobbling masses attached to their classmate and looked forward as instructed, but a few craned their necks or turned in their seats to watch her. Mr. Gardner clapped his hands to bring their attention back to him, but even then a few tried to sneak a look back at her every now and then.

“What’d Mr. Finch want you for?” Aidan hissed to her as she sat down. “Everyone saw you go into his office first thing. I tried to tell them it was because you missed a few weeks last year and needed to turn in summer work, but I don’t know if anyone fell for it.”

“Thanks for trying,” Bridget sighed as she collapsed into her desk.

She felt her boobs squash up towards her chin as she sat in the cramped desk chair. That was going to be a problem. Still, not wanting to start the year with a complaint, she shifted a little and tried to make herself fit. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but she thought she could live with it. The last thing she wanted was to get any special treatment from the school, and a new desk just for her would definitely be seen as such by her peers. They didn’t have the same sympathy for girls with big boobs that they had for kids in wheelchairs. It would be seen as favoritism.

“You alright in there?” Aidan said, smirking at her.

“Shut up, nerd,” she said, trying to find somewhere other than the top of her desk to put them. “Ugh! These things are such a pain!”

“Aidan Crosse!” Mr. Gardner called from the front of the classroom. “I know you’re here, but I still need you to speak up!”

“Sorry!” Aidan said, wincing as he threw his hand up. “Here!”

“So you are,” Mr. Gardner said dryly as he made a check on his list and moved on with roll call.

“Busted,” Bridget snigg*red.

“Look who’s talking,” Aidan shot back.

Bridget stopped laughing and looked at him, wide eyed. She didn’t think Aidan knew the term, then she remembered she had used it when she had complained to him about how annoying bra fitting was. She couldn’t help but smile at him.

“That…was almost clever.”

Once roll call was over, Mr. Gardner started to hand out the textbooks for his history class.

“Take one and pass the stack,” he told them. “And sign your name on the line inside the front cover so we know who to come to if you misplace it.”

He gave each of the kids at the front of the class a stack of books and turned around to write something on the board. Somehow, in the half-minute since he first handed them out, Bridget’s shiny new textbook had already been defaced. There was something scrawled in barely legible chicken scratch inside of it. The words “Titty Monster” occupied the line where she was supposed to write her name. She stared at the letters, each written in thick black marker, almost impressed with the cruelty and cunning it took to attack her so quickly. The insult was so childish, and yet it somehow hit upon all of her insecurities in one blow.

“What’s wrong?” Aidan asked, catching the odd expression on her face.

“Nothing,” she said, snapping the book shut. “I just realized I don’t have a pen.”

“Here,” Aidan said, retrieving an extra one from his backpack and handing it to her. “Anyway, you never told me what Mr. Finch wanted.”

Bridget was still distracted. She was looking out at the other students and wondering who had written in her book. She realized Aidan must have said something when she sensed him staring at her. She turned to see him holding his hands up in an expression of curious frustration.

“Sorry, what?”

“What. Did. Finch. Want?” He said, as if he were speaking to someone with highly diminished mental capacity.

“He wanted to talk to my mom, mostly,” Bridget lied. “She filled him in on what’s…you know…going on with me…”

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense.”

“Alright, class,” Mr. Gardner called out to his students. “As much as I hate to interrupt, the school year has officially begun.”

There was a collective groan from the majority of the class and the teacher chuckled, pretending to revel in their pain like they gave him energy.

“That’s the stuff,” he quipped, chuckling at them. “That’s what gives us teachers life. For those of you that don’t know me from last year—or forgot—I can be just as fun or just as mean as you are. Your choice…”

Bridget let her teacher’s words wash over her as she sat there, stuffed in an uncomfortably cramped desk and feeling totally out of place. She waited until she was sure no one was paying attention and squashed her boobs into a slightly less awful position. The underwire in her bra was digging into her and it almost felt like her bra was too tight again, but she knew that wasn’t it. She just needed to find a comfortable way to sit at the desk.

With Aidan’s help, Bridget kept up the same basic tactic in her following classes. They kept to the back of every room so it wouldn’t be as easy for the other students to ogle her without the teachers being aware of it. She thought that the one good thing about her peers was that they were very much creatures of habit. Once seats were established on day one, no one would argue about their place in each classroom. Some might get annoyed that they were always sitting in the back of every class, but as long as she or Aidan got there before anyone it was first come, first served. When someone passed back her English and biology books in second and third period she checked the stickers inside the front covers, but no one had tried to duplicate their earlier feat. Even though their constant glances in her direction were wearing down her patience, that gave her a bit of hope that whoever it was had gotten it out of their system.

She went on suffering with the confining desks, squirming and shifting around every few minutes. She kept making minor adjustments to her bra, but they only brought temporary relief. Every time she had to shift her weight around, it felt like the fit was all wrong. She had to try not to draw attention to herself while she pulled her boobs up and stuffed them back into the cups when they worked their way beneath the underwire. She tried to adjust her straps because they seemed to need slack now that she had to contort herself to fit in such a small space. By the middle of third period she felt like even the band was pulled too tight around her ribcage so she unfastened a couple of the hooks to loosen it up a bit. It was then she decided to ask her mom if she was wearing it right at their lunchtime meeting with the principal. Until then she just let them sit on top of the desk. She had just enough room to take notes if she reached around them. It wasn’t perfect and a lot of the boys in particular seemed fascinated by them in that position, but it kept her from drawing the sort of negative attention that complaining would bring on.

With the first three classes out of the way, she knew they were inching closer to lunch. She was nervous about the free-for-all of teasing and questioning that would probably turn into, but she really wanted to talk to her mom about her bra problems. She was also just plain hungry. Her appetite had really gone into hyperdrive since she started growing and this was the first day she hadn’t had 24-hour access to snacks. Her stomach was grumbling as she entered her introductory algebra classroom. The teacher, Mrs. Carter, was a strict old lady with no patience for anyone or anything that distracted from her lectures. Bridget could only imagine what would happen if she noticed all the other students sneaking glances at her as they had over the last several hours. She supposed she’d be in as much trouble as the rubberneckers.

To her surprise, though, Mrs. Carter did her best to avoid directing any extra attention her way. If she caught someone looking towards the back of the class she just snapped at them to pay attention and left it at that. Bridget tried to reciprocate that kindness by paying attention to her introductory lesson on variables, but it was hard to focus. Her bra just wouldn’t conform to her body in any seated position she tried. The underwire was digging into her flesh again and nothing she did made it any better.

When the lunch bell finally rang, Bridget sprang up before anyone else. Her back was killing her from the twisted position she’d maintained for the last ten minutes of class.

“I have to go meet my mom for lunch, Aidan,” she told him. “I don’t know how long this is gonna take.”

“Want me to hold onto your books and stuff?” He asked.

Bridget almost took him up on the offer, then she remembered the name scrawled in her textbook. She needed to ask her mom about that one.

“No thanks,” she said, trying to sound casual. “I’ll take them to my locker once I finish up.”

“Alright,” he said with a shrug. “See you later.”

Bridget waited for most of the other students to leave and trailed behind them. She hoped she could sneak towards Mr. Finch’s office without anyone noticing, but a few of the girls in her class noticed her.

“Hey, Bridget!” Shouted Eva, one of two blondes and the tallest member of the group. “Aren’t you coming to lunch?”

“Yeah, walk with us!” Said Lily, another blonde who was pretty, but a bit on the heavier side.

“We don’t bite!” Said Erin, the lone brunette of their trio, who Bridget had never seen without a fake smile plastered over her face.

Bridget smiled back at them, but shook her head. She knew a trap when she saw one. These girls were the worst gossips in the school. They had spread all kinds of rumors about a girl the year before because she mentioned she liked a boy Erin had a crush on at the time.

“Sorry,” she said. “My mom is bringing me something. I have to go meet her.”

“Aw, that’s too bad,” Eva said with an exaggerated pout. “We’ve been waiting for a chance to talk to you. You should come find us during our next break, alright?”

“Um, sure,” Bridget said, uncertain how to get away.

She caught Lily staring directly at her boobs with a strange look on her face, but decided to ignore it and started to walk by them. Her plan to sneak off was already shot so she thought it would be best to head for the front doors. Then Erin grabbed her by the arm.

“Seriously, though,” she whispered. “Where did you even find a bra that size?”

“Do you really think you can get away with stuffing that monstrosity?” Lily hissed.

Bridget was stunned. She looked at her, trying to ignore the blush creeping into her cheeks. She hadn’t even considered that anyone would think she was trying to fake growing giant boobs over the summer. It was such a crazy thing to do just for attention. She was thrown off balance and her voice sounded weak and thin again when she finally managed to speak at all.

“What are you talking about?” She asked.

“Oh, come on,” Eva sneered. “We all know you’re just trying to get attention. Did you really think anyone would actually fall for those?”

“B-but—”

Bridget tried to interject, but the three headed monster in front of her just went on. They formed a semi-circle around her, pushing her back against a wall. Having blocked off her escape route, they were now closing in on her. Their sickly sweet tone of voice stayed the same, but everything they said got nastier as they went on.

“If you were going to stuff, you should have started small and worked your way up.”

“Seriously. It still would have been totally obvious, but at least the boys might have fallen for it. You look so ridiculous.”

Do you honestly think I would put myself through this kind of thing on purpose?

That was what she wanted to say, but all that came out was a strangled grunting noise that died in her throat. She tried again, but only managed two words.

“They’re real…”

“Oh my god!” Eva said as if something had just occurred to her. “I bet that Aidan kid fell for it!”

“What a dumbass. He doesn’t know, does he?”

“Maybe we should tell him. I would wanna know if my girlfriend was a lying skan*.”

Bridget only felt empty as they went on insulting her to her face. She didn’t really care what they said. It wasn’t until they mentioned Aidan that she really lost her temper. She wasn’t sure if it was because they called him stupid, or because they called her his girlfriend. All she knew was that she was furious.

“Shut the f*ck up! They’re not fake!”

She shouted loud enough for her words to echo through the crowded halls. The thunderous chatter of the students walking ahead fizzled out as they turned to see who was shooting obscenities at school. As if they had a sixth sense for drama, Eva, Lily, and Erin split apart and backed away from Bridget just before she shouted at them. Before anyone turned to see them tormenting her, they had already moved far enough away to pretend to look back at her in confusion asking with everyone else. All eyes were on Bridget now. She stood there against the wall shouting to herself as far as they knew.

“What’s wrong with her?” Erin giggled, ostensibly to her friends, but loud enough for those around them to hear. “Is she, like, crazy or something?”

Bridget stared out at the crowd as they started to mutter to each other; most likely about her. She was wide-eyed as panic began to set in. Mrs. Carter stood in the doorway to her classroom looking shocked at Bridget’s language. The school counselor, Mr. Sellers, was standing in the center of the crowd of students and looking directly at her over their heads. He looked concerned, but also angry.

The sheer brilliant cruelty of Eva’s little coven settled into her brain. They had goaded her into making a scene. She now realized it had been their intention from the start. Even though she had seen a trap coming she had played right into their hands. With a thrill, Bridget remembered that Lily had been sitting a few seats in front of her in Mr. Gardner’s class. She must have written in her book. They wanted to ostracize her on day one, and now nothing she said could possibly turn it around. She just had to remain calm and leave with whatever shreds of her dignity she had left.

Aidan pushed to the front of the crowd as the other students lost interest and turned to go to lunch. He saw Bridget moving in his direction, her face twisted in rage.

“What the hell, Bridge?” He asked as she blew past him.

“Leave me alone,” she snapped, her eyes reddening as they welled up.

Aidan stopped running after her and watched her go. He saw her walk by Mr. Sellers, ignore his order for her to come with him to see Mr. Finch, and disappear through the front doors. He heard a group of girls giggling and watched Eva’s group walking up the hall towards the cafeteria. He knew them, and remembered that Bridget had butted heads with Lily a few times back in grade school. His suspicion mounted and he thought he understood what had happened. He knew then that he shouldn’t have let her go off on her own. She was a prime target for people like them. He gritted his teeth and whispered a curse of frustration to himself, powerless to do anything to help his friend.

“You bitches.”

“Bridget!”

She woke from her sleep with a squeak and looked up into Aidan’s face. His hazel eyes were wide with concern and she felt his hands on her shoulder. He must have been trying to shake her awake.

“Are you alright?” He asked.

“I’m fine,” she said as she sat up and held her head. “What happened?”

“You were moaning and thrashing around. I thought you were having a fit at first, but I guess it was just a nightmare?”

Bridget could feel the residual adrenaline fading away along with all memory of what she had just experienced in her dreams.

“It’s fuzzy,” she said.

She tried to remember what made her so upset, but it slipped away like sand through a fishnet.

“I was scared and angry about something someone did to me. I think I was having one of my dreamories again.”

“A bad one, I guess,” Aidan said. “You sounded like you were about to cry.”

“Really?”

Bridget grimaced and sucked air through her teeth as she looked at him. She hated when he saw her in a vulnerable state like that even though she knew it was stupid. Considering her inability to move on her own, she was pretty much always vulnerable. Even so, she didn’t like to act all weepy and emotional around him. He had seen more than enough of that side of her when they were younger.

“Yeah, but don’t sweat it,” he said, grinning at her like an idiot. “You girls have to get it all out somehow.”

She gave a mocking laugh, rocking her head from side to side as she squinched up her face. Then, without warning, she punched him in the arm.

“Ow! Bridge!” He yelped, clutching a well-frogged bicep.

“You had it coming, you big baby,” she told him.

“Oh it’s on, now!”

He launched himself forward, put his fingertips to her ribs, and started tickling her.

“No!” She squealed, letting out a shrill giggle as soon as his fingers touched her side. “Anything but that!”

Bridget was, and always had been, extraordinarily ticklish, and she still looked back on the day Aidan first discovered this weakness with abject horror. Now that she wasn’t able to get away from him like she used to, he usually didn’t resort to such tactics. It was a low blow.

“Stop!” she screamed through her howls of laughter. “STOP!”

“Why should I?” Aidan asked, stopping to let her answer.

“So I can kill you!”

“What kind of incentive is that?”

He cackled like a mad genius who’d just completed his life’s work as he started tickling her again and Bridget did her best not to wet herself as she suffered under his playful yet sad*stic treatment. When he finally stopped, she felt like she would never catch her breath again.

“You…are…such…an asshole…”

She had to pause to suck in a breath between every word and it felt like her lungs were on fire. Her muscles were tense and

“Is that any way to talk to such a loving and helpful boyfriend?”

“Eat…my ass…” she puffed.

“Again?”

She flipped him off and he barked a laugh as he got up from the floor. Bridget collected herself for a moment and then shifted around to stand up. Her stomach roared and she remembered she hadn’t had anything to eat since the croissant he brought with her coffee that morning.

“Hey, dickhe*d,” she called out to him. “I need to eat. What’s for lunch?”

Aidan laughed to himself as he picked up a few snack wrappers and the bag of sex toys that needed to be cleaned.

“I guess I could make something for us if you want, but they had me baking bread all morning so I was thinking of getting some takeout. Chinese or pizza, probably.”

Bridget weighed her options as she stood up and stretched. She saw Aidan staring at her butt again. She stripped off her leggings to stand before him in nothing more than a pair of panties that left little to the imagination and barely covered two-thirds of each cheek. She twisted her head around to flip her flaming curls over one shoulder and give him a sultry look.

“Pizza,” she said, biting her index finger and squashing her full lower lip. “But…maybe you should have it delivered.”

“Ok…”

He was frozen in place, one loose first holding onto the bag of toys as he stared at her. Bridget watched his face go blank as he stared at her body and stifled a giggle. Then she dropped the sex-kitten act and started laughing at him.

“You’re so easy!” she giggled.

Aidan turned pink and he flashed a bashful smile as he scratched one side of his head.

“I mean, yeah. But can you blame me? You’re pretty much perfect.”

She stopped laughing and stared at him. He met her eyes and she knew he was being serious for a change. Then she felt awkward and put one hand to the wall of flesh before her as she tried to see them the way he did. She still wasn’t comfortable with the lovey-dovey stuff. Sex was one thing, but deeper affection and earnestness didn’t come as naturally to her. There were still times when she hardly believed she could be so intimate with a childhood friend.

“Pretty sure I would at least be able to move if I were perfect." She told him.

“I think you’re great,” Aidan insisted. “I also think your boobs are amazing, if it makes you feel any better.”

He dropped everything in his hands to the floor and moved in close to her, wrapping his arms around her waist and gripping her hips as he pressed into her back. She felt his erection poke her as his crotch settled against the soft flesh of her ass.

“They’re just giant bags of fat,” Bridget retorted, bending forward and propping herself up on them. “There’s nothing sexy about them.”

“How could you say something like that?”

Aidan put some mock emotion in his voice, pretending it hurt him to hear her say such a thing. He slipped his hands up her stomach, dragging his fingers over her soft skin, and she let out a muffled moan. She reflexively wiggled her ass against his now-throbbing erection. Having reached his target, Aidan grabbed the roots of her gargantuan tit* and squeezed the sensitive flesh. They were the only parts of both breasts he could stimulate at the same time, and the effect was instantaneous. Bridget let out a sigh of pleasure as her legs started to shake. Pure bliss spread outward from his touch like ripples in a pond. A pleasant tingling sensation spread like an electric charge from his fingertips all the way out to her nipples. She gasped and arched her back.

“How do you have anything left in the tank?” She asked. “My puss*’s still sore from earlier, you animal.”

“We can stop if you want.”

Bridget was pretty sure he didn't really mean for her to take him up on the offer but she looked at him with an exaggerated smile that showed every one of her teeth.

“At least order the pizza first!”

He let out a disappointed grunt and pulled his hands away.

“Seriously?”

“I’m hungry!”

They looked at each other for a long time and then started laughing. When the moment passed, she swallowed her pride and tried to be honest with him.

“Seriously though, Aidan, I don’t want everything to be sex all the time.”

“I know that, Bridge. I don’t want that to be all of it either.”

“Thank you.”

“I mean, I want it to be a lot of it, but not all.”

“You jerk!”

She seized the first thing she could find that was in reach and threw her discarded leggings at him. Her aim was true, and the leggings hit him in the face. The legs wrapped around his neck and he laughed as he untwisted them and gathered up all the things he had dropped earlier.

“Bring me some fresh panties and a pair of shorts!” She barked, stripping her underwear off and throwing that at him as well. “And get this blanket off of me. I’m hot.”

“Yes, Princess Bridget, ma’am,” he said in his most over-the-top posh British accent. “And what would Her Highness like on the pizza?”

“Your dick, sliced thin.”

“Well, that’s hardly reasonable,” he replied, still in character. “Would pepperoni suffice?”

“Shut up, idiot!”

She couldn’t hide her smile as he walked away, carrying the dirty clothes and assorted garbage to the laundry hamper and garbage cans pushed to one side of the warehouse floor. For all the teasing and endless sh*t they gave each other, Bridget couldn’t imagine trying to get through her life, such as it was, without her best friend.

Chapter 3: Win Some, Lose Some

Chapter Text

Bridget was holding it together, but only by a thread. She had stormed out of the school with no intention whatsoever of going back in before her mom found her stomping over the parking lot. Her chest rose and fell as she took deep breaths in a valiant attempt to calm herself. Once she got close enough Catherine could see tears standing in her eyes, and she did her best to comfort her. They moved back towards the doors, then she saw the counselor and Mr. Finch standing on the top step just outside of them. She gestured irritably to them, trying to communicate that they needed to go back inside and let her handle this herself. Then she turned back to Bridget.

“Once you’ve gotten this out of your system let’s go back inside and talk to Mr. Sellers and Mr. Finch about it, alright?”

“Isn’t there anything else I could try?” Bridget said, keeping her voice below a scream of frustration through sheer force of will. “That one kid down the street is homeschooled.”

“Honey, look at me.”

Bridget heard her mother switch to a cool and even voice. The “Danger Tone” as her dad liked to call it. She turned her red eyes, still welling with unshed tears, up to meet her mother’s. Catherine put her hands on her shoulders and leaned in so close their noses almost touched. They had almost identical light brown eyes so it was oddly like looking into a mirror.

“I’m not just saying this to get you to do what I want. You do not want to do that to yourself. It’s worth getting through this, baby. I promise. You’re going to want the school experience, even though it’s a pain in the ass most of the time.”

Bridget sniffed and a strained, strangled sound escaped her though she kept her lips shut tight. She was trying not to laugh.

“If you need to cry, or scream, or break something, you do that out here. But we’re going to have to go back and face this once you’re done. Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

Catherine let go of Bridget’s shoulders and stepped back to give her some room. Bridget let her chin fall to her chest and finally let the tears fall. They soaked into the dark fabric of her baggy t-shirt, leaving slightly darker stains that were visible in the bright sunshine. When she felt like she could speak again, Bridget filled her mother in on her miserable experiences that morning. From all the whispers and stares, to the note in her textbook, to the Eva Trio’s bit of social engineering.

“And you’re sure Lily Polk was the one that wrote that in your book?” Catherine asked.

“I mean, I can’t prove it,” Bridget said, her eyes still puffy and her voice thick with emotion. “But after everything she said, I’m pretty sure she did it.”

“Are you feeling up to going back in now?”

“Maybe,” Bridget sniffed. “I still can’t believe I let them work me up like that.”

“Don’t let it worry you too much. None of them will remember this in about a week.”

Catherine got up from where she sat beside her daughter at the bottom of the school’s front steps. She brushed off the seat of her jeans and held her hands out to help Bridget stand up.

“C’mon. We still have about half an hour before the bell rings. Mr. Finch will want to see us.”

“I really don’t want to go back in there, Mom,” Bridget moaned. “Can’t you make some kind of excuse for me and take me home?”

Catherine gave her a stern look and put her hands on her hips.

“You may have your father’s name, but let me tell you something my father told me when I wasn’t much older than you. He always said ‘the O’Guinns don’t run’, and you’re as much of an O’Guinn as I am, Bridget. We’re facing this head on. I have a bone to pick with the faculty, anyway.”

She knew then that it wasn’t worth arguing anymore. Her mom had invoked her grandfather’s old-timey wisdom, and that meant she was going to make her go back and face everyone. She took her hands and let Catherine pull her to her feet. As she stood up, she overbalanced when the weight of her chest dragged her forward. She felt her bra shift out of place again and remembered her plan to ask her mom if there was something wrong with it.

“Um, mom…” She muttered as she grabbed the band and tried to reposition it.

“What is it?”

“I think there might be something wrong with this bra.”

“One of the brand new ones? What happened?”

“I dunno. I was sitting in class and it started to feel really uncomfortable.”

Catherine thought it over for a second and then motioned for Bridget to follow her into the school.

“You’re probably just not used to wearing it yet,” she said as she went up the steps. “You jumped up to a pretty large size in a couple of months. Just bear with it. It’ll feel natural soon enough, I promise.”

“Ok…”

Bridget wasn’t convinced, but she didn’t want to argue when her mom was looking fso fired up. Anyway, saying what she was worried about would make it real, and she was more terrified by that prospect than going back into the school to face her peers. She followed her mother inside and straight up the hall to the principal’s office for the second time that day. Mr. Finch and Mr. Sellers were both there waiting for them, the latter with a sour look on his face. Catherine crossed her arms and co*cked her wide hips. She faced them without a trace of apprehension, waiting for one of them to make the first move.

And Mr. Sellers did just that. The tall, rail thin guidance counselor always dressed in clothes that seemed to be at least two sizes too big for him and he hardly looked imposing against a confident, beautiful, and taller than average woman like Catherine. His unpleasant demeanor left most of the students scared of him, but in Bridget’s experience he was a pushover if you didn’t start off on the wrong foot. She wasn’t sure how this meeting would go, but she felt like she could bet on her mom after watching her dominate the principal that morning.

“Mrs. Thomas,” the counselor said. “I’ve just been speaking to the principal about your daughter’s behavior—”

“I don’t doubt that,” Catherine said, cutting him off with a chilly look in her eye. “But I have something I’d like to discuss about three other students who just got away scott free after tormenting my daughter without any of the faculty noticing or stepping in.”

Mr. Sellers looked shocked that she had interrupted him, and Mr. Finch grimaced.

“Mrs. Thomas,” the principal said, hoping to smooth things over. “I assure you, Mrs. Carter saw a potential problem brewing, but she wasn’t able to break it up in time. I’m sure you understand that Bridget’s behavior is unacceptable, regardless of the circ*mstances…”

“What I understand,” Catherine said, turning on him with a patronizing smile as her every word dripped with venomous nectar. “Is that you told me you would look out for my little girl, and when three little harpies smelled blood in the water and pounced you’re all acting like it’s a surprise. Why was no one there to stop it? Were you just telling me what I wanted to hear before?”

“No, ma’am,” the principal said, straightening his posture in an attempt to save face in front of his subordinate. “But—”

“I apologize for any trouble she caused. I do. But I think you can appreciate the kind of mental and social strain she’s under right now. Even if you can’t understand what it’s like for a girl her age, I think you can imagine how hard it is to be singled out.”

Catherine turned her head to look at Bridget over one shoulder, gave her a significant tilt of the head in Mr. Sellers’s direction, and mouthed one word.

Apologize.

Bridget understood and was ready to obey, but she didn’t feel like it was very fair. The adults were the ones who screwed up, but she knew her mom had a plan. It would be best to go along with it.

“I-I’m sorry,” she said, voice catching in her throat. “For what I said in the hall. And I’m sorry for ignoring you, Mr. Sellers. I was mad and I wasn’t thinking.”

The two men looked at mother and daughter like they were a pair of powder kegs sitting too close to an open flame. Once again, Mr. Sellers was the first one to speak up.

“I understand,” he told them, tension in his voice betraying his obvious anxiety. “Things can be volatile during the first few days of school. Just try not to let it happen again. If anyone bothers you, come to me or Mr. Finch straightaway, alright?”

“Yes, sir,” Bridget said, her hands tightening into fists as she swallowed her pride. “Thank you.”

Catherine put a hand on her shoulder and looked at Mr. Finch over her head so she couldn’t see the icy glare she gave him.

“I expect her to be in much better shape when I come to pick her up after school,” Catherine said. “She’s got enough on her mind without other students adding to her problems or—worse—affecting her grades.”

She put extra weight on the last few words, biting off every syllable without bothering to conceal her irritation at the thought.

“We’ll make sure the students are under control,” Mr. Finch said, swallowing hard as he met her eyes. “But it can take some time to cover all of our bases and children are unpredictable. We need to keep a closer watch over some of the girls, it seems.”

“That seems obvious,” Catherine said before checking her watch and turning her attention back to Bridget. “What’s next on your class schedule, honey?”

Bridget pulled her schedule out of her backpack and checked it.

“PE…”

It came out as a dry rasp. She hadn’t even thought about how she was going to survive that kind of physical activity in her condition. It had always been one of her favorite class periods before. A chance to get up and move after hours stuck in a desk. Now she wasn’t sure how she would manage to keep up with the rest of the students. She didn’t even have anything to wear now that she had grown so much over the summer.

“We’ve shifted fifth period to a student assembly today,” Mr. Sellers said. “In part to address what happened just before lunch along with some other announcements that need to be made.”

“Well, since Bridget’s lunch hour was wasted on all of this,” Catherine gestured around the office. “I’m going to take her out for the day. We still need to buy you some proper gym clothes anyway, now that I think about it.”

“Understandable,” Mr. Finch said, almost sounding relieved. “We’ll see you tomorrow, Ms. Bridget. Bright and early. Have a good day, ladies.”

Bridget stuffed her schedule back into her backpack and went for the door. Her mom said something to Mr. Sellers she couldn’t hear, then followed her out of the office. Once she shut the door, she let out a sigh of relief and the tension went out of her back and shoulders. They both stood in the hall for a moment and then Catherine looked at her.

“Let that be a lesson to you, sweetheart,” she said. “The best way to get what you want out of men is to challenge their authority early on and spend the rest of the argument massaging their egos without letting them realize it.”

Bridget considered that, but wasn’t sure she quite understood what she meant. Catherine started to walk down the hall.

“Thank god your principal is a man.”

Adults are so weird, Bridget thought.

They only had five minutes before the bell rang and the hordes left the cafeteria, so she rushed after her. They left the school and went out to a nearby deli for a nice lunch. She called a few sporting goods stores while they were waiting for their food and found one across town that seemed promising. According to the assistant manager, they would have athletic gear that would fit her on hand.

“I don’t know how I overlooked that,” Catherine said as they left the restaurant. “I should have thought about new gym clothes. You’ll definitely need more than that one sports bra you got at the mall.”

Bridget was worried about how she would perform in PE now that she had to deal with the equivalent of two WNBA basketballs strapped to her chest. She wondered if it was even worth bringing it up, but decided to give it a try.

“Can’t I get a doctor’s note to get out of it or something?” She asked. “I could use that hour to do homework or something.”

“Honey, the only way you’re getting out of PE is if you break a leg.”

And that was the end of that. Bridget didn’t even bother to argue any further. Her mom was going to force her to make a fool of herself. For a sporty tomboy like herself, that was probably going to be the biggest blow to her pride yet.

“Bridget!”

Bridget’s eyes snapped upwards and locked onto her target. A voice in her head told her she wasn’t going to make it, but she knew she had to try anyway. The front line was too far away to reach her, and her backup had just recovered from their last save. Her vertical jump had been sh*t for years. Between her damn tit* weighing her down so much and her below average height, her Achilles’ heel was obvious. The opposition had enough experience to recognize it and they probably thought this was their big chance to seal the deal. That’s why they had sent such a

Nothing ventured… She thought as she squatted down and prepared to make a fool of herself.

With a roar of effort she leapt up, stretched her arms out to their limits over her head, and actually managed to make contact with the ball. She bumped it just enough to her left that Jenna could set it. Then Mary, who had proven her right to wear her team captain star many times over that day, spiked it with such force that the resulting boom sounded out over the roars of the crowd. Bridget landed flat on her back and knocked the wind out of herself, but she hardly noticed. She was too busy watching the ball hurtle toward the opposite side of the court like a meteor.

It was a true kill. The ball came within millimeters of the top of the net, zoomed right past the front row before they could set up a line, and the three desperate girls in the back panicked and went for it all at once. Their lack of communication proved to be their undoing as they collided with each other. One went down, then the other two tripped over her and followed her down. In a pure fluke, one of them reached out and managed to get a hand on the ball but it still hit their side of the court before it went spinning off out of bounds. There was an instant of total silence, broken by the referee’s whistle as she signaled the final match point. Then a horn blew and the commentator’s voice boomed through the gymnasium.

“Match point! Game! Richardson High takes the state championship!”

Holy sh*t…

Bridget could hardly believe it. The game had been tied in the fifth match for so long that they all thought it would never end. Every time they had pulled ahead, their rivals had tied it right back up again or vice versa. Neither side had made any headway for almost thirty minutes, hoping the other would be the first to tire out and make a mistake. As most of the team crowded around Mary, screaming and squealing over her spectacular final spike, two of Bridget’s best friends on the team ran to help her up.

“We’re going to nationals!” Jenna shouted, laughing as she held out a hand.

“That was a great save!” Clara shrieked over the noise of the crowd as she grabbed Bridget’s other arm and pulled.

The two tall and athletic girls helped Bridget up from the floor and she rose, still a bit winded and totally exhausted. Her boobs were trying to escape their confines, but she casually stuffed them back into place and threw her arms around her friends.

“Thanks, guys!”

She coughed and wheezed as she leaned in and squeezed them close. Her breasts were roughly squashed as their bodies pressed together, but she ignored the discomfort. They weren’t going to keep her from enjoying this moment. Nothing was.

“I don’t think I’ve jumped that high since I was twelve!” She laughed as they separated. “Great game, girls!”

“Get her!” Mary screamed, pointing at Bridget.

She looked to her left and saw the entire Richardson High volleyball team stampeding towards her. Within an instant she, Jenna, and Clara were all wrapped up together in more than a dozen pairs of arms, all trying to get their hands on Bridget.

“Good save!”

“That was awesome!”

“You’re amazing!”

Bridget was overwhelmed by the sudden attention, but she couldn’t wipe the smile off of her face. She was almost surprised Mary had decided to direct a share of the glory to her, but she was a good team captain. She knew when to share the limelight.

“Okay, let me breathe!” Bridget shouted. “Ow! Brittany, that’s my boob!”

