The Minutes

by Fret Pearson

It was only the first day, and Karen already hated her new summer job. The only good thing about it was that it kept her parents off her back. And even if being an assistant to the administrative assistant's assistant was just a glorified name for a secretary, it beat babysitting, or flipping burgers, or whatever her classmates were doing during the break.

Karen felt it important to distinguish herself from her classmates. It kept her going. She was proud to identify herself as goth because it meant she wasn't like the "sheep" girls at school - she was her own person. With a black wardrobe, darker lipstick, and white hair - short and spiked - to prove it.

"What the hell?"

Now she was lost in the west annex of the Science Steaks World Headquarters, looking for room 307A to deliver some charts for a presentation her boss would be making during the daily financial meeting. The west annex was being renovated to remove asbestos that was apparently added during the last renovation. Danger signs and workmen wearing masks were stationed up and down the corridor, scraping at plaster and prying up the beaten and battered oak trim. Dust, fine as sugarcane, in other places chunky as broken pie shells, lined the corridor.

Karen stood in front of room 305. Further down the hall she saw room 309A, 309B, and 309C. Where the fuck is room 307A? she wondered. This building sucks.

"Excuse me," she asked a workman balanced on the top of a ladder, "I'm looking for room 307A?"

"Hey!" he yelled. "Get out of here! Didn't you see the signs? You wanna get cancer or something? The 307 rooms is in the east annex. Go back to the lobby kid."

Karen shrugged, then turned. She could hear the workman making a crack about her hair behind her back. But after 2 years of high school she was used to it. She had only gone a few yards when she heard yelling from one of the rooms off the corridor.

"Boss, that there ceiling's weaker than we thought!"

"Watch the support Joe!"

And then with a sudden booming THUD a cloud of gray dust and mortar exploded into the corridor. It rolled like a wave towards Karen, sloshing back and forth from wall to wall. All she could do was stare. The workman who had yelled at her grabbed a pipe and swung himself up into the fourth floor as his ladder was knocked from under him. The cascade of dust and grime blasted into Karen - not at all like a liquid, but like a brick wall; she closed her eyes just as she was hit and knocked backwards.

When she opened her eyes she was sitting waist deep in the gray dust. The air was smoky. Her lungs burned, and she realized she had inhaled a mouthful of the grit. She coughed and sputtered, climbing to her feet. Her thin black blouse and slacks were powder gray. She could feel dust itching in her panties. Somehow it had gotten into her slacks. But the worst was her throat and lungs. It felt like railroad spikes had been driven into her chest. She spat and croaked, trying to get the taste out of her mouth as she ran towards the lobby.

She sniffed back tears in front of the restroom mirror. She rinsed out her mouth and tried to cough up more of the powder. This has to be the worst first day of work ever, she thought. I'd rather be babysitting than putting up with this society job. She sneezed into a damp paper towel, and her stomach turned when it came out coal black.

She brushed her spikes straight, then dusted the powder off of her clothes. Her blouse was loose, so it wasn't hard to shake all of the grit out, except for a little that was stuck in the sweat and anti-perspirant of her armpits. Karen had almost no breasts to speak of, so she never wore a bra. They were for "sheep" girls, anyway. She brushed the dust out of her panties and boots and socks and, except for a slight tinge of gray, satisfied herself that her outfit looked almost normal again. The slacks and blouse would have to be drycleaned. She reapplied her lipstick and went to explain to Mrs. Bauer that the afternoon's financial charts had been lost in a freak west annex tsunami.

"You should go home early, maybe stop by and get a checkup," Mrs. Bauer said. "Asbestos is dangerous, and even if you only breathed a little, it could cause problems. . ."

"I'm fine, I'm fine," said Karen. She had downplayed the incident to her boss, knowing Mrs. Bauer would insist on a medical checkup if she found out what had really happened. That's the last thing Karen wanted, because she knew her parents would use the slightest excuse to force her to quit Science Steaks. Her mother truly did want a babysitting daughter to brag about at Western Star meetings.

Was asbestos so bad anyway? Karen didn't think of herself as normal, so it was hard to think about a chemical hurting her. She was night - other people were day. She had used to imagine herself as a beautiful, vampiress queen. Would a vampire fear asbestos? I don't think so! Karen thought. Day people were scared of asbestos. She pulled a tissue from her purse as she felt a sneeze coming on. It produced another black mess. Yuck!

At 1:00 Mrs. Bauer left for her meeting and Karen was alone for the first time at her small desk. Thank God, she thought, and breathed a sigh of relief. Now I only have a little bit of typing to do, and there won't be anyone looking at me over my shoulder. She decided to call her boyfriend, Greg, and surprise him.

He answered on the first ring. "Hey," she said. Greg was a goth, too. He was tall and skinny. He was a senior at Washington High, but Karen didn't mind that he was older. There were only so many non-sheep guys around.

"Hey! Are you at work?"

"Yeah," she sighed. "Where else would I be? This place completely sucks. They're fixing part of the building and I got totally buried in plaster. Everyone's nice to my face but I can tell they're talking about me behind my back. It's just like fucking school. At least my boss is pretty cool."

"I knew you'd be good there," said Greg. "Now the question is, have you seen the ghosts yet? And how soon can you get me a job?"

"Shut up!" Karen laughed. "No, I haven't seen the ghosts, or the elves either."

"Gnomes, baby, they were gnomes."

