By
D-Bot
Summary: Corinne is gradually super-endowed through the magic of Marie, a goth girl who wants to shed her immense knockers. The goth girl isn’t malicious or vindictive, she just wants to be starving-skinny like the other goth girls (who don’t take her seriously because she has such huge boobs). Corinne ends up the accidental recipient of the spell, after she gets Corinne’s scarf by accident (she thinks it belongs to Corinne’s spiteful friend Janey). She transfers her boobs to Corinne in stages; however, because it’s magic, the change is retroactive, so that it was always true that Corinne had unnaturally large boobs
“Look
at Marie,” Janey scoffed, nodding toward the black-sheathed girl at the
cafeteria door. “Looks like somebody painted a pair of Goodyear blimps black
and shoved them under that baggy sweatshirt!”
Corinne
glanced over, then nodded at Janey’s spiteful comment. Marie wasn’t
well-endowed; if anything, “well-endowed” was a big understatement.
Marie
was enormous.
There were lots of jokes
about the quiet, serious girl’s enormous chest, made by girls as often as the
jocks who’d claimed they’d “scoped the territory” firsthand. Corinne doubted
that the guys’ boasting was true—Marie didn’t seem like the type to be
interested in muscleheads—but the girl’s boobs really were gigantic, bigger
than Corinne thought a human being could possibly have.
What made it worse for her
was that the rest of her body was rather slim. She had a slender waist and long
legs for being only 5’3”, as well as black-dyed hair that hung to the small of
her back and in front of her face, hiding dark eyes that were smudgy with too
much mascara. If she’d been a smaller size, maybe a B-cup or even an A, her
physique would have been much better matched…but genetics had thrown her a
curve ball, of sorts, and left her physically astounding, if not unique.
It bothered Corinne that her
friends made jokes about Marie. It wasn’t right, she knew, but being new at Rosedale High, Corinne
really wanted to get along and make friends, so she just nodded and kept
silent.
Nobody
would ever make those kinds of jokes about her, she knew; her breasts were
comfortably housed in a B-cup bra. Although they were well-formed, they weren’t
very large. Side by side, Corinne thought that she and Marie would make a
pretty funny “before and after” ad for some miracle breast cream. The thought
made her smirk.
She caught Marie looking
their way hopefully, her eyes on the open seat at their table, but Janey
scowled and shook her head. The monumentally stacked girl’s face collapsed from
hope to resignation. She kept walking, stoically ignoring the half-heard
comments passed back and forth behind her.
“As
if it weren’t bad enough she’s a freak with those boobs, she’s a goth on top of
it!” Janey sneered. “Social outcast city!”
“Somebody
said she casts spells,” another girl—Corinne thought her name was Kris—said
suddenly.
“Right.
Spells. Maybe she knows a good spell for keeping those chest-whales under
control.” There was a round of appreciative snickers, then Janey glanced back
at Corinne. “Say, Cor, can I hang onto the scarf another day or two?” Janey
asked, holding up Corinne’s prized black scarf—the one her grandmother had
hand-knit and given to Corinne just before she passed away.
Corinne
hesitated. She wanted her black scarf back, mostly so she could wear it with
her new outfit, but… she always caved. Even though Janey had only known her a
couple of weeks, she knew that Corinne would always give in.
“Sure.
I have another with me.”
“Great,
thanks!”
Why am I
such a wimp? Corinne thought angrily. I’m always getting taken advantage of.
If I just stood up for myself once
in awhile… She glanced toward the cafeteria door and felt her heart
skip as Brock Peterson walked in. He was the coolest guy in school, with his
very own Corvette (okay, so it was used, but a ‘Vette is still a ‘Vette) and,
according to the school rumor mill, an acceptance at Princeton. It didn’t hurt
that he was handsome enough to make every girl in school drool with desire,
either.
Corinne
tracked where Brock’s eyes were focused and gasped when she realized he was
staring at Marie! It wasn’t a chilly, “been-there-screwed-that” look…it was…
She
felt shivers run down her spine. Brock Peterson, the guy every girl in school
wanted, had the hots for Marie!