The crowd around her broke up as Coach Autry ran up and blew her whistle.

“That was a good bump, Thomas,” she roared. “And a perfect followup by Gaines and Phillips. Now get over there and congratulate your opposition! They played a hell of a game.”

The two teams lined up on each side of the net and a buzzing chorus of “good games” filled the air as the opponents crossed paths and slapped their hands together. A few of the girls looked ready to cry, or fight, or both, but everyone managed to keep it civil. When it was all over, their rivals retreated to the locker rooms and Coach Autry ordered them to do the same.

Bridget tried to follow the order with the rest of her team, but she saw her dad and Aidan standing on the sidelines and waving at her.

“I’ve gotta change!” She shouted to them, pointing towards the rest of the team running out of the gym. “I’m all sweaty and gross!”

“Great save, sweetie!” Her dad yelled to her between cupped hands. “Hell of a jump!”

“Hurry up!” Aidan shouted, grinning at her. “That game took forever!”

She stuck her tongue out at him and flipped him off as soon as her dad turned his back to find her mom. He returned the gesture and she turned to jog into the tunnel that led to the locker room.

Idiot…

She arrived to find the whole team in various states of undress. A few of them were topless, others were in their underwear, but they were all screaming and bouncing around as they reveled in their victory. She saw Jenna’s chestnut ponytail bouncing up and down as her long, thin arms wrapped around Clara’s waist. They hugged each other close and shrieked with joy. Then Jenna’s shouts turned into a squeal as the muscles in Clara’s thick legs rippled as she lifted Jenna from the floor in a bear hug.

Bridget felt a hand on her butt and went rigid. In the girliest response imaginable, she let out a squeak of surprise and her hands flew up near her shoulders, both hands in loose fists as her spine straightened and her chest thrust out. Her boobs bounced wildly, despite the dual sports bras she was wearing, and her unseen assailant grabbed and squeezed them before letting her go with a giggle. Bridget was red in the face as she turned on the culprit, already certain she knew who she would find.

“Mary!” She shrieked. “That’s harassment!”

“You know I can’t keep my hands off of you!” Mary giggled. “You’re just so…squishy!”

Bridget crossed her arms over her chest and looked for backup, but Jenna and Clara were still too busy celebrating with the rest of the team.

“When are you gonna let me take you out?” Mary asked, for what had to be the hundredth time that season.

“Oh, come on!” Bridget begged. “You’ve got to stop asking me that! You know I’m happy for you and all, but I’m just not into other girls.”

“I know,” Mary pouted. “But it’s sooo not fair.”

“I know a few guys that say the same thing about you,” Bridget mumbled.

With her cute face, long black hair, and curvy, yet athletic figure, Mary was the object of many a boy’s obsession. At least half of them knew she was gay, but it didn’t seem to stop them from dreaming either way.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” Bridget said, shaking her head. “C’mon, let’s go have some fun with the girls before Coach chases us out of here.”

They all gathered up and congratulated each other on a game well played. Mary gathered everyone around and gave everyone a pep talk about not losing sight of the goal. Bridget saw her playfully groping a few of the girls who dared to go topless in her presence, but couldn’t help but laugh. Everyone was in high spirits and they all knew Mary was just being Mary.

As Bridget had predicted, Coach Autry showed up and shouted for them to get a move on before she threw them out in the halls naked. Bridget had already split off from the partiers to get out of her bras so she could air out her underboobs by then. Once she dragged a towel under them a few times, she just stood there holding them up and sighing with relief as the cool, dry air rushed over her hot skin. They’d randomly blown up a cup size or two at a time over the last couple of years—saddling her with her current K-cups—but it had been way more gradual and easier to handle than the insane growth spurt that set it all off. She’d only grown about two inches in height since that fateful summer in middle school, and she thought that was probably because every bit of growth she had left was going to her boobs. There were still plenty of inconveniences that came with having such a large bust, but she had surprised herself with how much she had managed to achieve over the last two years.

She had gotten over most of the social anxiety that had plagued her since her breasts started growing. She still wasn’t exactly confident in her appearance, but she could at least ignore the part of her that always worried about what other people thought. Since her mom forced her to adapt anyway, she had thrown herself into sports once she got used to moving around with her changed body. She started to think of the extra weights on her chest as training equipment, telling herself that if she learned to run and jump with them she would be unstoppable. Some things she tried just wouldn’t work out, but she never stopped trying. She had found out softball was a no go the first time she swung a bat. She was too short for basketball, and too slow for track. She’d made a half decent goalie, but her small stature and limited reach put her on the sidelines more often than not. When she had rediscovered volleyball in her freshman year of high school it had all clicked. Despite what she considered a significant athletic handicap, she had worked hard until she’d earned a starting position on a champion team. That was nothing to sneer at, in her opinion.

“You doing alright, Thomas?” Coach Autry asked as she scanned the locker rooms for anyone ignoring her orders. “That was a great bump earlier. I’m impressed.”

“Thanks, Coach,” Bridget said, turning her back to wrap her towel around her chest.

She still didn’t feel comfortable letting anyone see them if she could avoid it. She wished she had the confidence to go around topless like some of the other girls, but she was still too self-conscious about their size. Everyone always seemed to stare a little too long at them.

“I’m alright. Just trying to clean up a little before I go out for dinner.”

“You played a good game,” the coach told her as she turned to shoo a few stragglers out of the room. “Kept your cool and made some good plays. You know, you were just shy of matching the school record for assists tonight.”

“Really?”

Bridget kept her back turned and twisted a lock of her hair around her finger. She was feeling overwhelmed by everyone’s open praise of her performance that night. She wasn’t used to getting so much attention.

“I don’t want to count my chickens, or get your hopes up too high, or anything,” Coach Autry continued. “But if you keep playing at this level you might even take the captain’s star one day.”

Bridget pretended to busy herself with something in her locker, but now it was to hide a wide smile. Her coach wasn’t the type to blow smoke. If she was taking the time to tell her then she genuinely thought she had what it took.

“Sure thing, Coach,” she said. “Thanks again.”

Coach Autry let out a groan of irritation and walked away to chase an impatient mother out of the locker rooms. Bridget took a moment to have a private and silent celebration where no one else could see and then started to change. She found an older—but perfectly clean—spare bra she had forgotten about in her locker and put it on. It was an older one that was just a little too small, but it would work until she got home after dinner. She sprayed some perfume on her neck and chest and applied some deodorant. The last thing she wanted was to be around Aidan smelling like a gym sock. He’d never let her live it down.

By the time she’d put a semi-passable outfit together with what she had in her locker and duffel bag most of the team had cleared out. She took the opportunity to check herself in the mirrors by the sinks and grimaced. Her hair was a sweaty mess of tangled curls, but that was just how it was going to be until she could get home and shower properly. Her boobs overflowed her bra and formed a muffin-top effect that made it look like she had four boobs. It was annoying, but there wasn’t much she could do about that, either. She fluffed them a bit and tried to fix it, but there wasn’t much to be done about it.

I should just throw this one out tonight, she thought.

She felt guilty about it. Her bras were almost three times as expensive as anything off the rack, but she didn’t have a choice anymore. She tried to hang onto them as long as she could, but there came a time when she just couldn’t wear them anymore. The old I-cup had outlived its usefulness half a year ago, if she was honest.

“One more night,” she told it. “Then you’ll be free.”

“Talking to yourself?” Clara asked, wiggling up beside Bridget to put on some makeup.

“Um, yeah, kinda,” Bridget replied, adjusting her boobs again and trying to smooth the wrinkles out of her shirt.

She watched Clara paint her thick lips and apply some eyeshadow in record time, jealous of her skill. Everyone went to Clara for makeovers. Her mom was a beautician and she was easily the best in the school at that kind of thing. Bridget had considered getting her to work her magic on her a few times, but she always chickened out at the last second. It felt weird to try to look pretty. It just wasn’t her, and she didn’t like drawing any more attention to herself than necessary. She was just the one with the huge boobs. No one thought she was actually hot, and that was probably for the best.

“What’s got you so down, Jugs?” Clara asked as she smacked her lips and grabbed a paper towel to blot them. “You should be celebrating!”

“Don’t call me that!” Bridget whined.

She turned pink and covered her chest, snorting with laughter. She knew it was all in good fun, but Jenna and Clara were just about the only ones she never threatened too harshly for using the nickname. She was never sure if the others were just making fun of her or not.

“You know I love you, baby,” Clara said, blowing her a kiss. “Have fun tonight! Matty and I are going to get fuh-reaky!”

She smacked herself on the butt as she went through the doors, swinging her hips with an exaggerated stripper walk. Bridget chuckled to herself and tried not to imagine what Clara and her boyfriend would get up to that night.

“I’m turning the light out in ten seconds, Thomas! With or without you!” Her coach shouted from the doorway. “Move it!”

“Coming!”

Bridget grabbed her duffel bag and crammed her things into it, then snapped the lock back onto her locker and ran for the door. If she hadn’t been in such a rush, or hadn’t been preoccupied with the unfortunate combination of a low-cut shirt and an ill-fitting bra, she might have noticed the small orange prescription bottle that rolled across the locker room floor. As it was, she just ran for the door, trying to hold her chest down with one tiny hand.

“Keep it in your shirt, Thomas,” Coach Autry teased as she bounced out of the locker room. “I’m not really gonna lock you in.”

“See you Monday, Coach!” Bridget said as she jogged down the hall, one hand still held to her chest.

She found her parents and Aidan waiting for her near the tunnel entrance.

“That was a great game, honey!”

Her mom wrapped her up in a bosomy hug and their boobs squashed into each other as she kissed her on the cheek. Catherine had put on a few pounds over the last couple of years. Her golden hair now featured a strip of silvery-gray, but she was as pretty as ever. Part of it was simply due to age, but the surprise baby brother her dad was playing airplane with behind her had contributed as well.

“Julian says good job, too!” Her dad shouted to her before he went back to making whooshing sounds for the giggling baby’s amusem*nt.

“Thanks, Jules,” said Bridget, rolling her eyes. “Where are we gonna eat?”

“It’s your choice,” Catherine said, reaching out a hand to take her son back. “What do you want?”

Her dad gratefully handed the infant over and let out a sigh as he leaned over to catch his breath.

“You really should know better, Nick,” Catherine said, setting baby Julian on her hip. “You’re not as young as you were when Bridget was a baby.”

“How about pizza?” Bridget asked the group. “Antonio’s is open late for the games this weekend.”

“Pizza sounds good to me,” her dad said, standing up straight. “We should probably get a move on, though. I’ll bet a lot of people had the same thought.”

Aidan snuck up behind Bridget once her parents had turned around and poked her in the sides. She jumped and let out a squeak and the bulk of her breasts bounced right out of her bra.

“Aidan!” She growled, slapping her hands over her chest. “What the f*ck?”

Aidan laughed at her and slipped away before she could smack him in the head as he so richly deserved. She shoved her boobs back into the cups and readjusted the straps, fuming and muttering to herself.

“Why does everyone think I’m just their personal plaything?”

“Aw, come on,” Aidan scoffed. “I’m just joking around.”

“Yeah, well I’ve been working my ass off on the court all night. Sorry if I’m a little cranky.”

“No need to get all whiny at me,” Aidan said as he moped away.

Then he spun around and grinned at her.

“And maybe try working your tit* off next time. You’ve got a lot more to spare.”

He ran ahead, laughing as he closed the distance between them and her parents.

“Coward!” She screamed after him. “Dad! Smack Aidan for me!”

Her dad heard and looked back at her. He saw Aidan running up behind them and gave him a look that he meant to look stern, but was more amused than anything else.

“Are you tormenting my daughter again?” He demanded as Aidan trotted up to Catherine’s side.

He pulled faces at the baby and tickled his side before he answered.

“Just teasing her for being slow, Mr. Thomas,” he fibbed. “Can’t let the champ get a big head.”

Nick snorted but didn't say anything else. He turned around, walking backwards to shout something to Bridget. He affected a strong Southern accent as he called out to her.

“C’mon, Punkin! Get a move on! Yee-haw!”

It was a character Bridget had named “Daddy Farmer” when she was barely older than Julian. He couldn’t ever seem to invoke her old—and now hated—nickname without slipping back into it.

“Daaad!” The despair was plain in Bridget’s groaning reply. “You’re so embarrassing!”

“That’s Daddy Farmer’s job, I tell you hwat!”

Aidan fell into a laughing fit that didn’t stop until they piled into Catherine’s minivan.

“And I guess that may have been the first night that I thought about Aidan—”

“I’m going to stop you right there, Bridget,” Dr. Navin interrupted.

Bridget snapped her jaw shut and looked up at the screen of her laptop, which was squashed into her cleavage. Her psychiatrist, an even-tempered Indian gentleman, stared out at her with a hand held up, indicating he needed her to slow down.

“I may be wrong, but I’m not certain this relates to some of the trauma we’ve come here to discuss. How does this story, nice as it is, relate to your condition?”

“Uh, I guess I was getting to that,” Bridget said. “But I’m rambling again, aren’t I?”

“Your word, not mine. If you feel you need to talk, I want you to talk. I merely question which parts of the story are most relevant.”

“Well, that night should have been a big win for me…”

“From what you’ve told me, it was.”

Dr. Navin smiled at her from the screen.

“Yeah, we won the game,” Bridget sighed. “But I never played volleyball again.”

“I see. This was when your second growth spurt began, was it?”

“Around then, yeah…”

“Tell me everything, but skip a few of the more granular details, yes?”

Bridget flashed a disarming smile and nodded.

“I’ll do my best, doctor.”

They got home an hour after the game, carrying a bag of sports gear, two boxes of leftover pizza, and a sleeping baby between them. They had already dropped Aidan off at home and Bridget could feel just how tired she was without him around to annoy her. She felt like she would sleep for two days.

“Head on up to bed, sweetheart,” her dad told her. “Leave your bag down here. I’ll throw the stuff in the wash. I need to get some work done before I turn in anyway.”

“Thanks, Daddy,” she said, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him on one bristled cheek. “Waffles for breakfast?”

He sighed, letting his shoulders droop as he shook his head. He loved making her his specialty every chance he got, but he hadn’t been home much lately.

“How can I say no to you, Punkin?”

She grinned up at him and went for the stairs.

“See you in the morning.”

“Great job again, Bridget. I love you.”

“Love you.”

She stumbled upstairs into the bathroom and took the fastest shower possible before she fell into bed in an old t-shirt nightgown. It was about an hour before she usually went to sleep, but she was too tired to stay up any longer. She scrolled through a few of her friends’ posts about their victory, liking and sharing as was expected of her. One from Jenna showed her front and center, surrounded by the team as they hugged her and screamed. She fell asleep with a smile on her face as she read the caption.

Hero of the evening!!!!

Her phone dropped from her hand and hit the rug beneath her bed with a muffled thump. About ten minutes later, while she was dead to the world, a notification went off and a single word flashed up on the screen as it buzzed three times against the floor and went still once more.

Medication!

“NOOOO!”

The high scream of terror was joined an instant later by those of an infant. Nick thumped upstairs as quickly as he could and burst into Bridget’s room to find her huddled over on top of the bed and babbling. He rushed over, terrified she was having some kind of fit. She had her arms wrapped around herself as she thrashed her head around and screamed the same word over and over.

“No! No! No! Noooo!”

The last time it came out as a broken wail and she stopped moving.

“Catherine, get the baby!” He shouted as he tried to brush Bridget’s hair out of her face so he could look into her eyes. “There’s something wrong with Bridget!”

He heard his wife jump out of bed and rush to the nursery.

“Look at me, baby,” he pleaded, pulling her upright. “What’s wrong?”

She went limp in his arms, but she convulsed as eerily silent sobs wracked her body. Her face was a picture of misery. Her eyes were shut, but tears leaked out and ran down the sides of her face. Her lower lip trembled and her body shook with barely contained emotion.

“What happened?”

One hand flopped over on top of her chest and he took his eyes off of her face for the first time to follow its movement. He froze when he saw that her chest had grown again. A lot. All at once. Just like the first time. He didn’t know what to do. He turned his head around and shouted through the doorway.

“Catherine! We have a problem!”

He held Bridget until he heard her mother approach. She stepped into the room, still holding a weeping Julian in her arms.

“What’s going on?”

Nick waved her over and she gasped when she saw Bridget’s pajamas stretched tight over her enormous breasts. They had grown large enough to reach her navel, but were still so firmly packed within her overstretched skin that they stuck up unnaturally far from her ribs. The buttons strained to hold it all inside and her inflamed, pink flesh stood out against the soft cream-colored top.

“Not again!” she wailed. “Please, please, please not again…”

“I’m going to call Dr. Jackson,” Catherine told Nick as she rushed back out of the room with Julian.

“We’ll get you taken care of,” Nick said, hugging her close again. “It’s not the end of the world, alright?”

He was trying to reassure himself as much as his daughter. He hated himself for it, both in the moment and years later, but all he could think of was how much it was going to cost them if she started growing all over again with a baby in the house.

“Was this when you began to have difficulty moving?” Dr. Navin asked.

“Not quite,” Bridget said. “That took a little while longer.”

“Do you regret your lapse? In failing to remember your prescription, I mean.”

“I did at first,” Bridget sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Once I realized later that day. But Dr. Jackson has been telling me for years that it wasn’t my fault. She said I’d probably been building up to another spurt, since I never quite stopped growing. It only ever slowed down. She thinks it was just a matter of time before it happened either way. At most I would have bought myself another few months.”

“Very possibly,” Dr. Navin said with a nod. “Tell me about your family’s financial troubles at the time. You’ve spoken about residual guilt and anxiety from those days. I want to know more, if you’re ready.”

Bridget nodded.

“Things started to get really expensive around then. My dad was already working a lot more with a new baby in the family and all. I could see he was tired and stressed out, and the last thing I wanted was to make things harder on him, but there was nothing I could do. I talked about finding a job to pay for some things, but he wanted me to stay focused on school. My mom couldn’t do much until Julian got older, so Dad was under a lot of pressure.”

“It sounds like he didn’t want you to worry,” Dr. Navin said.

“Yeah, but I still felt bad. I kept getting bigger and he had to pay for it all. It really sucked. I started to feel like a freak again and then I started to get…well…”

Dr. Navin looked out at her from the laptop screen. When the silence stretched a little too long, he gave her a gentle prod.

“Are you not ready to talk about this yet?”

“No, I think I am, it’s just…”

“You feel conflicted?”

“Yeah…but probably not quite how you think.”

“Well, now you must tell me,” Dr. Navin chuckled, stroking his short, white beard. “It could be important.”

“Well,” Bridget said, leaning closer to the screen in a conspiratorial fashion. “It was also when I started getting really sensitive. You know, sexually.”

Dr. Navin’s eyebrows rose towards the top of his bald head as he understood.

“What’s that part of your personality that just functions on instinct and desire?”

“You mean the id?” The doctor offered.

“Yeah, that’s the one. As I started getting way bigger I guess my id started to push to the front and I had a real sexual awakening. I’d always been aware of some cute guys around me, but I wasn’t all that interested in sex. After that morning it was almost all I could think about. I started—”

She cut herself off, blushing and biting the knuckle of one finger. She cast her eyes around the room, though most of her vision was blocked by her boobs, and forced herself to continue.

“I’d never really done it before then, but I started masturbating.”

“I see,” he said, scratching a note on his pad. “Go on and tell me more about this. There’s no need to be ashamed. I’ve heard quite a lot from some of my other patients.”

“I know, but it’s hard for me to talk about with anyone.”

“Even your boyfriend?”

“Especially my boyfriend.”

“Then you really do need to talk about it,” he said, more seriously. “There are far too many grown men and women who still feel ashamed to speak about things we all do. In your own time.”

He leaned back in his chair and waited for her to begin.

“Oh, man,” she groaned. “If you insist…”

Bridget sat alone, miserable and topless, on her bed. She tried to focus on her homework to take her mind off of the pair of growing problems stuck to her chest, but she still felt bad as she typed up a book report for her English class. The whole class had been assigned an American classic to summarize and present to the rest of the class and she’d been stuck with The Grapes of Wrath. With everything going on in her life she had put off reading it, but as the due date crept closer she hadn’t even cracked it open once. When she finally did, just two weeks before the report was due, she barely put it down until it was done.

She’d found it difficult, wordy, and relentlessly depressing. It was full of ham-fisted gut punches that never let up as characters either died or suffered unspeakable tragedies; but it was beautifully written all the same. She found some strange catharsis in Steinbeck’s skillful use of language. It was as if he was putting her own complicated feelings into words and it made her cry more than once while she was reading it. She’d never connected with a book like that before, but intended to read more often going forward. The scene at the very end, where a woman actually put her breasts to use to save a dying man’s life was oddly poignant to her. It gave her hope that her own enormous burdens might be useful somewhere down the line; though she didn’t know how.

She stretched out her back and felt the vertebrae of her lower spine pop and crack. Her chest thrust out with the movement and her boobs slipped onto her laptop. The supple flesh flattened out over the majority of the keyboard and squashed several keys at once. Then the pages she had spent the last two hours writing went blank.

“Oh, sh*t!” She hissed. “sh*t, sh*t, sh*t!”

She almost flew into a raging panic, but then her more logical side kicked in. She mashed the “Control” and “Z” keys and prayed for mercy from any god that would listen. Time seemed to slow down, and she began to fear that her old laptop was frozen up, but then it caught up and the text was restored. She let out a sigh of relief and saved it three times just to be sure.

“These f*cking things,” she growled to her breasts. “You won’t rest until you’ve taken everything from me, will you?”

She gripped them with her small hands and the flesh squished between her fingers and overflowed her palms. Pliable as they were, the weight was immense. The skin of her chest had become extremely sensitive. She had nearly lost her mind when Dr. Jackson had touched them during her last exam. Thankfully, the effect was dulled when she was the one touching them, but even so a dim spark of arousal flared up in her brain when she did. She ignored it and let them drop, then instantly regretted her carelessness as they hit her ribs with a pair of meaty slaps, one before the other, like a drum flam.

Bridget looked down at herself. Her upper body had been overwhelmed by her tit*. They were massive, but somehow maintained a shape that might have been attractive if they’d been at all reasonably sized. Dr. Jackson said that her ligaments were like steel bands at this point. According to her, if she was going to have this problem, she was very lucky that her body was so unusually adapted to it. Bridget felt like that just made her more of a freak of nature. An anomaly destined to end up more breast than woman.

“Ugh,” she groaned as her stomach began to growl. “I’m starving.”

Her mom had taken Julian to see his pediatrician about a cough and her dad still hadn’t come home from work. He was supposed to bring home something to eat, but she was too hungry to wait any longer. She decided to get up and do something about it. She wasn’t much of a cook, but she thought it might be a good time to try taking up a new hobby anyway. The one thing she’d felt like she did well wasn’t possible for her anymore.

As of six weeks ago, Dr. Jackson had advised that she drop all sports. It had broken her heart to do it, but she had taken that advice and quit volleyball. Most of the team had cried right along with her when they learned she wouldn’t be able to join them for the state championship. Coach Autry had kindly offered to let her join them on the road, but Bridget had decided that would only hurt even more. She wanted to support her team, but watching them in person would only make her feel worse if she couldn’t get out on the court to help them. Now she just stuck around the house when she wasn’t at school. It was exhausting to walk around too much and she wasn’t sure she’d ever manage to get used to this new weight. There was a lot more to deal with than the first time around.

She slipped off of her bed and wobbled on her tiptoes for a second as she located her center of gravity. It had shifted a bit over the past weeks as her boobs bloated up to what would have been an S-cup, if such a thing existed. Which it didn’t. Not as far as she had managed to find, at least. She planted her feet, letting her back take on the weight of her chest and sticking her butt out a bit as a counterbalance. It was murder to stand like that for too long, but she hadn’t stopped growing and they couldn’t afford to get a bra made for her until she did. It was going to cost as much as a car note. She knew that for a fact. Instead of the car she hoped to get now that she was old enough to drive, she was going to have to buy a new bra every month until she had enough to get by with. But only once she leveled off again. If she ever did.

She went to her closet to find a shirt that would fit and even the light impact of her feet on the floorboards sent ripples through her chest. Her unsupported breasts bounced and swung no matter how carefully she moved. The last two years of dealing with them had taught her how to move around with an unusually large chest, but they had never thrown her off balance like this before. Rather than just her feet she couldn’t see much of anything beneath her chest. Her tit* fully invaded her view. She grabbed one of the billowing XXXL t-shirts her mom had bought after the last growth incident and slipped in on. Loose as it was, it pulled tight over her chest, then hung like a curtain more than a foot from her flat stomach. She saw her reflection in the dresser mirror and thought her profile was absurd. She never got used to it.

When she reached the stairs, each step was like a leap of faith. She couldn’t see much of anything no matter how much she tried to crane her neck, so she’d learn to grip the handrail and let her muscle memory take over. Every step down sent her breasts hurtling towards her face if she didn’t pace herself, so she took it slow. Even that was enough to make them wobble and sway.

Once she had defeated the staircase, she slumped off towards the kitchen. She tried to keep her posture upright, but it was a struggle with all the new weight pulling at her. She rubbed her right shoulder and stretched her neck to the sides as she entered the kitchen. Her mom had left it spotless, as usual, so all she had to do was figure out what she was going to make. She had come down intending to make something simple for herself, but an idea struck her as she pondered her options in the pantry.

I guess I could try to make dinner for everybody, she thought. Mom could probably use the evening off, and dad’s so late he’ll probably forget to pick anything up.

She nodded to herself and grabbed a box of pasta and some tomato sauce. She’d watched her mom make a simple pasta sauce more than once. She had tried to get Bridget interested in learning how to cook, but it had always seemed like another one of those lame, girly things to her. Now she was racking her brain for any useful information she might have passed on. When nothing came to mind she decided she could at least follow a recipe, so she pulled out her phone and searched for a simple spaghetti sauce. She found something that looked easy enough, gathered up the ingredients from around the kitchen, and tied her hair up to get it out of her face. She grabbed her mom’s favorite kitchen knife and tried to figure out the best way to chop an onion. She had to lean forward so she could see what she was doing while also reaching her arms around her boobs. It was awkward and uncomfortable and she stared down at her chest in irritation. It wasn’t really their fault the onion had ended up in the rough, uneven chunks it had, but they hadn't helped and it felt better to blame them.

She remembered she hadn’t started boiling water for the pasta and went to find a pot. She found the one she wanted pushed to the back of a lower cabinet and got down on all fours to retrieve it. She went rigid when she dropped down, stunned to find that her boobs now brushed the floor in that position. Ignoring that terrible revelation for the time, she reached for the far side of the cabinet and found they also prevented her from squeezing her upper body into the opening. After much cursing of her short arms and massive chest, she stretched out enough to seize one handle and yanked the pot out.

“Mom and her long-ass arms…” Bridget grumbled as she filled the pot with water.

She threw some salt into the water and set it on the stove to boil. Then she went back to her other task. She turned around a little too fast without thinking and her boobs swung out and swiped the cutting board off of the counter. Chunks of onion rained down to the kitchen floor and the perfectly ripe tomatoes she had intended to cook down to a sauce rolled onto the floor and splattered. Bridget growled deep in her throat and grabbed a broom and bunch of paper towels to clean up the mess.

The water hit a rolling boil around the time she had finished cleaning the floor, so she dumped the noodles into the pot and set a timer on her phone. She prepared another pair of onions and a few more tomatoes, then carefully set them to one side so she could get started on the garlic. She had to watch a video to learn how to prepare it, but once it was done she had everything she needed to make a simple Bolognese.

Minus the meat.

She went to the fridge and found a package of hamburger that would do the trick and returned to the cabinet for a pan to fry it up in. Her pasta timer went off a minute later and she set the pan to one side. Since she was short, she didn’t have much in the way of leverage so lifting the big, heavy pot full of scalding hot water was nerve-wracking. She had to be extra careful to avoid bumping it with her boobs as she made her way to the sink. The last thing she wanted was to spill boiling water over her tit*. Burn scars covering half her body wouldn’t exactly work wonders for her already low self-esteem.

She heard the front door open and close as she started pouring the contents of the pot into a colander.

“Bridget? What are you doing?”

It was her dad’s voice. She finished putting the water out and set the pot into the other side of the sink before turning around.

“Hi, dad,” she said. “You were running late so I thought I'd go ahead and try making dinner for everyone.”

She saw the takeout boxes in his hands and suddenly felt guilty.

“I thought you might have…forgotten…”

She trailed off and tears started welling up in her eyes. She wanted to slap herself for being so ridiculous, but she couldn’t stop. She had been feeling so emotional lately. She was angry with herself for being a crybaby and doubting her dad. She was annoyed he was there to see her blubbering. She was thankful he had remembered to pick something up, and sad that her surprise dinner for him had been ruined.

“I’m sorry, Daddy…”

Nick set the boxes on the counter and wrapped her up in a tight embrace.

“For what, sweetie?” He asked. “I think this was a really nice idea. What are you making?”

He peered into the sink to see what was steaming and guessed what her plan must be. He held her out at arm’s length and wiped a tear from her cheek with one hand.

“Spaghetti, huh? Did you know that’s the first thing your mom ever made for me when we were dating?”

Bridget shook her head and sniffed.

“She was always a good cook, and I made her show me how she did it. Do you have a sauce going yet?”

“I was gonna use that stuff,” she said, pointing to the onions, garlic, and tomatoes on the cutting board. “But it took forever and I stopped the first batch on the floor, and…I’m so slow and clumsy...”

Nick recognized another crying fit coming on. He cut her off gently before she could work herself up any further.

“Hey, it’s fine,” he said. “This stuff is great. Let me help out a little. I’ll show you some tricks to make your work faster next time, ok?”

“Aren’t you tired?” She asked, looking at his thick stubble and the dark circles under his eyes. “Don't you want to change or something?”

“Nah,” he chuckled. “I’m fine. Hand me one of those aprons and let’s get this going.”

He loosened his tie and threw his jacket into the den, unbuttoning his sleeves to roll them up as he turned around to face her again.

“What can I help you with?” He asked.

“Um…”

Bridget looked around, unsure what to do next. Her eyes fell upon the package of hamburger and she pointed to it.

“I still need to cook that meat over there.”

“Got it.”

Nick hustled over to the meat and tore open the packaging. He grabbed a spatula, threw it into the pan she had set by the stove, and had it sizzling a minute later. Bridget bustled over to the counter and picked up the whole cutting board full of ingredients. She carried it over to the pot and tipped everything into it. The recipe had recommended residual pasta water as a good way to tighten up the sauce, so she thought it would save some cleaning that way.

“Can you put that on the stove for me?” She asked her dad.

He nodded and moved it onto the power boiler, then went right back to breaking up the ground beef.

“I didn’t know you knew how to cook like this,” Bridget said.

Nick made a noncommittal noise and tilted his head from side to side.

“I can only make steak, spaghetti, and waffles. Your mom’s the chef.”

“Do you think I could learn to cook like her?”

“You should ask her,” Nick said, smiling at her as he switched off his burner and transferred the meat to a paper towel-lined bowl to drain. “She’d probably love to teach you.”

He noticed her eyeing the bowl and realized he needed to explain the method.

“Speaking of, you want to do this so the sauce doesn't get too greasy. A little fat in the sauce is good, but most hamburger is really fatty so you’ll want to watch out.”

It went on like that for a while, with Nick teaching her what little he knew about cooking. Bridget hung on his every word, excited to spend some quality time alone with her dad. He had barely been around since she entered middle school, so it was a rare treat. About an hour later they had a delicious and aromatic sauce simmering away and her mom and baby brother arrived just as they were setting the table.

“Hey, Cats,” Nick said as he went to help her with the baby. “How’s the little guy doing?”

“He’s alright,” Catherine sighed.

She handed over a large diaper bag and the car seat in which Julian was still snoozing away.

“They gave him some stuff to help him sleep tonight, but he should be over the cough in another day or two. What's all this?”

She nodded towards the table as she rubbed her aching shoulders.

“Bridget made dinner for us,” Nick said, winking at her to play along. “I was just helping her set the table.”

“Wow,” Catherine sounded genuinely impressed. “It smells great, sweetie!”

Bridget tilted her head down and blushed, then looked up to avoid staring at her breasts. She didn’t want to think about them. She just wanted to enjoy her parents’ appreciation for a change.