"Yeah, gnomes, whatever."

Karen knew he just wanted a job because he liked old buildings, and the Science Steaks building was one of the oldest in the city. Greg had done a report on it for civics class and had been really excited when Karen told him she had been hired. He wanted to steal one of the gargoyles for his room, and camp out overnight looking for gnomes.

"Well, can I come over or not?" he asked. Karen was about to answer when she suddenly felt a weird feeling come over her. It was a coldness, a strange malignancy that seemed to burn with a frigid fire in her stomach. It was something completely alien. Her mouth was dry, she felt an emptiness, a thirst rising from deep within her, and then just as suddenly as it had come, the feeling vanished. She shivered, rubbing her arms. Her pale skin was unusually cool to the touch, but seemed to warm back up quickly.

"Hey, you still there?" Greg was asking.

"Yeah, sorry, just got a chill."

"Earth to Karen? Can I or not?"

"Sorry," Karen said. "Not today, maybe tomorrow or later in the week, but nothing for sure. I don't think my boss would like it. We'll see each other tonight, remember?"

She reached for a pad of paper and began making notes about the letter she was supposed to be typing, but they turned into doodles instead. She just didn't feel motivated enough to work, and was glad to talk to Greg. Or at least listen to his garage stories. She liked listening to him talk.

She scratched at a minor itch on her right breast, only to find her nipples were hard and engorged, more swollen than she could ever remember them being. And sensitive! Whoa, down girl, she thought. It's not that cold in here. She put the phone down and peeked into her blouse and saw firm, plug-like nipples standing at attention. "What the fuck?" To her surprise, she seemed to have small mounds beneath them, as if her nonexistent breasts (which were only ever visible as proper, if microscopic, breasts when she was leaning over) had swollen along with her nipples. She couldn't believe the size of her nipples! They were thick and fleshy, pink and rubbery - each almost as big as her thumb!

It must have been that chill a few minutes ago, she thought. But she wasn't cold now. In fact she seemed a bit warm. The more she looked at her chest, the bigger her breasts looked. They felt. . . funny.

"I'm getting boobs?" she whispered, and then blinked as she actually saw them expand outward a few centimeters. Not only did she see them grow, she definitely felt them grow!

"Holy shit!" she said. It came out as a squeal. Picking up the phone, she interrupted Greg's pickup truck story and told him she'd call him when she got home, then hung up. She felt strange sitting at her desk looking into her blouse, but no one was around to see her. Her slowly expanding breasts were slightly flabby, like folded pancakes. She stuck out her chest experimentally and they tightened a bit. The feeling of growth was like a quiet stretching in her skin. A "warm" stretching. Her new boobs grew larger and larger as she watched.

"No, stop! I don't want boobs! This can't be happening, it can't can't can't. . ." Her aureole, formerly boyish and small, had expanded in diameter and seemed to be several inches across. They even looked puffy now.

She scooted forward in her chair, pulling her blouse up from beneath her, and reached inside to cup her left breast. The skin was smooth and soft, and a bit tighter than normal. She gave the mound a squeeze, which sent a tingle through the firm mass. "Wow. . ." she murmurred, appreciating the increased sensation. She was reminded of a blister she had gotten on her foot as a child, that had expanded across the entirety of the heel of her foot. It had been sensitive in a similar way - not exactly painful (until it had broken) but just "warm" to touch, or to a breeze. Her new breasts felt similarly sensitive.

"No. . ." she said. She glanced around in a panic. Was there any way to stop it?

God, they look like little torpedoes, she thought, and found she was rubbing them with both hands. What's happening to me? I don't want boobs - especially not ones this big! With that thought the growth seemed to stop, and she continued to stare at her new bust expectantly. No further growth occurred. She held her round additions in her hands, lightly thumbing her nipples, which still looked abnormally large, even on her softball-sized boobs. Her breasts felt warm in her hands. I need to see a doctor, she thought. She reached up for the yellow pages, and felt her right breast rise with her arm.

Then she had second thoughts. Fuck that, I don't need to see anyone. For some reason she didn't feel like talking. To anybody. She just wanted to be left alone. She glared at the blotter on her desk.

Before she knew it, Karen heard Mrs. Bauer returning from the afternoon meeting. Karen tucked her blouse in (barely) and turned away from the door at the last instant, so her boss wouldn't see her new shape. They were obvious behind her blouse. Quickly she leaned a folder against them. Mr. Dupree, who was, in turn, Mrs. Bauer's boss, walked into the office as well.

". . .all this dust really does help the hay fever, doesn't it?" he was saying. He was a tall, thick man with a rapidly receding hairline. During her job interview, Karen had gotten the idea that he had expected her to do something "special" to get hired. She had instinctively hated him.

"Yeah, the renovation. But I have to say those guys are hard at work, unlike most of the construction people I've seen."

"Yes," agreed Mr. Dupree. "Well, here's our little Grave Yard Shift!" He winked at Karen as he patted Mrs. Bauer on the shoulder. When Karen failed to respond he turned and left, humming a little tune. Mrs. Bauer looked at her, smiling, and Karen grimaced when she started asking about the letter. It felt like her blood was boiling. Why couldn't the old bag just leave her alone? Just the sound of her boss' speech made her want to cover her ears.

"I didn't have time to do it, okay?" Karen snapped. She knew she was being rude but Mrs. Bauer was just so annoying. She turned her head slightly, and saw that her boss was looking at her with concern.