The
goth girl was sitting near but not with the other goths. Corinne figured that
the starved-to-death goths weren’t any kinder to Marie than Janey, even though
Marie dressed the part so well. Maybe her big boobs were a social handicap with
that crowd. But obviously they weren’t turning off Brock.
Corinne
debated telling Janey what she was seeing, then decided that the queen of the
cheerleaders hated Marie enough already and there was no reason to add fuel to
the fire. She sighed to herself. If only Brock looked at me that way,
she thought. As if. I only have B-cups. He must have a huge breast fixation.
The
unintentional pun occurred to her and she stifled a giggle, making Janey look
at her strangely. “It’s nothing,” Corinne said. “Just sneezed, that’s all.”
But
the thought didn’t leave her. If I had huge boobs, I bet Brock would notice me,
she thought. Ah, but that’ll happen when…
Then
she glanced at the scarf looped around Janey’s neck and added, …Janey gives
up my scarf.
It
was the break between sixth and seventh periods, almost the end of the day.
Janey was hanging out in the hallway, talking to Brandon and Trevor. Marie
walked up behind her, her eyes unusually serious in a face fixed in absolute concentration.
None
of the three noticed, which should have struck everyone as strange.
However,
nobody noticed Marie just then, which was exactly the way the massively endowed
girl wanted it.
Marie sidled toward the
chattering ex-cheerleader and the two guys, her hands busy with small averting
gestures. When she stood no more than an arms’ length behind Janey, she reached
out and gently took the black scarf from around Janey’s neck. Janey brushed at
her collar but never noticed; neither did the two guys. Marie walked away with
her prize, her expression somewhere between a frown and a smirk.
Revenge.
Relief.
Marie
knew the perfect way to combine the two.
She’d
been thinking about it for a long time. Now that she had something Janey owned,
it was possible to do the spell.
Who
knew? Maybe Janey would like the outcome. But Marie didn’t think so, and the
idea filled her with nasty-minded satisfaction.
Marie
plucked three hairs from the scarf. They seemed to be darker blonde than
Janey’s near-platinum, but it was probably just the dimness of the candlelight
in Marie's bedroom. She fixed them into the head of the crude wax doll she’d
made, along with fake blonde hair borrowed from a discarded Barbie doll, then
put three hairs from her own head into another doll…one that was ridiculously
oversized up top. She thought about the sympathetic magic she was about to
work, then carefully snipped off a thread from the scarf to wrap around the
Janey-doll’s neck. “It never hurts to strengthen the bond between the image and
the reality,” she told herself, reciting one of her earliest lessons from
memory. She hadn’t studied magic very much—or very well—but she was pretty sure
that this bit of sympathetic magic would work.
At least, she hoped it
would.
She
picked up the Marie-doll, moving carefully to avoid knocking over one of the
candles with her huge (and uncovered) boobs, not to mention getting scorched by
an open flame, and held up her special black candle to the doll’s front. The
candle was a gift from her great-aunt, who was a real witch; she had
cautioned Marie against using magic for revenge, but that warning was long
forgotten by the frustrated and hurt-filled teenager. The candle’s greasy,
smoky flame quickly softened the wax, which beaded on the doll’s breasts. Marie
held the doll over the Janey-doll and watched as the wax dripped down, each
droplet adding to the Janey-doll’s bust.
As
the wax dripped, Marie repeated a chant over and over. The words weren’t
English, or any other language Marie had heard, but somehow she understood the
intent: to change, transform, metamorphose. She visualized Janey’s chest
bulking up, her own shrinking…but something seemed off. The face she tried to
visualize, the target of the spell she was casting, seemed oddly out of focus.
Marie shook her head and kept concentrating, pushing through the headache and
bodywide tingle that always accompanied working magic.
When
she was ready to quit for the night, it was nearly 1 a.m. and she was
exhausted.
She
smiled to herself as she extinguished the candles and got ready for bed.
