This story is dedicated to *Brenda Lagness*, whose creative carping--more than anything else--helped me to complete this story.
Patty was staying for the summer. A major event in the Lane household. A holiday. One to rival the biggies: Thanksgiving, New Year's Eve, and Christmas. Yes, even Christmas.
Just ask Cathy Lane, who was busy cleaning the Lane home in anticipation of her cousin's visit. A cousin she hadn't seen in about six months. Patty--who looked so much like Cathy that people thought the cousins were identical twins.
Just like on that Nick-at-Nite favorite, the *Patty Duke Show*, thought Cathy, who instantly started singing the show's theme song: "...They laugh alike, they walk alike, at times they even talk alike--You can lose your mind. When cousins are two of a kind!"
Two of a kind, thought Cathy, continuing her house cleaning. That pretty much describes Patty and I. Friends at birth and friends for life. And nothing--emphasis on nothing--will ever change that.
That was the cousins' promise. A cute little saying made up by two little girls. A saying, however, that grew in significance as the girls grew in age. Becoming their link to each other and their shield against every one else. A shield that the cousins were forced to use over and over again.
They were outcasts. Cathy and Patty. Together and apart. And they didn't know why. No one could come up with a reason that made any sense.
Their looks? Well, they looked average. Neither pretty nor ugly. The kind of girls that you could meet one second and forget the next. The kind of girls that could--and often did--get lost in the crowd. That was the cousins with their average height, average weight, and average dress in a nutshell.
Their personalities? Bland. Both spoke in soft, flat voices that rarely resonated with anyone else. It was like being mute. The cousins would speak and nothing. An occurrence that happened 95% of the time. The other 5% of the time someone would hear what the cousins said and just not get it. Whether it was the cousins' jokes that *always* seemed to fall flat or their topics of interest that seemed to interest no one, it was painfully obvious to the cousins that all they had were each other.
That's when God sent Daniel Newberry into their lives.
To say Daniel was a Godsend would be the understatement of *all* understatements. He was just what the cousins needed. The missing link. The final piece of the puzzle. Their third Musketeer.
His family moved in one summer when the cousins were together. Seeing him help his family with the moving was one of those classic love-at-first sight moments. One moment the cousins' eyes were a flat brown, the next they were glowing with an incredible star-like brightness. The cousins saw the brightness mirrored in each other's eyes and knew--beyond a shadow of a doubt--they had to talk to this guy. They just hoped he was one of the 5% who could hear them.
They waited until his parents were out of sight and he was alone. It was a long wait and they almost gave up in frustration. But their moment came. Finally. Taking advantage of this window of opportunity, the cousins charged Daniel's lawn like stampeding rhinos and ran right into him.
It reminded Daniel of the last football game he played. A football game in which Daniel seemed to get tackled on every play. A football game that caused Daniel to swear off ever playing any game that had physical contact in its description. That's how getting hit--tackled--by the cousins felt. One moment he was standing drinking a Sprite--gotta obey your thirst--the next he was airborne.
When he hit the ground, which took no more than a couple of nano-seconds, all Daniel could think about was his Sprite emptying its citrous contents on the ground. The cool, refreshing taste of lemon-lime. The liquid needed to quench his thirst after a hard day of furniture moving. He kind of, sort of, detected something else in his vicinity--a murmuring sound, maybe--but the Sprite took precedent.
The murmuring sound was, of course, the cousins. They were apologizing. They were getting ignored. Oh, no, they thought simultaneously, he must be one of the 95%. And the cousins started crying.
Daniel, whose mind was finally off Sprite, saw the tears on the girls' faces. He saw them slowly turn around and start walking away from him. What's going on? he thought. Why are they crying?
His mind replayed the scene of the girls charging him. Could that be it? he wondered. Slowly concluding that he, not they, absorbed most of the impact. In fact, if anyone was crying because of the collision, it should be him. The girls were fine. But why were they crying?
As they continued their slow walk away from him, Daniel's mind shifted into audio-playback mode. He instantly heard what Cathy and Patty were saying. They were apologizing. "I accept your apology," he suddenly yelled, stopping the girls in their tracks.
Cathy and Patty turned towards Daniel. They looked at each other. They looked at Daniel. They looked at each other again and asked in one voice: "What did you say?"
"I said,'I accept your apology'."
The cousins looked at Daniel in disbelief. They looked at each other. Smiles formed on both their faces and they started yelling: "He hears us, he hears us, he hears us!".
"Of course, I hear you," a totally confused Daniel said. "I'm not deaf."
And suddenly, like a couple of lunatics, the cousins started laughing. Daniel still smarting from the cousins' collision wasn't in a laughing mood. At first. But so infectious was the cousins' laughter that soon Daniel found himself laughing as well.
When the laughter stopped, Cathy introduced herself and Patty.