“I just wanted to do something nice for you guys,” she said. “I’ve been feeling bad about all the trouble I’m putting you through. And you’re so busy with the baby, and…and…”

She sniffled again and pinched herself on the arm, desperate to stop herself from tearing up again.

“Thank you, honey,” Catherine said. “But you aren’t a problem, ok? It’s our job to take care of you.”

“Mm-hmm…” She kept her mouth shut to avoid sobbing again.

“Anyway,” Nick interrupted, hoping to ease the tension. “I’ll go put the little guy in his crib and then we can dig, alright?”

“I’m going to change,” Catherine said. “He spit up on me while we were waiting.”

Her parents went off upstairs, leaving Bridget to her own devices for a few moments. She rushed into the kitchen and splashed cold water over her face. Her eyes were starting to feel red and puffy. She was so tired of crying every time she tried to talk to her parents. Or Aidan. Or anyone, really.

Why do I have to be so hormonal on top of everything? She asked herself. Why couldn’t I have been born a boy? They have it so damn easy.

“Need some help bringing it out?” Her dad called from the dining room.

She wanted to take him up on the offer, but she was determined to remain independent. Just like last time, she had to force herself to adapt and overcome. She dried her face off with a washcloth and shouted back.

“I’ve got it!”

Bridget threw the noodles into the sauce, stirred it all up together, and brought it to the dining room. Her boobs rested heavily on top of the steamy pot lid as she transported her precious cargo to its destination. She set it on one corner of the table and pushed it across its surface towards the center. The pot slipped easily out from under her tit* and she leaned over to remove the lid. She tried to ignore how much of her chest squashed out over the tabletop as she performed the maneuver, but it was impossible. There was too much of her to pretend otherwise. Even more than they had before, her boobs impacted every facet of her life.

Catherine came downstairs wearing a fitted t-shirt and a pair of shorts. Her large, but much more reasonable breasts filled out the top, while the shorts hugged and complimented her broad hips and thick thighs. She even made that simple ensemble look good. Bridget looked at her, green with envy, and wished she could have inherited some of her looks. There was a time when she didn’t understand what made her mom so attractive to boys, but as she got older she realized how unfair it was that the only real similarity between them were their eyes. She didn’t like feeling that way, but she had started to resent her. She was sexy and didn’t have to worry about a pair of giant tit* stopping her from enjoying herself and generally ruining her life.

“Oh, thanks again, sweetie,” Catherine said as she sat down at the table. “I’m starving. I had to feed Julian twice while we were in the waiting room.”

“Ugh, Mom…”

Bridget didn’t like to think about what that process entailed.

“It’s a natural process,” Catherine told her. “And people in this country need to get over themselves. I’m sure one day you’ll need to feed a hungry baby.”

Bridget thought back to that heart-wrenching scene in her book. The way a young woman and her mother had crossed paths with a desperate boy and his starving father. The way they had shared an unspoken understanding between themselves. The younger of the two had lost her baby, but her milk had come in and she could feed the dying man. To ease the tension, she fell back on an old favorite—sarcasm.

“Even if I can reach my own nipples by then, I’m pretty sure I would drown the kid.”

Her parents stared at her in silence for a moment. Then her dad’s stoney expression cracked as he tried to hold back his laughter and snorted. A moment later Catherine’s face broke into a smile and they were both laughing. Bridget joined in, feeling a little less sorry for herself.

“Let’s just eat,” Catherine said as she wiped a tear of mirth from one eye. “I can’t wait any longer.”

The family shared a pleasant evening together and Bridget felt a lot better about her situation. After they finished, they sat around and talked for a while. Nick told them about a possible promotion he was working towards. Catherine told them about a tailor she’d found that day that could alter some of Bridget’s clothes for them. Following a verbal nudge from her father, Bridget asked her mom to teach her a few recipes, which an overjoyed Catherine agreed to. Everything felt almost normal.

“Oh my god! That’s sexy!”

“Hmm…arch your back just a little more…there!”

“Hold that pose!”

Bridget froze in place. She had both arms up, her hands holding her thick auburn hair up as if she were putting it into a ponytail. She was looking over her shoulder, her mouth slightly open as if she were surprised to find a camera crew there. As always, her naked breasts rested on the ground in front of her and the peaks of supple breast flesh towered high above her head. She wore nothing more than a skimpy bikini bottom that showed off the lower half of her toned ass. Expertly applied makeup accentuated her big dark eyes and high cheekbones, and her curly hair had been brushed and blown out into a wavy and elaborate style.

Aidan watched a series of security monitors from his mezzanine office on one side of the warehouse. He felt as awkward as ever as he watched half a dozen guys take pictures of his helpless and mostly nude girlfriend. She changed position again, hooking her thumb intot he strings at her hip and pulling down her bikini to show a glimpse of crack. She co*cked one hip in a more confident and glamorous pose and he tried to remind himself that this was her job. Things like this were the only reason they could afford such a huge space for her to live in. He told himself that Bridget was fine with it, and that was all that really mattered.

The problem was, he knew that was bullsh*t. Bridget had never liked to be the center of attention. She hated when people leered at her. She had gone through the latter half of her childhood nervous about the men that stared a little too long, or the women that whispered behind their hands.

“Can you bite your lip for me?” One of the photographers asked. “Yeah, perfect.”

Aidan hated the lustful tone of their voices whenever they told her to do something. Ever since Bridget had gained a degree of fame a few years before, offers from adult magazines and websites had flooded in. She turned them away for a while, but once she hit her current stage she had been forced to rethink her position. It cost quite a bit just to pay for the warehouse each month, even before factoring in utilities. She’d swallowed her pride and taken a few of the less explicit deals early on, but it opened the floodgates to more and more risqué jobs. Now she was a featured pin-up on several sites and had been featured as a centerfold in a few of the more breast-centric magazines.

“Alright, we’re gonna switch sides, okay?” The head photographer said. “You just sit tight.”

“Not like I have a choice, Brad,” she quipped.

The camera crew laughed along with her and Bridget settled down to a sitting position to wait for them to finish. Almost an hour passed, with Aidan nervously looking out for any signs of trouble. It had only happened once, but a guy had tried to take advantage of her immobility and copped a feel without permission before. As much as he hated it, Bridget insisted on giving everyone one strike, so that had gone by with a warning. Then the sick f*ck had waited for the rest of his crew to leave and tried to jerk off on her tit*. Aidan had caught him on camera and was already waiting nearby, sure he would f*ck up again. The guy was drinking out of a straw for months after that incident.

“I think we’ve got what we need,” the head photographer said as he rounded her right boob a little later. “Thanks again for being patient, Bridget.”

“I’ve had to learn to wait,” Bridget said. “Patience is my specialty at this point.”

“We’ll send you our best shots for your approval later this week, alright? As soon as you give us the green light we’ll send the second payment.”

“Thanks, Brad. Tell Nate I appreciate the work.”

“Will do.”

The cameramen packed up their gear and moved out without incident. Aidan breathed a sigh of relief; thankful that they’d at least they’d been professional. He hit the intercom button and waited for the short initial squeal of feedback to pass before he spoke.

“I guess that went well,” he said.

Bridget gave a thumbs up.

“What do you want for dinner?”

She shrugged and motioned for him to come down. He shut off the security room and went past the old freight elevator to a set of wide steel stairs that led back to the ground floor. Bridget was drumming impatiently on the wall of exposed flesh before her and humming something he didn’t recognize by the time he closed the distance between them.

“Any ideas?” He asked.

“Huh?”

Aidan sighed and squeezed his eyes shut as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Food,” he said, as if he were speaking to someone hard of hearing. “Instead of sitting here composing Titty in D Major I was hoping you’d have given it some thought.”

“Snrk…” Bridget snorted. “Titty in D…”

She snigg*red to herself as Aidan waited for some sort of decision. Once the laughing fit had passed she looked up into his unamused face and groaned.

“I don’t know, man,” she whined. “I’ve been working all afternoon. Can you get me some real pants, please?”

He went to a chest of drawers pushed off to one side and retrieved a pair of tight, fashionably distressed jeans he liked. He turned around and threw them at her. She caught them and unbunched them as if she were searching for something, then gave him a dirty look.

“No undies?” She said.

“What kind?” He sighed, turning around to head back to the chest of drawers.

“Mmm, something comfy. Maybe some of the boyshorts?”

“Was that a question?”

“A rhetorical one, I guess.”

A balled up pair of panties flew through the air and hit her in the face.

“Babe!”

“Babe!” Aidan said in an irritating nasal voice.

He knocked his knees and waved his limp wrists around like some sort of caricature of a dumb blonde. Bridget pursed her lips and glared at him, but in a playful and exaggerated way. He grinned back at her. They finally broke eye contact and Bridget slipped out of her bikini bottoms and into the form-fitting jeans. Aidan thought her ass looked spectacular, and she noticed him checking her out.

“I worked my butt off,” she said, putting both hands on it and wiggling her hips for his amusem*nt. “And I want sushi. I just made enough for the next few payments on this place, so let’s live a little and spring for the good stuff.”

“I’ll find a menu.”

Aidan rushed off to the kitchen and dug through their hoard of takeout menus. He returned with one from an upscale sushi bar in town, and Bridget’s eyes lit up when she saw it. It was her favorite; a place usually reserved for special occasions. It was also where Aidan took her on their first date before she reached immobile status. He sat beside her so she could read the menu, leaning back to rest his head on her left breast. She made her choices and he submitted their order for delivery on his phone. He was about to get up to pass the time with a chore or two when he felt her hand touch his leg.

“I’m horny.”

It was a plain statement, but also a sort of demand. Part of Aidan’s unspoken contract in becoming her boyfriend and primary caretaker was to satisfy her needs. He laughed and looked her in the eye.

“The food should be here in about 45 minutes,” he said.

“Plenty of time,” Bridget said with a sultry grin. “I want to suck your co*ck.”

Never one to pass up a good blowj*b, Aidan felt his dick spring to attention. The lustful tone of her voice was enough to make him want her.

“My nipples are so hard,” she said, trying to wind him up even further. “I could feel them starting to get stiff during the shoot…”

She was rubbing a small part of her colossal right tit. Her fingers sank into the pliant flesh as she traced small circles with them. Aidan felt like his co*ck would tear through his pants if she went on teasing him.

“So I want you to go play with them for a little while. I’ll suck you off when you’re done, so stay hard.”

She licked her lips and blew him a kiss and he knew what he had to do. He shot up from the floor and ran to a platform ladder. Wheeling it into place just in front of her left breast, he set the brake and climbed to the top. Bridget’s boobs were a wonder. Each one was almost twelve feet tall from floor to crest, and she lost at least another foot due to the way they flattened out and spread over the floor at the bottom. Her nipples were situated high on her breasts, nearly eight feet from the floor. As such, the ladder was the perfect height to give him easier access to them.

Bridget hadn’t lied. Her pale pink nipple was fully erect and seemed to be reaching out for him. He supposed the other one would be in a similar state once he made his way over to it, but he had to do things one at a time. He stretched his arms out, bracing himself against the railing that surrounded the platform, and grabbed it. He heard a distant, high-pitched moan echo through the warehouse and started playing with it.

Even when she was just “big”, Bridget always had relatively small nipples for her size. Although her areola was like a huge pink dome capping the end of her tit, the nipple itself was only about the size of a melon. It jutted up from the fleshy boulders, and Aidan gripped the swollen nub between his hands. He squeezed and massaged it. He pulled it close to his face to nibble and lick it. He even sucked on it, one small spot at a time, until it was spotted with deep red hickies that stood out from the otherwise rosy pink skin. The whole time, Bridget was howling in ecstasy beyond the canyon of her cleavage. She was pleading with him to keep going, and he imagined she must be touching herself by then. He smiled at the thought of her pitiful attempts to stretch to reach some of her toys. He had put them all away for the photoshoot earlier that morning.

“Oh, god! Do the other one!” Bridget shrieked when he spent a little too long in one spot. “The other one!”

He licked the tip of her massive nub one last time before he let the supple flesh snap back into place like rubber. Either because of her incredible growth or by some incredible stroke of genetic luck, the elasticity and Bridget’s skin was almost superhuman. Her nipple wobbled at the end of her breast and sent ripples through the giant globe before it found its equilibrium once more. Aidan began his descent, lifting the ladder brake as he turned to push it towards her other side. Bridget’s voice, quivering with desire, pierced the relative silence of the warehouse.

“Hurry! I’m so close!”

“Heading up now, Bridge!” He shouted as he rushed up to the top step again.

Once there, he began the same ritual he had just performed on her other tit. He stroked it and rubbed it and heard Bridget let out an unmistakable squeal of bliss as she came for the first time that evening. He had no doubt it wouldn’t be the last. Sushi always made her horny.

“Come here!” She demanded, her voice desperate, thick, and husky with lust. “Quick!”

Aidan went back down the ladder with reckless speed and sprinted around her tit*. He found her leaning forward and bracing herself against the wall of breast before her with her left arm. She had removed her jeans and spread her legs as wide as she could into a near split. Two fingers of her right hand worked in and out of her dripping puss*. Aidan could see a pool of girl-cum beneath her. Her arm was slick with it halfway up to her elbow.

“C-co*ck…” she moaned. “...now…”

She opened her mouth and let her tongue hang out. It occurred to Aidan that it was as if her intelligence had been reduced by the intensity of her recent org*sm.

A new game? He wondered. Or something more genuine?

“Cogg!” She demanded again, not bothering to pull her tongue back into her mouth as she said it.

Aidan dropped his pants and slipped free of them as he moved towards her. As soon as he was within range, Bridget snapped her head forward like a snake. He stumbled forward as if pulled by the force of her suction and braced himself against her tit*. His hands sank into them and he moaned as Bridget went to work. She always enjoyed giving him his daily blowj*b—they were her favorite way to thank him for all the work he did for her—but she seemed to be unusually into it today. Her head pushed forward until her face hit his navel and her chin touched his balls. She stayed down like that, her throat making a low sort of clicking noise as she worked her lips and tongue over his shaft. She stayed like that, throating him for over a minute and suppressing her gag reflex like a champ.

When she finally pulled away, she kept her lips clamped around the crown of his prick. Nostrils flaring as she sucked in a few deep breaths, she continued to work her tongue. It swirled around his glans even as she caught her breath, and then she took him to the hilt all over again. Aidan did his best to last. He wanted to enjoy it for as long as he could, but her skill was too much for him. He came after just a few minutes and Bridget noisily gulped down his entire load. She released him with a pop, sighing almost gratefully, and rubbed her stomach.

“Ooh, thank you, babe,” she moaned. “I feel so much better after all that.”

“Sure you don’t want me to return the favor?”

He looked almost regretfully at her bare ass. Bridget giggled and stood up to put her pants back on.

“After dinner, tiger,” she said, growling at him and flexing her fingers like claws in his direction. “The food will be here soon, yeah?”

“We still have ten minutes or so,” Aidan said, practically sulking as she slipped her panties back on.

“You know it’s gonna take at least that long for you to get it up again,” she teased. “I’m just too good, babe.”

Aidan harrumphed loudly and crossed his arms. She was right, but he didn’t want to admit it.

“Oh, don’t pout,” she said as she slipped her jeans back on. “A little while after we eat you can have your way with me, alright?”

“Is that carte blanche I hear?”

“Within reason.”

Without another word, he got up, went to the toy chest, and returned with a few pieces of bondage gear. They had received them for free, along with some other gear, after one of her shoots for a bondage site. They had remained unused since then, but Aidan thought it would be fun to experiment a little that night. Bridget stared at the cuffs and leg spreader for a moment and then raised an eyebrow at him.

“You are aware I can’t move as it is, right?”

She patted one of her tit* for emphasis, but Aidan paid no heed to her.

“Yeah,” he grinned. “So how hot will it be when you can’t move at all?”

“I guess I never really considered that.”

A loud buzz sounded throughout the warehouse just before Aidan’s phone went off.

“Sushi’s here.”

Chapter 4: Separate Ways

Chapter Text

It was Bridget’s final summer as a high schooler. Junior year had been straightforward enough—though not without a few unique challenges—and she’d turned eighteen right at the end of the spring semester. By all rights, she should have been out working for some spending money or to pad her college applications. She wanted to, but her body had other plans.

“Mom!”

“What is it, sweetie?”

“I’m stuck again!”

“Just a minute!”

Bridget lay in bed, trapped under the weight of her chest. She tried to sleep on her side, but sometimes she rolled over in her sleep. When that happened she had to get some help to shift the titanic masses that were her boobs. They had grown non-stop since her last growth spurt. Sometimes it was fast enough to notice the next morning. Sometimes it was so slow that it was barely perceptible over the course of a week or longer, but they were always growing. Her mom had learned to alter her bras just so she would have something to cover up with at school. It saved them a bit of money, and she had gotten quite good at it over the last year. She was starting to work on her clothes as well, and wasn’t too bad at that either.

Catherine burst into her bedroom, and Julian toddled in behind her.

“Sissy!” He screamed, running awkwardly to one side of her bed. “Are you stuck?”

“Yup,” she said, ruffling his golden hair.

She had grown to like her baby brother. He was too innocent to know any better, so he always told people what he thought. When the family had gone out to the beach for a vacation the month before he had yelled at a creepy older guy to stop staring at his sissy’s boobies. Once she had finished laughing, she’d taken him to get a snow cone.

“C’mon,” Catherine grunted as she grabbed one of Bridget’s arms and pulled. “Work those abs.”

She clenched her stomach and pushed herself up from the mattress with her free hand. As her breasts pushed forward, gravity shifted and they spread out over her lap. It overflowed with titflesh that encompassed her thighs and sank into the bed.

“Thanks, Mom. Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Catherine told her. “I need to get your dad to put in one of those pull up ropes for times like these. What would you do if no one was home?”

“That or one of those hospital-type beds that lift you up,” Bridget suggested.

“Maybe someday,” her mom sighed. “Are you ready for breakfast?”

“I gotta pee.”

Bridget shifted her legs over to get off the bed, but left her upper body stationary. When she was ready, she shifted her chest over and let gravity take control. The weight of her boobs pulled her from the bed and she planted her feet on the ground and took their weight onto her back. The hard muscles, particularly those of her lower back and shoulders, flexed and fought to keep her upright.

“Then I’ll be right down. What are we having?”

“I made eggs and bacon. I can throw some of that raisin bread you like in the toaster if you want.”

“Sure. Could you hand me a bra? My back is killing me.”

Catherine picked up an enormous contraption made out of coarse durable fabric. Each cup was big enough to be measured in gallons. The straps were as wide as seatbelts and the band featured more than a dozen industrial-grade hooks. She handed it over and Bridget began the arduous process of putting it on. She wrapped the tight elastic around her ribs and slipped the hooks into the eyes with a dexterity born of extensive practice. Then she worked the edges of the cups around her tit* before kneading the soft masses like dough until they settled into a more compact shape. Once she was sure they were contained, she took her first few steps. She had to reacquaint herself with her center of gravity almost every day. Small changes in the size and weight of her boobs occurred from time to time, so she was always careful first thing in the morning. Once she was sure she wouldn’t tip over, she gave her mom and brother a thumbs up and wobbled off to the bathroom. Catherine made her bed for her and looked at her son.

“Let’s go back to breakfast, Julian,” she said, holding out a hand for her son.

The toddler grabbed it and followed her downstairs. Even as she busied herself with feeding her younger child she wondered if her poor daughter would ever stop. Catherine was all too familiar with the drawbacks of large breasts, especially since Julian was born. Her heavy, milk-swollen breasts were nothing compared to what Bridget had to deal with though. She was nearing a record breaking size and weight, but the growth had yet to stop. Now that Bridget was a legal adult, she feared the day when someone from the media came sniffing around for a story. Whether for a news story or some less savory purpose, Catherine didn’t want her little girl to become a public spectacle. She’d held that particular problem at bay a few times already.

Bridget made her way downstairs a few minutes later. Her face was freshly washed and her curls had been brushed free of knots. She took each step methodically and held onto the railing with one hand. She had slipped once and bruised her tailbone before ending up in a heap at the bottom of the stairs. The mere memory of it encouraged her to be patient now.

“Did you have any plans for today?” Catherine asked as she entered the dining room. “What’s Aidan up to?”

Bridget took her seat at the circular table her dad had found and modified into a sort of crescent shape. The large notch allowed space for her boobs to hang below the table so she wouldn’t have to sit sideways to eat.

“I don’t know,” Bridget sulked. “Since he’s such a hotshot now I barely see him.”

Someone had finally talked Aidan into trying out for the baseball team back in the fall. He had played informally for years, and everyone always wanted him on their team so she guessed he had some rough skills, but he’d quickly proven to be a talented pitcher. As a left-hander, he had become their ace in the hole with some extra effort and proper coaching.

“You should be happy for him,” Catherine told her as she set her plate on the table. “He’s doing well.”

“Well, I wouldn’t know. I can barely leave the house these days.”

She planted her elbow on the table and rested her cheek against one fist, snapping up a piece of bacon and chewing it with a sour look on her face.

“Do you want to go to a game next month? I have a schedule somewhere around here. Heather sent it over. I think there’ll be one right after school starts back up.”

Bridget gave a noncommittal grunt and shoveled a forkful of scrambled eggs into her mouth to avoid responding. She was pretty sick of Aidan lately. Whenever they found the time to hang out together all he wanted to talk about was baseball. He told her about what his coach said, about the games he had watched on TV, even the books he had read about famous players and strategies. She liked baseball, to a point, but she wasn’t remotely attracted to the sports-obsessed jock Aidan was becoming. It seemed to her that he was letting his newfound talent consume his personality. That was probably why he had acted like such a pig the last time they’d hung out.

“Found it!” Catherine came back with a sheet of paper, waving it over her head. “First game of the season is August 17th. We should go support him. His dad says he might get scouted this season if he plays as well as last year.”

“Yay for him,” Bridget sighed. “I don’t know, Mom. The bleachers pretty much ruin my back.”

“We’ll get you one of those backrests and some cushions. I’m sure the school wouldn’t mind making some extra space for you.”

“I don’t want to be on display for everyone at the game.”

She was starting to get annoyed with this line of conversation. Why did her mom want her to go watch Aidan play so badly? It wasn’t like he cared. He barely made any time for his “best friend” anymore. Catherine put a hand on her hip, always a danger signal, but Bridget didn’t care.

“It’s nothing they haven’t seen before, Bridget,” Catherine said. “You’ve been at that school for three years already. They all know you.”

“Mom, I don’t want to go to the stupid game, alright?” She set her fork down on her plate with a loud clink of metal on porcelain. “Aidan has been acting like a total jackass lately.”

“What do you mean?”

“Last time I saw him—almost two weeks ago, by the way—he told me Eva had asked him out. He wanted to know if I would be mad if he took her up on the offer.”

“Well…that’s not how we did it when I was a teenager…”

Bridget could tell her mom was trying to defuse the situation and change the subject. Apart from little Julian, everyone in their household vividly remembered what they had since termed “The Eva Incident”, and the last several years had done nothing to heal the rift between the two girls. Rumors spread around the school about Bridget, and she was sure Eva was their source more often than not. She stood up so fast her breasts pushed the table forward a few inches, but she paid it no mind.

“Yeah. He actually said that. To me. So, no, I don’t want to watch that asshole play his stupid games.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, honey,” Catherine looked like she meant it. “To be honest I always hoped you two would—”

“What? Start dating?”

Bridget’s voice rose higher as emotion began to fill her voice. She tried to sound almost amused at the prospect. To mask it behind a facade of anger and contempt, but some of the hurt leaked out as well. She fought to keep herself from choking up. Even though he wasn’t there and would probably never know, she didn’t want to give Aidan the satisfaction of making her cry.

“Get married? Make babies? We were just kids hanging out together. Now we’re grown up and going—”

She stopped for an instant to choke back her tears, then cleared her throat and turned to leave.

“—going our separate ways.”

Catherine let her leave. She knew trying to talk her out of that line of thinking right then would only make it worse. She wanted to make her understand that Aidan might be slow to realize it, but girls like Eva weren’t worth his time. She had to keep herself close to him if she wanted to win in the end.

I’ll let her calm down a little, she told herself. Then maybe we can talk about this.

Bridget went straight to her room and locked the door. It was a reckless thing to do, considering she could become trapped under her breasts again, but she didn’t care. Things she had never truly admitted she wanted, but always fantasized about on some level, were now crumbling around her. She had grown up to be a freak, and Aidan had somehow gone from a middle school reject to a high school sports star. Every popular girl in school suddenly wanted to add him to their collection. Subconsciously, she had always expected Aidan to take their relationship to another level someday. The idea that another girl might make the first move and steal him away from her had never even entered her mind. Years of spending every spare moment together seemed like a natural progression to her, but Aidan had only proven once again that men were tactless, oblivious, unfeeling idiots.

She sat on the window seat like she always had on rainy days when she was a kid. Back then it was easy to pull her knees to her chest and sulk, but now she had a pair of stubborn obstacles in the way. Undeterred, she forced her legs into her cleavage and wrapped her arms around her shins from beneath them. Her tit* squeezed into the empty spaces between her arms and legs and stuck out at odd angles, but she paid them no mind. She rested chin on her thighs just above her knees and let the tears fall in silence for a while. She thought about how unfair everything had become since she hit puberty. Other girls—normal girls—didn’t have to deal with the things she did. Eva and her tight knit group of rich bitch cheerleaders all got to look hot and take their mobility for granted. As much as guys obsessed over big tit*, she knew that at her level they just looked wrong. There was nothing remotely sexy about the giant fatty boulders hanging from her chest. She couldn’t even lift them on her own anymore. Without a bra she would be lucky to make it more than a few dozen feet before her back spasmed and gave out. She was practically an invalid.

She found herself turning inward and asking herself the same question she had asked for years.

Why did this have to happen to me?

She stayed like that for a long time, eventually making her way to her bed and sulking there for a few hours until her mom came and knocked on her door a little before lunch. She managed to struggle to her feet on her own and let her in and they had a long conversation about boys and the best ways to deal with their inability to understand emotions.

Bridget felt better by the end of it.

“They fit last time I wore them!”

“You’re still a growing girl, honey,” Catherine said, keeping her voice low and calm to placate her panicked daughter. “Your hips are getting wider and you’re carrying a little more weight around them. It's natural.”

“Great! So I’ll have giant tit* and a fat ass!”

Bridget rested her boobs on top of her bed so she could pull her jeans off without overbalancing. They were the fourth pair she had tried, and they’d all been so tight that she had to force them over her hips. She’d tried to stuff herself into them but even then she couldn’t button them up no matter what she tried. She pulled them off her feet and threw them across the room into the ever growing pile of clothes she couldn't wear anymore.

“I won’t be able to wear clothes at all if anything else gets bigger.”

“Just wear a skirt for now,” Catherine advised. “You’re still well within the normal size range, so I’ll ask Kaylie to send over a few things. We can order whatever you want.”

She understood Bridget’s nervousness. Her breasts had grown so huge over the years that suddenly outgrowing her pants was setting off alarm bells in her psyche. This was how it usually went for the women on her side of the family, though. They were late bloomers, but once they bloomed they really went for it. She’d personally gone from beanpole to hourglass in a few months when she was sixteen. Bridget may have gotten an early start on the boobs, but now she was growing into the rest of the O’Guinn figure. A lot of her female relatives continued to grow into their early twenties and suddenly putting on extra weight where it counted was pretty common. She just hoped Bridget’s breasts didn’t hog it all. They didn’t need the help.

“This is so embarrassing…” Bridget was blushing as she pulled at the elastic around her thighs. “I’m gonna need new panties, too...”

“I understand, sweetie,” Catherine told her. “I promise you, this isn’t strange for our family. Most of the girls on my side are pretty thin right up until they reach adulthood. We put on weight, but we carry it well”

Bridget grumbled deep in her throat, but said nothing. She adjusted her underwear and lifted her breasts from the bed to go to her closet and look for a skirt. She had one or two that Catherine had insisted on for formal occasions. It was as close to a dress as Bridget was willing to get, and even that was too formally girly for anything but a wedding or funeral. Catherine decided it was time to change the subject.

“Anyway, I’m glad you decided to go to the game. I already called the school and they said they’ll reserve a space for us.”

“Can I just sit under the bleachers instead?” Bridget groaned. “Everyone is gonna stare.”

“Just wear something loose and relax.”

“I don’t have anything loose, Mom. 3XLs are like crop tops on me now.”

“Well…” Catherine appeared to cast around for something to say to that. “It doesn’t matter what anyone thinks.”

“Just save it. I don't want to think about how f*cking huge my tit* are right now.”

Catherine put her hands on her hips and stared at her until she turned around with a skirt in hand.

“Watch the language, missy.”

“I’m eighteen.”

“Yeah, and you still live in my house.”

Bridget let out a growl of frustration and threw the skirt at her bed.

“Can you just get out of my room?” She snapped. “Please? I’m sick of you hovering around all the time.”

“I’m just trying to make sure you can manage on your own.”

“I’m not a cripple, goddammit!” Bridget screamed. “Just leave me alone!”

“Fine. If that’s what you want, I’ll go get Julian ready and wait in the car. You just take your time.”

Catherine swept out of the room. She’d clearly been offended by Bridget’s temperamental outbursts and coarse language, but she was too annoyed to care just then. She groaned in frustration at the empty room and pulled at her panties again.

These are gonna drive me insane all day.

She remembered what Kaylie had told her years ago when she’d asked why anyone would want to wear thongs. It actually made sense now, and she wished she had one to hold her over until she could go shopping for new underwear. As long as the waistband was right something made to ride up would fit no matter how big her ass got. She’d have to get a few of them. She guessed she could do with something a little more on the sexy side anyway. She looked down at her butt, which was in fact noticeably bigger now that she really looked at it and then turned to look at her boob again in a huff.

She didn’t know why everything had to hit her all at once. Her tit* had grown from nonexistent to B-cups in a single night several years ago. They’d gone through huge growth spurts at random times, as if to keep her on her toes, and she didn’t see any sort of end in sight. She’d already been stuck with her current back-breaking, mobility-inhibiting monsters, but now it seemed to her that her ass was starting to get in on the fun too. She had mostly gone around in sweatpants since summer began, so she hadn’t noticed her clothes getting tight before now. She didn’t think she was getting fat, not that anyone could tell with her tit* hanging to her hips. She touched her stomach to be sure and confirmed there was just the usual thin and stubborn layer of fat there. She could feel her abs underneath it, still rock hard from her years of carrying her boobs around and helping her keep her dubious balance.

She tried to ignore the constant wedgies and did her best to find a top that complemented the ankle-length blue skirt. She ended up in what should have been a loose, floral-print summer blouse, but it clung to her over-generous curves like a second skin. She had to watch herself in a mirror just to button it, stretching her arms to their limits to reach around her chest. With a sigh, she checked herself in the mirror, turning from one side to the other. She didn’t like the way the extra material billowed out beneath her breasts. It made her look fat.

f*ck it.

Bridget unbuttoned the lower third of the blouse and twisted the excess fabric into a pair of thin tendrils. Then she tied them together as she had seen women do on TV and at the beach. The results were surprising. As she pulled the knot tight, it added just a little extra lift to her breasts and showed off a thin strip of her pale stomach. For the first time, she was able to appreciate her own waistline since developing a more womanly figure. Her hips were still relatively narrow, but there was a bit of a flare to them now. It made her waist look smaller and gave her some shape. As she turned to get a look at her back, she also found that she liked how the skirt accentuated her hips and butt.

Maybe this isn’t so bad, she thought. I look kind of…hot.

After years of resisting her femininity, now that she saw herself wearing something so girly she could see some of the appeal. She had never felt “pretty” before. She still didn’t really, but she thought her body at least looked good. No one would ever pay attention to anything she’d worked for, though. Things like her tight ass or her muscular legs and back, earned through her tragically short stint as an athlete, were doomed to be overshadowed by her boobs.

She turned away from the mirror before she upset herself again and left the room. Once she hobbled down the stairs, she went to the driveway and found her mom sitting in the car. She was twisted around in her seat and trying to keep Julian amused with one of his toys. Bridget sighed, locked the front door, and went to join them. She knew she shouldn’t have snapped at her mom like she had before. She was doing her best, and she had a lot to deal with between her overworked husband, her toddler, and her physically impaired freak of a daughter.

I guess I should apologize.