Tomorrow should be a very interesting day.
“Ugh.
Is it morning already?” Corinne mumbled, staring blearily at the alarm clock
and wishing she had another two hours to sleep, but the clock never lied.
She
was on her feet and trudging toward the bathroom door before she felt fully
awake. Her bathrobe had gotten on her body and the belt tied off by some murky
subconscious reflex, her feet never stumbled even though her eyes were barely
open, and her first sight of the day was seeing herself in the bathroom mirror.
Taking
a deep breath, her eyes caught the way her C-cup chest stretched out and
across. A tiny frown furrowed her brow. Something seemed just the least
bit off…but she couldn’t quite figure what that something could be.
Corinne
shook her head, then discarded the bathrobe and climbed into the shower. It was
probably going to be a long day at work and school, and there wasn’t much time
to waste.
“I
don’t know why she bothers coming in here to lunch,” Janey said, giving Marie a
cold, dismissive glance practiced over three years of being a varsity
cheerleader. “It’s not like the goths’ll have anything to do with her. She
might as well go out to the bleachers and sit with the stoners.”
“Maybe
she wants to be around people,” Corinne said, tugging uncomfortably on her bra
strap. For some reason, it just wasn’t doing what it should, and her neck and
back were feeling tense and knotted. “Why do the goths ignore her?”
“Same
reason all us girls do,” Janey said vaguely. “See how thin the goth girls are?
She doesn’t fit in with them any better than she fits in with us. Then again,
she’d need enough cloth for a parachute to ‘fit in’ those things.” Janey shook
her head dismissively. “So have you thought any more about going out for
cheerleading in the spring, Cor? I could put in a good word with Mrs.
Henderson.”
“It’d
be tough, between school and work, but… maybe!” Corinne felt glad she was
making friends so quickly. Now if only the minor twinge between and above her
shoulder blades would go away, life would be great. She watched as Brock
Peterson, man of her dreams, kept his gaze fixed on the overly buxom Marie—then
felt chills as Marie glanced toward her table. It was only a tiny shiver, but
something seemed to flow between them…except that Marie was looking at Janey
with a slightly puzzled frown.
Corinne
shrugged to herself. She didn’t know the girl at all; maybe she had some weird
fixation on cheerleaders.
Marie
couldn’t understand it. Her chest had shrunk a bit last night, without
question, but why wasn’t Janey any bigger? Even though the change was just
beginning, there should have been something visible.
As
her gaze left Janey, she glimpsed Corinne…and her jaw dropped open. The new
girl’s chest was definitely bigger! But why had the spell seized on her and
not Janey?
Marie
shook her head in disbelief. She resolved to concentrate even harder later that
night. Corinne might have accidentally gained some inches on her chest, but
that wasn’t a serious problem for most girls. Besides, by using magic, Corinne
would never realize that anything was different. She would just have bigger
boobs.
It wasn’t as though she’d
noticed.
Marie
sat alone once again and spent her lunch time thinking of how to make sure the
spell worked right this time.
By
gym class, Corinne knew she had to get a better bra. This one had been fine as
long as she’d had it, but now it seemed too small.
I know I’m
not getting my period, so that can’t be it, she puzzled out. Heck, maybe
I’m just getting a late growth spurt.
Then
she realized that this bra had always been the teeniest bit small on her. She
was a shade larger than a regular C-cup, so naturally this bra wasn’t a perfect
fit. It’s
not like I’m Marie, thank heavens, she thought as she changed for
gym. If I
were, I’d have to have all my bras specially made!
She
made a mental note to go to work at the department store extra-early, so she
could shop for a bra before her shift at the perfume counter. It was a new
job—she’d barely been there three weeks—and she didn’t want to be late. Doreen,
her shift-partner, wasn’t the most reliable person in the world and Corinne
didn’t want to hear it if she was late as well.
Bad
enough that people thought the worst of blondes already. She had no intention
of giving her boss even more reason to think she was a flake.
“Hi,
Janey,” Corinne said, setting her tray down at the by-now-familiar table.