"Wow, identical twin sisters," Daniel said. "I'm sure going to have trouble telling you two apart."
"We're not twin sisters," replied Cathy.
"We're cousins," added Patty.
"Cousins?" Daniel said in amazement, studying Patty and Cathy. "But you look so much alike. Patty? Cathy? Wait a minute. You two are just like that old show. The one about the cousins."
The cousins nodded in agreement, singing in unison: "We laugh alike, we walk alike, at times we even talk alike--You can lose your mind. When cousins are two of a kind!"
Cathy smiled, thinking about the day Daniel met her and Patty. "The best of times," she said aloud when suddenly the Lane's grandfather clock started chiming. Six chimes later and the smile on Cathy's face disappeared. Patty was late.
Impossible, Cathy thought. Patty was never late. Something must have happened to her. And Cathy's mind, as if challenged, started thinking about every horrendous, nightmarish scenario that might have befallen Patty: Murder. Rape. Suicide. Car Accident. They all played across the mental screen of Cathy's mind in the most grisly details imaginable.
"ARRRGGHH!!!" Cathy screamed, trying to regain control of herself. "Patty's okay! She's okay. I *know* she is. I would sense it if she wasn't. Patty's okay."
Cathy had to reassure herself for the next five minutes that no harm had come Patty's way. Five minutes, but the message eventually took. Patty was okay. And a quick call to the airport would confirm it.
A calmer, but not quite a 100% Cathy searched for Patty's flight information. She found it . Good. She called the airport and was placed on hold. Bad. The background music she heard was that of her favorite composer. Good. Her time on hold being brief and the airport employee who assisted her being the height of professionalism. Good on all counts. The airport professional telling Cathy that Patty's plane had landed over an hour ago without incident. Bad.
"Where is she?" a frustrated Cathy asked, hanging the phone up. "Let me think."
Cathy concentrated. And nothing. She tried focusing on her cousin's dilemma, but her mind wouldn't focus. "Damn!" she yelled. "What's wrong with me? I can't seem to think."
Cathy stood up and heard it. Noise. Coming from the front of the house. Drawing her to it. Getting louder as Cathy got closer. Part muffled voices and part mechanical squeaking. Getting louder and louder.
Cathy stood on the inside of the Lane's front door. She undid the security bolts and locks. Slowly. She avoided the door's peep hole, afraid of what her eyes might accidently glimpse. She took a deep breath, counted to three, and grabbed the door knob. Opening the door with a quick jerk of her right hand, Cathy saw--
A *shaking* taxi cab.
She blinked her eyes, thinking the taxi cab wasn't real. That it would disappear like a desert mirage. But the cab was real. Cathy saw it. Her neighbors, who suddenly felt the urge to turn off their TV sets and get a little front yard nature, saw it. As did a group of teenage boys trespassing on the Lane's property.
Group of teenage boys!?!
"What the hell is going on?" Cathy growled, heading towards the shaking taxi cab. She, the irresistible force, was stopped by an immovable object--the boys. They weren't going anywhere.
Cathy tried elbowing them. But the boys didn't notice. All they cared about was the cab. Correction--all they cared about was what was *inside* the cab. Sparking this kind of dialogue:
"Awesome, man!"
"Fucking A!"
"Best shit, I've seen in years!"
"Better than that Pam and Tommy Lee video!"
And, of course, lots and lots of Beavis and Butt-head styled laughing.
"Out of my way, you--you boys," Cathy said, shoving her way past the human wall. The boys didn't seem to notice or care. Whatever was inside the cab still had their attention. Their *total* attention.
Cathy stepped closer to the cab, blocking it in the process. An action that stopped the boys from seeing what was inside. Not intentionally on Cathy's part, of course, but the boys didn't know that. They turned on her shouting:
"Out of the way, bitch!"
"Who the fuck you think you are, bitch!"
"Get outta the fucking way, bitch!"
"Who the fuck do you think you are? You bitch!"
Apparently, "bitch" was the boys' noun of choice. But Cathy didn't notice or care. She saw what was inside the cab and completely forgot the boys.
Her mind was dealing with other issues. Bigger issues than the boys. Much, much bigger issues. Why the size of those--
But Cathy was getting ahead of herself.
She had stepped closer to the cab, seeing them instantly. The couple. Fucking. She didn't see their faces...at first. The couple's sexual activity was far too acrobatic for that. But their--their endowments? There was no way the couple could hide them. They were just so big!
The woman's breasts! The guy's schlong! Where to begin? They were just so big!!!
The breasts were the first things Cathy saw inside the cab. Filling up the surrounding space, they seemed to be everywhere. Literally. Twin spheres of tanned flesh bouncing, gyrating to and fro. Large inch-long nipples that begged to be sucked. And tit-flesh so firm, soft, and kissable-looking to Cathy's wanting eyes that she felt her sexual orientation change with the passing seconds.