"Are you okay, Karen?"

"I'm fine!" Karen yelled. "I think I will go see a doctor after all," she said more quietly. "I haven't felt the same since this morning." She had no intention of seeing a doctor, she just wanted to go home and be alone.

"Okay," Mrs. Bauer nodded. "Unless I hear otherwise I'll expect to see you tomorrow morning, and you can type the letter then. And I'll have other things for you to do. I had thought to break you in easily, but now I don't know."

"Whatever," Karen said, and stood to leave. She covered her new breasts with her leather jacket. God, they stuck out far. Bitch, she thought, leaving the office.

On the way home, Karen tried to figure out why she felt so grumpy, but it was a mystery. It just seemed like everyone she saw was so annoying, and she didn't want to deal with anyone. She was just in a bad mood, and wanted to be left alone. As she expected, the minute she walked through the door her mother was hassling her about her job, and she found herself yelling again. She had her arms crossed against her breasts under her jacket, squashing them, and it hurt.

"I don't want to talk about it now!" she screamed, slamming her bedroom door shut. She coughed at the hoarseness in her throat.

In the privacy of her bedroom, she removed her leather jacket and blouse, gazing at her new breasts in the full length mirror next to her dresser. She cupped them, pushing them up almost to her chin, then bent at the waist, leaning forward to let them hang below her. They were more than a handful, and she guessed they were probably a D or DD cup. But without a proper bra she had no way of knowing. They looked like softball-sized torpedoes trying to shoot out of her chest. On her willowy frame they were huge!

How could something like this happen? she thought. I look like one of those cow cheerleaders. Her aureole were so wide, so feminine. She hated it.

"It's not fair!" she said. She stared at them, wishing they would go away, but nothing happened. A breeze from her open window swept over them, and her nipples puckered up. Her teeth clenched and she hissed at the pleasant sensation.

Slumping onto the edge of her bed, she wondered what she could do next. She knew she should see a doctor, but she couldn't stand talking to anyone and knew she would blow up if a doctor started asking questions. She still felt bitchy as hell. Suddenly her nose was tickling and she felt a fit of sneezing come on. She grabbed a tissue. It was left stained, but her sneezes weren't as dark as they had been earlier. It reminded her of the morning's accident.

"The dust!" she realized.

But even if that was what caused the growth, knowing it wasn't going to solve anything. She bounced lightly up and down on the bed, watching her bust wobble. The dust is the only weird thing that happened to me recently, she thought. Oh my god! It was asbestos and it's given me a brain tumor!

She watched her face in the mirror grow whiter than her makeup. Bitchy or not, she had to see a doctor.

Just then her door swung open and Greg ducked inside. "Surrrrprise!" he said, carrying a rose in his teeth. There was an awkward pause, then he spit it onto Karen's bed, his eyes wide with shock as he noticed that she wasn't wearing a shirt. He stared at her new breasts. They jiggled and swayed as she turned to face him.

"Get the FUCK out!" she yelled at the top of her voice, covering her boobs (as much as she could) with one arm, while looking around for anything to throw with the other. All she found was one of her tissues, which when thrown sailed over Greg's shoulder. Dazed, he retreated instantly, almost falling down the stairs backwards in his haste to get away. Karen locked the door behind him, then tore the rose to bits and stomped it into the carpet.

She gritted her teeth and prepared to go tell her mom what had happened at work. They would probably see at dinner anyway, unless she hid them again. She had put a T-shirt on, but her new breasts were perfectly visible behind the thin fabric, especially her abnormally large nipples. She thought she looked ridiculous. It was hard to concentrate as her nipples rubbed against the rough cotton.

She opened her door and stepped onto the landing below. Her father had just gotten home and was talking to her mother. Karen heard her name mentioned.

". . .tantrum when she first got home. I don't think her first day went that well. She's really being anti-social. I think maybe you should talk to her, dear, convince her that maybe she isn't old enough . . ."

Her father only grunted.

Slowly, Karen began descending the stairs. I won't yell, I won't yell, she repeated in her head. Almost immediately, however, she felt her gloomy mood disappearing, her apprehension lightening. Suddenly she didn't feel bitchy at all. In fact, she felt bubbly, and covered her mouth with her hand to suppress a giggle. God, how could I have acted that way to Greg? she thought. I was so mean! She exhaled explosively, feeling her rage and anger leave her in a rush of air.

She rushed back into her room and called him.

"I'm so sorry I yelled at you," she said.

"I'm sorry I barged in without knocking," he said. "I mean, I didn't think you'd be. . . uh, you know. . . I wasn't expecting that."

He's so cute when he's embarrased, she thought. "Come over in about an hour," she said. "We'll be done eating by then." She felt like she needed to see him, needed to touch him. Her hands went to her breasts, gently caressing them. It was hard to concentrate on what she was saying. It's like I'm drunk, she thought. This is so weird.

Karen told her parents she had a headache, and ate her dinner in her room. But she was expected to help clean up the table. It was all she could do to not tell her mom about her day; she just felt so chatty. Her breasts hid behind her jacket while she helped dry the dishes. The squashed lumps were sweaty and hot and begging to be set free. Karen kept pushing the plates and cups against them, trying to find some relief. It didn't really help - like scratching an itch through the sole of a shoe.