“Hi,”
Janey said, looking sidelong at Corinne. She exchanged glances with the other
cheerleaders that practically screamed ‘We’ve been making jokes about your
tits, you stupid cow,’ then she looked over at Marie. “Looks as though your
twin made it to lunch, huh, Cor?”
Corinne
looked over and saw the goth girl make her way through the line. She’d never
really noticed that their busts were about the same size. Since they were close
in height, they might almost be body-twins, though Marie’s hair was dyed black
and Corinne’s was blonde; both of them had long hair, though, and heart-shaped faces,
so the coincidental resemblance was strongly reinforced.
“So
Janey, what about…”
“Kris,
you were saying that Lonny Dawson was going to ask you out? Tell us all about
it!” Janey blurted, cutting off Corinne without even a glance in her direction.
Kris
almost looked toward Corinne but didn’t. Neither did anyone else at the table.
Corinne
got the hint.
She
tried to tough it out, but she got more uncomfortable sitting among the “in”
crowd and nobody talked to her. It suddenly seemed as though she didn’t belong
her, even though she thought the girls had been… well, friendlier before. Maybe
she was just imagining things. She picked up her tray and moved along to
another table.
It
was not shaping up to be a great week in her new school.
“Geez,
Corinne, why do you think all the guys wander past the perfume counter so
often?” Doreen asked, fixing her gaze on Corinne’s chest. Corinne blushed; even
though it seemed she’d been attracting stares since puberty, it still made her
blush when anyone kept their eyes on them.
“Maybe
because it’s right by the mall entrance? Yeah, all right, having big breasts
gets me noticed,” Corinne huffed, trying to shrug off her discomfort and hoping
none of the passing customers overheard her. “So what?”
“Hey,
I’m only kidding with you,” Doreen said, though her tone wasn’t entirely
sincere. “I know you don’t wear tight clothes and flaunt yourself.
You’re…what’s the word, discreet. Yeah, discreet.”
“Having
big tits doesn’t make me a slut, Doreen,” Corinne said darkly.
“Never
said it did!” But I sure as hell implied it, her expression said.
Corinne
shook her head, wishing her shoulders and neck didn’t ache so much. By
mid-afternoon, all she wanted to do was lie down and alleviate her body’s
ongoing war with gravity. It wasn’t always bad, but just thinking about it made
her overburdened muscles twitch.
“Say,
Cor, can you switch nights with me? I don’t feel like working tomorrow night,”
Doreen said. “That new Brad Pitt movie is opening and Jeff said he’d take me…”
Corinne
opened her mouth to agree, then closed it again. Doreen always asked to switch
nights, and the last two times, she had shown up so late that Corinne had
gotten into trouble with her boss. Besides which, she had tests on Friday to
study for and Doreen knew it. “Sorry, I can’t,” she said. “I’ve got too much
schoolwork to do.”
Doreen
looked flabbergasted, as if Corinne had grown another head. “But…you always
switch…?” she protested softly.
“I
know, but not this time. Sorry, Dor. You’ll have to ask Mina or Kelsie.” Who are
harder to convince than I am, Corinne thought.
Doreen
scowled and seemed about to say something unpleasant, then changed her mind and
walked away. Corinne smiled gently; it was invigorating to stand up for
herself, even in something as minor as saying no to a favor she didn’t want to
do.
Where the
heck did I get that little burst of self-confidence from? She rolled
her shoulders briefly, wincing at the all-too-familiar ache caused by her
overgrown front.
“Excuse
me, but…do you go to Rosedale High?”
Corinne’s
heart jumped into her throat. She’d heard that voice before, usually in
passing, but NEVER directed at her. She turned around slowly and tried not to
gape when she found Brock standing behind her, on the other side of the perfume
counter.
“I’m
Brock Peterson. I thought I recognized you from school,” he said.
“I…I
know. I mean, I’m Corinne. I’ve seen you in the cafeteria.” She tried not to
blush, certain that she was failing miserably.