By the time they got to the field, all was forgiven. Bridget kept her brother entertained with a few videos on her phone to let Catherine focus on one thing for a change. She was still feeling tense about spending the day sitting out in the open surrounded by people, but she knew she had to try. Her mom was right about getting out more often. If she just did it, and acted naturally while she did it, she would adjust. If other people were put off by her appearance, it wasn’t her problem. She had to learn to be confident and live her life or she would turn into a shut-in before she knew it.

“I’m going to pull right up to the gate,” Catherine said. “Can you go ahead and help Julian out of his car seat? I’ll come find you once I find a parking spot.”

Bridget was preoccupied by a sunny and cloudless sky and almost didn’t hear her. Her brain caught up to what her mom was saying and she mumbled a distracted reply.

“What was that?”

“We brought sunscreen, right? We’re gonna cook out there.”

Between her pale complexion and the sheer amount of skin she had to protect, sunburns were a constant problem for her. The tops of her breasts had been covered in a spray of freckles since her last trip to the beach and she didn’t want to add to them. The ones on her face and arms were bad enough.

“There are a couple of bottles in the diaper bag. Make sure you put some on your brother too, ok?”

Catherine stopped the car, and Bridget saw a couple of her teachers from Richardson High were on duty at the gate. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw them. She’d been worried about having to deal with volunteers at the entrance. Sometimes strangers insisted on asking dozens of questions to glean a few tidbits of information about how and why she had such gigantic boobs. They usually thought they were clever as they pretended to be interested in her life or concerned with her health, but Bridget had learned long ago they weren’t interested in her. They just wanted to know about her tit*. Creepy older guys, awkward teenage boys, judgmental women, and curious girls; people of all races, genders, and creeds were unified in their obsessive curiosity with her chest.

Bridget got out of the SUV and walked around it to extricate her brother from his car seat. Mr. Carroll flashed a friendly smile and a polite wave when he saw her, while Ms. Decker looked as bored and disinterested as ever.

“How ya doing, Bridget?” Mr. Carroll asked as she walked up to the gate to buy their tickets. “Just two of you? Who’s the little guy?”

“This is my baby brother, Julian,” Bridget told him, holding out a twenty to pay for their entry. “I’ll need the tickets. Mom’s right behind us.”

“Alrighty. You know, that friend of yours has some real talent. I caught the team warming up and it looked like he was trying to kill his catcher.”

Bridget flashed a polite smile and gave a noncommittal hum in reply. Mr. Carroll was a nice old man who had taught general science at their high school since before half of the faculty was born. He always did his best to treat Bridget like any other student and actually looked her in the eye when he talked to her. She appreciated his old-fashioned charm and chivalry.

“He’s a good-looking kid, too,” Ms. Decker chimed in, smirking at Bridget. “A real heartbreaker, right?”

“Why ask me?” Bridget said, not sure her look of confusion was convincing. “We’re just friends.”

Ms. Decker was a younger woman. Only a few years out of college and not all that much older than her students, she seemed to view Bridget as a distraction. Considering her big fake double-Ds and the low-cut tops she was always wearing, Bridget thought she knew where she would have preferred the attention to go. She wasn’t a particularly good or attentive teacher, and everyone knew the PTA had raised a few concerns about her, but the rumor was that she had dirt on someone higher up in the school board. Bridget had heard whispers about an affair with a superintendent, but she didn’t know if she could believe that. She didn’t like Ms. Decker very much, but she knew a thing or two about nasty rumors spreading just because you had big tit*. Then again, hers were fake.

“No need to tease the poor girl,” Mr. Carroll said.

He looked at Ms. Decker and his eyes flashed a warning. She rolled her eyes and propped her head up with one arm, looking bored again.

“You kids have fun. I’ll send your mom through when she gets here.”

He handed Bridget two dollars in change and three little blue ticket stubs.

“Ok, thanks, Mr. Carroll.”

Bridget gripped her brother’s hand and led him past the gates. She could hear the sounds of the growing crowd and saw dozens, if not hundreds, of people filling the bleachers. Richardson’s baseball team hadn’t done this well in decades, so it made sense that half the town would show up for the first game of the new season. Still, it was more than Bridget had bargained for. She’d already felt a few male gazes lingering on her longer than necessary.

“Thomas!”

A loud male voice was shouting her name from somewhere behind her. She turned and saw Coach James trotting up, red-faced and puffing. He was a tall man with a huge frame and a neck thicker than most people’s legs. Bridget wasn’t all that comfortable around him at the best of times, but he always made an effort to be nice to her for some reason. She almost wished he wouldn’t. His eyes had a tendency to let his drift down to her chest every few seconds. It made her think he had some creepy ulterior motive.

“Glad you made it. Crosse has been whining about never seeing you at our games and I think it’s been affecting his performance. We reserved a spot for you and yours because of your, uh, condition.”

He looked at her boobs for a few seconds longer than any normal person with an ounce of shame would have, then turned to point in the direction of the handicapped section. They had set up a large pop-up canopy beside the bleachers and put a few lawn chairs under it. On the one hand, Bridget was touched that her old friend had gone to so much trouble to give her space. On the other, separating her from the rest of the crowd made her even more of a spectacle.

“Thank you, coach,” Catherine said as she appeared from behind him with a small cooler in hand. “That was very sweet of you."

The coach’s ruddy face turned a darker shade of scarlet than his usual complexion, and Bridget saw his eyes rove all over her mom’s curves. Bridget knew he wasn't quite a pervert, though those sorts of accusations had been leveled at him before. It was more like he had no clue how to behave around women.

And he has a crush on Mom, she realized with a start. No wonder he was always trying to be nice. Oh, god…

She wanted to gag.

“Well, um…” Coach James cleared his throat and shuffled off in the direction of the dugout. “You ladies enjoy the game, and, uh, let me know if you need anything.”

He practically sprinted back to the dugout, shouting something to his team. Bridget heard her mom chuckle to herself and gave her a suspicious look as she took Julian’s hand.

“He’s got a thing for you," she said.

“I know,” Catherine said, not so much as a hint of shame or discomfort in her voice.

“You know?”

Catherine sighed and started to move toward the canopy.

“He asked me out a couple of years ago.”

“You’re married!” Bridget burst out.

“I know, and that’s what I told him. He seemed to think your father and I were separated since he always had to work during school events and things. He was actually very sweet about it.”

“But the way he looks at girls is so creepy,” Bridget shuddered as she claimed one of the lawn chairs.

“Some men just aren’t very good at controlling themselves like that. As a woman, you have to learn to live with it a little.”

Bridget didn’t think she could agree with that, but she didn’t want to argue. She sat down and immediately knew the chairs wouldn’t work for any extended period of time. Its arms dug into her tit*, which piled on top of her legs and barely squeezed between them. Julian pointed at her and laughed. Bridget couldn’t blame him, she probably looked ridiculous.

“This chair sucks,” she grumbled.

“Yeah, that doesn’t look comfortable.”

Catherine grabbed Julian’s diaper bag and pulled a neatly folded blanket out of one of its many pockets.

“You may want to go picnic style,” she said, laying it out over the grass. “If you stretch out here you might be more comfortable. Julian and I can set up our chairs behind you.”

Bridget groaned. She wasn’t sure she was comfortable with the idea of laying out on the ground for everyone to see. She couldn’t think of any decent alternative, though, so she swallowed her pride and just did it. Once she settled down, she felt like she was a featured item at some bizarre garage sale.

Have you ever wanted to own your very own freak of nature? She quipped to herself. Now you can!

She giggled to herself. Her life was so ridiculous sometimes that she had to laugh to keep from crying. Her mom finished setting up Julian’s chair and reached into the cooler.

“Do you want some water?” She asked.

“Sure,” Bridget said.

She twisted her head around to look at Catherine. She was bent over the cooler and her loose top had pulled up to reveal her huge, deceptively toned butt straining her jeans. They had to be at least two sizes too small. Bridget knew she hadn’t had a chance to buy new clothes for herself since before Julian was born, and all their spare money these days went to replacing her wardrobe every other month. Bridget thought about what she’d said earlier about her family’s tendency to grow curvier as they aged.

We put on weight, but we carry it well.

It seemed to be true. She had some pudge around her belly and a pretty distinct muffin top, but it looked right on her somehow. Her hips were wide, her ass was round, and her thighs were thick, but everything else apart from her boobs was dainty and feminine. She had thin arms, the right kind of taper from calf to ankle, ludicrously tiny feet, and her waist was small even if her belly wasn’t quite flat.

I guess it wouldn’t be so bad, Bridget thought. Guys like big butts these days, don’t they? If I’m gonna be stuck with giant boobs, maybe I should try to emphasize the rest of my body a little more. Maybe then I’d find a boyfriend.

Her own thoughts surprised her. She wasn’t sure why she was thinking about boyfriends when her future was so uncertain. There was a genuine—if unspoken—concern in her household that her breasts would get so big she wouldn’t be able to move. Boys were the least of her worries. She still wasn’t sure how she could justify going to college if they became any more unmanageable than they already were.

Catherine handed her a bottle of water and took her seat. Bridget turned back to the field, looking for a distraction, and saw Aidan leaning out of the dugout to wave at someone in the stands. She did her best to follow his eyes and felt her heart leap into her throat as she caught sight of Eva. She was standing up in the bleachers, dressed in team regalia and waving her arms as she bounced up and down. She stopped hopping long enough to blow him a kiss before she sat down again and disappeared into the crowd.

Her stomach twisted and rage boiled in her chest. Her face felt hot and she willed herself not to get emotional. Aidan was a big boy and he could make whatever idiotic mistakes he wanted. She didn’t care if he went out with a total psycho who would probably manipulate him into a long and miserable relationship. Part of her was convinced Eva was doing it just to torment her, and she didn’t want to give her the satisfaction.

You're such an idiot, Aidan.

As if in response to her thoughts, Aidan turned to look towards their canopy and waved when he saw they were there. He was smiling as if nothing was wrong between them, and Bridget couldn’t imagine how he could be so impossibly dense.

You know I hate her, Bridget fumed as she pointedly ignored her friend. And I know she hates me. You can't have this both ways.

She wished she had the courage to say that to his face. Every time she tried to work herself up to call him or sneak out and try to walk to his house she wimped out. She was terrified he would choose Eva if given the choice.

Let him make his mistakes, she heard her mom's voice in her head again. If he realizes them he'll be better for it. If not, he’s no good for you. But try to stay friends, either way.

Bridget thought her mom was giving men way too much credit. She finally waved back just as Aidan looked like he was about to start sulking. His smile returned and he cupped his hands around his mouth.

“First strikeout’s for you, Bridge!” He yelled, pointing straight to her.

Bridget’s face flushed and she looked around. A few people in the crowd turned to look where their new star pitcher was pointing and caught sight of her on her blanket. Her enormous chest lay on the ground in front of her, and her modified top left enough skin exposed to leave no question of what they were. Most people had seen her around before, but it didn't keep them from staring right along with the first-timers. She gritted her teeth and tried to keep her face blank as she ignored the dozens of eyes now peering at her from the bleachers.

You f*cking idiot…

At some point during the second inning, the Channel 5 news van pulled up and a reporter and cameraman filmed a story. Bridget recognized one of the local reporters. She was a pretty, well-dressed woman with short dark hair wearing a skirt and blouse that hugged and accentuated her tight curves. Bridget assumed they were doing a report on the team and quickly lost interest. Catherine, however, bristled at the sight of them.

“Bridget,” she said with a hint of a snarl in her voice. “I think you’re getting too much sun. Why don’t you back up a bit?”

Bridget held up her arms and looked herself over. There wasn’t a trace of a sunburn anywhere she could see.

“I’m fine, Mom,” she said. “What are you talking about?”

“Nothing, I just think you might be getting a little pink over there. You might burn if—”

She was interrupted by a loud and friendly female voice. Bridget spun her head around to see the reporter approaching them, her teeth cleaning as she smiled and waved at them.

“Mrs. Thomas?” The reporter said. “So good to see you again!”

Her eyes fell upon Bridget, who still lay on her side on the blanket at the edge of the canopy’s shade. She scanned Bridget’s massive boobs for an instant and her smile turned into something like a devious smirk for one almost imperceptible instant.

“This must be Bridget!” She sang, squatting down and offering one hand. “I’ve wanted to meet you for months, dear. How are you?”

Bridget felt uncomfortable and looked around for the cameraman. He was still filming the game, focused mostly on Aidan, who was mugging for him between pitches. If she’d been a little less nervous about the reporter hovering over her she might have rolled her eyes at his ridiculous display.

“She’s just fine,” Catherine said, rising from her lawn chair and stomping over to stand just behind Bridget. “And she’s still not interested, Dana.”

Bridget had never heard her mom take that particular vicious and threatening tone with anyone other than family. She glanced back and forth at the two women. The reporter, Dana, had pulled her hand away from Bridget, but remained in her squatted position. She smiled up at Catherine without a trace of fear in her bright blue eyes. Caterine’s lips were curled in a derisive smile, and she was standing in the way she always did when she wanted to look scary and dominant. Her gorgeous face, sturdy frame, and thick curves made her look like a true battleax of a woman when she stood like that.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but Ms. Bridget here is a legal adult, is she not?” Dana asked. “Which means I’m allowed to speak to her with or without your permission, Mrs. Thomas.”

Bridget had no idea what was going on. She sat up and crossed her legs, shifting her breasts into her lap and looking up at her mother in confusion.

“What is she talking about, Mom?”

Dana rose to her full height and cut in before Catherine could even open her mouth.

“I heard about your unusual condition about a year ago and wanted to do a story on you, but your mother wouldn’t allow—”

“Because she’s a child, Dana,” Catherine snarled in a voice like an angry bobcat.

“Legally, she isn't. Not anymore.”

“Would you both stop?” Bridget snapped. “Mom, Julian looks like he's about to cry.”

It was true. Julian had been playing with a few of his toys beside Catherine’s chair, but now he was looking nervously back and forth at her and the reporter. He could tell his mother was upset by the tone of her voice even if he didn't understand what they were arguing about. Catherine picked him up, set him on one hip, then turned to Dana again.

“You stay away from my family,” she said, flashing a smile that was more threatening than any weapon. “The last thing my daughter wants or needs is more attention.”

Bridget decided she’d had enough of the two older women talking about her like she wasn’t sitting right there. Her frustration reached a boiling point and she shouted just as the home team made a huge triple play pay and the crowd went wild.

“Mom! I can handle this myself!”

Julian started crying, startled and overstimulated by all the noise. Catherine walked off to soothe him, flashing one last dirty look at the reporter for good measure.

“I’m afraid we got off on the wrong foot,” Dana said, smiling and dropping back into a squat in front of Bridget. “I’m Dana Daniels. You might recognize me from TV.”

Bridget nodded, but said nothing. She wasn’t sure she liked Dana. She had a very unctuous—yet condescending—way of talking and seemed quite full of herself.

“I was hoping you might be willing to talk to us for a little while about your…struggles.”

Her eyes fell upon Bridget’s chest for a moment then flashed back to her face.

“I’ve done a bit of research since learning about you, and your condition seems like a very interesting case. I was thinking it might be an opportunity to shed some light on an uncommon plight girls and women all over the country suffer with every day.”

Bridget opened her mouth to speak, but Dana rushed on without waiting for a response.

“You don’t have to answer right now,” she said, standing up and making a show of dusting off her immaculate black skirt. “I’ve got to go give my report, but I’d love to hear from you whenever you’re ready to talk.”

She adjusted the collar of her modest blouse and suddenly produced a business card from thin air. She held it out for Bridget, smiling and patiently waiting for her to take it. Overwhelmed and a little stunned by the encounter, Bridget remained silent. After a moment of hesitation, she raised her hand to take the card.

“I hope to hear from you soon, Bridget!” Dana said as she strutted away, her hips swaying seductively as her dark hair fluttered in the breeze.

Bridget looked down at the card and saw the reporter’s name, number, email address on the front. She flipped it over and found a Channel 5 News Team logo and a handwritten note that Dana must have prepared some time ago. She read it and felt a shiver of anticipation run down her spine.

I know another girl like you. She’d love to meet you. Ten minutes of your time, and I’ll arrange a meeting.

Bridget had never heard of anyone else with her particular malady. It wasn’t common, and Dr. Jackson told her cases were spread out all over the globe. Even in the US, only about two or three hundred cases had been reported over the years. The chance to meet someone willing to talk to her about it—even eager by the sound of it—was enticing. Someone else who could understand the isolation, loneliness, and embarrassment that came with being regarded as both a freak and a unique sexual conquest could be invaluable. They might even become friends and start a support group.

“I’m going to have to call her,” Bridget muttered to herself.

“Please don’t, sweetheart,” her mother said from behind her.

Bridget almost jumped out of her skin. She hadn’t heard her come back, but she turned her head and saw her mother standing just behind her, still bouncing Julian on her hip to keep him calm.

“She says she found someone else like me,” Bridget said, her voice thick with emotion. “She only wants to talk for a few minutes.”

Catherine sighed and looked at Julian.

“You feel up to playing by yourself again? Just for a little while.”

Julian nodded and she set him back down on the ground. He toddled off towards his pile of toys and sat down on the grass as if nothing had ever happened to upset him. Catherine turned to Bridget and sat down beside her on the blanket.

“Scooch over a little.”

Bridget obeyed and then looked at her expectantly.

“I don’t think we’ve ever talked about what I did for a living before I married your dad, have we?”

Bridget shook her head. She knew her mom and dad got married relatively young by modern standards, so she had always assumed she had been something like a waitress or a retail worker or something boring like that.

“I was a journalist for a couple of years, believe it or not. I did some freelance reporting, mostly for newspapers, but I always wanted a job as an anchor on the local news. I thought I got my chance when some big news conglomerate came around and built the channel 5 station. I was inexperienced back then, but also young and pretty, so they hired me for a test run as a field reporter, but I had this…I guess you could call her a rival. She was about ten years older than me and way more experienced, but a lot of guys started to turn some of their attention my way and I guess she felt threatened, or jealous, or something. Long story short, she did everything she could to sabotage my work and make me look stupid in front of our bosses. She even stole a few of my stories and rushed them out before I could get them ready to present to the boss. I was pretty fed up with the whole thing by the time I met your dad. We got married about a year later and I left the job behind for good once I found out I was pregnant with you. Best decision I ever made.”

“What does that have to do with her?” Bridget asked, pointing to Dana while she stood in front of the field and gave her report to the camera.

She had remained silent during her mom’s story, but this question was one she couldn’t hold back any longer. Catherine stared at Dana for a while and sighed again. This time it was deeper and seemed to contain a lot of barely concealed emotion.

“She’s her daughter,” she said. “The woman I was talking about, and she’s just like her mother. But beyond any personal grudge I may have, I don’t trust her. She wants to use you, honey. She doesn’t want to help you or anyone else like you. All she wants is a story she can sell to the public. She’d make you out to be a spectacle and try to use you to boost her career. Trust me, I know the business. The press is a lot like social media is now. They only want people to react; positive or negative doesn’t matter to them.”

Bridget thought it over. She trusted her mom, obviously, but she couldn’t stop thinking about the possibility of meeting another woman who could understand her pain. She decided to leave her reply as vague as possible.

“Alright, Mom. I get it.”

Catherine looked at her daughter for a long time. She was worried she would do something she’d regret, but she had to admit that Dana had been right about one thing. Bridget was an adult and she needed to start making her own decisions.

Though Bridget found it difficult to focus on following Dana’s offer and her mother’s revelation of her past, Aidan played a great game. He came up short of a no-hitter, but Bridget had to admit he was good. He might not ever make it to a professional level, but talent and potential was certainly there. She was happy for him, and her anger had softened as she watched him play. It rekindled a bit each time she heard Eva shout his name from the stands, but it was directed squarely at her now. Eva had asked Aidan out and started the whole mess between them. Bridget hadn’t wanted to admit it, but she was angry with herself for not having the courage to do the very same thing before her. She had worried about ruining their friendship if she admitted how she really felt about him, but now things were a million times worse. She didn’t want to risk what remained of her relationship with Aidan by confronting Eva, but she also couldn’t stand the thought of the two of them at homecoming the following month. Not that she would be there. She hadn’t gone to a school dance since her sophom*ore year. There wasn’t a prom dress in the world she could squeeze her tit* into without extensive tailoring.

Since the game was over, Bridget did her best to help her mom gather up their things and wrangle Julian, who seemed to have grown oddly attached to the baseball field over the last couple of hours and didn’t want to leave. To her surprise, Aidan came galloping up to them, looking sweaty and exhausted with his glove under one arm.

“Heya, Bridge!” He puffed before he leaned over to catch his breath. “Thanks for coming guys!”

Julian ran up to him and patted him on the thigh.

“Good job, Aidan!”

“Thanks, Jules!” Aidan laughed, squatting down and pulling a baseball out of his glove. “Is it alright with you if I give Jules the game ball, Mrs. Thomas?”

“I don’t see why not,” Catherine said, smiling at him. “That’s very sweet of you.”

He handed it to Julian, who held it in both hands and smiled up at him.

“What do you say?” Catherine asked him.

“Thank you!” Julian crowed before he ran off to throw it around in the field.

“Julian!” Catherine shouted. “Oh, god, would you two keep an eye on him while I pack this up. We need to get out of here soon or dinner’s going to be late.”

“We got it, Mrs. Thomas,” Aidan said. “C’mon, Bridge.”

As Bridget went to follow him he leaned in and muttered something in her ear.

“I wanted to talk to you, anyway.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, but didn’t say anything. They posted up a few yards away from the canopy so they could watch Julian as he did his best to mimic Aidan’s form and pitched it to an imaginary batter over and over again.

“Keep it up, Jules!” Aidan shouted to him. “You’ll be a pro in no time!”

“So?” Bridget said, putting one fist to her hip and tapping her foot. “What did you want to talk about?”

“You, uh, you look nice today,” he mumbled with an awkward grin.

“Thanks,” she scoffed. “But I know that’s not what you meant.”

Aidan groaned and looked up at the sky. He hung his head for a moment and finally looked up again, though he still avoided making eye contact with her.

“I’m no good at this stuff,” he sighed. “But I—I mean Eva—”

Bridget bristled at the name, but managed to keep her cool for the moment. All she knew was that he needed to choose his next words very carefully. He finally muttered the rest of his sentence.

“She said it was weird that my best friend is a girl.”

Bridget blinked at him.

What is he saying?

“And she said she wasn’t sure she liked me hanging out with you so—”

“So Queen f*cking Eva gets whatever she wants, right?” Bridget snapped. “No worries there. I don’t want to see you either, f*ckhead.”

“Bridge, I—”

He reached out to stop her as she turned, but she slapped his hand away. The loud crack of flesh on flesh reverberated through the emptying field but no one seemed to notice.

“Don’t f*cking touch me, Aidan,” she snarled, doing her best impression of her mom when she was angry. “I hope you and that miserable c*nt have a nice life. You deserve each other.”

He looked pitiful and upset, but she didn’t have an ounce of sympathy to waste on him. She let out a barely muffled growl of rage and spun around, heedless of her breasts as they slapped together, wobbled, and nearly fell out of her top. It only made her angrier. She wanted to retreat with some righteous indignation, but her tit* were trying to rob her of what remained of her dignity even now.

“Julian, come on!” She shouted, a little too harshly. “We’re leaving. Now!”

Her little brother looked up at her, terror plain on his face as he registered the anger in her face and voice.

“Bridget, don’t yell at your brother like that!” Catherine said, walking up with the cooler in hand and Julian’s bag slung over one shoulder. “What on earth has you so worked up?”

She glanced over to Aidan, who had already turned and walked away. He looked totally dejected and put the pieces together.

“Oh, no…” she groaned.

“Can we just go home?” Bridget nearly sobbed.

Her anger was already sliding headlong into despair. She had just written off her oldest friend. She only had a few friends to fall back on, but they were all busy with extracurriculars this time of year, and the bonds were hardly the same. No one else would really understand what she had just lost.

“Please?”

Catherine nodded.

“Come on, Julian,” she said, holding out a hand for him. “We need to get home.”

Chapter 5: The Meeting

Chapter Text

Aidan planted his feet and thrust his hips as fast and hard as he could. His co*ck slid easily in and out of the moaning, squealing slu*t bent over in front of him. Her face was practically flattened on one side as he held it against the wall. He wrapped her long blonde hair around his fingers to keep her under his control. The rest of it hung thick around her upper body, obscuring it like a curtain of gold. That suited him just fine. He was too focused on her ass to care about anything else. Her round, bulging cheeks bounced and shook with every thrust. They were firm and shapely, but had a generous layer of fat to pad them out to a phenomenal size and make them pillow soft. Between every clap of her cheeks against his pelvis, he got a flash of the shiny steel plug in her asshole.

He slapped the left side of her ass hard enough for the resulting smack to reverberate through the room. The girl let out a throaty moan and pushed back against him. She wiggled her hips as his co*ck sank deeply into her folds again as if to ask for another and Aidan obliged. She grunted and began pushing back in time with his thrusts, wordlessly begging him to f*ck her harder, and he settled into a slower, more powerful rhythm. With a hint of regret, he stopped watching her ass bounce and closed his eyes to revel in the smooth and supple grip of her thick, sopping wet puss*.

He had been up close and personal with it just moments earlier. Aside from her beautiful ass and stunning legs, his latest conquest sported one of the most perfect vulvas he had ever seen. The outer lips were plump enough to form a noticeable cameltoe in her leggings, and eating her out had been a treat. It was so perfect that he could have done it all day if his dick hadn’t been so hard that it almost hurt to go any longer without f*cking her. The second he entered her, he wasn’t sure he would ever be able to be with anyone else again.

“P-put it in my ass…” The blonde moaned.

“What? Right now?” Aidan said between grunts without slowing his rhythm. “I’m about two seconds from cumming, you know.”

“Hurry up then! I want it all inside of me!”

Aidan grunted and stopped himself. He was edging closer to his release and wanted to keep going until he finished, but he willed himself to do as she asked. She let out a high-pitched whine as he pulled out of her and wiggled her ass at him again. The plug glinted in the light as she did it, so he grabbed a bottle of lube with one hand and the end of the plug with the other, squeezing a liberal amount of the lube over her ass as he pulled it out of her. Once he had set it aside, he held his co*ck steady and pressed it right up to her asshole.

“Are you rea—?”

Before he could finish his question, she threw her hips back with enough force to throw him off balance for a moment. His co*ck slipped into her with no resistance whatsoever and he let out a groan of satisfaction that was drowned out by the blonde’s squeal of pleasure.

“You feel so good, baby,” she whined in a husky voice as desperate as it was arousing. “f*ck my ass!”

Aidan started thrusting again with long and powerful strokes. He could feel the blonde’s legs starting to shake a few minutes in, and they finally dropped to their knees to continue the fun on the floor. They both inched closer to what could be the holy grail of simultaneous climax and he did his best to hold out until she was done.

“I’m so close!” She whimpered. “Just a little harder!”

He gripped her hips and pulled her backwards with every thrust. Her whines and moans turned into sharp yelps and squeals and she finally came. Her thighs spread open, parting her thick lips as she convulsed and her cum oozed down her legs and onto the floor. Aidan grabbed her hair again and began to let loose. He roughly twirled a few locks of her hair around his fingers and it all came right off her head as fire-red curls tumbled free from their captivity.

“Fu—uck!” She screeched, heedless of her instant makeover. “Oh my god! Yes!”

Aidan moaned as he finished up and Bridget leaned forward to rest against her tit* as usual. Her perfect ass twitched every so often, hovering just a few inches above the floor as she sank into a squat and panted for breath. Her juices continued to run out of her, forming a thick pool on the floor.

“So it was good for you, too?” Aidan wheezed.

“I told you,” Bridget murmured through a broad and satisfied smile. “Kinky sex is always the best.”

Aidan laughed and coughed as he gripped a stitch in his side. Bridget had a point. He hadn’t gone quite that hard in a long time.

“I’ve gotta admit, that pump really takes your puss* to the next level.”

“I told you it was worth a try!” She said. “Now if they’d just make some big enough for my nipples I’d never not be cumming.”

“It’s probably for the best that they don’t, then,” Aidan laughed. “You wouldn’t even need me anymore.”

Bridget smiled at him over her shoulder and gestured for him to come closer. He crawled over to her and snuggled close, wrapping his arms around her and pressing into her back in a sort of crouched spooning position.

“God, we need a shower,” she chuckled a few minutes later. “Am I as sticky and gross as you?”

“You’re way worse,” Aidan mumbled into her back. “I’ll get it all rigged up in a few minutes. I just want to sit here for a while.”

“Just don’t fall asleep on me again.”

“Mmm.”

Bridget spent the next few weeks trying to get around the school with less help than usual. For most of their time at school Aidan had always been there to help carry her bag, but now he was gone. She still caught herself shaking with rage whenever she thought about how he had just dropped her like a hot brick after the game. It was hard to believe he didn’t value their friendship to the same degree she had, but his words and actions had left little doubt in her mind. It was obvious he was more interested in being popular than loyal to his oldest friend. He was hanging around with a more upper class crowd, and she was the same old loser.

Actually way worse, said a bitter voice in her head. You’re a way bigger target than ever before.

“Literally,” Bridget mumbled aloud to herself as she looked down at her boobs squashing against both of the neighboring lockers.

“You look like hell.”

Bridget heard a familiar contralto voice behind her and carefully turned around to see Jenna and Clara heading her way.

“Need a hand, Bridget?” Clara asked in her sweet, borderline girlish tone.

Bridget couldn’t help but notice her friend’s broad hips swaying as she walked. If it had been anyone else she would have thought it was intentional, but she knew Clara, and her seductive strut was completely natural. She envied her effortless sex appeal. Her smooth, dark thighs—exposed by her tight gym shorts—were just thick enough to rub together every now and then, and her huge, perky bubble butt drove guys crazy. Meanwhile Jenna was as tall and lean as ever. She wasn’t curvaceous by any means, but still had a lithe and sexy athletic thing going on. Bridget couldn’t even imagine having such a slim build anymore. She needed at least two feet of extra clearance just to turn around now.

“That would be great,” Bridget said, trying to lighten her gloomy expression for their benefit. “Thanks. I’m just getting so tired lugging everything around today.”

“No problem, girl,” Jenna said, holding her hand out to take Bridget’s bag. “But I can’t imagine how jacked your legs must be just from walking around these days.”

“Jenna!” Clara hissed through her teeth.

“Uh,” Jenna looked a bit pink as she grinned at Bridget. “I mean—”

“Nah, it’s cool,” Bridget said, waving one hand as if to shoo away their discomfort. “You’re right. My legs are looking pretty great these days.”

She grinned and tapped Clara on the butt.

“Wish I had a booty like this to go with them, though.”

Clara’s complexion darkened a bit as she blushed and slapped her hands to her rear end.

“I didn’t even say anything!” She whined, pointing at Jenna. “If you’ve gotta harass someone, go after her!”

Bridget laughed, mostly to disguise the hurt and shame she was feeling. Even her closest friends were finding it difficult to avoid bringing up her abnormality these days. She was getting so huge she wasn’t sure she would be able to walk for her graduation. Her parents were already discussing options with the school board to switch her over to a remote program, and if she grew any more over the next few months they would probably have to go that route. She’d outgrown her biggest bra just a few days ago and her mom had to order a new one just to give her something to wear at school while she retailored a few older models.

“Are you guys gonna be at homecoming this weekend?” Jenna asked, noticing Bridget’s face and changing the subject. “I wasn’t gonna go at first, but I was thinking about inviting this guy I met last week.”

“Nah,” Clara said, lacing her fingers behind her head and looking dreamily up at the ceiling. “But if my parents happen to ask, tell them I’m going.”

Bridget and Jenna looked at each other and huddled around Clara to question her further.

“What are you up to?” Bridget whispered.

“More like what her boyfriend’s up to…” Jenna grumbled.

Clara looked around and leaned in close.

“Matty and I are going to make a quick appearance and then we’re getting out of here,” she said, beaming. “Don’t ask me how, but he got us a room at some fancy hotel in Wallis Island. We’re gonna f*ck like rabbits all night!”

She was quivering with excitement as she finished telling them the plan. Jenna and Bridget exchanged looks again. For her part, Bridget could admit she was just a little jealous. Clara and Matty had been together for what felt like forever and their relationship was still going strong. She tried not to think about what could have been with Aidan and focused on the conversation at hand.

“What if you get caught?” Jenna asked.