When Greg arrived she led him up to her room. He had brought one of his new videos over, in the hopes of making Karen a fan of a favorite new group. She still preferred lighter, quieter music to the noisy metal opera stuff he liked, but some of it was okay. Greg was surprised when Karen closed her bedroom door behind him.

"Huh?" he said.

"I thought maybe we could use some privacy tonight," she said, and put her arms around him. Nervously, Greg hugged her, squashing her breasts, and they began to kiss. His lips are so dry, Karen thought. For some reason hers were hot and wet, and soon they were going at it sloppily.

"Aren't. . .you worried. . .that. . .your dad. . ." Greg said between kisses. Karen unzipped her jacket and wriggled against him until she was out of it.

She pulled his hands up to her breasts, and moaned softly as he began fondling them through her damp T-shirt. She didn't know what had come over her. She had never let him touch her this way before (had never wanted him to, truthfully) but now she couldn't help herself. His touch was gentle at first, then a bit rougher as they became more passionate. It was driving her wild. She could feel his erection on her stomach, and had to force her hands to continue rubbing his chest, she wanted so much to feel his organ.

What am I doing? she thought. She had never gone this far, ever, but tonight her body seemed to be pushing her reservations aside. It craved contact. . .

She pulled his head down, ripping her T-shirt down over her shoulders, and pushed his head between her breasts. He began kissing and sucking on the soft, salty skin, and her fingers dropped to her crotch. They slid under her waistband. She cupped her glistening mound, letting her fingertips gently stimulate the sensitive, damp folds. The pleasure she was feeling intensified as he sucked on one nipple, then another, and she hoped he could smell (or taste) his rose blossom. She had crushed and smeared the juice across her chest.

Her fingers were wet and wiggling, her hand cramping, and what she knew had to be an orgasm approaching - an Oh God feeling - when there was a loud knocking on her bedroom door. Instantly Greg jumped back, and Karen barely got her hands out of her pants in time to catch herself from falling boob-first onto her bed.

"You know the rule, honey," her father called. "Door has to stay open."

"Okay dad!" Wiping her fingers on the carpet, then quickly pulling up her stretched out T-shirt, Karen opened her bedroom door. She and Greg sat down in front of her TV. She popped his tape into the VCR and the first music video started.

"Don't think I'm dumb or anything," Greg said a few minutes later, "but what's with your tits?"

Karen giggled, and told him about all the weird changes that had happened to her that day. How her boobs had grown, and she had become really bitchy. "I had to wear my leather jacket downstairs to hide them. And now I guess I'm a little. . . uhh . . . friendly," she said, and giggled again. Why do I keep giggling? she thought. What am I, turning into a valley girl? She shook her head.

"Pretty strange," Greg agreed. He was unfolding one of her tissues, looking at the crusty blackness in the center. A puzzled look passed over him, but was interrupted by Karen's left breast contacting his arm. Karen could practically see all the thoughts rush from his head.

"You don't mind my big boobs?" she asked. God, I'm actually cooing at him. Why can't I get a grip? Her hand gently massaged her chest through the T-shirt. Maybe big boobs aren't so bad after all? Peering into her collar, she saw they were a bit red from his earlier caresses. She leaned fully against him and closed her eyes.

"Uh, they're great," he said.

"Honey, are you going to wear that jacket every waking moment?"

"No. . ."

Karen was eating her favorite chocolate cereal for breakfast, while her mother cleaned up her father's dishes and wiped off the tablecloth. Karen still didn't want to tell her parents about her sudden growth. Sleeping with large breasts had been rough, as she was used to sleeping on her stomach, and kept turning over during the night to squash or pinch one. And the night had been rough for another reason. . . she had been lonely. First for Greg, then for any companionship. Before drifting off, she had actually considered asking her parents if she could sleep with them.

"Leather is part of my look, mom," she said. She picked up the bowl to drink the remaining, sugar milk.

Walking through the corridors of Science Steaks, for once Karen felt good about being employed. It wasn't that she was looking forward to doing any typing, or delivering any reports - she just liked being out and about with other people. She was looking forward to chatting with her boss. It was such a beautiful day. The birds were singing and squirrels were running along the telephone wires next to the parking lot.

She passed the construction workers heading to the west annex. They all looked like they had stayed out drinking too long. One guy was letting the others push him on the makeshift dolly they always used. They barely gave Karen a second glance. She spied Mrs. Bauer chatting with Mr. Dupree in the lounge. As she walked towards the lounge she unzipped her leather jacket, pulling her bare arms out so that the leather coat just rested on her shoulders. She had chosen a heavy, brown, sleeveless blouse this morning. She had skipped her dark makeup, only bothering to spike her hair and apply some blush left over from middleschool. She didn't want to scare anyone.

"Where's Graveyard Shift?" Mr. Dupree was saying. They hadn't noticed Karen yet.

"Beats me. I hope she shows up. She was sick yesterday. And really touchy. She's not a very friendly person after all." She stirred her coffee with a plastic spoon.

"Hey," Mr. Dupree said, "You pulled for her, not me."

"Don't remind me." She left the lounge with her coffee and Mr. Dupree jumped when he noticed Karen.

"Oh, hi Graveyard Shift! Nancy and I were just talking about you. . ."

His eyes traced her new figure.

"I heard," Karen said. She wanted to be angry, but it really was a splendid day, and she guessed she had been a little bitchy the day before. But that was all over now. In fact, she was feeling better than ever. Crossing her arms, she was reminded with a gentle bump how big she had gotten. She smiled up at her boss' boss.