“Yeah,
I thought I’d seen you. Say, do you have Mr. Sarmich for math…?”
Her
heartbeat slowed as they talked about nothing much, just “getting to know you”
chatter, and she found that Brock’s eyes were actually meeting hers more often
than not. Her estimation of him went up a notch; not many guys were interested
in eye contact when they talked to her, and even fewer actually listened to
what she had to say.
Brock
really seemed to listen.
Hm, maybe
this week is picking up, she thought with a smile.
Marie
sighed in exasperation. How had she managed to cast the spell on Corinne
instead of Janey? The only way it would make sense was if…
She
gasped in horror. Was it possible that the scarf wasn’t Janey’s after all, but Corinne’s?
Marie
thought about it. She didn’t have anything against Corinne—she seemed nice
enough, even though she had been hanging out with the snobs…until the
retroactive growth spurt had made her as much an outcast and oddity as
Marie—but she also knew that breaking the progress of the spell now might have
unpredictable, even dangerous side effects.
“Corinne,
I didn’t know, but now there’s no turning back,” she told the wax doll. She did
a double take, noticing that the doll’s fake hair was now darker blonde and not
peroxide-blonde; in other words, it was exactly Corinne’s shade.
She shivered. Sometimes
magic really creeped her out.
Corinne
rolled her shoulders and craned her neck all the way back, running through her
morning exercises as quickly as she could. She sighed, scowling at herself in
her bedroom’s full-length mirror. She flipped her blonde ponytail back over her
shoulder and regarded herself seriously.
“I
don’t know if I’m keeping you or not,” she told the cantaloupes tucked under
her sweatshirt, “but I do know you’re an awful lot of bother. Have been for
years now.” She almost skipped the rest of her exercises, but remembered what
the doctors said about needing to stay in shape if she expected to carry all
the weight on her chest. A reduction—assuming I ever get one, she thought—would
be years of saving away; her parents’ insurance wouldn’t cover the surgery
bills for what was considered a primarily cosmetic procedure.
She
got to her feet quickly, smiling at the thought of how that quickness surprised
the people who expected her to be slow and clumsy, and peeled off the size XXL
sweatshirt and the size M sweatpants. Then she took off the two T-shirts she
wore under the sweatshirt, since no sports bra she’d found was big enough,
leaving her in pink panties.
Corinne
walked around the room, then caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She
stepped closer and smiled at her reflection, pleased with her body despite its
odd proportions. Her thumb and forefinger pinched and tugged one nipple, making
the thumbtip-sized stub harden quickly. It felt wonderful, as usual, and
Corinne started toying with the other. Before long, both of her nipples were
tingling and tight, making her gasp and shudder.
It
wasn’t long before her hand strayed down between her legs, beneath her panties,
to where she was already getting warm and wet. Her fingers twiddled the
swollen, sensitive flesh, then dextrously slid inside to explore her insides.
In
her mind’s eye, she was replaying her conversation with Brock. The only hazy
part was, where had they talked? It…wasn’t important, she concluded, as her
fingers brought her to climax.
Now if only
that was happening in real life, she sighed, reaching for a kleenex.
Life
would be so good.
“Sometimes, I think that if I had smaller boobs, it’d be easier to get a job,” Corinne grumbled, glancing through the classifieds yet again. “The women all hate me and the guys just want to eye-maul me. I thought I’d get that job at the perfume counter, but the girl I met—Doreen—said that with a chest like mine, I shouldn’t even bother applying. She said I just wouldn’t be the store’s ‘type.’ I don’t know if the other girls are jealous or figure I must be a slut.”
Her
mother looked up from the dishes.
“They’re
jealous, honey,” she answered, up to her forearms in soapy water. “And I
thought you liked the job waitressing?”
“It’s
okay, but it’s the same thing as that stupid department store. Girls hate me,
guys drool. But the tips I get from the guys are pretty good,” she admitted.
“I…thought about dancing…”
“Not
as long as you live in my house.” The tone was non-negotiable.