“That’s a problem for Future Clara,” Clara giggled. “Have I told about that new tongue thing Matty—?”

“Okay!” Jenna interrupted, blushing. “I don’t need to hear about where he puts what.”

The girls went on giggling and teasing each other as they made their way down the hall towards their next class. Bridget usually had to wait for the crowd in the hall to thin out a bit before she went into a classroom. Wild as it was, her bust was getting wider than some of the doorways in the school and she had to be careful going in and out of them.

“I don’t think I’ll be there,” Bridget mumbled as they waited for rest of the students to clear the road. “I’m not much of a dancer these days and I don’t think I could avoid a run-in with the A-Holes.”

This time it was Jenna and Clara that exchanged a significant look. A-Holes was their codename for Aidan and Eva of late. It wasn’t all that clever, or subtle for that matter, but Bridget didn’t care. All they needed was plausible deniability. If someone tried to call them out for talking about the school’s newest power couple they could say they were talking about anyone.

“Didn’t you hear?” Jenna asked, her eyes wide.

“I thought everyone would have heard by now,” Clara said, just as shocked.

“What are you guys talking about?” Bridget asked, narrowing her eyes.

“I guess they were arguing after chemistry this morning,” Clara said. “That’s what everyone was saying, anyway. She was bitching at him for not spending enough time with her.”

Clara took the opportunity to jump in as Jenna paused for breath.

“Honestly, he may not be as stupid as we all thought. Maybe he doesn’t like her sh*tty attitude?”

Bridget wasn’t sure how to take the news. Even weeks later, she was still raging inside about the way Aidan had casually dropped the bomb that Eva didn’t like him hanging around her while they were dating. She was also happy that they were making each other miserable. Strangest of all, she was surprised to find a small glimmer of hope that the two of them might find a way to patch up their own damaged relationship and be friends again.

Maybe more than friends… whispered a dreamy and conniving voice in the back of her mind.

“We should probably get in there,” Clara said, pointing into the classroom.

Bridget nodded and began the process of squeezing herself through the door. Her face went red as her bra caught on the doorframe and was pulled down far enough for one of her nipples to escape its confines. It was big enough to form a noticeable bulge in her top and so sensitive that she felt a warm tingle spread through her body. It went hard in response to her sudden arousal, and Bridget felt the eyes of every one of her classmates shift in her direction. She thought she understood what a boy called up to solve a math problem with a raging hard-on must feel like. The scale of her breasts left her feeling exposed and unable to hide, but this was a whole new level.

“Nothing to see here,” Clara said, trying to assume a loud and authoritative tone that wasn’t suited to her gentle, girlish voice while Jenna attempted to hide Bridget’s disgrace with her body. “Mind your own business, people!”

Bridget tried to get herself under control as Jenna helped her pull her bra back up into place and stuff her tit back into the cup. Her scarlet face had darkened a few shades by the time she got back to her private table at the back of the classroom. Since no desk had fit her for a long time now, this was the best the school could do to accommodate her. Clara helped her get the right textbook out of her bag and Jenna took Bridget’s homework up to the teacher’s desk for her. Then they took their usual seats a few spots in front of Bridget and waited for class to begin. Bridget caught a few of her less disciplined classmates sneaking looks at her. She tried to ignore him, but Gary Fuches, the creepiest guy in school, was staring at her again. It looked like he liked what he saw a bit too much for her taste.

I’d say I wanna crawl under a rock and die, but I don’t think I can crawl anymore…

Two hours later, Bridget had finished all of her classes for the day. The time had helped her recover from some of her earlier embarrassment, but she didn’t want to hang around any longer than necessary. As a senior, she only needed a few more credits to graduate and it wasn’t as if she needed to stick around for sports anymore. Once lunchtime rolled around she was done for the day unless she opted to take a few electives to fill out her schedule.

Even if she had wanted to take part in it, Dr. Jackson had forbidden her from engaging in any strenuous physical activity, so she had signed up for a few of the less excruciating and potentially embarrassing options. Unfortunately, none of them had panned out. The art and pottery classes she’d tried had been low-impact enough, but she didn’t think she had all that much artistic ability and the amount of equipment necessary made them more of a pain than she thought it would be. She managed sketching well enough, but had to stand sideways to work at an easel when they did paintings and kept smudging her canvas with one breast or the other when she tried to do more detailed brushwork. It was much the same for the pottery class. She could mold the clay and make simpler things like coil pots without issue, but her bust took up way too much space out in front for her to work a pottery wheel.

Her only other option had been a shop class, but she didn’t think she wanted to risk getting too close to power tools and table saws if a pottery wheel made her uncomfortable. It had become pretty clear to her that most things were simply beyond her reach now; literally. She’d gone to the counselor for advice and decided it would be best if she dropped the classes and elected to leave school early from then on.

Since Clara and Jenna needed to run to lunch, she bade them goodbye and trudged to her locker to retrieve her phone. As she unlocked it to check in with her mom she saw she had four missed texts from someone who wasn’t in her contacts. She tapped the notification and immediately understood where they had come from.

Hello, Bridget! This is Dana Daniels. We met at the baseball game last month. Since I haven’t heard from you for a while I tracked your number down (sorry 😬). I hate to text you out of the blue like this, but there’s something I had to ask you: would you be interested in meeting that woman I told you about in the next week or two?

Heart already racing, Bridget read the next message. It was timestamped ten minutes after the first. She was too excited by the prospect of meeting the mystery woman who shared her condition to care about the invasion of privacy.

She travels a lot, you see, and says she’ll be in the area for a while. Let me know as soon as you can because I’ll have to coordinate an interview with the two of you as well. Sorry to play hardball like this, but you can’t just do things out of the kindness of your own heart in my line of work.

The next message was stamped an hour after that.

I just remembered you’re probably in school this morning, sorry if I’m bothering you. 😅 Just let me know what you think soon, alright? Thanks! 😁

The last one had been delivered a mere fifteen minutes ago.

Just heard from her again! Could you possibly do this Saturday at Eden’s Cafe around 5 PM? Just a twenty minute interview and then the two of you can talk all you want. I’ll even pick up your tab!

Bridget’s trembling thumbs fumbled over her keyboard as she tried to type out a reply. She erased a line of half-gibberish and tried again.

Hi, Dana, sorry I didn’t reply sooner. I was in class all morning, but I finish early these days. I’d love to meet her on Saturday if you could arrange it!

She pushed send and stared at her screen. Just as she’d hoped, three dots appeared beneath her text within seconds. A breathless moment passed, and Dana’s text arrived as Bridget began to head for the school entrance, still staring at her phone.

No problem, I get it! I just had a thought: if you’re already done with school for the day, what if you and I went ahead and met for a short interview? It could save some time on Saturday if I got a few questions out of the way now. I could meet you anytime today.

Bridget thought about what her mom had told her. She didn’t like Dana very much, but as Bridget understood it that was just because of what her mother had done. Dana wasn’t any more responsible for their mom’s feud, or rivalry, or whatever it had been than Bridget was. And she had been right at the game the other day. Bridget was an adult now, even if she didn’t feel like one. She needed to start making her own choices, and she wanted people to know her story. Even if only a few people around town heard about it there was a chance it would make some of them realize she was a normal person living with a rare condition. She made up her mind and typed up another reply to Dana.

I’m leaving the school now, could you come meet me at the park a few blocks away? I can’t drive.

Bridget walked down the front steps, gripping the handrail and taking her time to avoid a painful and embarrassing fall. Even so, she kept her eyes on her phone. Dana’s next text popped up by the time her feet hit the sidewalk that would lead her to the park in question.

Sure thing! I can be there in about fifteen minutes. Let’s meet at the benches by the playground.

Sounds good. See you soon.

Bridget let out a deep sigh of relief. She felt better now that she had made the decision to do the interview. The anxiety that had eaten away at her for the last two weeks was melting away. She strolled along the city streets for a few minutes, trying to ignore the sweat forming under her boobs and soaking into her bra, and came to the gates of the park before she knew it. A pair of college-aged guys jogged past her as she walked in, and both of them did a double-take when they saw her. She tried to ignore them, but the leers they had given her made her feel self-conscious. It almost overshadowed the fresh confidence she felt about the interview. A vicious part of her psyche told her there was nothing normal about her ridiculous body and everyone would just think she was even more of a freak when her story got out. She tried to ignore it and started looking around for anything to take her mind off of her own thoughts.

She walked by the fountain and saw a girl around her own age wearing a sort of goth outfit that always made her think of Kylie. She had a huge pair of headphones on and didn’t so much as look in Bridget’s direction as she balanced on the fountain’s edge with her arms out like a tightrope walker.

Kylie, she thought with a smile. I haven’t seen her for a long time now.

Just the thought of one of the first “adult” friends she ever made made her feel better again. Kylie had always encouraged her to own her curves, and she knew what she was talking about. She wasn’t quite at Bridget’s level, but Kylie was somewhat unusual herself. Almost six feet tall, with hips wider than her shoulders and an ass to match, pear-shaped didn’t even begin to describe her. It didn’t phase her, either. She went through her life one day at a time, and didn’t care what anyone thought about her. She had decided that she liked her body and that was enough. Every time Bridget went to her store because she outgrew another bra or top, Kylie encouraged her to love her boobs and be confident. The way she saw it, they were lucky to get to be so unique.

I always wanted to be like that, Bridget thought as she watched her chest bounce with every step she took. But being a little tall and having a big ass just isn’t the same as what I have to deal with.

She made her way over to the benches Dana mentioned in her text and saw that the reporter was already waiting for her. She stood up, flashing her gleaming smile and waving Bridget over.

“Hey, Bridget!” She called out. “It’s really good to see you again! You look great!”

“Um, thanks…”

Bridget wasn’t used to compliments on her appearance from anyone outside of her family or her small group of close friends. It felt good, but it was also embarrassing. She felt like she needed to reciprocate in some way.

“You, uh, you look good, too, Ms. Daniels.”

“Oh, you’re sweet!” She laughed. “But just call me Dana. I’m not all that much older than you are.”

“Um, sure,” Bridget mumbled.

Now that she was face to face with the woman, Bridget was feeling bashful and nervous. Dana must have sensed her discomfort, because she sat down on a bench and patted the spot beside her.

“It’s okay to be a little nervous when speaking to the press,” she said with a smile. “But I promise my questions won’t get too intimate or embarrassing. All I want is for my viewers to understand your condition a little better. We’ll do a proper video interview this weekend, but today I just want to get to know you a little more. It could help me formulate more questions for the big day.”

“Before that,” Bridget said, preparing herself to confront something of a touchy subject.

She wrapped one arm behind her back and gripped her opposite elbow, her substitute for crossing her arms, and took a deep breath.

“How did you get my number? I never give it out to anyone.”

“Oh, that,” Dana chuckled. “It’s really not hard to find someone’s number if you’re willing to throw a few bucks around. They aren’t all that secure, honestly.”

She watched Bridget’s expression slip from nervous to terrified and quickly changed tack.

“Oh, but don’t worry too much about that. You have to have a few details to track the right number. I only knew enough because I know your mom.”

Bridget nodded and looked at the part of the bench Dana had indicated a moment before. She blushed as she tried to explain her physical limitations where seats were concerned.

“I-I’m not gonna…”

She tried to speak, but her voice fizzled out before she could finish. Dana co*cked her head at her, still smiling.

“What was that, hun?”

Red-faced and mortified, Bridget gave it another try. This time, the words tumbled out in a rush.

“I’m not gonna fit on these benches,” she said. “Can we go somewhere else?”

She wanted to disguise the swell of her chest and hunched her shoulders. As usual, it was a fruitless endeavor. Nothing she did could hide the way her breasts hung all the way down to her hips, nor how they bulged out from her body like she was smuggling a pair of beach balls under her clothes. Dana’s eyes dropped to Bridget’s chest, then refocused on her face. She almost looked embarrassed. It was the first time Bridget had seen her looking flustered since she first met her.

“Oh, goodness, I’m sorry,” she cringed. “I didn’t even consider…that.”

“It’s alright,” Bridget said, feeling more at ease now that she had seen a chink in Dana’s professional facade. “I sort of hang off of most seats and it’s not very comfortable. It’s not exactly a common problem so most people don’t think about it.”

“What should we do then?”

“I usually find a nice shady spot and just sit on the ground.”

Dana’s face scrunched into a look of profound distaste for an instant, but she covered it with a soft chuckle.

“This outfit costs more than I care to admit,” she said with a shrug. “But I guess I can stand for a little while. Just go wherever you feel comfortable.”

Bridget pointed to a small group of evergreen bushes and trees just off the jogging path a few yards away.

“If we go to the other side of those trees no one should bother us. Does that work?”

“Sure.”

They took a short stroll toward the trees and Bridget felt more awkward than ever as they walked in silence. She looked around to try to find something, anything, to chat about. It was a nice day, but she didn’t want to talk about the weather, and Dana didn’t seem like the type that shared many of her interests. Halfway to their destination, Bridget noticed the goth girl balancing on the fountain was now sitting on the edge of it with her phone pointed directly at them. She looked both stunned and amused, and didn’t even bother to hide the fact that she was recording Bridget. Her lips moved as if she were talking to someone, but she was too far away to make out anything she said.

Dana saw the look on Bridget’s face and followed her line of sight to the girl. She looked back at Bridget and decided to ask one of her questions a little early.

“Do people have a tendency to disregard your privacy and personal space? I know this isn’t the same thing, but I interviewed a woman who underwent extensive plastic surgery once. She complained about people objectifying her like that. Any similarities?”

Bridget was trying to ignore the girl and focus on Dana, but her attention was split and she only half understood what she was asking.

“I guess so, sometimes,” she mumbled, facing the trees and not acknowledging the girl any further. “Mom says it’s best to ignore it. If anything ends up online or something, she said she can take care of it.”

“You deal with a lot of unwanted filming and photography, then?”

“Y-yeah.”

Bridget slipped her hands underneath her boobs and held them steady. Some part of her hoped that if they bounced and swung a little less the girl might lose interest. She was probably talking to a friend when she saw the big-titted freak walking around in the park. The video would most likely be circulated around her friend group. She looked like she was around late high school age, so Bridget guessed she would be a fresh spectacle for about a day and then they would—hopefully—forget all about her. She chose not to think about what any boys that saw the video might use it for.

They reached the trees and Bridget breathed a sigh of relief as she slipped behind them and out of sight. She turned to Dana, rubbing her eyes.

“Sorry about all this,” she muttered, more bashful than ever now. “I just hate being the center of attention.”

“I understand,” Dana said, crossing her arms and pulling out a small recording device. “Do you want to just dive right in?”

Bridget nodded and tried to prepare herself for the questions to come. She knew she was going to have to open up a bit to secure the meeting with the mystery woman that shared her condition. That didn’t mean she was going to like it. Her mother’s warnings to avoid Dana and the press at all costs murmured in the back of her mind, but she ignored them.

“Begin interview with Bridget Thomas,” Dana said in her more professional-sounding reporter voice. “First off, when did your condition become apparent?”

Put off by the sudden shift in Dana’s entire attitude, Bridget wasn’t sure what to say for a moment. Dana gave her a significant look, and she stuttered out an answer.

“Uh, it was, um, pretty early on, I guess.”

“How early, Ms. Thomas?”

“I-I mean, I was fifteen when I started outgrowing most of my clothes,” Bridget considered leaving the next part out, but decided to go for it. “But I guess even the beginning of my, uh, development was kind of extreme.”

“Can you go into more detail on that?” Dana asked, nodding and looking like she’d just eaten something both delicious and exotic.

“Y-yeah,” Bridget said, taking a deep breath. “I hit puberty when I was about twelve…I started off pretty big for a girl my age. I grew so fast it hurt and I was really scared. My mom tried to tell me it happened like that to some girls, but when I outgrew her bras a few weeks later we started getting worried.”

“That must have been very difficult for you,” Dana interjected, sounding genuine, but looking even more thrilled than ever. “Were you officially diagnosed around that time as well?”

“Yeah. We had an expert fly in and everything. He told me I had what they called ‘virginal breast hypertrophy.’ It’s a sort of runaway breast development that makes girls grow way too big from a young age. There aren’t a lot of documented cases, but they tell me I have a pretty extreme case of it.”

From there, Dana went on asking a few more questions about her life. She asked about her family, if and how her condition affected her school, and if there was anyone special in her life. The final question made Bridget’s face redden from a combination of irritation, frustration, and embarrassment.

“I’m not sure—”

Her phone started to ring before she could finish answering the question. She pulled it out of her pocket and gasped as she noticed the time and saw that her mom was calling her. It was over an hour after she usually called to be picked up.

“I have to take this,” Bridget said. “It’s my mom.”

“Go right ahead,” Dana said with a smile. “I think I have all I need for now anyway. I’ll be in touch.”

She turned her recorder off and slipped it into a pocket in the lining of her jacket. Before Bridget could even accept the call, she was already walking away. She came up with a cover story and answered the call.

“Sorry mom! I went to lunch with Jenna and Clara and forgot to tell you.”

“Hey, everyone!” Bridget smiled and waved up at a camera set up to shoot her from her left side. “Sorry we haven’t done this for a while. Little ol’ me couldn’t get things set up by myself and my friends have been busy.”

She sat on the floor with her knees bent and her feet and ankles out to each side. Most of her fans thought it made her look cute and vulnerable. She had learned a long time ago that embracing that vulnerability brought in more viewers, so she went with it. Playing up her helplessness and acting sweet and submissive turned more guys on than trying to act tough.

“God, I’ve had this itch next to my nipple for hours!” She giggled. “I wish you were here to help me out. Anyway, what do you want me to do today?”

She sent the poll to her viewers as soon as there were enough. She hoped they voted for some of the easier things, but she expected they’d want the usual masturbation scene. She pushed a button on her laptop that switched the camera angle to a view of her ass, then pulled her thong aside so everyone could see the gemstone butt plug shoved into it. A fan had sent it to her, so she thought it was only fair to let them see it in action.

“Mmm, this plug fits me so perfectly. Thank you, baby.”

Bridget still felt stupid talking to her audience like that, but she had to make money somehow. The honest truth was that she made better money flashing her tit* and masturbating on camera than she ever had working as a telemarketer. She felt less sh*tty about it, too.

She rubbed her ass with one hand and moaned as if it was the most pleasurable thing in the world.

“One more minute to vote, guys,” she told them. “Get your choices in!”

A notification flashed up on her laptop. Someone had just donated fifty bucks.

“Thank you, sweetie!” She sighed, still wiggling her hips and touching herself.

Whenever she got a tip like that, she liked to give the viewers a little something extra. It encouraged them to do it more often and it was only fair. Bridget switched camera angles again, this time to a camera hanging from a bracket on the warehouse rafters. The audience got a full view of her massive tit* as she pushed a button to engage a showerhead hanging above them. It unleashed a sudden torrent of water-based lube that ran down her mountainous breasts, leaving them shiny and slick. It washed into her cleavage, bathing every inch of her chest in slippery fluid. She let out a muffled squeal and switched the camera back to her face.

“It was a little cold,” she giggled, biting her lip and moaning again as she started rubbing as much of her breasts as she could reach. “Oh, god, I wish I had a big, hard co*ck between them right now! I haven't given anyone a titf*ck since high school.”

It was a fib, of course. She’d been way too big for that sort of thing by the time she was adventurous enough to try them. What they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.

A short chime went off and Bridget knew the results of the poll were in. She switched tabs to see what act she would be performing and gave the camera a devilish smile.

“You guys are so bad!” She laughed. “But this should be fun!”

They had bought a machine to keep Bridget satisfied during the times that Aidan had to go out of town, but there hadn’t been much reason to put it to use yet. For whatever reason, she hadn’t thought to use it on one of her streams until that very day and she was looking forward to it.

“Hang on, I need to get into position. This might take a minute, so bear with me!”

She stood up with her tit* still firmly planted on the floor and towering above her head. There wasn’t a chance in hell she would ever shift their weight unaided again, and there hadn’t been for a long time now. Still, she had found a few ways of getting around. They had placed her on a giant carousel, originally intended for turning heavy freight around, and she could spin herself 360-degrees if necessary. It gave her enough room to set up a few different options to entertain herself with so long as they arranged for it. She remembered that the f*ck machine was placed at three o’clock, so she grabbed a pendant switch hanging from the ceiling and pressed a button. With a groan of metal and a lurch, the carousel began to spin counter-clockwise, slowly positioning her in front of her prize. She switched the camera angle again, granting the same overhead view of her breasts as before, and watched her puny body appear on the feed preview as she spun. Even though she was attached to them, she sometimes forgot just how massive they had become.

“Alright, everybody,” she moaned as the carousel ground to a halt. “Just let me get myself ready for this monster.”

Bridget’s lower half was positioned just in front of the f*ck machine, which had a dark purple dild* attached to it that pointed threateningly at her crotch. It was almost a foot long and thicker than her wrist at its base. She wasn’t sure she would be able to take it all, but she was going to give it a try. She licked her fingers and started rubbing herself. Her natural lubricant was flowing within a few seconds, but she also smeared a bit of the excess running down her tit* around for good measure.

“Okay,” she said, flashing a nervous smile to the camera as she switched back to a view of her face. “I have a confession. I’ve barely used this thing, but I hear they can be intense. Don’t get mad if I cum too soon, alright?”

Her chat lit up with the typical words of encouragement and horny banter she had come to expect. These people just wanted to watch her get pounded by a motorized silicone shaft. She winked into the camera and switched the feed to a picture-in-picture view that put her facecam into a box in the upper right corner of the screen and filled the rest of it with a view of her thong-clad ass again.

“Do you guys like my panties, by the way?” She asked. “I thought they were cute.”

The chat exploded with comments like: “take them off” and “show us your puss*”, but a few others expressed their appreciation for her choice of lingerie. Bridget giggled and blushed as she saw a few commenters acknowledging her ass. It wasn’t her main draw, and she knew that, but it was a part of her body she actually worked on and maintained, so it was always nice to see people taking notice.

I want to bury my face in there.

Dammit, girl! The tit* are one of a kind, but people sleeping on that booty!

I’d eat that ass all day.

Sit on my face, Bridget!

“Anyway, let’s get this show on the road!” She announced. “I’m going for it!”

She reached between her thighs and grabbed the rubbery dild* with one hand. Scooting back on her knees, she braced herself with her other hand and slowly pushed back, guiding the tip of the sex toy into her puss*. She moaned as her lips parted to accept it and threw her head back for her viewers’ benefit.

“Oh, f*ck!’ She gasped. “That’s just what I needed!”

She pushed it deeper into herself and checked the feed to ensure that her buttpl*g was also in frame. She wanted her audience to be able to see everything filling her up. Once she had taken around half of the dild*’s length, she worked her hips back and forth a few times and decided she was ready. She let out a single, sharp breath, pressed a button, and felt the machine stir to life. It was almost painfully slow at first, but quickly built up speed once the crank got going. She dialed it back so it didn’t surprise her with a full-speed pounding right from the start. She wanted to ease herself into the experience and take her time. Her viewers would want a proper show, so she had to go for at least fifteen minutes.

“Oh, that’s good,” she moaned.

She ran her fingers through her hair and gathered it together as if she were going to tie it up. She held her head in her hands and thrust her chest out as she threw her head back again. Since she couldn’t lift them off the floor, her breasts didn’t move a bit, but her arched back and groans of passion created the sensual image she was going for all the same. The machine continued to penetrate her at a steady pace, loosening her up until she had taken nearly the full length. As she prepared herself to bottom out on the thing she smiled at the camera again. When she spoke, every other word was emphasized by the dild* pushing ever deeper inside of her

“I’ve never taken anything quite this big before,” she laughed. “But it feels great! I’m so full right now…”

A flood of messages poured into the chat as she sighed and dialed up the speed a bit. The dild* thrust in and out of her a few times a second.

Not that full.

You’ve got another hole!

Spitroast! Spitroast!

Ooh, yeah! I love watching her suck co*ck!

She always looks so cute with a dick in her mouth…

Bridget looked surprised for a moment, then laughed again. Now her voice was touched with a strange sort of vibrato as the uncaring machine f*cked her harder.

“You guys are incorrigible!” She whined. “But alright! Let it never be said that I don’t love my fans!”

She reached into the cavern of cleavage before her, where she had stored a few things for later use. After feeling around for a moment and trying to maintain focus as she was pounded from behind, her hand fell upon her prize. She pulled on it and revealed another dild*, this one of a more standard size.

“Ta-da! Bridget’s magic cleavage provides again!” She giggled and rubbed the tip of the dild* in a circle against one of her breasts. “You guys wanna see me deepthroat this thing?”

The chat unanimously replied in the affirmative.

“Here goes!”

She tilted her head back and opened her mouth wide with her tongue hanging out. As she slipped the rubbery shaft past her teeth, she swirled her tongue around it to lubricate it. She pushed the first few inches in and sucked it a few times to prepare it for her throat. She pulled it back and repeated the process, winking at her facecam again. She knew this was the finale for the evening, so she wanted to make it a show worth watching.

“Gghrrk!”

With a wet choking sound, Bridget forced the dild* into her throat. Her eyes watered a bit at first, but she quickly got into a groove. She had swallowed Aidan enough times to know she could handle it. She moaned through the silicone, stared straight up at her facecam, and worked her lips and tongue as if the fake co*ck in her mouth could appreciate it. Her throat bulged and she rubbed the dild* through her own flesh with her other hand. All the while, the machine behind her thrust away and her asshole reflexively squeezed the butt plug. She was seconds away from an intense org*sm and she knew it. She pulled the dild* from her throat.

“I’m gonna cum!” She whined. “I’m gonna cum!”

She shoved the dild* back into her mouth and started f*cking her own face with it. She alternated with the machine behind her, sucking the shaft down her throat as the larger dild* pulled out of her c*nt. Like an explosion in her brain, everything went white for a moment. Her muscles locked up, then spasmed out of control. She could feel her puss* gripping the dild* tight, but the unfeeling machine only kept up the same pace. Her ass flexed and relaxed around the plug. Everything felt so good, Bridget almost forgot she was recording by the time her body settled down again.

“There you have it, folks,” she mumbled as she sat up and looked into the camera. “If you want to make me cum hard enough to practically knock me out, just fill all my holes!”

That was hot.

Awesome!

Aw, it’s already over?

How much to f*ck you?

Machine in the ass next time!

“Gotta go, guys. See ya!”

The big day was inching closer. Dana had called a few days after their rendezvous in the park and given her the details for the next interview. She told her to wear something nice, do her makeup, and generally come camera ready. Of course Bridget didn’t do makeup, and she wasn’t sure what constituted “camera ready”, but she thought she had a plan.

Since she still didn’t want her family to find out she was giving an interview, Bridget cooked up a cover story that would solve most of her problems. She invited Clara over one evening and filled her in on the scheme in the relative privacy of her bedroom. She didn’t know what she would do if Clara said no. She had great fashion sense and knew her way around a makeup kit, but she was also the only one of Bridget’s friends that drove a car big enough for her to fit inside of.

“So,” Bridget said as Clara sat on her bed looking perplexed. “I really need your help. I was thinking I could stay with you tonight and we could do my hair and makeup and stuff in the morning. I really don’t know who else I could turn to right now.”

She stood there, looking at Clara with a pleading expression and gripping her wrists behind her back.

“I’d just drive myself if I could, but I can’t fit behind a wheel even if I did have my license.”

“Are you sure you want to do an interview though?” Clara asked, standing up and co*cking her hips like a model. “I get that you want to meet this lady. To be honest, I kind of do too, but this could go viral or something. And your mom is gonna find out once it goes on TV.”

“Yeah, but I’ll finally know who she is!” Bridget said, steeling herself to defend her decision to the last. “Once I have her name and we’ve met and everything, I’ll be able to talk to her anytime. I’ve thought it over and the pros outweigh the cons. So my mom will be pissy with me for a few days, who cares? I’ve never met another girl like me, Clara.”

Clara looked thoughtful and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Girl, you’re gonna get me into trouble,” she sighed.

An uncomfortable silence filled the air. Bridget felt as if she stood on pins and needles waiting for her friend’s answer. She wanted to say something to help influence Clara’s decision, but knew it would be better to stay silent and let her think. Finally, the silence was broken as Clara put her hands on her hips and tried to sound authoritative.

“I’ll help, but you’ve gotta do something for me.”

Bridget’s face lit up with what could only be described as pure joy.

“Anything!”

“I want you to go to homecoming with us.”

Her face fell again.

“Why?” She demanded. “Didn’t you say you were going to some hotel with Matty?”

Clara held up one finger and stood about an inch away from what she liked to call “Bridget’s Boob Barrier.” It was as close to in her face as anyone could get without pressing against her breasts or slipping between them.

“First up, because I think you need to get out of your house more and I met a really hot guy that might be a good fit for you.”

Clara held up a second digit.

“Second, we’re gonna make an appearance. Just like an hour, for our cover story and stuff. It’ll be fun!”

Bridget wasn’t convinced. She didn’t think showing up to homecoming would do anything more than plant a target on her back. She hadn’t shown up for school events like that since an athletic banquet in her sophom*ore year. Right before she got too big to play.

“What makes this guy such a good fit for me?” Bridget asked

The mention of a hot guy intrigued her, despite herself. Clara was a pretty good judge of character, and she had high standards.

“Check it out. His name’s Les.”

Clara held out her phone with the screen turned toward Bridget. There was a picture of Matty standing next to an equally tall and athletic boy with a handsome face and short brown hair. Bridget thought he looked cute, but she wasn’t sure what made him so perfect for her.

“And let’s just say that Matty got a glimpse at the kind of thing that turns him on.”

She held her hands out from her chest, mimicking big bouncing breasts.

“So he likes big boobs,” Bridget shrugged. “Most guys do.”

“You don’t get it,” Clara laughed. “They were talking about what turned them on. Matty told him all about my ass, of course, but Les got all defensive when it was his turn to spill. Matty said he finally got him to talk and he had all this stuff on his laptop. Pictures of girls with gigantic, unreasonably huge tit*. He loves huge boobs, Bridget.”

Bridget looked down at herself and blushed. She didn’t think guys liked them that big. She still wasn’t sure she wanted to go to homecoming with someone she didn’t know, but a vindictive part of her thought it would be pretty great to show up on the arm of some hot dude from another school. If Aidan and Eva were on the rocks, it might even make them both more miserable.

“Alright,” she said. “Deal.”

Clara beamed at her and clapped her hands as she bounced up and down a few times.

“But he isn’t some kind of creep, right? You’ve met this guy before?” Bridget asked.

Clara danced in place, wiggling her hips and smirking at her in victory.

“I’ve talked to him a few times. He seems nice, and he’s definitely got confidence to spare. I think you’ll have a good evening with him. Maybe you should finally let someone pop your cherry.”

Bridget’s face went red again and she spun to face the wall. It was already embarrassing enough to be a virgin at her age without Clara bringing it up. Just because she had already had more sex than all of their classmates combined didn’t mean everyone else was so fortunate. She was the only person Bridget knew that was lucky enough to find their perfect match in high school.

“Clara!”

“What? We’re teenagers! We’re supposed to be getting out there and making questionable decisions.”

“It’s not the same for me, and you know it.”

“Oh, please,” Clara rolled her eyes and adopted a sardonic tone of voice. “You’ve had guys drooling over you for as long as I’ve known you. Your biggest problem is your total lack of self esteem, not your tit*.”

Bridget’s face twisted into a look of discomfort. As they always did when someone else brought them up, her hands shot up to her breasts and sank into them as she wished she could hide them somehow. It was a reflex. A bad habit that brought more attention to them, rather than the other way around. She felt more self-conscious about her chest than she had in a long time around one of her trusted friends. She found herself wondering why Clara would bring up something she knew was all but taboo in their friend group.

Because we aren’t in a group, said a dry, logical voice in her head. No Jenna to reign her in on your behalf. Clara’s more of a straight shooter. Stop being so sensitive.

Clara had always been more flippant about discussing what her friends considered delicate matters. Jenna thought she was tactless, and Bridget was usually inclined to agree with her, but this felt more like Clara was calling her out. Didn’t real friends tell each other the truth? Her voice was tiny as she broke the brief and awkward silence.

“Do you really think so?”

“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t,” Clara said. “You could be way more popular than you realize. I think you were starting to get there on your own by the time we won that big game and went to nationals, but then—”

Clara looked less comfortable about going any further, but Bridget finished for her.