Mr. Dupree was looking better than ever! She couldn't help but stare at his wonderful eyes, and his nice, handsome jaw. He really was a cutie, for a geezer executive. She realized she was standing a little too close to him, but couldn't seem to bring herself to step back. I bet he was totally gorgeous when he was young, she thought. Old guys are so cute. She could feel her nipples hardening.

"Well. . .can I get you some coffee?" he asked.

He's staring at my boobs, thought Karen. God, I need him! What's come over me? It seemed like her body was on autopilot. . . It moved forward of its own volition. He smiled warmly as she approached.

"I. . ." she mumbled.

Her palms were sweaty as she took his large, dry hand in hers and, stepping even closer to the graying executive, pressed his palm against her chest. Her leather jacket slipped from her shoulders to the floor as she mashed her firm right breast with his hand. He didn't say a word as she pushed against him. She groaned at the slightly painful, but oh-so-stimulating contact. She felt the wetness of desire tingling in her crotch. Her lust for Greg the previous night was nothing compared to what she now felt.

"Mmmmm. . ." she said.

She realized she was breathing heavily, her breasts rising and falling. She knew he could feel her pounding, lustful heartbeat. Her hands seemed to be moving without her conscious control. One tried in vain to pull up her blouse, wanting to feel Mr. Dupree's dry, masculine palm on her bare skin, the other still clasping his palm to her roughly. It hurt, but she didn't care. The hand pulling at her blouse gave up, dropped, and fumbled for his belt.

Mr. Dupree was quick on the up-take.

"I think you'd better step into my office, little honey," he whispered.

He locked the door behind her. Flashes of guilt fluttered through her mind, images of Greg; but he seemed so far away, and Mr. Dupree was right here, and his touch felt so good. Her blouse fell to the floor, exposing her pert, swollen breasts, their nipples upturned and hard. Looking down, she was astounded to see her chest as she imagined Mr. Dupree no doubt did, as toys to be played with. She pushed down her slacks, sliding one hand into her damp panties. I've never been this wet before, she thought. God, I need him inside me!

His hands were squeezing her breasts, and one slid up her neck to grasp her head, combing back her spiked white hair, stroking and brushing it with his palm and fingers. Karen pushed back with her head, eyes closed, loving the feel of his palm on her scalp.

"I've never had a vampire girl before," Mr. Dupree whispered.

Karen giggled. Her hands found the bulge in his pants and couldn't get enough of it. Soon she had his trousers unbuttoned, and she grasped his shaft in her hand. She was amazed at the hardness, and especially the warmth. It was her first penis. The thought of something entering her had always scared her, but now those fears were silly. She was so wet, she knew it would slip in easily. She felt giddy. There was no question that she was going to get fucked. The strength of her desire scared her, and she actually stopped for a few moments to consider it.

"What? . . . What . . ."

But thoughts didn't make sense. Thinking didn't work.

Then Mr. Dupree was bending her over the desk, and she was spreading her legs automatically. Her boots crossed behind his back, tangled in her slacks, as his weight fell onto her. He was pushing onto her, against her, then into her and it felt like she was being spread apart by a warm knife. Melting like butter beneath him as she twisted her pelvis, her boobs rolling around her chest. She grunted with the sudden pain of his first slow, deep thrust, but then the hurt lessened to a rising, firm, hard pleasure. Her body found the rhythmn automatically and she pulled at his shoulders. Failing that, she tried to grasp around his back, but the thrusts felt so fantastic she wasn't sure what she was doing. It didn't matter, as long as the sensation continued.

"Oh, oh oh, oh. . ." she tried to speak but her voice wasn't connected to her brain. One of his hands was doing something to her bouncing breasts that felt nice, but she couldn't see. God, he's so heavy, she thought. My pussy. . .my pussy. . .

"Oh, harder!" she yelled. It felt soooo good!

Some kind of spasms or contractions seemed to be beginning. They were explosions of pleasure, seemingly partly under her control. The ceiling was spinning in circles. She was helping, squeezing each time an explosion hit, but there were too many of them. She pulled his gray head to her slick, salty-sweet chest. There was a final contraction. . .

When she came to her senses Mr. Dupree was pulling out of her, gasping and holding his forehead. He coughed and pulled a handkerchief from his pants. He wiped his forehead and bald spot, then began cleaning off his penis.

"Shit," he said. "Now what am I going to do for the rest of the day?"

Karen's hands slowly slipped across her prone, spent body. She felt drugged, lost and swept away by the afterglow of sex. Her skin seemed ten times as senstive, her fingernails ten times as scratchy as they brushed across thigh and breast. Perfect, was the only word she could think of. Perfectly perfectly perfectly perfect.

"If Nancy gives you any shit, tell her you were helping me move some boxes or something. Jesus." He started coughing and wheezing again.

In the bathroom, Karen rinsed her panties and wrung them out over the sink. She stepped into a stall and used the cool wet cotton to clean the sweat and grime from her body. She felt sticky all over. Mr. Dupree's sperm, mixed with her own blood, slowly dribbled from her crotch. The flow seemed to stop after she wiped it away once or twice, and, patting herself dry with toilet paper, she pulled her slacks up. A low, throbbing ache was coming from her pussy. But it wasn't totally painful. If anything, Karen thought, it feels. . .nice.

I can't believe I lost my virginity!