“Right.”
Corinne hadn’t expected any other response—hadn’t really wanted any other, to
be honest. She wanted to earn her way in the world using her brain, not her
body. Though the money was supposed to be really good…
She
shook her head. She might have developed a huge bustline, but that didn’t mean
she had to shake it for singles down at the Dirty Dog Lounge or the Chicken
Coop, two “adult entertainment” venues within an hour’s drive of Rosedale.
Corinne had the hazy suspicion that dancing could lead to other, even less
respectable professions and hobbies. She didn’t want that for herself, not by a
long shot, no matter how good the money might be. If only it were easier to sit at a
keyboard…AND find professional clothes in my size! she thought glumly.
For now, being a waitress was putting money in her pocket, so it would do, but
she kept looking for something better. It was just hard to deal with people who
couldn’t see past her chest.
“You
were on the phone with Brock long enough last night,” her mother said, breaking
the silence and putting Corinne into a much better mood all at once.
“He’s
real nice, Mom. I think you’d like him,” Corinne said, smiling for the first
time since she’d sat down with the paper.
“He’s
not like all the others?”
“I
thought he might be, at first. I mean, he’s got eyes and he put them where all
the other guys do…but he managed to pry them loose and find my
eyes after awhile. And we talked. He’s funny and smart.” She blushed, unnoticed
by her mother. “And…I think he’s going to ask me out.”
“That
would be nice,” her mother said cautiously. “Just…watch yourself around boys,
Corinne. You know how easy it would be for them to, um, hurt you.”
Corinne
nodded. “I know, Mom. We’ve talked about it enough. I’ll be careful.” And I still
have the pepper spray in my purse, which I know you wanted to ask about and thanks for
not asking! Corinne thought with a smile.
Corinne
toted the coffee pot from booth to booth at the diner, stoically ignoring the
way guys rarely looked above her absurdly overdeveloped chest. They also tended
to linger long after their food was gone and they’d downed enough free refills
of coffee to float, which annoyed her boss; refills didn’t put money in the
cash register, no matter how well they tipped Corinne.
“It’s
not your fault, honey,” Pam told her. The older waitress was worldly-wise and
knew nearly everything about people, so Corinne tended to trust her judgment.
“Giorgiu may grumble about guys staring at your tits instead of eating up and
getting out, but he knows as well as I do that he wouldn’t have near as much
business if you weren’t working here.” She nodded toward the grouchy Giorgiu
Konstantinou, owner of the Rosedale Diner, who was currently frowning at a
racing form and muttering in his native Greek.
“What
do you mean?” Corinne asked, intrigued.
“Honey,
word’s gotten around that there’s a girl with boobs the size of blimps working
here. Truckers tell truckers, cops tell cops, word gets around. Don’t you think
that’s the Rosedale equivalent of a tourist attraction?”
Corinne
blushed. “I hadn’t thought about it, I guess, but it is kind of busy around
here,” she said quietly.
“Giorgiu’s
glad you’re here, honest, and so am I. You’re a nice young lady,” Pam said.
Corinne
smiled. The job at the perfume counter might have been nice, but she really
liked the people here…and the tips were better than the minimum wage she’d make
working at the mall, even with an employee discount. She wriggled,
uncomfortable in her too-small uniform, and wondered if there were any way she
could get the right parts expanded; the blouse and apron were almost painfully
tight.
All the
extra money I make here goes for clothes, she thought wearily. But if Brock
is suddenly interested in me, it’s all worth it.
Corinne
steeled her nerve and went for it. Her parents had always taught her to be
direct with others, and she wanted to know why Janey had gone from being
friendly to being cold and even mean-spirited practically overnight.
“Janey.”
“What
do you
want?” Her voice held as much warmth as if a bum or the president of the chess
club had asked her for a date.
“I
thought there was a chance we could be friends when I moved here,” Corinne
said.
“Ooh,
what a thought that must’ve been! Well, I’m sure glad you got that off your
tits—I mean, your chest,” Janey sneered. “You could probably have, oh, a few
thousand thoughts and not lighten that load by much.”