Cathy was about to cross the line--Embrace the gay way--when she saw it! Fifteen inches of man-meat sliding in and out of the woman's cleavage. So thick, long, and hard was the man's flesh-rod that any lesbian thoughts in her head made a quick and immediate exit. That is, until her gaze shifted back to the woman's breasts.
Sexual tennis. That's what it felt like to Cathy. Cock vs. Tits. Straight vs. Gay. Back and forth. Forth and back.
"I gotta get out of here," Cathy yelled, charging through the boys, en route to her home.
The boys, happy the bitch finally got out of their way, immediately resumed their gawking. Fucking A!
Cathy was going to call the cops. A sensible plan, right? Let the boys and girls in blue take care of Long Dong and Big Tits. Hell, they could take care of those gawking teenagers while they were at it. Catherine Loretta Lane was through with it. She was washing her hands clean of the entire matter.
That was the plan. Her sensible plan. And she was committed to it. And then Long Dong had to ruin everything by asking: "Did you hear something, Patty?"
Patty? Her cousin's name. What a coincidence? But there was no way Big Tits was her cousin. No way in--
Big Tits, in a voice that sounded an awful lot like Patty's, responded to Long Dong by saying: "Less talk and more dick."
More dick? Like that man needed anymore dick, thought Cathy. And who was this vulgar-talking hussy speaking in Patty's voice? Cathy's enquiring mind demanded to know.
Cathy pushed and shoved her way through the boys. Again, she blocked their viewing of the taxi cab. And again they used both the universal word(fuck) and their noun of choice(bitch) on Cathy.
Cathy, however, wasn't in the mood for their shit. Not this time. She wasn't going to stand idly by while these Beavis and Butt-head rejects called her out of her name. Nope, not this fucking time.
She turned towards the boys in a slow and rigid manner. Unnerving the B&B rejects, who would've swore that her head turned Exorcist-style towards them while her body faced the other direction. Cathy silently stared them down. Her gaze so intense that sweat appeared on the boys, soaking them in an instant. Wicked, man, totally wicked.
Cathy said in a strong, clear, and powerful voice: "Listen, you little pissants. I'm only going to say this once. If you don't get your punk asses off my property, I'll rip your fucking heads off and shit down the resulting holes. Understand me?"
It was like that short film running in Regal Cinemas before the featured presentations. The one set in the Old West with the little Pepsi-girl lipsynching to the voice of Jack Palance. Which gave her power. Nothing else. Just his voice coming through the little girl's body. And now something similar was happening to Cathy.
The voice--not Palance's, which was clearly out of Cathy's price range, but a reasonable facsimile--had the boys spooked. All, but one, was ready to run in fear. It's always one bad apple that ruins the bushel, she thought, quoting one of her mom's favorite sayings. He must be the leader.
With a sigh, Cathy walked towards the boy. Staring him down, she willed herself not to blink. She cleared her mind of the fact that although she was older than the boy, he was both taller and bigger than her.
Cathy invaded the boy's personal space and stopped, placing the ball in his court. She, in a gesture of total surrender, gave him the next move. Whatever happened next depended entirely on the boy. All Cathy planned on doing was stand, stare, and passively resist. She felt that powerful.
The boy didn't. A fact obvious to Cathy, his friends, and himself. Sweat was pouring down his face. His posture was weak. And his moves were unsure. He was bluffing and it showed. He looked like he was about to crack under the pressure.
Which Cathy helped him do. She said: "Boo!" And the boys, including their leader, ran off. Mission accomplished, thought Cathy, a slight smile crossing her face. "On to the cab."
Cathy approached the car in a direct manner. She had a purpose now. She wanted to prove Big Tits wasn't her cousin, Patty. Once she did that, she wasn't entirely sure what steps she would take to find her cousin. That was her future. Right now--in the present--she could check out the cab. And that's exactly what she did.
She stepped to the cab--
Just as a heavily made-up version of her face stuck out of the cab's window. It said: "Hiyah doing, cuz?"
Cathy screamed.
The made-up face--Patty's--waited for Cathy to stop screaming. It asked Cathy if she was okay, but didn't wait for an answer. It turned to Long Dong and asked him his name. Patty apparently didn't know it. Hearing the name, "Enrique", the made-up face turned towards Cathy and said: "Uh, cuz, Enrique and I are kinda busy, so if you don't mind..."
"But--but you two have been going at it for over an hour now!" A bewildered Cathy said.
"Well, stamina isn't everything, cuz," the slut formerly known as Patty whispered, trying apparently to protect Enrique's ego. "It's just that I told Enrique we wouldn't stop until I was satisfied. Well, cuz, I'm not satisfied."