She left the stall and straightened her blouse, deciding to add some cherry red lipstick and violet eyeliner while she was in front of the mirror. One of the younger clerks, an attractive Indian girl from a different department, came in to check her makeup, and Karen had to cover her mouth to stop herself from blabbing about the encounter.

"What?" the girl asked.

"Nothing," Karen giggled. Jesus, she thought, why am I so talkative? Get a grip Karen. The clerk gave her a funny look, and Karen realized she was staring. Something about the girl's cheek and ear was attractive. . . the fluffy, longish wisps of dark hair next to her ear looked so soft, Karen was drawn to them. She suddenly wanted to touch them more than anything in the world.

"I love your perfume," she said, stepping closer to the clerk. The girl shifted slightly away, and Karen moved diagonally toward her again, until she was standing partly behind her. As she pressed closer, her chin rested on the girl's shoulder. The girl jerked.

"What? Get aw-"

"Shhhhhhhhhhh!" whispered Karen loudly. Her hands lightly brushed the back of the girl's arms, feeling the soft and dark downy hairs there. Her cheek pressed against the other girl's and she inhaled the sweet scent of shampoo and perfume. Her lips tasted the smooth, dark skin and fluffy wisps of hair next to the ear. Like sideburns, except soft and feminine. Karen could feel the clerk's heartbeat quickening, pounding through the air between them. Her tongue lightly lapped at the girl's cheek.

What am I doing? Karen thought. But the strange desires flowing through her didn't seem worth fighting. . . it was better to go with the flow, especially when it felt so good. Her lips moved to the back of the girl's neck as she raised her hands and gently cupped the clerk's tiny breasts. The Indian girl jerked again, and Karen hushed her, rubbing her cheek against the back of her neck. Her fingers squeezed.

Another girl's boobs, she thought. Alarms went off in her head. Stop, stop, she willed herself. But she didn't want to. They were so warm, so touchable! Like firm jelly, oh so squeezable.

"Please don't. . ." the clerk said. Her voice was breathy, unsure. Karen met her gaze in the mirror, read her mind. She could feel the girl's nipples against her palms. The little breasts just fit her hands perfectly. Letting one of the muffins go, she gently clasped the girl's cheek and turned her face. She mashed their lips together and felt the clerk's hands reach backwards to awkwardly embrace her.

"You left your leather jacket in the lounge," Mrs. Bauer said. "On the floor. By the coffee pot."

Karen smiled sheepishly, slumping into her chair. She just wanted to lean back and soak up the air-conditioning. She looked down to make sure a wet patch wasn't showing on her slacks. Whatever was happening to her, it was getting easy not to worry about it. Things were going so well, why rock the boat?

"Is there anything at all I can help you with, Mrs. Bauer?" she asked. "I feel real sorry about yelling yesterday." She stretched, squirming in her chair.

"Everything is in your 'in' box. Including yesterday's letter."

"Yes boss," Karen giggled. She began fumbling with the typewriter. She couldn't wait until Mrs. Bauer left for the meeting. Then maybe she could take a nap. She yawned, unconsciously tracing circles around her nipples with her left hand while her right searched for the typewriter keys.

"On second thought," Mrs. Bauer said, "I have the minutes from yesterday's meeting. I'd like a hard copy, so if you don't mind typ-" She glanced at the cassette tape in her hand, then shook her head. "Never mind, I'll take care of it."

Greg called shortly after 1:00 and woke Karen from a delicious nap. Her dreams faded around her as she picked up the phone. Mrs. Bauer's letter sat in the typewriter, not even halfway completed.

"Karen?"

"Oh hi Greg," she purred. As she tried to get comfortable in the chair, she imagined what he was wearing, where he was at, how hard or soft he was. . . Gee, why am I still so horny? she wondered. I got fucked twice already.

"What is it?"

"Huh? What is what?" she said. The phone cord was wrapped around her torso. As she pulled up on it, it lifted her breasts slightly. Spinning in the swivel chair tightened the cord and pulled the phone across her desk. I really need to get a bra, she thought. Big boobs totally pull too much.

"Your voice is funny."

"No, your voice is funny," she giggled.

"Listen to me carefully Karen, has anything weird happened to you today? Like yesterday? You know, with your . . . tits?"

"Maybe. . ." she said. "Umm, I am really really turned on today, like totally horny." She sneezed and wiped the gray mucous away with her wrist.

"Oh shit!" Greg said. "I knew it. Listen Karen, stay right where you are! Don't move! I'll be there in ten minutes! I know what's going on!"

Greg slammed two large, thin books onto her desk. Each had Washington High School Library labels on the spine. She stood to embrace him, pressing her body against him, rubbing her cheek against his concert T-shirt. He closed the door behind him and sat her on the side of the desk, looking with dismay at her unbuttoned blouse, her one hand inside it thumbing a nipple.

"Oh Greg!" Karen moaned. "I need you. . ." He pushed her away, then turned his back on her.

"Karen Richards is very horny," he said.

I sure am, she thought, pressing her breasts into his back. I need fucked now! Reaching around the front of him, she cupped his balls through his shorts and gently squeezed them. Rubbing him, she ground her pelvis into his rear.

Suddenly, the hot wanton desire seemed to fade. Heat no longer seemed to radiate from her crotch, her boobs no longer cried out to be groped and manhandled.