“Janey, that’s…”
“God, I almost forgot. She’s
a natural blonde, I’ll have to talk ex-tra-slow-ly.” She looked at Corinne
quizzically. “How do you even get up out of chairs? I thought they’d have to
get you a special desk, ‘cause I was sure you’d never wedge yourself into the
desks us normal-sized girls use.”
Corinne’s
mouth dropped open. She had gotten nasty looks and snide comments for years,
but never so much concentrated verbal venom. It was unnerving; she felt her
eyes tearing up.
“I
can’t believe you’re so…”
“Get
lost, boobs. If you start walking now, your tits might be out of sight in half
an hour, and the sooner, the better.” She turned back to her friends. “Who
wants to bet she’ll run away and cry? Anyone?”
Corinne
walked away, dazed and more than a little hurt, but she wasn’t crying. She
wouldn’t do that here, no matter how badly she wanted to.
She
sat on the bleachers and wanted to cry, but fought not to. She didn’t want
Janey to win her bet. Why did the cheerleader have to be such a bitch? It
wasn’t like she’d done anything to her.
Some
people were mean, others were vicious. Corinne had tried making friends, but
Janey wasn’t interested.
“If
I had smaller boobs, I bet I’d have more friends,” she muttered.
“But
then you wouldn’t be the person you are today,” someone said. She looked over
her shoulder to find Brock sitting less than a yard away, clearly waiting for
her to notice him.
“You
look like you’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders,” he said
gently.
“No,
only on my chest,” she grumbled.
“What’s
wrong?”
“Dammit,
I wanted to make friends here, but these things aren’t helping!” She glared at
her chest, then back up at Brock.
“Take
it easy! I’m your friend, right? So that’s one friend you’ve made. And Janey is
not the only girl in school, her clique is not the only one. They’re so busy
being popular, they don’t have any idea how many kids don’t like them,” he
chuckled, easing her mood.
“These
things always get in the way,” she pouted, more for effect than because she
felt like pouting.
“Hey,
don’t say that. The only thing getting in the way is how you feel about
yourself. If you’re positive and self-assured, it doesn’t matter what anyone
else says about the way you look. Besides, your clothes are great.”
“Thanks.
I do like the way I look, Brock. I just wish it was easier to find stuff that
fits me up here.”
“I
never thought about that before, how hard it must be. Sort of like guys who are
too tall or something.” He looked thoughtful and Corinne’s heart melted. This
guy was great! He really seemed not only to be listening, but to understand
where she was coming from!
“The
only thing that’s really bad is the way my neck and shoulders ache as the day
goes on,” she said, artfully planting a suggestion without asking for a thing.
“Really?
Maybe…nah, forget it.”
“What?”
“Can
I… give you a backrub?” He was so shy about asking that her heart fluttered; it
was sooo romantic!
“Mmm.
Are you any good at it?” she asked, hoping she kept the anticipation out of her
voice.
“If
I’m not, you’ll tell me. Deal?”
“Deal.”
She
turned around and scooped her hair out of the way, then looked over her
shoulder expectantly. He put his hands on her shoulders and dug his thumbs into
the knotted muscles to either side of her neck. She stifled a groan of relief
as his fingers pressed down, afraid he would mistake it for hurting her, and
bit her lower lip as he kept working.
The
backrub felt wonderful. Better than wonderful, it felt like sex ought to feel:
tender, affectionate, playful, but not too soft. Corinne found herself wanting to
turn around so that he could apply his expertise to the cause of her backaches
directly.
I bet he
wouldn’t be one of those squeeze-and-yank types, she thought. Like he’s
milking a cow or something. I bet he’d run his hands all over, top and bottom,
then put his hands on my nipples and gently tug-tug-tug until they’re stiff and
pointy…then put his mouth on one and suck… while his hand goes down between my
legs… mmmm!
She
felt herself getting warm and moist just thinking about it.