“But then I started growing again.”

Clara moved closer to give Bridget a side hug. She reached up and gently tugged at a lock of Bridget’s auburn hair.

“You’re also way prettier than you give yourself credit for. Not that looks are everything, and all that, but your hair is gorgeous and you have such smooth skin. With a little more regular maintenance and styling you’d be knocking them dead.”

Bridget sniffed, on the verge of tears again. She never knew Clara thought of her like that. She had always been too preoccupied with steering all conversation away from her own appearance. In retrospect that had robbed her of the kind of encouragement that may have made her see herself in a different light.

“I’ve been such a bitch,” she groaned.

“What?”

Clara broke off the embrace, but held Bridget at arm’s length and looked into her face, confused.

“I always pushed back whenever you tried to talk about my looks. Or me in general, for that matter. I think I see how wrong and unfair that was now.”

“It’s not like I didn’t get it,” Clara mumbled, breaking eye contact and pretending to look at something over Bridget’s shoulder. “But, well, I always thought you were kind of crazy for acting like there wasn’t a line of guys that want to bone you wrapped around the block.”

“Oh, stop it,” Bridget moaned, chuckling through a fresh wave of tears. “You’re exaggerating. It can’t be more than two or three.”

“Bridget, you think of guys like you think of guys, but that’s not really how they are.”

Now it was the redhead’s turn to look confused.

“I don’t know what that means.”

“You have this idea in your head of men as sweet and sort of dumb because they’ve pretty much always been nice to you, right? Always kind of awkward around you? Yeah, that’s not how it is for most girls. Why do you think that is?”

Bridget blinked and a leftover tear rolled down her cheek. Clara reached out and wiped it away with one thumb.

“They like you, kid. All of them. Guys like T and A, but they like really big T and A even more, and you’ve got record-breaking titt*es, girl. How do you expect them to act around you? Even Aidan started getting all weird around you once the hormones started flowing, right?”

A dark and underutilized part of Bridget’s brain creaked into action like a set of rusty gears. Her entire view of the world was starting to change as Clara pointed out what should have been obvious all along. It was a true epiphany. Her hand shot to her mouth and her eyes widened as everything Clara was telling her suddenly made sense.

“Oh my god…”

“And a lot of the girls that picked on you were jealous. They wanted to make you ashamed of your body. I’m not trying to say it’s easy to live with, I know you struggle with it sometimes, but if you’d stop being so hard on yourself you might find some small part of it you can have fun with. I mean, you can probably do things in bed literally no other woman alive could do.”

Bridget blushed at the thought of how she might put her breasts to use. Inexperienced as she was, it wasn’t like she was a total innocent. She wasn’t sure what sort of maneuvers she could try, but her mind conjured up a few interesting options based on some of the p*rn she had seen.

“And,” Clara continued. “I’ll bet you anything little Miss Rich Bitch will go off to college and get huge fake tit* after graduation. She can’t stand how much attention you draw away from her. I think she’s got some kind of complex about it.”

Bridget considered the facts where that was concerned. Eva had always been there to make her feel bad about herself. She tried to make her look stupid, ridiculous, and unattractive at every opportunity. She’d even manufactured a few opportunities earlier on. Was envy really the driving force there?

“I don’t know about that,” Bridget laughed. “But I definitely think it’s true that she didn’t like someone who could take the attention off of her. It wouldn’t matter to her if it was because they were cute or just some sort of mutant.”

“Stop talking about yourself like that!” Clara burst out. “God, it drives me crazy! You are not a monster! You’re not a freak! You just have…really, really…really big boobs.”

She put her hands on her hips and stared at Bridget for a few seconds.

“Sorry,” Bridget muttered. “Habit.”

“And one we’re gonna start breaking, right?”

Bridget nodded, looking humble and contrite, but unable to keep her lips from curling upwards.

“Alright, we’re doing this. All of it. I’m gonna give you the makeover to end all makeovers, we’ll do that interview tomorrow, and then you’re going to go to homecoming with Matty’s friend and start owning your looks. Sound like a plan?”

Bridget remained silent, but nodded. She wasn’t sure she could live up to that last part, but she would try. Clara snapped her fingers and looked as if she had just remembered something.

“One last thing,” she said, turning around. “Do these shorts make my butt look big?”

Bridget stared at her friend’s big round ass for a moment as she bent over and looked back at her over her shoulder with a shameless grin. In that position, the tiny shorts she was wearing left her cheeks mostly exposed. Bridget wasn’t sure what she wanted to hear, but assumed she was teasing her.

“Um, yeah?”

Clara’s mischievous grin twisted into a wicked smile as she stood upright and spun around again.

“Perfect.”

Clara and Bridget woke bright and early the next morning and they spent the first few hours on hair alone. Bridget’s fiery curls were tamed with a judicious application of mousse and an intricate updo which featured at least three dozen hair pins and a few small braids. When they finally moved on to makeup, Clara accentuated her large brown eyes with winged eyeliner and a light touch of mascara. Then they softened her prominent freckles with a fine layer of foundation to smooth out her complexion so Clara could get into the more complicated process of contouring. Even her lips hadn’t escaped treatment. Clara chose to paint them a soft pink that was so close to their natural color Bridget didn’t know why they bothered until she saw how much softer and more vibrant they looked whenever she saw herself in the mirror. When it was all said and done, her skin looked so smooth and even it was almost eerie. She was so used to her natural look she wasn’t sure how she felt about it at first, but had to admit that Clara was an artist once she had some time to adjust.

She was so amazed by her transformation she couldn’t stop looking at her reflection in the wing mirror during the short ride to the cafe that afternoon. She had all the same features, but Clara’s skill had brought her best ones forward and made them more noticeable. As much as she hated to admit it, she was beginning to think she would have to learn a little more about cosmetics. She always thought taking part in a makeover would be a torturous experience, but she had fun picking out her look with Clara the night before. Even the hours spent untangling and styling her hair were fun, if a bit painful. She didn’t want to go through it every day, but she finally understood why other girls enjoyed it

“So do you want me to just hang around while you do the interview?” Clara asked once they heard their destination.

“Only if you want to, I guess,” Bridget replied. “After that’s done I may talk with the lady for a while. You’re free to join us if you want.”

Clara looked intrigued and bobbed her head from side to side as she considered it.

“I just might do that. It could be interesting to meet another girl with your condition.”

“I just hope the interview doesn’t take too long,” Bridget said, closing her eyes and performing a distracting stretch that caught Clara’s eye.

She pushed her chest out and raised her arms over her head, bending at her elbows and gripping her upper arms in each hand. Even in her most modest top, Bridget’s immense bosom could not be denied. It demanded attention as it rose from her lap to hang in a dazzling, gravity-defying display. Clara took in an eyeful and then realized she was ignoring the road. She snapped her head forward and swerved just in time to miss a sign post.

“Whoa!” Bridget cried, her eyes snapping open in shock.

“Sorry!” Clara giggled, shaking her head. “I don’t know how they do it.”

“How who does what?”

“How guys can keep their hands off of you. I’m a girl, maybe ever so slightly bi, but a girl, and even I have trouble taking my eyes off those tit* of yours.”

Bridget blushed. She wanted to cross her arms over her chest and slump down in her seat, but she resisted the urge.

“Pass!” Clara announced with a wide grin.

“Huh?”

“You didn’t try to cover up when I talked about your boobs!”

Bridget blushed deeper, but smiled.

“Yeah, but I wanted to,” she muttered.

“That’s alright. You’ve taken your first step towards being more confident and owning your body.”

“Was it even remotely this weird for you?” Bridget asked. “Getting all curvy and hot?”

This time it was Clara’s turn to blush. Her deep ebony skin grew flushed and darkened a shade or two further.

“You think I’m hot?” She practically squeaked.

“Um, yeah?” Bridget laughed. “Easily top three in the school in my book.”

Clara’s chest swelled with pride and she grinned again. She kept her eyes on the road, but looked as if she were thinking something over. After a brief silence, she answered Bridget’s question.

“I felt pretty uncomfortable at first, yeah. Even when I was still short and flat my butt was already getting bigger. Puberty just made it extra huge. Some kids were calling me stuff like ‘Thunder Thighs’, ‘Honey Buns’, and stupid sh*t like that. My proportions evened out once I got a little taller, but I didn’t get real boobs at all for years. I guess you didn’t really know me back then. I tried to pretend like none of that stuff got to me, but I think I met Matty just in time. He always made me feel pretty and I started getting my confidence back.”

Bridget nodded. It made sense. Clara and Matty had met early on in freshman year and spent most of their free time together ever since. Having that support had to be a big part of what made Clara so confident. Although, in her opinion, Clara was underselling her natural charm and bubbly disposition.

“So you went through some of the same things I did, I guess.”

“Probably not as wild, but I had a target on my back for a couple years. But you had real grown-ass woman boobs when you were like thirteen, right?”

“Twelve,” Bridget sighed, looking out the window again.

Clara’s eyes widened and she let out a long puff of air that fizzled out into a soft whistling noise.

“And growing ever since,” she muttered. “Yeah, that must have been hard enough. But that’s why you need to own it now!”

Bridget faced her with a weak smile. She wrapped her arms around her middle, between her stomach and breasts, cradled and lifted them a bit.

“That’s what I want to try to do. This interview may be my chance to show the world there’s a person attached to these.”

Clara gasped and almost jerked the car off the road as she seemed to come to some great realization.

“Have you thought about how famous this could make you? What if you go viral or something?”

“The thought crossed my mind…”

“But, I mean, have you really thought about it?”

Bridget squinted at her friend in confusion. She wasn’t sure what she was getting at.

“There are, like, websites devoted to girls like you, but they usually aren’t real. What if you have a bunch of perverts trying to track you down or something?”

Bridget’s face relaxed for an instant; then it fell into a pronounced grimace of resignation.

“Uh, yeah,” she mumbled. “I wondered about that, but I have to do the interview to meet that woman. Dana made me promise, and she knows enough about me to make my life hell if I back out at the last second.”

Clara cut her eyes over to her friend, then returned her gaze to the road.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, is all.”

Bridget kept her mouth shut. She wanted to appear confident in her choice, but her insides felt as if they were tied in knots.

Me too, she thought. Otherwise my mom’s gonna kill me and I’ll probably get stalked by about a million creepers all over the country.

Bridget was standing just outside the cafe. Clara had let her out at the curb and driven around the block to find a place to park so she was alone with only her anxiety and apprehension to keep her company. She saw the Channel 5 van parked a few yards away with a pair of thick cables running out of the back, over the sidewalk, and through the cafe doors. Now that she was there, she felt too nervous to continue under her own power. Fortunately, or perhaps not, Dana came outside a moment later and saw her frozen in place.

“Bridget!” She cried, walking towards her with her arms spread wide and a gleaming smile on her face. “I’m so glad to see you made it! You look absolutely wonderful!”

Bridget’s cheeks went pink and she looked down towards her chest, but Dana was not to be denied. She slipped to Bridget’s left and gave her a firm side hug, gently herding her towards the door at the same time.

“Just head right in,” she said, stepping away and moving back for the news van. “I just heard from Vickie. She’ll be here in a few minutes.”

Bridget finally had a name and couldn’t resist asking the question. Her words spilled out so fast that Dana didn’t seem to realize what she said for a few seconds.

“Is that the one I’m here to meet?”

“Sure is,” Dana said, still moving for the van. “Mrs. Victoria Loar. She said she’s still very excited to meet you.”

Bridget’s heart began to race even harder. She felt like she would explode if she didn’t calm down, so she turned to go inside and find a seat. Between the terror of what might come after the interview, the excitement of meeting another person like herself, and the nervous apprehension of being seen by so many strangers all over town, she wasn’t sure how she would survive the evening. She knew she had to calm down and try to be confident. Clara had coached her all night on how to stand and speak to look more poised than she felt.

She walked through the doors, careful not to trip on the cables, and found a pair of men setting up lights, cameras on tripods, and microphones around a booth. A few members of the cafe staff were looking on at the spectacle, plainly irritated, and Bridget felt what it was like to walk into a room and go entirely unnoticed for the first time in years. The two men setting up the cameras bickered with each other about the particulars of various angles and lighting configurations, ignoring Bridget. Only one of the cafe’s waitresses turned to look at her, and her eyes gave a familiar bulge as they took in Bridget’s incredible proportions.

“Welcome to Eden’s!” She said, recovering her composure with a soft shake of her head and a few blinks of her eyes. “Are you here for the news report, ma’am?”

“Oh, um, yes.”

Bridget’s brain was taking a few seconds to process everything as she tried to reply. She forced herself to keep her arms at her sides and co*ck her hips in the lazy, self-assured stance of a supermodel. Just like Clara had told her, Sse couldn’t try to cover up or make herself smaller. She had to be proud of her body when people stared or acted shocked.

“Those guys have been at it all morning,” the waitress confided, speaking behind her hand. “So you may want to take a seat somewhere else for now. I don’t know if they want anyone going near their precious lights yet. Can I get you anything?”

“A coffee, please,” Bridget said. “With a few creamers on the side.”

“Sure thing.”

The waitress snuck another glance at her chest before bustling off to the kitchen. Bridget fought harder against her usual urges to shrink away, keeping her back as straight as possible while she walked to a nearby booth. One of the cameramen noticed her then, and she was faced with her biggest test yet as he pointed her out to his coworker. When other women looked at her it was usually with a certain degree of pity, or even envy, mixed with a healthy dose of incredulity. Men were a different story. When they caught sight of her there was always at least an instant where she could catch a predatory glint in their eyes. She had always seen it as a bad thing before, but Clara had told her all about basking in male desire. It sounded more fun than being scared of them, so she strutted over to a free booth and squeezed into it.

It was a tight fit. She had to rest her breasts on top of the table, and they took up most of the space in front of her. One of the cameramen recovered before the other one and walked over to her. He adopted a strained sort of smile that Bridget expected was supposed to look friendly, but came off as unhinged.

“Hi there,” he said, keeping his eyes on her face with obvious effort. “Are you Ms. Thomas? Dana said to expect you soon.”

“Yes.”

She replied simply, then turned her attention to the approaching waitress carrying her coffee. According to Clara, she had to act like she was in control of the conversation. She didn’t know if she liked behaving like some sort of spoiled movie starlet, though. It felt condescending and rude.

“Well, we’re almost finished setting up. If you wanted to have a seat at the booth we could get your angles dialed in while we wait for Mrs. Loar.”

Bridget gave a theatrical sigh and immediately felt guilty about it. She didn’t feel confident so much as bitchy, which made her wonder if she was doing any of it right. When Clara had coached her through things she had seemed like her usual charming self. She changed tack and held out one hand, trying to keep it from trembling.

“Help me up?” She asked with a smile. “I’m sort of wedged in here.”

The cameraman’s face went slack and Bridget suddenly felt in complete control of the situation. This was what worked for her. Playing the polite and defenseless shy girl was her defense. Growing up, the boys always got flustered when she asked for help, but she had never connected the dots before because she hadn’t been in the right frame of mind. She could summon up certain male instincts, which put them off balance when blended with their lust for her. Even Aidan had always acted a little funny when she asked him to help her out of compromising positions. She wasn’t sure how she could have missed it all these years.

Finally, the camera guy broke out of his stupor and took her hand. Bridget pulled against him, sliding her butt over the bench until she could twist around and pick her boobs up from the table as she straightened her legs and stood upright. The weight of her chest reasserted itself on her back and shoulders with a groaning creak of bra straps and she swung them around as she turned to face the dining room again.

“Thank you,” she said, looking at the booth surrounded by lights and cameras. “But, um, will we both fit in there?”

The other cameraman finally spoke up, pointing at the booth and glaring at his counterpart.

“See, Jim?” He growled. “I told you! The whole reason for the interview is because these ladies are big! We need more space! Wider angles!”

Bridget chose not to react to the tactless way the man referred to her size right to her face. She maintained her calm demeanor, but a pink flush burned underneath her freckles.

“Would you please watch your mouth, Kyle?” Dana said as she crossed the cafe floor in a few strides. “Especially when Mrs. Loar gets here.”

Kyle looked as if he wanted to argue, but settled for grumbling to himself as he pretended to adjust a camera. Dana ignored him and gestured to the booth, smiling at Bridget.

“I think you’ll both fit if that’s what you’re worried about. Vickie isn’t quite as big as she used to be.”

“So she was able to do something about them?” Bridget burst out, unable to disguise the desperation in her question. “She isn’t as big as me?”

Dana shook her head.

“As far as I know, she was never quite your size. She can give you all the details once we finish the interview, though.”

Just then, Clara walked in with a stunned look on her face. She glanced around the cafe, caught sight of Bridget and rushed over to her before any of the waitresses could catch her.

“That side of the cafe is closed, ma’am!” The same waitress that had greeted Bridget called out to Clara.

Dana spun around to see what all the commotion was about as Bridget shouted to the waitress.

“It’s alright! She’s my ride!”

The waitress put her hands on her hips and looked flustered, but threw them up in the air as she walked back towards the kitchen.

“And who’s this?” Dana asked, arching one eyebrow at Bridget. “A friend of yours?”

“Yeah,” Bridget said, nodding as she closed the gap with Clara. “What happened, Clara? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

“I think I just saw the mystery woman,” Clara murmured into her ear. “Even with you as a friend I wasn’t quite ready for how huge she is.”

Bridget drew back, confused, tilting her head towards Dana.

“She just told me she wasn’t as big as I am.”

Clara shook her head.

“I mean, yeah, she’s not at your level. But I’ve known you for so long that I don’t really think about it anymore. This was a stranger who was still big.”

Clara held her arms out from her chest and mimed a pair of huge wobbling breasts.

“So she’s on her way inside, I guess?”

No sooner had the words left Bridget’s mouth than the doors creaked open once again. A moment later, a pair of perfectly round and well-supported breasts bounced into the doorway, followed by a very pretty woman with long, straight, dark hair and a rich, earthy complexion. Her boobs were nearly as big as Bridget’s had been the year before; each one twice the size of her head and nestled into a well-padded bra that lifted them until their peaks hovered near the level of her chin. She wore a wine red dress with a plunging neckline, an eye-catching pendant which hung just above her cleavage from a silver chain, and designer heels that probably cost more than the average mortgage payment. The heels clicked on the tiled floor and her boobs bounced and rippled with every step as she approached them.

“Oh, you must be Bridget!” She said in a sweet and musical voice. “I’m Victoria. Dana’s told me everything about you! Well, apart from where I could meet you, that is.”

She gave Dana a reproachful look and then turned back to Bridget and launched into a rapid series of questions. Bridget suddenly felt like she was in a doctor’s office.

“How have you been? Any aches or pains? Trouble sleeping? Anxiety? Is your cycle regular or all over the place?”

Bridget stared into the woman’s face, unable to process all of her questions, then let her gaze fall to her chest. She couldn’t believe she would choose to emphasize her tit* like that. At her size, custom bras were the only way to go, which meant she must have requested a push-up design and paid extra for it.

Why would she want them to look any bigger?

Victoria caught the look of confusion on Bridget’s face, looked down at her own chest, and reestablished eye contact with the younger woman.

“Wondering why I show off the goods?” She asked with a mysterious grin. “It’s alright, I’ll tell you. I used to do everything I could to try to disguise my breasts. It was impossible, of course, but I tried anyway. One day, when I was just a little older than you maybe, I realized that if I couldn’t hide them I should let them work for me instead, so I started dressing a little more boldly.”

Bridget finally found her voice again.

“And that worked for you?”

“Maybe not at first,” Victoria chuckled. “Some people told me I looked ridiculous and I got a lot of unwanted stares and cat calls and things like that. But I felt good, and I started to like how I looked.”

“Then why—”

Bridget started another question, but Dana slipped between them, grazing Victoria’s breasts in the process and making them wobble seductively. Jim the Cameraman’s eyes popped as he caught sight of them, and even Bridget had to admit it was a hypnotic display.

“I really hate to interrupt,” Dana said without a trace of remorse on her face. “But we’re costing the cafe a lot of business we’re obligated to make up to them while we stand here chatting. I need to get the interview underway, Vickie.”

Victoria rolled her eyes once Dana stepped away to order the cameramen to get ready. She casually placed her hands beneath her breasts to stabilize them as if it were a frequent occurrence and resituated them into her bra with a few sharp movements. Then she leaned in close to Bridget to mutter something into her ear.

“We’ll talk more once Newsroom Barbie gets her precious story, okay?”

Bridget stifled a snort of laughter and nodded. She was already sure she was going to like this lady.

“If you’d please take a seat on either side of the table,” Dana said, pointing towards the booth. “We’re going to get a few establishing shots and then I’ll walk this way to begin the interview. Just sit tight for a few minutes.”

“Oh, we’ll definitely be tight,” Victoria said with a sneer in the direction of the cramped booth.

Bridget obediently squeezed herself into the left bench where she was forced to rest her boobs on top of the table again. They spread out over an embarrassing amount of its surface, but Victoria sidled into the opposite bench and had just enough room to rest her own on top of it as well.

“Good thing I had that reduction,” she said with a grin. “Or we would have been all over each other.”

Bridget gave a nervous laugh and blushed as her eyes darted around the room. She wasn’t sure what to do with herself. Dana said to simply wait, but she had never felt so awkward. She could feel Victoria’s boobs bumping into hers as she wiggled in her seat to try to get more comfortable.

“Oh, sorry,” she said, turning from pink to crimson. “I have trouble keeping track of myself sometimes.”

“I understand completely. No need to apologize. Just get comfortable and I can move around you if I need to.”

Bridget settled in and saw Dana approaching the booth out of the corner of her eye. She turned to watch as the reporter stood straight-backed and faced one of the cameras. She brushed her hair to one side of her face and greeted an invisible audience. It sounded strange, as if she was starting in the middle of a report, but Bridget had to remind herself it would be edited into a feature on the news later. The introduction would be entirely separate from what they were filming that day.

“We’ve come to Eden’s Cafe for an exclusive interview with two women, both of whom live with very acute cases of gigantomastia, a form of breast hypertrophy, which causes the breasts to grow much larger than usual. Those who live with this condition are often forced to make many accommodations in life. Very few retailers carry bra sizes large enough, and they are often forced to order custom products from specialists.”

As she spoke she walked smoothly to one side and the camera swung to put Bridget and Victoria properly into frame behind her.

“Bridget Thomas is a local high school senior who has struggled with gigantomastia for nearly half of her life…”

Well, that’s not quite true, Bridget thought. I guess she’s exaggerating for effect.

“And Victoria Loar is a self-help writer and motivational speaker who works to bring confidence to women of every age, shape, and size.”

Dana stepped away from the table and moved for a chair that Kyle the Cameraman put into place for her between two of the cameras pointed at the table. Bridget assumed that another camera must have been set up to capture Dana as well, because she sat down and crossed her legs as she pulled out a notepad and pen.

“First off, thank you both for being here today,” she said.

“My pleasure,” Victoria said, beaming towards the cameras with a fearless and experienced energy. “Always happy to speak with the press.”

Dana and Victoria both looked expectantly at Bridget.

“Oh, um, yeah,” she stammered, mentally berating herself for the rough start. “Thank you for having me.”

Victoria gave her an encouraging smile while Dana simply ignored the flubbed introduction and launched into her first question.

“How long have you both lived with your condition? Mrs. Loar first, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh, I’d say almost twenty years,” Victoria said as she leaned back into her seat and made a show of thinking it over. “Although I was fortunate enough to undergo a successful reduction around five years ago.”

Dana scratched a note on her pad and looked towards Bridget.

“And you, Ms. Thomas?”

This time she was more prepared. She took a deep breath and kept her voice clear and even.

“It all started when I was around twelve or thirteen, so about five years, give or take a few months.”

“And when did you first realize things were different for you?”

“Almost immediately…”

Bridget’s voice caught in her throat. She felt a surge of unexpected emotion as she was forced to relive the events of her traumatic entry into puberty. Determined to stay strong on camera, she cleared her throat and continued.

“I woke up one morning and realized I had grown a lot overnight. My skin was all red and tender because it happened so fast and my mom took me straight to the doctor.”

“That must have been difficult,” Dana said, nodding and jotting down another note. “What about your experience, Mrs. Loar?”

“I developed normally at first,” Victoria said. “But I grew faster than most of my classmates. By the time I was thirteen I was more than twice the size of some of the grown women I knew. I suppose it was around then that I first suspected I was different, but I wasn’t formally diagnosed until I was around fifteen or so.”

“And what happened once you were diagnosed? Were you relieved to have an answer or worried about the future?”

Victoria stroked her chin, rubbing the knuckle of her index finger just beneath her lower lip.

“I would say I was…ambivalent. On one hand I had a medical condition I could blame for the mounting difficulties in my life. On the other, there was no treatment for that condition. At least nothing a teenage girl wanted to think about doing to herself just to fit in.”

Bridget listened with rapt attention whenever Victoria spoke. She felt like someone was putting her own thoughts into words. Even if Victoria wasn’t as big as she was, she had the same sorts of experiences growing up. She could relate in a way no one else Bridget had ever met could do. Victoria was articulate and vibrant where she was awkward and shy. She believed she had finally found a role model.

“Ms. Thomas?”

Bridget realized she had stopped paying attention. She had no idea what they were talking about and Dana was staring at her expectantly.

“I-I’m sorry,” she said. “What was the question?”

Dana turned and gave some sort of signal to the cameramen then turned back around in her seat. She pasted the big professional smile back onto her face and went on like nothing had happened.

“Things are very different now with smart phones all over every school and social media keeping people in touch no matter where they go. Has your condition caused many difficulties in your social life, Ms. Thomas? Have you ever fallen victim to cyber bullying?”

Bridget thought back to one of the worst and earliest memories she had post-puberty. The first day back at school in eighth grade, when Eva and her cronies had goaded her until she reached a breaking point and her temper had exploded. Her outburst had been a popular topic of conversation for weeks after that. It only died down because they switched to talking about how huge her boobs were getting.

“There was a lot of talk early on,” Bridget said, keeping her voice flat and even. “Nicknames, gossip and rumors, that kind of thing. My parents supported me and made sure the school helped keep the bullies in line. Especially my mom. I still got a few nasty notes in my desks and lockers here and there, and that was upsetting at the time, but I guess it wasn’t too bad in hindsight. I kept my grades up and even managed to play sports for a few years…”

Bridget looked sadly down at her breasts, which had settled into a pair of fleshy mountains on the table before her.

“...until I hit another growth spurt.”

“So you hit a physically debilitating level of growth by high school?” Dana asked as soon as she finished talking.

Bridget wasn’t sure she liked the ravenous tone in Dana’s voice. She was starting to pick up on the way her questions pushed and prodded into subjects she didn’t want to talk about. Especially not on TV.

“I was advised to stop playing volleyball in sophom*ore year,” she said, trying to keep the irritation out of her response. “I might have been able to continue, but at the time it felt hopeless.”

Dana didn’t seem to get the juicy morsel she hoped for, because her eyes slid over to Victoria halfway through Bridget’s answer.

“That must have been difficult. Mrs. Loar, did you experience something like what Ms. Thomas has described?”

“Oh, yes,” Victoria chuckled. “I was bouncing out of my gym clothes and was pulled out for being ‘a distraction.’ That was fairly typical, in my mind. Why tell the boys in the class to show a little self-control when you can just shuffle Vickie Loar out of physical education and off to home economics with the other girls.”

Dana latched onto this line of reasoning and scratched down a note on her pad.

“While we’re on that subject; you’ve written extensively about the alleged sexism at play in your childhood and our society at large. Would you say combatting that kind of attitude is the driving force behind the work you do today?”

“A big part of it, sure,” Victoria said, grinning to one of the cameras. “The way our society caters to the male population in matters of sex is insanity. Women are expected to be attractive, understanding, and available, but also told not to be a distraction at work, school, or…anywhere, really. We’re like a coveted object half the time and second-class citizens the other half. Those of us with visible differences, especially on the more sensual side, are told to disappear on a regular basis; and I speak from experience when I say so. I aim to change that.”

“A formidable goal,” Dana said, nodding again. “As you said before, you’ve undergone a breast reduction but you’re still rather above the average. Was that by choice or were there limitations on what the surgeons could safely remove?”

“Oh, I aimed for this size and got it. I thought it would be rather hypocritical if I reduced my size to the point of being ‘normal’...”

Victoria raised her hands to form air quotes and put a mocking edge on her voice as she said the word.

“...my words would ring hollow to my clients. The only reason I underwent the surgery at all was because my spine couldn’t take the weight of my chest any longer. I was going to end up in constant pain or paralyzed if I didn’t take action. I left them as large as I could without destroying my back and I do regular physical therapy sessions to keep my muscles strong enough to support the weight. I lost a few fans even so, but most understood my position. I went down ten dress sizes and lost a little over thirty pounds, too, so not all bad.”

Victoria chuckled to herself and leaned back in her seat, signaling that she was done. Dana looked at Bridget again, and she had an almost pleading look in her eye as she asked her next question.

“Ms. Thomas, you’re still young and have a full life ahead of you. Have you considered what your career might be? Are there any medical concerns or physical limitations preventing you from achieving your goals?”

Bridget immediately thought about her childhood dream of becoming a helicopter pilot. She had asked about information on training programs before the “Sophom*ore Spurt” had taken away all hope of living a normal life.

“I wanted to be a pilot when I was a kid,” Bridget said, trying to keep the emotion from her voice. “But they told me I can’t even fit into a co*ckpit anymore, let alone learn to fly.”

A look of triumph flashed across Dana’s face and she prodded Bridget on with a follow-up question.

“Did anyone offer any alternatives or solutions to your problem?”

“My doctor said I might be able to have a double mastectomy if I wait a couple of years…”

Bridget’s voice began to quaver a bit as she spoke. As much as she complained about her breasts, she didn't like to think about going through life as a woman with no breasts at all. It was a possibility she had struggled with since the solution was first brought up to her. She cleared her throat and went on, eyes glistening.

“That would pretty much solve my problem, but I don’t think I want to go that route.”

“Are you worried about undergoing surgery?” Dana asked, looking more excited than ever.

“Maybe, but, and this may sound crazy, I also can’t imagine just removing so much of myself. My breasts are a part of me…”

She stopped talking. She wasn’t sure she would be able to go on without crying. Dana looked disappointed, but Victoria leaned forward and put a hand on Bridget’s shoulder. Her smaller, yet still massive, boobs pressed against Bridget’s as she stretched across the table, half standing to reach over the huge mounds of breast flesh on top of it.

“I understand completely, honey,” Victoria said. “Nothing crazy about it.”

She turned her head and locked eyes with the reporter. Her voice was serious and commanding when she spoke a moment later.

“I think we’re done here, Dana.”

Dana looked like she wanted to argue, but she stood up and nodded.

“I’ll leave the two of you to talk and go review the footage. Take your time and enjoy yourselves, ladies. Thank you for agreeing to the interview.”

Despite her words, her tone was tense and clipped. It sounded like someone had dumped ice water down her back and her mouth was set in a strained grin as if she were trying not to grit her teeth. Victoria turned her attention back to soothing Bridget and reached her other hand behind her, flicking her wrist to shoo the news team away. Dana’s face reddened, and it looked like she was an instant away from saying something she might regret before she complied and signaled for the cameramen to follow her out. They kept their cameras pointed at the collision of femininity before them, reveling in the sight for a moment before leaving the dining room.

Once they were gone, Victoria leaned back in her seat and looked Bridget over. Clara, who had remained silent in one of the booths on the opposite end of the cafe up until now, noticed the news crew was leaving and approached them as they began to talk..

“Are you feeling alright?” Victoria asked.

Bridget sniffed and pushed her hair back behind her ear and looked into Victoria’s face once again.

“I’ll be alright,” she said. “Sorry for getting all weepy again. I swore I wouldn’t do that.”

She noticed Clara standing awkwardly to one side and resisted the urge to wipe her eyes and smudge her makeup.

“Do you mind if my friend joins us, Mrs. Victoria? She’s my ride.”

“Not at all,” Victoria said, smiling at Clara. “What’s your name, beautiful?”

Clara’s cheeks darkened as she blushed, but she was smiling as she squeezed into the booth beside Bridget.

“Clara. How have I never heard of you before today? It sounds like you’re famous.”

“Only in certain circles,” Victoria chuckled. “I’m not the kind of woman you see on TV all that often. My ideas make a lot of male executives uncomfortable and some people think I’m too overtly sexual for the morning talk shows. Do you girls read much?”