"What?" she backed away from her boyfriend. Her mind seemed to be clear again. Suddenly she was acutely aware of the nagging ache between her legs. What have I done? she thought. I screwed some old guy!? She sobbed uncontrollably, pushing Greg away when he tried to comfort her. She felt like ripping her hair out spike by spike. She wanted to die, or sleep forever, beat herself up until she was a bloody pulp.

After several minutes, she wiped her eyes with a tissue. She thought about what Greg had said before her head had cleared. But it didn't make sense. She glanced up at him. He was watching her, tried to offer her a smile. She couldn't look him in the eyes. Couldn't remember if she had told him about Mr. Dupree or not. Or the Indian girl.

"What. . . what did you do?" she asked.

He opened the first book, Kaspar Hauser and the Gnomes. "It's all here in this book. Gnomes' bones are highly poisonous, according to legends. Anyone who ingests them - or inhales them, apparently - will be subject to what others say about them. Whatever anyone says about them behind their back, the OPPOSITE will become true. That is what is happening to you."

"You can't be serious?" Karen said. "The dust I breathed?"

"Gnomes' bones," Greg said knowingly. He pulled a wadded up tissue from his pocket. Karen could see the black crud dried in its center. "You know, from the ones that fell into the concrete when this building was first put up."

"But. . . No one believes that shit."

Greg shrugged. As if to prove his point, he gently rested his palms beneath Karen's breasts, both of which were jutting forth from her unbuttoned blouse. He raised his hands slowly, fingers lifting her breasts up away from her ribcage. They were still incredibly sensitive, Karen realized, and melted into his arms. They hugged for several minutes. Karen was lost in his embrace, concentrating only on the sensation of her boobs squashed against his chest, when something dawned on her.

"The meeting!" she said. "They must have been talking about me at the meeting! Of course!" She pulled away from him, feeling her breasts sway in the cool office air. Too easy to get sidetracked with big boobs, she thought. I'm going to have to be careful.

She took the cassette tape from Mrs. Bauer's shelf and placed it into the cassette player/radio on her own desk. Pressing play, she and Greg began listening to the previous days financial meeting. After a few moments, they heard Karen's name mentioned.

"Oh yes," Mr. Dupree's voice said. "How is our new little vampire girl doing?"

"She's not a vampire," said Mrs. Bauer's voice.

"Oh, but-"

Greg stopped the tape. "I don't think we should listen to this," he said. Karen nodded, and was about to eject the tape when her stomach started to burn with a cold fire.

With a shock she recognized the same frigid feeling from the day before. A malignancy. . . her skin felt cold to the touch. But most of all, she felt thirsty. What's happening? she thought. She realized what it was at the same time Greg did, and grinned. She had always wondered what it would be like to be a vampire. . . Her hand pinned him to the door of the office. Her skin was so pale, so white it was almost blue. Her nails lengthened, she felt drool dribble into her cleavage as her upper canines extended.

"So thirsty. . ." she moaned, gazing into Greg's wide eyes. He stammered incoherently.

"I never dreamed," she murmurred. ". . .never so thirsty before. Oh God your blood is on fire!" So this is what vampires feel, she thought. His blood smells so warm, she pulled him to her, wrapping his body around her icy limbs. He struggled, but was like a ragdoll compared to her. She hissed, wanting to bath in his blood, gulp it from her own body, float her boobs in it. It didn't matter that he was her boyfriend. The only important thing was the blood. Her stomach needed it - it could warm her from the inside out, satiate her. She pounded him onto her desk and sank her teeth into his neck. Blood dribbled into her mouth as she sucked at the wound. His warmth burned her lips, hurt her icy teeth. More, she thought. More more more. Why doesn't it come out fast like in the movies?

Greg shrieked in pain. His hands flailed, found the cassette player/radio, fumbled for the buttons. There was a click as the tape continued to play, and the radio dropped to the floor.

"-she is a vampire," Mr. Dupree's voice continued. "She's our own little Grave Yard Shift." Several people laughed.

Karen's ears pricked up, realizing what the statement entailed. She continued to slurp and suck at the hole in Greg's neck. He was hugging her with all his strength. The blood was like copper acid, like the hottest, spiciest food that wouldn't stop burning. No, she thought, I can't turn back to normal! I need more, more, more! Why doesn't more come out? She felt her body temperature rising, the frigid chill fading from her skin. Her fangs seemed to be shrinking back into her gums. No, she thought, no no! She sucked as hard as she could, trying to get as much blood as possible into her mouth and stomach as the orgasmic taste began to dissipate. Tears ran down her cheeks as her slurping subsided and her body temperature finally returned to normal.

Greg moaned. He was still holding her tightly.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," Karen whispered. She repeated it like a mantra. Blood stained her blouse and his T-shirt. She tore a page from the desk calendar and held it against the two puncture wounds on his neck.

"Jesus," Greg mouthed, continuing to hold her tightly. She combed his hair with her hand, and sat him up on the desk. He swayed, and almost fell to the floor. She caught him but he waved her away.

"Just a bit woozy," he groaned.

"I'll call 911," she determined, picking up the phone.

"No!" he said. "I'm okay, just like donating plasma down at Maxwell's, except they stop after about a pint." He pressed the phone back onto the receiver. "Not your fault. I don't think you got a pint even actually, but damn my neck hurts like a fucking bitch!"

"You sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine. I'll swipe some steaks on the way out - that'll get the old red blood cells back up." Laughter filled the office.