“Corinne,
I…I really want to…”
“Not
here on the bleachers!” she whispered, horrified at the idea.
“No!
But…I mean…with you,” he said, composure breaking down.
“I
want that, too, Brock. Honest.” She thought for a moment, then said, “Come over
tonight. My dad works late at the bar on Fridays and mom usually watches TV.”
“You’re,
um, legal, right?”
She
nudged him in the ribs. “I’m a senior, dummy! And I got my license two months
ago. I’m as legal as I’ll ever be.”
He
breathed a sigh of relief. “Great. Now, what’s the address?”
She
told him, shivering with anticipation.
“Well,
look who’s back! Or should I say, ‘look whose front’?” Janey snickered. “But
we’d all know the answer to that, since those things are in the room two
minutes before you are.”
“Thanks
for telling me, Janey. I almost forgot you even had boobs, under that
Benetton sweater,” Corinne replied
sweetly.
Janey’s
eyes narrowed angrily but she didn’t say anything; Benetton was practically
vintage clothing…and it was a Benetton sweater. The fact that it
was a favorite didn’t diminish its lack-of-cool factor, though nobody else
would have called Janey on it.
Corinne
wasn’t finished yet, either.
“You
know what they say, Janey. Those who have boobs get boyfriends. Those who
don’t…well, gee, what do you do? See ya!” She walked on with a
slight sway in her walk, enjoying Janey’s embarrassment too much to spoil it by
gloating.
This has
been one GREAT week! Corinne thought happily.
It
was Monday again, and lunchtime. Corinne scanned the cafeteria, looking for a
friendly face or two. There were more than she’d remembered seeing the previous
week, but not many places to sit. Definitely not over by…
“Geez,
look at that. Little Miss Double-Wide, coming through,” Janey snickered.
Corinne
trudged past the table where the cheerleader held court, suppressing the urge
to knock her prodigious shelf against the mouthy twit’s head. The urge passed
without a second thought, mostly because Corinne could ignore Janey’s sniping.
Once upon a time, she knew she might have cared, but that time was long past
and she was entirely comfortable with who she was and how she looked.
It didn’t hurt that Brock
Peterson was her boyfriend. Janey was probably just being extra-spiteful
because she was jealous.
And Janey would never know
what a terrific—and well-hung—lover Brock was.
She managed to navigate
toward one of the few unoccupied places in the cafeteria, at a table next to
that odd goth girl, Marie, and her group of friends. Corinne’s breasts were so
wide that she filled the narrow aisle between tables, even overhanging one side
or the other if she turned to let another student pass, and it made getting
around full of unexpected hazards. Today, though, she reached her destination
without incident.
“Okay
if I sit here?” she asked Marie.
The
black-clad girl was so busy talking with her goth clique that she barely
glanced her way, but muttered, “Yeah.” She seemed uneasy, scooting over so that
Corinne extra-wide frontage wouldn’t brush against her. Corinne was used to the
reaction from other girls, but hadn’t expected it from Marie.
“Hey,
was it something I said?” Corinne joked, noticing Marie’s discomfort.
“No.
I…I better go. See you guys later,” she said to the seemingly apathetic goth
crowd. With that, the goth girl shoved her books into her backpack and got up
to leave, her tank top fluttering around a torso that seemed barely
post-pubescent to Corinne. The excessively buxom girl thought wistfully, I wonder
what it’s like to have a figure like that. Must be nice, sometimes.
She
shrugged, then unwrapped her sandwich. There was just no understanding some
people. The goths eyed her strangely but
didn’t do more than smirk at each other. Smirking was okay; Corinne had handled
worse.
“Hey,
pumpkin, got room for a boyfriend?”
“Always,
studboy.” Corinne turned and smiled up at her boyfriend, reflexively craning
her neck for a long and very pleasant kiss. As he slid into the chair next to
her, his hands very discreetly rubbed against the sides of her enormous boobs,
sending tingles throughout her body and generating some pleasant heat.
She
was not disappointed.
Sometimes,
she thought, my life seems almost like magic.