Clara shook her head, but Bridget nodded.

“Since I started having trouble getting around I’ve been reading a lot more,” Bridget said. “Mostly just fiction, though.”

“Well, I make most of my money from my self-help books. That’s how most people know me. Outside of that, some workshops on living with our condition, and the occasional tour in support of my books, I don’t have a lot going on. But enough about me, I want to hear about you, Bridget. How’s life treating you?”

The redhead tried to look down at her lap, but her chin sank into her cleavage before she could drop her head more than a few inches. She quickly readjusted her posture a bit.

“I guess I’m lucky in a lot of ways,” she said. “My friends and family are supportive. The bullying hasn’t been too bad in the last few years and I haven’t gotten too big to move yet. Not that they haven’t tried a few times.”

Bridget gave a weak chuckle to try to drive home that the last bit was intended to be a joke. Victoria smiled, but carried on without pausing for long.

“Have you experienced anything odd or unexpected, like lactation or an irregular cycle?”

Bridget looked confused and let out a small, strangled sound as she tried to reply. She had expected more of a two way conversation.

“I understand this is personal,” Victoria reassured her. “But I’ve worked with hundreds of women all over the world and I promise I only want to help. Sometimes a tiny clue can lead to a way to get control of your condition.”

“I’ve never…lactated…” Bridget murmured, embarrassed by the very thought of giving milk. “And, um, everything has been on a pretty regular schedule since forever.”

She didn’t know what she had expected to talk to Victoria about, but it hadn’t been this. She imagined a few scenarios where they would commiserate over their shared afflictions, but this was shaping up to be more like a medical consultation. She’d hoped for advice; maybe even some encouragement.

“That’s good,” Victoria sighed. “Some of the younger women I’ve helped have had undiagnosed hormonal disorders. One of them turned out to be highly resistant to testosterone and it caused all kinds of medical problems. This seems like a more typical case of VBH.”

“That was the diagnosis a few years ago,” Bridget said, lighting up as she finally heard something familiar. “Have you ever heard anything about what causes it?”

“Most experts seem to think it’s just an unusual sensitivity to hormones, but there really isn’t much research considering how rare it is. I’m not a doctor or anything, so I couldn’t begin to say.”

“What made you grow,” Clara asked, giving voice to Bridget’s innermost desire.

Bridget’s eyes went wide at the question. It was so forward and direct. Borderline impertinent, but at the same time she was curious. She opened her mouth to scold her friend, but Victoria threw her head back and laughed.

“I guess it’s only fair, huh?” She said, every one of the gleaming white teeth in her perfect head on display. “It was a side effect for me. Took almost three years for anyone to realize the growth started just a little after I got onto birth control.”

“That can happen?” Clara breathed, her jaw dropping and her voice barely above a whisper.

“It’s very rare,” Victoria said with another soft chuckle. “But so is pretty much everything that makes women grow tit* bigger than their heads.”

“I never heard of that one,” Bridget muttered. “And I thought I did a lot of research.”

“Big pharma doesn’t like to admit its mistakes,” Victoria shrugged, and her breasts bounced a bit with the gesture. “The company that made my prescription dumped a lot of money into keeping the whole ordeal under wraps. A few others seem to have done the same thing. I probably would have fought it out in court if I’d had my way, but my parents settled on my behalf since I was a minor at the time. They didn’t think we could win and got greedy when they heard how much they were offering. It took me almost ten years just to find the other five women who had the same side effects as me, but they had settled too. They didn’t want to—or couldn’t—talk to me about it. I guess they were afraid the company would come after them for breaking the settlement. They weren’t all that big, anyway. They got off easy.”

“Is that why you do what you do now?” Bridget asked. “It sounds almost like a superhero story.”

Victoria laughed again.

“I don’t know about that,” she said, swiping a tear of laughter from her eyelash before it could smudge her mascara. “But, yeah, it was a big part of why I went into counseling and started writing. I wanted to bring down some of the companies playing around with our biology and help some of the big girls along the way.”

“How have I never heard of you?” Clara asked again. “You’re so f*cking cool.”

Bridget agreed, but didn’t voice her opinion. She was staring at Victoria as she shook her head and rolled her eyes at Clara’s statement. Open admiration shone in her eyes and she wanted to stay here and talk all day if she would allow it. Unfortunately, she knew Victoria was a busy woman, so she decided to ask a few questions of her own.

“Is there any advice you’d give yourself back then?”

Victoria co*cked her head and gave Bridget a long, searching sort of look.

“I guess I would tell myself to hang tough,” she said. “And to buy nicer clothes.”

She laughed again, but shook her head and let her smile drop.

“But, honestly, girls like you and I have to stay strong. It took me a long time to come to grips with how I looked and what people thought of me, but once I did I realized that it was everyone else who had a problem. As long as they aren’t hurting anyone, people need to be allowed to live how they want. If you learn that lesson now, you’ll be just fine.”

Bridget nodded, trying to take her words to heart.

“Can I ask for some advice?” She asked, blushing again. “I haven’t really had anyone else to talk to about my problems.”

She felt Clara shift beside her, realized how that must have sounded, and corrected herself before Victoria could reply.

“Not anyone that went through it, that is. Sorry, Clara.”

Clara shrugged, but didn’t take her eyes off of Victoria. She seemed to hang on her every word now, and Bridget couldn’t believe the raw charisma the woman exuded. She had to find some way to conjure up at least a fraction of that kind of confidence in her own life.

“I’m always happy to help,” Victoria chirped with another grin.

“What should I do if I don’t stop growing soon? My mom and I measure every day and I’m still getting a little bigger every week or so.”

Victoria looked thoughtfully at the ceiling and hummed to herself as she stroked brushed a stray lock of hair out of her face. Bridget was struck over again by how effortlessly beautiful she was.

“I wouldn’t know too much about that,” Victoria finally said. “I wasn’t as big as you even before the reduction.”

Bridget hung her head, disappointed.

“Don’t go all mopey on me already!” Victoria chuckled. “I didn’t say I couldn’t help at all, just that I wouldn’t know from personal experience. I met a girl who kept growing into her thirties. It was pretty slow, but it just went on and on until she was a little bigger than you…”

She looked Bridget’s chest over once more and smiled.

“Well, maybe not. The point is, she said what finally stopped it was changing her diet to exclude anything with more than a slight trace of estrogen. A lot of our processed foods are loaded with the stuff, so she switched to a mostly raw diet and cut out dairy.”

Bridget thought that over. She could probably do with a diet anyway. Jenna was vegan, so maybe she could give her a few tips.

“Can you put me in touch with some of the other girls you’ve met?” Bridget asked. “Is there a group that meets anywhere or anything like that?”

“Not really, no,” Victoria said, shaking her head and looking disappointed. “I tried to organize something like that a while back, but most of the girls like to stay out of the spotlight. Getting a bunch of extra-busty ladies together is bound to attract attention, so it never quite worked out. The one time I got more than just a couple of us together in one place we were practically assaulted by a pack of perverts.”

Bridget nodded. She’d heard enough cat calls and experienced enough weirdos ogling her to last a lifetime. She couldn’t blame the women for wanting to maintain their privacy and stay below the radar.

“But I’d be happy to give you some info for a couple of the more outgoing girls,” Victoria went on. “They told me to put them in touch with anyone that needed to talk. My time is sort of limited and I meet a lot of people that want my advice, so they help me make sure everyone gets some kind of support.”

“That would be great!”

The words burst out of Bridget’s mouth before she could stop herself. In her excitement she sat up so fast it sent her flesh bouncing all over the table. Clara giggled at her friend’s sudden enthusiasm, and Victoria looked politely amused. Bridget sank back into her seat with a look of embarrassment and went silent.

“No need to be bashful,” Victoria assured her. “It’s normal to get excited when you find your tribe.”

She reached into a bag at her side and pulled out a pen and a business card, flipped it over, and scribbled a pair of names, phone numbers, and email addresses.

“These should get you in touch with a couple of friends of mine. They like to talk, so be ready to go on for a while. Try to have some questions ready ahead of time so you can steer the conversation the right way. They’ll make you lose your train of thought.”

She stood up and slipped the card over the table to Bridget’s side, then stepped sideways out of the booth.

“And I’m really sorry about this, but I have to run. I have to do a meet and greet at a bookstore a few cities over tomorrow morning and if I don’t hit the road soon I’ll be late and there’ll be hell to pay. The card has my number on it as well, but I can’t always get back to people very quickly. Feel free to leave a message, but I’m pretty busy this time of year so just remember that I’m not ignoring you or being malicious or anything, alright?”

Bridget stared down at the card for a few seconds. When she finally looked up again her expression was a confused blend of disappointment and surprise.

“You’re leaving?” she asked, a bit of a petulant whine squeaking out despite her efforts to be mature about the situation. “Already? I thought we’d get a chance to talk for a while after the interview.”

Victoria cursed under her breath and looked angrily towards the cafe doors. Bridget followed her gaze and saw that the news van had already left at some point during their conversation.

“Dana told you that, didn’t she?”

Bridget nodded.

“Listen, hun, seriously,” Victoria said, gathering her things and rubbing her eyes and forehead with her fingers in irritation. “That woman is a bit of a snake. Useful in a lot of ways, but just as likely to use you up in the process. Be careful with her. I hate to leave like this if you thought we’d have more time, but I really can’t get out of this event…”

“You don’t have to explain,” Bridget said, redoubling her efforts to hide her frustration. “It’s not your fault.”

Victoria looked at her, slung her bag over her shoulder, and bit her thumbnail as she thought something over for a moment.

“Call me tomorrow night around nine, alright? I’ll leave my schedule open to make it up a bit. Us girls have to stick together, you know?”

Clara got out of the way so Bridget could struggle out of the booth and shake Victoria’s hand. She said goodbye, gave Clara a bosomy hug since she could get her arms around her. She went to the register to pick up the check, which Bridget now realized Dana had stuck them with, and then rushed out of the cafe with another round of apologies.

Once she had left, Bridget turned back to Clara.

“Well, ready to leave, then?”

Clara continued to stare at the door and didn’t reply.

“Clara?”

“I would go gay for that woman. No regrets.”

Chapter 6: Homecoming

Chapter Text

Why the hell did I agree to do this?

Bridget’s first—and last—homecoming was a travesty so far. The date Clara arranged for her had been a no-show. She had built herself up to this. She had taken Clara’s and Victoria’s coaching to heart and spent hours every day learning to do her hair and makeup. The effort had encouraged her to take more pride in her appearance, but now there was no payoff. Now, she felt more unattractive and unwanted than ever.

Jenna had mono and was staying home, so she was down a friend on top of everything else. Aidan was there, of course, but girls encircled him at all times now that he was single again. She had hoped watching them drag him onto the dance floor would give her a laugh, but it had only made her feel worse. When she cast her watery eyes around, she found Clara and Matty had disappeared at some point. Around then, her sadness compressed into a smoldering coal of absolute anger.

Filled to the brim with anxiety and fury, Bridget snuck out of the gym to mope through the hall between the sports complex and the school. She hadn’t set foot there since the night of her last volleyball game because it brought up so many memories. It would make the perfect place to wallow in self-pity and spiral into a mental breakdown. It had to be better than watching people she couldn’t stand dry-humping all evening.

For the most part, the halls looked the same as they had when she was an athlete. The boys’ trophies stood in a large glass case built into the north wall. Spotlights highlighted the football and baseball memorabilia in particular. On the opposite wall, the girls’ much smaller case looked like the afterthought it was. She stopped before it to stare at one of the more recent additions.

It was the state cup she had helped the volleyball team win two years ago. She read the names stamped onto the plinth it rested on and sniffed when she saw her own among them. They hadn’t made it very far into the national championship, but it had been enough. Coach Autry earned the principal’s respect, and better funding for girls’ athletics followed. Bridget smiled as she stared at the tangible proof of her one true victory. The last she had achieved before her growth spurts started back up. If she had to have a last hurrah, she was glad it had done something positive for future athletes.

The team photo hanging above the trophy was a good one. True to form, Mary was laughing with her arms wrapped around one of their curvier teammates, Trish. Kaya and Hanna stood on either side of them, taller and leaner than everyone else on the team. Jenna and Clara grinned at the camera as they squeezed Bridget between them. She lingered on her own chest in disbelief. Had she really complained about her size back then? She was so tiny she could hardly believe it. If memory served, she had been around a J-cup at the time, still big but manageable. She looked down at herself and sighed at the changes time had wrought. Her tit* pressed against the glass case from more than a foot away. She would kill to be that small again.

It didn’t help that she’d had to wear a dress for the occasion. She hadn’t worn one since her mom dragged her to a relative’s wedding when she was fifteen. At least they had found something to fit her back then. No one could say the same about the pale blue gown she wore now. Her mom had fished it out of the plus-size section of a department store and spent more than a week altering it to fit her. A friend on her Parents of Hypertrophic Daughters social media group had shared a few tailoring tricks to modify the bust. By splitting the front of the skirts from the bodice, they converted it into something more supportive. The size and weight of Bridget’s breasts concealed the seam, and it gave her more freedom of movement. Bridget appreciated her efforts, but with a whopping 60 pounds of breast hanging off of her, she wasn’t planning to dance that night. There was no room for a boy to stand in front of her without squeezing him into her cleavage.

She saw a flash of something moving behind her in her reflection off the trophy case. Before she could react, someone wrapped their arms around her and pulled her into a crushing bear hug. It wasn’t painful or aggressive, and there was something familiar about it. The person grabbed the undersides of her breasts and hoisted them toward her chin—no mean feat.

“Mary?” Bridget squealed.

“How’d you know it was me?” Mary snigg*red in mock surprise.

“Get off!”

Bridget couldn’t quite stifle a giggle as her former team captain fondled her breasts. She still knew all her ticklish spots. Mary finally let her go, and Bridget spun around to look her in the eye.

“Watch where you’re swinging those things!” Mary laughed as she stepped back and made a big show of dodging Bridget’s tit*. “You could kill somebody, Jugs!”

“Don’t call me that!” Bridget laughed, falling right back into her old habits. “Wait, what are you doing here? I thought you moved to Colorado or something.”

“Connecticut,” Mary corrected. “And I came home for fall break. Coach Autry caught me jogging the other day and asked me to patrol the halls tonight. I expected to find a couple of freshmen blowing each other or something. Imagine my surprise when I stumbled on ol’ Tommy Jugs, bigger and better than ever!”

Bridget shook her head and smiled. Mary was as vibrant and crass as ever. She always envied that about her. Mary told people what she thought and felt. She was free.

“You know I always despised that nickname, right?”

“Why do you think we used it all the time?” Mary laughed.

Bridget readjusted her dress. Her tit* had slipped out of place, exposing her underboobs and the opening in the front.

“You’re lucky I’m legal now, or I’d call the cops on your ass.”

“You’d do that to an old friend and mentor?”

“The only thing I ever learned from you was to stay far away from lesbian bars,” Bridget chuckled.

“Anyway,” Mary said, watching her return her breasts to their proper place. “What are you sulking out here for? Not much of a dancer?”

Bridget finished her adjustments and gestured to her chest.

“What do you think?”

“Oh come on, I’ve seen strippers with bigass fakers dance without too much trouble.”,

“Good for them.”

“You should get in there and dance with some guys. Hell, dance with a few girls, too. You’ve gotta live a little, Jugs.”

“I was hoping to try that, but my date stood me up...” try that.

Mary winced and sucked air in through her teeth.

“Ough, sorry.”

“That reminds me, though. Have you seen Clara around?”

“I can’t say I have,” Mary said, shaking her head. “Is she still with that himbo? The one that looks like he can’t read. Marty? Mickey?”

“Matty.”

“Yeah, that dipsh*t,” Mary laughed. “She could do so much better.”

“Be nice,” Bridget said. “They’re happy together.”

Mary shrugged and walked over to the trophy case.

“We couldn’t have done it without you, you know.”

Bridget co*cked her head to one side. Mary sounded genuine for a change.

“Couldn’t have done what?”

“Won that cup, ding-dong,” Mary said. “It broke our hearts when you had that last growth spurt. Even Coach Autry looked like she was gonna cry when we heard you’d have to quit. You were the heart and soul of the team and a hell of a player. We couldn’t win without you.”

“I never did much,” Bridget said, feeling awkward in the face of sudden praise. “You and Jenna always scored the most.”

“You set us up. I think Coach said you had more assists than the rest of the team combined. The ball never touched the ground if you were anywhere nearby.”

“Are you coming on to me or something?” Bridget asked. “I’m still not into girls, you know.”

“I have a girlfriend,” Mary said.

She spun around, grinned at her, and held her hands a few inches from her chest.

“tit* out to here and cute as a button.”

Bridget rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips. Her boobs may have grown over the years, but Mary hadn’t changed a bit.

“Ooh, listen,” Mary said, holding a finger to her lips and tilting her head to one side.

The thumping dance music pounding through the gymnasium gave way to a slow-dance number.

“What am I supposed to be hearing?”

“Your cue,” she said.

She twisted Bridget’s arm behind her back before pushing her down the hall.

“Wait, what?” Bridget protested. “You’re choosing now to take your job seriously?”

“Sorry, but Coach told me to keep the halls clear,” Mary explained as she frog-marched her to the door. “And you need to get in there and have some fun! Dance, Juggy, dance!”

She shoved Bridget through the nearest double door and back into the gym. She narrowly avoided overbalancing and craned her neck around to see Mary smiling and wiggling her fingers at her before walking away.

You f*cking bitch…

As luck would have it, Bridget ended up just a few feet away from Gary Fuchs. She caught him leering at her while he stuffed his face with chips, so she rushed to busy herself at the punch bowl across the room. She didn’t want him staring at her boobs. Especially not when there was so much more on display than she liked. For all her mother’s custom alterations, the dress had a lower neckline than her usual baggy sweaters and quadruple XL T-shirts. The double support from her bra and the dress’s built-in cups hoisted them up a little too high. She worried people would think she was trying to show them off. Bridget wanted to disappear, but Mary wouldn’t let her do that. She thought she was helping and wanted her to loosen up and have fun.

Isn’t that what Victoria said to do? Asked a no-nonsense voice in her mind. Own your body and enjoy what makes you unique?

She was never as big as me, though, she argued with herself.

So own that, her other half riposted. As far as anyone knows, you’re the biggest ever. Be proud of how massive you are.

She heard a giggle from behind that snapped her out of her internal dialogue right before something soft and weighty collided with her.

“Bridget!”

As Clara’s hip collided with Bridget’s body squealed her name her usually soft voice reached hitherto unexplored peaks of pitch and volume. It echoed out over the dance music, causing a few dancers to stop and look around.

“Shh!” Bridget hissed once she had recovered her balance. “We’re trying to lay low, remember?”

Then she remembered that she was still angry with Clara for wandering off.

“And you left me on my own! What the hell?”

“I know, I know,” Clara slurred. “Bud I came back, righ’?”

Bridget looked at her friend in confusion and then the pieces fell into place. Her rage at her friend’s carelessness intensified, and she dragged Clara by one arm to a corner of the room further away from prying eyes and ears. Once there, she laid into her as surreptitiously as she could manage.

“You’re drunk?” She demanded. “Really?”

“Ouch…” Clara whined, rubbing her elbow where Bridget had seized it a moment before. “Izz no big deal. Matty god ‘is hands on shum—”

She stifled a belch with one fist and continued once she was sure nothing else was coming up.

“—of’ is mom’s booze for me.”

She leaned in closer to Bridget, her clumsy hands pawing at her breasts as she almost fell over. Then she righted herself, one hand gripping Bridget’s shoulder and the other cupped in the general vicinity of her ear. Her breath was heavy with the scent of alcohol and something else.

“An’ I shucked’ is dick onna bleachers.”

“Ugh, Clara!”

Bridget pushed her away and rubbed her ear as if Clara’s words carried some infectious disease. Clara giggled again, but her eyes went wide and she scrabbled at thin air before landing flat on her butt. Bridget looked around, but—through some minor miracle—no one had noticed their altercation. She rushed over and lifted Clara to her feet, thankful her pear-shaped friend didn’t have to worry too much about a bruised tailbone. She had plenty of extra padding back there.

“So where’s Matty now?” Bridget asked, looking around for any sign of him.

“Oh, yeah!”

Clara remembered what she came to tell Bridget in the first place. She seemed to sober up somewhat as she gave her the news.

“Les called! He said he had a flat tire, but he’s comin’a’get you!”

Bridget raised one eyebrow. She was skeptical, but a cool wash of hope tempered the ember of rage and disappointment lodged deep within her chest. She reconsidered the opinion that she had formed over the last half-hour. Maybe people weren’t universally terrible.

“He couldn’t have called sooner?” She asked.

“He called about twenty minutes ago, but Matty and I were…busy.”

Her eyes misted over and her speech slowed to a slurred drawl once more.

“Ew,” Bridget stated.

“Aw, wadda you know? You’ve never sugged a co*ck before. It’s kinda’mazing, bleev itter not.”

“I’ll take your word for it, but back up a little. What did you mean by ‘coming to get me’?”

“This party suuucks…”

Clara groaned out the last word and giggled again. Bridget began to wonder if she had consumed more than just alcohol.

“We’re all gonna leave and go to that hotel I told you guys about. Les’s family has tons of money, so he called and got our reservation bumped up to a suite. We’ll have two bigass rooms to do whatever we want all night!”

“I don’t know…”

Clara let out a loud grunt of frustration, mostly drowned out by an explosive bass drop as the music switched gears again. The girls on the dancefloor resumed twerking, and the boys grabbed their hips and assumed the position.

“Then again, I’m not into that either.”

“If yer coming,” Clara slurred. “‘S’go.”

She wobbled off on unsteady legs. Bridget hesitated for a moment before she followed her. The more sensible part of her psyche was nagging at her again.

Do I want to go to a hotel with a guy I’ve never met? Clara vouched for him, but she doesn’t know him very well, either. What if he’s a creep?

She caught the door as Clara went through and then turned to get one last look at the dancefloor. Eva was sipping punch on one side, pink-faced and glistening. From what Bridget had seen, she must have danced with half the football team already. A couple of players were still chatting her up and fawning over her. Bridget shifted her focus to the middle of the gym floor. Three girls bold enough to move in on Eva’s sloppy seconds had surrounded Aidan. They were dancing like so many others, bent over to rub their asses against him. And he looked…

Uncomfortable?

Bridget knew him well enough to recognize the signs of uncertainty on his face. She considered partying ways with Clara and the boys to go bail him out, but a callous voice in her head stopped her from acting on it.

He made his bed, it told her. Let him lie in it. He wanted to be Mr. Popular, and now he’s got every slu*t in the school gunning for him. You don’t need him, and you don’t owe him anything.

She spun on her heel, too angry to think about the effect such a motion would have on her anatomy. Once her breasts had swung around a moment later and slammed the door against the wall, she rushed outside. A few people took notice of the noise, but no one went after her.

Fifteen minutes later, following an introduction to Les and much adjusting of the front passenger seat, Bridget was riding shotgun in his mom’s borrowed SUV. Clara and Matty pawed at each other in the back seat, but the two strangers up front hadn’t said much to each other since the drive began. At one point Les complimented her dress, and Bridget thanked him, but awkward silences stretched out for miles between the small talk.

Les was as attractive as Clara’s picture had made him out to be. He had strong features, good skin and hair, and his eyes were a piercing shade of icy blue that fondly reminded her of her neighbor’s old Malamute. She thought she could grow to like him, but personality was a big thing for her. One thing she had always liked about Aidan…

Stop it, the callous voice interjected. Don’t compare assholes to oranges.

She turned toward the window. It was ostensibly to look at the sunset, but she wanted to disguise her snigg*ring at her own stupid pun. She didn’t want Les to think she was laughing at him.

“So, um, Bridget,” he said, clearing his throat. “Clara said you like video games?”

She turned back to him with a polite smile and nodded.

“Yeah, retro stuff for the most part.”

Les raised his eyebrows.

“Oh yeah? Like how retro are we talking? N64/PS1 era? Older?”

“SNES is my favorite, but I like those, too.”

“Any particular reason you stick to older stuff?”

Bridget considered fibbing, but decided to be up front about her situation. It was best to start the relationship off on the right foot.

“Well, it’s embarrassing in a weird way,” she said, turning pink in the cheeks. “When I started, um, growing clothes and stuff got more expensive. I had to replace half my closet every other month, so I could never afford to get the newer consoles. I had to settle for what I could afford from thrift shops and stuff. I like RPGs because they’re long. You get more game for your money that way.”

She caught Les sneaking glances at her chest while she was talking. She didn’t call him out on it, and he didn’t notice she caught him.

“That makes sense, I guess,” he said.

“There are some amazing older games though,” Bridget continued, grinning at his little faux pas. “The original Legend of Zelda, Chrono Trigger, Mega Man, Dragon Quest, the old Spyro games, there’s a lot of great stuff. Have you played a lot of older games?”

Les shrugged.

“I’ve played some remakes, but I mostly play shooters and sports games.”

“Oh…”

Bridget hadn’t meant to sound so disappointed, but she was hoping they’d found some common ground.

“But I liked Chrono Trigger,” he said. “My older brother showed that one to me when we were kids. I could never get into turn-based stuff myself, but the story was cool.”

Bridget smiled at him. At least he was trying.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “Ayla was always my favorite. Such a cool character.”

“Was that the hot caveman girl or the princess?”

“The first one,” she giggled.

“Oh, yeah, she was pretty cool.”

There was another silence, but this time it was broken by a low moan from the back seat. Les turned his head around for a split second and shouted at the lovers in the back.

“If you two get anything on my mom’s seats she’s gonna reupholster them with your skin!”

He turned his eyes back to the road again and sighed.

“Has Clara always been such a horn dog?” He asked.

“Not until she met Matty. But I guess he’s her first boyfriend, so who knows?”

He considered her words for a moment and then asked another question. This time there was notable trepidation in his voice.

“Sorry if this is weird or rude or something,” he began, licking his lips with nervous intensity. “But how did you get so, uh, big?”

Bridget remembered all the progress she had made working with Victoria and Clara and resisted the urge to try to cover up the exposed parts of her chest. It was a very personal question, but one that was inevitable. Her breasts were so huge and obvious people couldn’t help but be curious. If what Clara had told her was true, Les had a particular fascination for girls with unusually large breasts. He had been patient and polite, so she decided to throw him a bone.

“It’s a medical condition,” she said. “Called ‘virginal breast hypertrophy.’ I started growing when I was about 12 and sort of never stopped.”

“Whoa…” Les muttered, obviously stunned.

“‘Whoa’ is right,” Bridget said with a sardonic grin. “I have to buy really expensive bras from special websites. My mom even got into sewing so she could help tailor my clothes to save money.”

Les shifted uncomfortably in his seat. She could tell everything she was talking about was affecting him somehow.

Is he getting horny? She wondered. Let’s find out.

With the floodgates opened, she was finding it easier to tell him about her condition and the hardships that stemmed from it. She decided to play up the “perpetual growth” side of things.

“I’ve been growing nonstop for about six years now. We still don’t know when it will stop, but it would be dangerous to try to operate on them until they at least slow down. I guess there have been a few long periods where it gets so slow it’s hard to tell, but then there are times when I grow a few sizes overnight. That’s what happened the first time.”

She paused and noticed Les’s breathing was heavier. He was gripping the steering wheel tighter than necessary, and there was a sheen of sweat on his forehead. His eyes were glued to the road as if he was worried he wouldn’t be able to stop looking at her boobs if he so much as glanced in their direction. She thought she was beginning to see why Clara liked teasing boys so much. It was kind of fun.

“My doctor told me I might have the most severe case of VBH ever,” she continued. “And I may have some unique form of the condition. I've never seen anyone bigger. Have you?”

Les let out a strangled sound she took to mean “no” and kept his hands firmly on the steering wheel. She heard leather creaking as his grip tightened.

“What do you think about them?” She asked. “Honestly, are they just gross at this size?”

Les remained silent as they drove up to a streetlight and coasted to a complete stop. The sun had gone down during their drive across the county and the red light glared out of the dark like some angry cyclopean monster. Les turned to look at her, his striking blue eyes firmly locked on her face.

“I think you’re hot as hell,” he said. “I can hardly believe you’re real.”

Bridget was taken back by his reply. Her face turned red and she felt her pulse quicken. Someone had paid her a direct compliment. Though she felt bashful about it, she felt attractive and confident—powerful even.

“Th-thank you,” she muttered, turning her face away. “I don’t think anyone has ever called me that before.”

Maybe Victoria’s right, she thought. Guys really do respond to the direct approach.

“Are you kidding me?” Les exclaimed. “You’re smoking! I keep thinking I’ll wake up or find out this was all some crazy prank for a TV show or something. It’s not, right?”

“Nope,” Bridget squeaked. “All real.”

“Thank f*cking god for that,” Les sighed as the light changed to green. “We’re just a couple of blocks from the hotel now.”

He twisted in his seat and shouted back to Clara and Matty again

“Hey! Quit sucking each other off for a minute and get ready to check in!”

He returned to the proper driving position and zoomed off down the busy city street. Bridget found herself wondering just what he was planning to do at the hotel. She didn’t know Les well enough to go all the way with him, but maybe she could let him get as far as second base.

That would be a treat for a guy who’s into big boobs, right?

“Are your parents gonna freak out about you being out all night?” Les asked. “I know this wasn’t the original plan, and I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“That’s sweet of you, but I told them I’d probably be out late with Clara. We’re legal now, so they can’t really stop us.”

“That’s cool,” Les nodded. “No worries about helicopter parents, huh?”

Bridget shook her head.

“Nuh-uh, my parents are pretty happy I’m getting out, to be honest.”

“Hell yeah.”

Les pulled into the hotel parking lot and rolled to a stop at the front doors. He spun around in his seat again and jabbed a thumb toward the building.

“Go ahead and check us in,” he ordered. “I’ll find a place to park and meet you guys in the lobby.”

Clara and Matty untangled themselves from each other and lurched out of the car. Les watched them amble into the lobby before turning to Bridget, who was already opening her door as well.

“Oh, did you want to go with them?”

“I guess that might be a good idea,” Bridget said with a shrug. “Clara could barely string more than a few words together.”

“You may be right,” he agreed. “But I thought maybe we could get to know each other a little better before we went up.”

Bridget’s right hand hung suspended in the air above the door handle, her body twisted halfway toward the opening and one foot dangling above the pavement. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be alone with Les yet. Especially while Clara and Matty wandered off to have god only knew what kind of kinky sex for the next few hours. Drunk or not, at least they had been in the car with her to act as a deterrent for any creepy behavior. In the end, she withdrew her foot and pulled the door shut again.

“I guess that would be nice,” she said, lifting her breasts back into her lap again. “But you’d better not be trying to take advantage of me, mister.”

Les smiled and shook his head.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

They drove around the block a few times after that, talking and feeling out each others’ personalities. To Bridget’s surprise, they had a few more in common than she would have thought. For one, they were both decidedly former athletes. Les had suffered a catastrophic compound injury to several ligaments and the meniscus of his left knee during a football game. The high potential for repeat injuries to the same knee ended his career as a running back. Bridget felt for him. Losing that part of your identity was tough, as she knew from experience.

They also liked most of the same cheesy hair metal ballads, which they discovered following a brief and semi-serious disagreement about whether Bon Jovi sucked all the time or just most of the time; Bridget arguing for the former. They bonded over some of those songs, and Les revealed an unexpected talent for singing as he broke out his best Steve Perry impression for her amusem*nt.

“Wow, you could be in a band,” Bridget laughed. “That was actually pretty good.”

“Nah,” Les grinned, shaking his head as they returned to the hotel parking lot. “I just do that one at karaoke sometimes. My sister is the real musician of the family. She can play just about anything and sings like a damn bird.”

“I’m serious, though. I think you’d be good at it,”

Les looked bashful at that. He coughed as he turned his head away and looked at an imaginary something.

Is he blushing? Bridget thought. I’ve never made a boy do that before.

“I think we should go up now,” Bridget said, trying to make her voice sound deeper and more alluring. “Don’t you think?”

Les coughed again and pulled into the first available parking space. He turned to her with something like panic in his eyes.

“Look, I know we don’t know each other very well, but would you swear to keep something secret if I told you in confidence?”

Bridget looked into his worried face and wondered what was going through his head.