They both looked at the floor, where the tape was still playing in the upside down cassette player/radio. Someone had just finished telling a joke.

"No, seriously," Mr. Dupree's voice was saying. "Speaking of tits, that new girl is as flat as a fucking board. No shit, I interviewed her myself, with Nancy. Tell 'em Nanc-" Greg pulled the radio's power cord from the wall. Karen's eyes widened with alarm and she grabbed her breasts.

"No!" she yelled. "It can't be! He just said I was flat! Oh shit!" She looked at Greg, but all he could do was shrug.

Maybe they won't grow, she thought. They're already not flat, so the gnome magic doesn't need to make them grow anymore. But her hopes fell as a tingling centered in her nipples. The fleshy pink nubs grew quickly, until they were each as big as a small bottle of White Out. They felt positively engorged with blood, thick and hard. Stroking them warily, Karen sighed huskily. Their sensitivity was unbelievable. Her blouse slid off her shoulders as she grasped her mounds in her small hands.

"Karen?" Greg asked. She didn't hear him. A warm swelling, deliciously familiar, began further rounding her torpedo-shaped breasts. Only two things mattered to Karen. Her boobs touching her hands, and her hands touching her boobs. She groaned softly. The expansion kept pulling her fingers apart. She just wanted to feel more of her flesh. So pale, so warm. Her nipples were trapped, bent in her palms. She knew they would spring forth if allowed. Greg watched in fascination as her melon-sized tits continued to grow. With each second they grew closer and closer to her lap.

"Ohhhh. . ." she moaned. The weight pulled her forward, and she lifted them in her hands, straightening back up. "Oh, this feels so, so unbelievable. God big boobs feel good!" She imagined the feel of silk or cotton against her unruly nipples. Nipples. . .

She gently let her right breast settle into her lap, and pulled the left one up with both hands. It was unbelievably heavy. Leaning her head down, she managed to suck the firm nipple into her mouth. She slurped on it loudly. It tastes pink, she thought. Like a sore in my mouth, almost, actually pink. The suction felt nice. Her tongue could feel the little bumps here and there on the skin. All of it pink-tasting. She heard little whimpers of pleasure coming from her mouth. She wished a hand was free to touch her wet pussy, but there was no way she could hold a breast up with just one hand.

The growth slowed to a stop, and Karen regained some of her senses. Her breast popped out of her mouth. She looked with shock down at her swollen breasts. Each one was wider than the typewriter. Her cleavage was deep and long. There was no way she could ever wear a normal shirt again.

"What am I going to do?" she said.

Greg was wide-eyed.

"You've got to turn me back!" Karen yelled. "Say I've got huge boobs!"

Greg looked at her uncertainly. She sneezed into a palm, wiped it on her slacks.

"Greg!"

"Okay, okay," he said. He turned around and cleared his throat.

"Karen Richards has huge tits."

He turned back to face her and they waited. A minute passed, but nothing happened. Karen began to panic. "Say it again!" Greg tried several more times, but the magic seemed to have vanished. Oh my god, thought Karen. I'm stuck like this! I'm like a stripper! It's a million times worse than being like any of the girls at school! She covered her eyes. Her elbows bumped her breasts. "I'll never be able to do anything normal again!"

"Hey, don't cry," Greg said. "You've already cried enough for ten girls."

"I have the boobs of ten girls!" Karen wailed.

Greg put his long leg over the desk and sat down behind her, clasping her in his arms. Her breasts were like two-foot wide pale teardrops, barely balanced on her thighs. Greg placed a palm on one, gently squeezed the smooth flesh. Karen grunted.

"Don't," she said. He kept squeezing.

Karen found it harder and harder to concentrate. She felt as if her breasts were doing the thinking. They were thinking: hand hand hand hand hand!

"Can I ever. . . get back to normal?" she managed to say.

"I still have the library books," Greg said. Beneath Kaspar Hauser and the Gnomes was Catching Gnomes.

He put a hand beneath her nipple and gently stroked it with his forefinger. It stretched as it firmed up. Karen gasped. Her huge nipples looked obscene. But the feeling. . . "Greg, I said stop it," she said. Her hands trembled at her side. "Please. . . I'm sorry I bit you."

"It's okay, it's okay," he whispered. "I know you like it. . ." His voice was so calming.

His other arm went around her and grasped her other nipple. She tried to pull it away but he held her hand and forced it upon her nipple. So warm. . . She needed to feel it. NEEDED to feel it being felt. She found herself grasping and pulling and stretching the nub. It almost seemed as if the pleasure she felt was an unconnected event. She groaned. Her mind was being overwhelmed. God, why can't I stop? she thought. How can anything feel this good? What's happening to me?

Why can't I fight it?

As Greg's hands roamed her chest, she squirmed an arm beneath her right breast and into her crotch. She unzipped her slacks and scooted back on the desk until they fell to her ankles. Spreading her legs, she leaned back into Greg and fingered herself with abandon, grunting softly. Nothing mattered but the feelings radiating from her breasts and pussy. Greg was groping her chest roughly. She could feel his erection pressing hard against her ass.

"Yes. . . yes! Don't stop," she said. She couldn't tell if she was talking to Greg or herself. All she could think about was the pleasure her body was experiencing. The sensations her chest were producing were mind-numbing. Her body demanded attention. "Ohh. . . don't ever stop. . .Oh God. . . no matter what I say. . ."

Greg pushed the library books off the desk and into the trash can.