Oh God, she thought. He’s gay.

No he’s not, chimed the other dry and serious voice in her head. Would he have a bunch of pictures of girls with giant tit* on his computer if he was?

Maybe, she replied in a sort of mental mumble. Or maybe that was the kind of elaborate cover a closeted gay guy would prepare in case a friend put him in that position.

Have you ever known a boy to be that prepared?

“No.”

Bridget hadn’t meant to say it out loud. A look of fear passed over Les’s features before she shook her head and corrected herself.

“I mean yes. I never spread gossip. I know exactly how much it sucks when people do that.”

“Oh, yeah,” Les said with a rapid glance down at her cleavage. “I guess you would.”

“So…what is it?”

Les closed his eyes, leaned back in his seat and took a deep breath.

“I—” he began, clearing his throat and starting over. “I’m not—I mean—oh goddammit…”

“Calm down,” she said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Just take your time. I’m listening.”

She wasn’t sure what had him so riled up, but she was starting to feel nervous again.

He couldn’t possibly be—

“I’m a virgin…”

His voice was low and weak, like a whine from a small and injured animal. Bridget heard it all the same and, rather than running her mood, she brightened at the unexpected news.

“That’s nothing to be ashamed of!” She told him. “To be honest, so am I. I’ve never really been alone with anyone of the opposite sex before, for that matter.”

It was Les’ turn to look surprised.

“A girl like you? Seriously?”

Bridget nodded.

“One hundred percent true,” she let out an involuntary sigh of relief before continuing. “Sorry if I’ve been a little guarded all night. I was worried a popular guy like you might just sweep me off my feet if I wasn’t careful. If we’re both out of our element, well, that makes me feel a lot better.”

Les stared at her and then burst out into an uneasy chuckle.

“That’s not the reaction I was expecting. I thought for sure a cool, experienced girl like you would laugh at me or something. You haven’t at least dated anyone before?”

“Nope,” Bridget said with a grin. “I’ve been kind of an outcast for a long time. Even before these—”

She lifted her breasts about an inch above her lap for emphasis.

“—I was a total tomboy and only had a couple friends. All boys.”

She didn’t bother to explain about her best friend, though. That ship had sailed and he didn’t need to know about how much it hurt to talk about Aidan these days. Then she noticed Les had been focused on her chest since her little maneuver and realized her mistake.

“Um, can I ask you something?”

“Huh?”

Les raised his eyes from her boobs to her eyes. There was still a dopey expression on his face as he tried to kickstart his brain again.

“Matty told Clara about your, uh, type. Is it true? Do you really like girls built like me?”

Les’s brain seemed to sputter to life then. A look of horror that surpassed even his earlier panic spread over his face.

“He told her? That dick!”

“He was just trying to help her hook us up,” Bridget blurted out, hoping to soothe his sudden rage. “She probably nagged him into it. She’s been dead set on finding someone for me since last summer.”

Les didn’t look too convinced, but he let out a steadying breath and hung his head.

“I guess the cat’s out of the bag,” he mumbled. “Yeah. I have a…thing...”

He raised his head and forced himself to make eye contact with her.

“But that isn’t the only reason I’m here. I wanted to get to know you. And I think you’re really cute, and funny…”

He trailed off, losing confidence in his words as he went, and Bridget had to bite her lip to keep her eyes from going misty. Here was a guy who wanted to get to know her, was attracted to her, and complimented her when she needed it. In the hour she had known him, he had already shown twenty times the emotional intelligence of most men she knew. Maybe hundreds of times, in a particular guy’s case.

The image of Aidan surrounded by girls at the dance flashed in her mind. It made her temper flare all over again, which always made her more impulsive.

“I’ll tell you what,” Bridget said, with a sly grin. “If you can swear you’re eighteen, we can go up to the room and see about cashing in that V-card of yours.”

She grabbed his hand and squeezed it. If she had been honest with herself she might have recognized that she was just looking for a way to get even with Aidan. She didn’t care if she lost her virginity that night or not. Everyone’s obsession with who had and hadn’t gotten laid was always a little creepy to her. She wasn’t even sure Les was who he said he was. He was cute, though, and she had felt a few sparks during their earlier conversation.

“To tell another secret I’m nineteen,” he said with an embarrassed shrug and a grin. “I was held back a year in kindergarten. Couldn’t write my name in cursive the first time around, and they don’t even teach it anymore. How unfair is that?”

Bridget giggled and squeezed his hand again.

“So unfair. Let’s just go up and see what happens, huh?”

What happened was predictable, of course. Once he’d knocked hard enough to bring a grinning and half-naked Matty to the door, Les retrieved their keycard and led Bridget to their own room next door. The lock disengaged with a beep and a mechanical whirring sound as he waved the card over the sensor and held the door open for her.

Bridget entered a small vestibule. She saw a bathroom with a huge jacuzzi tub on the right and a sitting area connected to Clara and Matty’s room on the left. A door straight ahead opened on the bedroom, dominated by the king size bed against one wall. A massive TV mounted to the opposite wall flashed a welcome message. A flowing script reading “Welcome, Bridget and Les” appeared letter by letter, as if written by an invisible hand, over a bouquet of roses that dropped an infinite number of petals onto a pool of crystalline water. There was even an ice bucket and two champagne flutes on a small table at the foot of the bed.

“This is crazy.”

Bridget walked by Les, who was still holding the door. She lifted the bottle out of the ice, careful to avoid dripping the frigid water down the front of her dress as she read the label.

“I’ve never stayed in a place this nice before.”

She had expected something nonalcoholic. Sparkling grape juice,or something like that, but it was real champagne.

“And how did you get them to give us booze?”

“My uncle is the district manager for the chain. He pulled some strings so I could, um, let’s say ‘impress’ you.”

Bridget turned around and found Les standing in the doorway with an embarrassed expression on his face. He was avoiding eye contact with her. She smiled and sat down on the bed. The mattress was nothing like the memory foam one at home, and she sank down much further than expected. She bounced up and down on the springs and her boobs went wild. It was sheer dumb luck that prevented a total wardrobe malfunction. Giggling and blushing, she pulled her dress up and got herself under control as Les did his best not to stare at her. Even so, the strain on his face was obvious.

“Um, do you want me to open the bottle?” He asked, busying himself at the drink table.

“I guess,” Bridget said, feeling more awkward than ever.

She had never been alone with a guy like this before. She never would have dreamed she would be in such an intimate setting with one she hardly knew. This was much more Clara’s style.

So why shouldn’t I loosen up and act a little more like her? She has fun all the time.

She went over all the lessons Clara had given her about self-confidence. The advice about using her body to her advantage sprang to mind first. She looked down and her breasts formed a long line of cleavage. Her dress revealed plenty of soft bountiful flesh. She had plenty of body to use. It was a little too much, in her opinion, but guys loved this kind of thing.

Right?

As if on cue, Les answered her mental query.

“You look good. Like, really good.”

His clumsy compliment made her own attempts at sensual confidence falter. She wasn’t used to such open appreciation from men. Clara complimenting her while pretending to be a guy wasn’t the same. It had been terrible and ineffective practice, as it turned out. She was floundering.

“Should we…sit down and listen to some music for a little while?” Les asked. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

For whatever reason, that phrase triggered something in Bridget. She redoubled her efforts and shook her head. She had to stop letting her anxious nature ruin her fun.

“I want to,” she said with more determination in her voice.

She stood up so fast her tit* bounced and jiggled free of their confines again. Her dress sank a bit lower and the rosy edge of her right nipple was exposed. She forced herself to leave it alone and side toward Les.

“I want to,” she said again.

It was as much for her own benefit as his. She had to convince herself to go through with it. She would never be the fun, carefree girl of her fantasies if she didn’t cross this barrier sooner or later. Steeling herself, Bridget rushed forward and wrapped her arms around Les. Her breasts squashed almost painfully against his thin, muscular body. Guys were a lot firmer than girls. At least athletic guys like Les were.

Focus!

She tilted her head back. It was awkward, but she forced herself to look into his eyes. She met his ice blue gaze and they connected. Actually connected on a very real and human level. Their instincts synced up into lockstep with one another. Les wrapped his arms around her. Their lips parted as they stretched their necks out toward each other. Then they were one.

Les kissed her. He was gentle at first, and Bridget appreciated the way he took it easy on her, but she soon wanted more. She gripped him tighter, moaning, and he took her meaning and pushed his tongue forward. It was a slow, tentative thing at first, but he grew more confident in no time at all. He moved his hand to the small of her back and pushed further, forcing her to bend back into a half-dipped position. His tongue stretched forward and she submitted to his whims.

Bridget was aroused beyond anything she ever could have dreamed. Her nipples were like pebbles beneath her dress, and she felt an intense thrumming between her legs. She had enough experience with her toys to know she was wet and ready. Les broke away to catch his breath and they both panted as they held each other. Bridget could hardly believe her first kiss had been so perfect and intense. She knew there was no way she could back out now. They were doing this.

“Did you bring condoms?” She asked.

She surprised herself as she said it, but excitement granted her careless confidence. Les felt as if he were trembling against her for an instant and then she realized he was laughing.

“What did I say?” Bridget groaned, her newfound ego already deflating.

“Sorry, it’s not you,” he said, releasing her so he could reach for a nightstand and pull the drawer open. “My uncle told me he’d stock me up when I asked him for the rooms. He knew what was up. He said he’d tell my dad what I was up to if I didn’t use them.”

The drawer was full of at least four different brands in half a dozen styles. She saw flavored ones, ribbed ones, and warming ones. Some were labeled “intimate” or “twisted”, while others read “intense.” Les reached in and grabbed a handful, then turned back to her.

“Do you have a preference?”

Bridget turned pink again and giggled as she adjusted her dress.

“I don’t know…”

She wasn’t telling the whole truth, but wanted to surprise him. Clara had educated her on a few things where condoms were concerned. She even showed her a few tricks to impress her future conquests. She spotted a pale pink wrapper among the black and gold and pinched it between her thumb and forefinger. She shook it a few times and put one corner between her teeth, ripping the package open like a pro.

“Take off your pants,” she told Les, hoping she sounded more self-assured than she felt.

His hands shot to his belt and he had his waistband open in an instant. His pants dropped to his ankles and he slipped his shoes and socks off, leaving him standing in his boxers.

“Underwear, too.”

While he bent down, Bridget stuck the strawberry flavored rubber in her mouth. She sucked it in enough to unfurl it about a quarter of the way and held her lips in an “O” the way Clara had taught her. They’d done drills with a dild* until she could put the condom on with her mouth in one go. Bridget hoped she could still manage it with the genuine article. When Les finally let his boxers fall with a nervous sigh, she had already dropped to her knees. Face to face with an erect penis for the first time in her life, she looked it over for a moment.

It wasn’t all that intimidating. Les wasn’t small by any stretch, but even a “big” co*ck wasn’t so bad. Her tit* could make anything seem small by comparison.

Clara lied! She thought. I knew that dild* she made me deepthroat was above average.

Feeling more confident than ever, Bridget grabbed Les by the hips and put her lips around the tip of his co*ck. Breathing in through her nose, she let it out slowly as she worked her way down his shaft. The condom slipped around it even as it pressed further into her throat. The sweet artificial strawberry flavor coated her tongue as she worked it in and out to massage his co*ck. After Clara’s lessons, sucking dick was easy. Les moaned and put his hands on Bridget’s shoulders to steady himself. She had three quarters of his length in her mouth, and thought she could manage the rest without gagging.

“I thought you said you’ve never done this kind of thing before,” Les moaned. “How are you so good at this?”

Even through her mouthful of co*ck, Bridget’s lips curled into a satisfied smile. She drove her head forward and loosened her grip to leave the condom behind as she took a deep breath. Les gasped and gripped her shoulders tighter as his body shook with pleasure. He obviously wanted more.

“I watched some tutorials,” Bridget giggled. “Wasn’t sure I could pull it off, though.”

“Can you do that some more? Or do you want to—”

Bridget cut him off by wrapping her lips around his shaft again and bobbing her head back and forth. He drew in a sharp breath and groaned with satisfaction as his hips started to buck. She grunted with effort and had to fight back the urge to retch a few times, but thought she enjoyed the experience. It was nice to make someone feel that good, and it made her feel good to be the source of that pleasure in turn. She looked up at him and saw that he had thrown his head back, lost in total bliss. He let out soft, deep moans and she went on sucking him, full of self-satisfaction.

“S-stop,” he said, gripping her shoulders again. “Not yet. Don’t want to…c-cum already…”

Bridget relented. She didn’t want that either. If he was a virgin, his first org*sm might knock him out for good. Clara had warned her about letting a guy blow his load too early. She wanted to have some fun too.

“Can I see them?”

Bridget popped his dick out of her mouth, still looking up at him, and co*cked her head to one side.

“Huh?”

“Your, uh, your boobs…” Les said, licking his lips again.

Bridget looked down at all the cleavage already on display and shrugged.

“I guess so,” she said with a shrug. “Help me up.”

She held her arms up and he grabbed her hands, lifting her back onto her feet. Turning around, she looked back over one shoulder at him.

“Can you get my zipper for me?”

Les gulped, then reached out and fumbled for the tiny zipper between her shoulder blades. He pulled it down and released the pressure on her chest. Bridget couldn’t stop the sigh of relief. Her massive tit* fell into their natural position and decompressed for the first time in hours. They almost seemed to expand once the tight dress fell away, as if they needed the help.

She stepped out of it, completely topless, and spun in place before thrusting her chest out at Les. His jaw dropped open as he took in the sight of her breasts in all their naked glory. He expected them to sag more, but they were firm and shapely as a much smaller woman’s might have been.

“Y-You can touch them if you want.”

Bridget lowered her voice in an attempt at a sultry coo. She hoped the nervous stammering didn’t spoil the effect. Les didn't seem to notice or care, and his hands stretched out to caress her tit*, which he had to take on one at a time. He slid his hands over her skin, feeling out her curves until the underside of her right breast rested in his palms. It overflowed his hands many times over, but he gently lifted it, stunned by its weight and pillowy softness as his fingers sank into her flesh.

It was the first time anyone other than a doctor examining her had touched her like this, and it felt amazing. Her nipples hardened again, as long as the last joint on her thumb and twice as thick. Les’s left hand moved to the front of her breast and he latched onto it. He pinched it, and a thrill of pleasure shot up Bridget’s spine. She let out a low groan of bittersweet frustration and looked up at him with a new fire in her eyes.

“I need you to stop teasing me and do something,” she purred.

“Then lose the panties,” Les whispered back.

He sounded more dominant and demanding, and Bridget liked it. Drunk on a flood of hormones more powerful than any drug, she felt confident enough to try something sexy. She pulled away from his grasp and turned around. Les began to protest, but stopped when she bent over to rest her chest on the mattress and wiggle her ass at him. From this angle he could see how curvy the rest of her was. Her waistline had a well-defined taper to it and she had a nice little bubble butt on her. Even without the giant tit* she was still pretty hot.

“Why don’t you do the honors?” She asked, smirking back at him over one shoulder.

Les grabbed her by the waist and pressed his crotch into her soft cheeks. She let out a soft squeak that turned into a yelp as he yanked her panties down to her mid-thighs in one motion. She gasped when the cool air hit her soaking wet lips and felt her last shred of clothing slide down her legs. It settled around her ankles, and she stepped out of them to stand naked in front of a man for the first time in her life.

It felt good. She felt wanted. Useful. Desired. The guilt and anxiety that had plagued her since she became little more than a physical, emotional, and financial burden on her friends and family faded away completely. All that mattered was the imminent sex, and she wanted it now more than ever.

Something hot and hard slid between her thighs and over her puss*. It sent a jolt of electricity through her body and the warm glow at her center grew from a spark to a roaring flame. There was a penis touching her. A real flesh and blood co*ck. She thought she was beginning to see why Clara had become so obsessed with them. She started panting and the sounds of her high, shallow breathing filled the air.

Les thrust back and forth a few times, coating his shaft with her juices. He gripped her hips, widened his stance, and then lined himself up in such expert fashion that Bridget might have thought twice about his supposed virginity if she’d been capable of lucid thought. As it was, she let out a surprised squeak as she felt the tip of his co*ck push its way into her. She spread her legs out of instinct, but her inexperienced sex squeezed tight and stopped his progress. He pulled back and advanced again. This time he managed to get about half of his total length inside her.

Bridget moaned and whimpered. It felt good, but there was a half painful stretching sensation as well. It wasn’t quite as fun as she had expected it to be.

“Hold on,” she gasped. “It doesn’t feel right.”

“You’re new to this,” Les almost whined. “You need to let me work you out a little. It’ll feel great in a minute.”

His voice had taken on a new and unattractive wheedling tone. The hormonal mist around Bridget’s brain thinned out and she found herself fitting previously ignored pieces together before she could stop herself.

“I said wait,” she snapped.

She started to pull herself forward on the mattress and tried to twist around to face him. He still had her by the hips, though, and she only made it a few inches. With minimal effort, he stopped her from twisting around and grabbed her by the wrists. Then he forced her to lay flat on the bed and pinned her down with his dead weight. He was a tall, strong, athletic guy, and she was a soft, semi-disabled girl who hadn’t so much as jogged in two years. The illusion of her power evaporated as she felt the scales tip firmly in his favor.

She wasn’t a goddess. He didn’t see her willingness to spend the night with him as a gift. She was a sacrifice to his ego. A conquest. A plaything he had earned through his cunning and charisma. She was the object of his desire, yes, but only that. An object.

“You lied to me…” She said, choking as her eyes filled with tears. “How many girls have you lured in with the wounded puppy act?”

“Oh, not that many,” he crooned, leaning over her. “Most of the girls I’ve been with were a little smarter than that. You’ve got the makings of a real slu*t, you know?”

His voice was cruel and vicious, and Bridget couldn’t believe how stupid she was. How could Clara have vouched for this guy? They couldn’t have known he was some kind of psychotic date rapist.

“Please don’t do this,” she wailed. “Clara and M—”

“Clara and Matty are in the other room!” Les finished in a high-pitched, nasal mockery of her voice. “Did you not see how wasted they were, dipsh*t? They’ll be too busy f*cking each other's brains out. Even if they do hear you they’ll think the little virgin is having a hell of a time getting her cherry popped.”

“Why?” Bridget asked, her voice cracked and weak. “You were going to get what you wanted either way. You didn’t have to ruin everything…”

Les laughed and shook his head.

“f*cking women!” He scoffed. “You’re the one acting like a f*cking tease. I was getting you good and ready, hadn’t even started f*cking for real, and you still tried to blueball me. You’re literally made to get f*cked and you were acting like it hurt.”

Bridget couldn’t believe it. He was a full-on Bundy-style predator and she had fallen right into his trap. How many girls had he treated this way? How were there not a million rumors swirling about this guy?

Because his family is rich. Because the girls felt ashamed and powerless.

“Honestly, though, when Matt told me his booty call had a friend with giant tit* I knew I had to give you a try.”

Booty call?

“Clara and Matty have been dating for years,” she growled.

She felt a rush of defiance as she came to her friend’s defense. She started trying to pull her arms free.

“He’s not—stop!”

He jerked her wrists against her lower back with one hand and spanked her as hard as he could. It was painful and humiliating, and tears welled up in her eyes again. She tried to get her arms under herself and roll over, but he was too fast and she wasn’t strong enough. He grabbed her arms and yanked them out to her sides again before pinning her down.

“Seven years of wrestling and jiu jitsu,” Les boasted. “You’re not gonna make it, so shut the f*ck up and relax. You’ll be begging me for more in a minute.”

He pulled her left arm into a hammerlock and held it there, then put enough pressure on her shoulder to make it uncomfortable, but short of painful. She felt his other hand released her wrist, but she couldn’t move without pain shooting through her back. Then she felt him lining himself up to force himself on her. She let out a piercing scream of rage and desperation. There was nothing else she could do.

At the same time the bedroom door crashed open and Bridget heard a masculine voice let out a nonverbal roar. Another joined it, this one high and feminine, and the pressure on her shoulder abated as Les rolled off of her. She heard the sounds of a struggle and blows landing before she managed to roll over to see what was going on.

It was Aidan.

Somehow he had shown up out of nowhere and was fighting Les with every ounce of strength he had. They were rolling around on the floor while Clara hovered over them, naked apart from a g-string. She was wielding something shiny and green, looking for a chance to strike. When Les rolled over and tried to force Aidan into some sort of hold, she took her shot and brought the full champagne bottle down on his head. There was a crack and an explosive shattering sound, and then liquid sprayed all over the room. Les fell over, completely unconscious, and Matty stumbled into the room, pulling on a pair of jeans. Aidan scrambled to his feet and looked down at Bridget through bloodshot eyes. She was trying to force her trembling hands to pull the bedclothes over her body.

“I’m so f*cking sorry, Bridge.”

Clara called the police and front desk to explain the situation, but when the cops showed up with a team of EMTs she had to tell them the whole story anyway. The lone female officer sat next to Bridget and told her how things would be going forward while a few of the EMTs loaded Les into an ambulance. She said Les was hurt, but she would see to it that he suffered the consequences of what he had done once he recovered. Bridget remained stoic through it all. She was too upset and confused to take it all in. And she still had no idea where Aidan could have come from.

The police insisted the other crew needed to sneak Bridget out of the back to shuttle her off. They said it was for her benefit, but she assumed it was to avoid a scene in such a fancy hotel. Clara was sober enough to pick up on what they were trying to do and let them know about it. Matty was drunk enough to support her, and to be extra loud about it, so a few cops tossed them into a cruiser. They assured Bridget and Aidan that they weren’t under arrest, but they needed to be escorted back home.

The one mercy was that Bridget was eighteen and they weren’t obliged to call her parents unless she asked them to. It hadn’t gone quite all the way. Although things had gone much too far, Aidan and Clara had saved her from the worst possible outcome.

Aidan, of all people. He had shown up in the nick of time and fought to protect her. She thought he was moving on, but he had cared enough to track her down to a fancy hotel an hour from home. But she didn’t understand how he knew where she was, let alone why or how he had found the right room.

Once the police and doctors had cleared her to leave, she met Aidan in the hospital lobby. It was a tearful reunion. Somehow, despite what had happened—and what had almost happened—she felt better than she had in a long time. Once they got into his car and started driving she couldn’t keep the tears of relief from falling. Aidan was with her again. They were talking again.

“How did you find us?” Bridget hiccuped once the worst of her sobbing had subsided. “No one else knew where we were going.”

“Jenna,” Aidan sighed. “She knew enough to help me figure out what was going on.”

“But why were you even looking for us? Why did you leave the party?”

“Gale Fleming, got to the dance late and saw you guys leaving with Les. He used to live with his dad in Wallis Island and he knew him. He said he never knew if it was true or not, but there were rumors about him being a freak as far back as middle school. He never got caught and none of the girls he abused ever spoke up. Gale said he thought his dad is a judge or something like that.”

“Well they’ll have to do something about him now, right?”

Aidan sighed and hung his head for a moment before returning his eyes to the road.

“I don’t know, Bridge. I hope so, but people like that always seem to get off way too easy. At best he’ll do about six months in some fancy prison and get right back to his old sh*t.”

They rode in tense silence for a while. It took several more miles for Bridget to work up the courage to say anything else.

“Thanks for looking out for me…”

Her voice was tiny, broken, and on the verge of fresh tears. Aidan went stiff, but didn’t say anything. He seemed to have some sort of internal debate with himself, then pulled over and parked on the shoulder. Then he twisted in his seat and looked her in the eyes. She couldn’t remember the last time a guy had done that. Fifth or sixth grade seemed about right.

“I’ve been a f*cking dumbass,” he said, voice breaking as he swore.

Bridget hadn’t expected that at all. She’d expected him to shout at her for being stupid enough to go into a hotel room with a guy she had only met an hour before. She supposed she would have deserved it, too.

“Clara called me while you were in the exam room. I never could figure you out, but I should have tried harder. We could have both avoided a lot of stupid drama if I hadn’t been so thick.”

His voice was an angry growl, but the rage wasn’t directed at her. It was all turned inward.

“I know you’ve had a tough time since middle school, but I never quite got how bad it was for you. The older we got the more I started to think you didn’t want me around. Once I started playing baseball I thought I could impress you, but you didn’t seem to think it was all that great. I got kind of depressed about it and decided it would be best to stop bothering you. Some of my friends convinced me that Eva—”

Bridget winced and shook her head, letting out a soft squeak of irritation.

“Please,” she whimpered. “Can we not talk about her right now?”

Aidan growled and hung his head again. He ran his hand through his hair and looked up at her again.

“They told me I should get over you and go out with someone else and I was dumb enough to listen. But it was f*cking miserable, Bridge! She was such a goddamn…”

He looked like he had found the word he wanted to use but was also unsure if he should. Bridget decided to help him out, for old time’s sake.

“c*nt?” She said, with a weak laugh.

“c*nt!” Aidan roared. “Thank you!”

He saw her tearful smile and couldn’t stop himself from letting out a small, relieved laugh of his own. It died in his throat and she let out a choking sob and covered his eyes in shame.

“It was the worst, though. I knew I had f*cked up within the first week, but I couldn’t figure out how to get out of it without causing a huge scene. She got so f*cking mad at that game, and I wanted to tell you that I was going to break up with her, but then I put my foot in it and pissed you off…”

Bridget went red. She remembered how angry she had been that day. She hadn’t even let him finish talking. Had he been trying to explain that he was going to break up with Eva?

“I didn’t know…” She said, tearing up all over again.

“Oh, god, please don’t cry,” Aidan pleaded with her. “I wasn’t trying to upset you again.”

“I’m relieved stupid…” She sobbed.

Aidan stared at her, awestruck.

“You are?”

“Yes, you moron!” She said, springing upright and pushing him hard enough to force him back against the door panel. “All this time I thought you were trying to get back at me for something and it turns out you’re clueless. Like every other man on earth, I guess.”

She wiped her eyes with her fingers, smearing her already ruined makeup even further. Smiling through her tears, she grabbed his hand and held it.

“What do you want now, Aidan?” She asked him. “No stupid games. No trick questions. I just want you to tell me what you think about me.”

He went red and his usual effortless confidence waned in the face of her new direct approach. He straightened in his seat and stared out the windshield for a torturous length of time. Bridget remained silent. She was willing to give him all the time he needed.

“For now I just want to take you home,” he said without looking at her.

He put the car into drive and pulled back onto the highway. The tension between them had relaxed, but Bridget had to force herself not to burst into tears again. How many times did she have to throw herself at him before he saw her as something more than a childhood friend? Was it too weird for him? Like dating his sister?

“Oh…okay…”

“And I want to have breakfast and a long talk in the morning, okay?”

She saw a small ray of hope on her horizon. Talk was good, but she had to play it cool.

“Alright.”

“I love you, Bridget,” he finally blurted out.

It was slow, choppy, and nearly inarticulate, but also the sweetest thing she had ever heard him say.

“I always have, but I never knew how to deal with it. I thought you saw me as more of a brother or something…”

Bridget started laughing. She couldn’t help it. It was all so stupid.

“What?” Aidan asked, sounding offended. “What did I say?”

“Nothing,” she reassured him.

She doubled over as much as her breasts would allow to clutch at her heaving sides.

“It’s just that I thought the same thing about you.”

Aidan drove in insulted silence for a while. When he broke out into wild peals of laughter, Bridget knew things were going to be so much better going forward.

“We’re such f*cking idiots!” He howled.

They laughed like that the rest of the way home.

Aidan escorted her up to her house and even opened the front door for her. As they walked into the dim entryway it almost felt like the last few traumatic hours had never happened. It felt like they were coming home after an ordinary evening of dancing and poor decisions. Bad things had happened, though, and Bridget wasn’t sure how to cope with it. Now that she was home, she almost wanted to keep it all secret from her family. But what would happen if the police decided to do something about it? Would they summon her to testify in court? And could she keep it from her parents if they did?

Probably not, she thought.

Fortunately, or not, she was saved any further worry as the lights flickered in the den to her left and bathed them both in the warm glow of artificial light. She went to the doorway and squinted through the sudden assault on her senses. She made out two dim shapes seated on the couch.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” Her mother asked in a tone of voice that sounded both flat and tired.

“Um, almost midnight. Why are you two still up?”

“Your mother and I caught something on the evening news about an hour ago,” her dad said. “Something we never expected to see.”

A chill went down Bridget’s spine and her heart dropped into her stomach. So much adrenaline flooded her system that she thought she would be sick. Had someone already reported what happened at the hotel? She never saw any reporters wandering around.

“Why did you do it?” Her mom asked, standing up from the couch and spotting Aidan hovering behind her daughter.

She stood up from the couch and then spotted Aidan hovering behind her daughter. A look of surprise crossed her face before it returned to its previous hard expression.

“Oh, Aidan, I didn’t see you there. Did you give Bridget a ride home?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Aidan said. “We, um, sort of…made up, I guess…”

He trailed off, sensing the palpable tension in the room as well as anyone else. Bridget guessed his thoughts were going down similar avenues to her own.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Catherine said. “But could I ask you to head home for the night? Bridget’s father and I need to speak to her alone.”

Bridget flashed her most pitiful look at him, and he hesitated for a moment, but nodded to Catherine.

“Sure thing,” he said. “I’ll see you in the morning okay, Bridge?”

Her eyes welled up, but she knew he was right. Things would be much worse if he tried to argue. He knew her mom almost as well as she did.

“Yeah,” she said with a small hitch in her voice. “Tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Aidan,” her dad said. “For giving her a ride home.”

“No problem, Mr. Thomas,” Aidan said as he went out the door.

“Now,” Catherine said through clenched teeth. “I’m going to do my best not to lose my temper, but let me ask one more time: why did you do it?”

Bridget wasn’t sure what her mom was talking about, or what answer she was expecting. She decided to play dumb, at least until she could put together a few context clues.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” she tried. “Dad, what is she talking about?”

“Don’t you try to appeal to your father,” Catherine said. “Don’t you dare try to go easy on her, Nick. She knows what she did.”

“I’m not sure she does,” Nick said with a sly look at his daughter. “What have you been up to since you turned eighteen, sweetheart?”

Bridget felt more confused than ever. Her heart was racing and she could feel the beginnings of a panic attack building within her. This wasn’t the kind of welcome she had expected. She didn’t even know why she was in trouble.

“Would you just tell me what you think I did?” She burst out, loud enough to wake her brother but too upset to care.

“Keep your voice down,” Catherine said. “And I don’t think anything. We both saw the proof with our own eyes. You called Dana Daniels.”

Bridget almost felt relieved. They didn’t know she had gone to Wallis Island. Unfortunately, that meant they had seen her interview. She hadn’t even known Dana was planning to air it already. A little heads up would have been nice.

“So what if I did?” Bridget shot back. “She wanted to tell people about girls like me. She’s trying to help them understand our condition and she wanted to put me in touch with someone who could help.”

“And all she wanted in return was to take advantage of a naive teenager with no clue how the real world works!”

Her mom’s voice was rising from a hiss to a soft, catlike snarl.

“I told you to stay away from her! I told you she was poison, didn’t I?”

“Cathy,” Nick said, stepping between his wife and daughter. “She’s a legal adult now. She can make her own choices.”

Catherine looked like she wanted to slap him, but restrained herself and settled for turning away in a huff. She headed for the kitchen, hissing back at her daughter as she went.

“You’ve done it now, Bridget,” she said. “You’re going to be up to your tit* in tabloid journalists and ‘producers’ by tomorrow morning.”

“Mom…”

Bridget couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She’d never heard her mom speak so bluntly before or use expressions like that. She thought they were too vulgar.

“You should get to bed, sweetie,” Nick told her. “I’ll try to keep her calm and we’ll talk about this in the morning.”

She wanted to argue that she had nothing to be mad about in the first place, but she was too physically and emotionally exhausted to fight. Her mom had no clue what she had been through that night.

And she never will, Bridget told herself.

“Alright, daddy,” she said. “Thanks,”

“I’m glad you and Aidan seem to have patched things up,” he said. “He’s a good kid.”

“The best,” Bridget said with a tired smile before she headed for the stairs.

“Just to be clear, I don’t think your mother is entirely wrong about what you did,” Nick said. “You should have at least told us you were planning to do it.”

Bridget ignored that and stayed quiet as she walked upstairs. As the tears began to slide down her cheeks again she knew she wouldn’t be getting much sleep that night after all.