"But what about my plans? What about our schedule? What about tradition? What about--"
"I don't think you heard me," Patty said, cutting off her babbling cousin. "I said, 'I'M NOT SATISFIED'!!!"
Cathy stood with her mouth open. She couldn't believe it. Patty--or her big-titted doppleganger--yelled at her. That wasn't suppose to happen: the cousins yelling at each other. It went against the cousins' promise.
"Patty, what's wrong with you?"
"What's wrong with me? What's wrong with me? I'll tell you what's wrong with me. I'm trying to get royally screwed by Enrique and his fifteen-inch tubesteak, but I can't because my big mouth cousin won't take her ass back into the house."
"But, Patty--"
"GO IN THE HOUSE, BITCH!!!"
And Cathy did.
She ran to the front door and fumbled with the doorknob. Her hands kept sliding off. It took Cathy using a combination of her hip, forearms, and elbows before the door opened. When it did, Cathy entered the foyer, tripped, and fell to the floor.
Classic slapstick. That's what it looked like. But, in actuality, Cathy was scared to death. Horrified by her favorite person in the whole world: her cousin, Patty. If something like this could happen, what was next? The end of the world?
Cathy ran to her combination sanctuary and fortress of solitude: her bedroom. She leapt into bed, grabbed the covers, and buried herself. Blankets, sheets, pillows, and comforter. They were her protectors now. And boy did she need them.
She was buried for an unknown period. Minutes, hours, or days? Which time unit should she rely on? She didn't know and she didn't care. It no longer mattered. Her cousin was back. The real Patty, not the imitator.
Too bad, Cathy was wrong about her cousin.
It was an honest mistake, starting an hour after Cathy buried herself under the covers. She heard footsteps. Her mind instantly transported her to the scene in *Jurassic Park* where the massive T-Rex was shaking a glass of water with every step it took. Cathy suddenly faced her night stand, expecting to see a vibrating glass of water. There wasn't any water, but there were footsteps. Getting closer and closer and...
Cathy went deeper under the covers. She didn't want to face the wrath of the new Patty. The one who yelled at her. The one who called her a bitch. Just like those teenagers. If only Cathy had that pseudo-Jack Palance voice again. She'd show Patty a bitch.
But the pseudo-Jack Palance was gone. Long gone. Cathy started wondering if she had the voice in the first place. O Palance, Palance! Wherefore art thou Palance?
And the footsteps continued getting closer.
Cathy was submerged under the covers as far as she could go. And it wasn't far enough. New Patty could still get her. She needed to escape. Quickly. She needed to--
"Cathy are you feeling okay?"
It was Patty. The original one. Cathy could tell by her voice. It lacked the energy and vitality of New Patty which was okay by her. This voice had sweetness. It showed concern. Patty was back. But Cathy had to be sure.
"Patty, is that you?" she asked naively. Not even entertaining the idea of Patty lying to her.
"Of course, silly," Patty said with a laugh. "Who else would I be."
Patty's laugh. All the proof Cathy needed. Her cousin was back. She was sure of it. 100% sure of it. So sure that she emerged fully from her blankets, sheets, pillows, and comforter.
The sight that greeted Cathy's eyes almost sent her back under the covers. Although, Patty sounded like her old self; her body was still that of Big Tits!
"You're not Patty," Cathy said.
"Why would you say that, Cathy?" Patty asked. "Of course, I'm Patty. Who else would I be?"
"Well, the Patty I know didn't have--didn't have those--those tits!"
And that's when New Patty returned. Not all at once. No, it was a lot subtler than that. But she was back. Definitely. New Patty was back...with a vengeance.
"My tits?" Patty said, caressing the outline of her twin globes. "You mean these little things?"
"Little things? Little things? Why those are the biggest boobs I've ever seen!"
"That's not saying much," Patty said in a dismissive tone.
"What did you say?" Cathy asked, doing a double-take.
"Well, it's not like you get out much."
"Hey, wait a--"
"And, so," continued Patty, "the only tits you've probably seen are those two pancakes you've got. Am I right?"
"I've seen lots of tits," Cathy said in a strong, forceful tone of voice.
"Still trying to catch a glimpse of Aunt Jean's rack?" Patty asked, causing her cousin to blush. "That's sick, Cathy. Trying to see your own mom naked."
Cathy's mind locked up, rendering her incapable of speech. She tried glaring, showing her anger that way, but the look wasn't coming out right. Instead of a glare, it was more a look of desire. That is, if you believed New Patty.
She said to Cathy: "Oh, I see you want to see my tits now. You didn't see enough of them in the cab?"
Cathy, whose mind was still locked up, tried to respond, but all that came out was some inaudible squeaking.
"The cab was too dark, eh?" Patty said, acting as if she heard Cathy speak volumes. "And because of that you couldn't get a look at my tits. I see. Well, I guess I should let you see them then."
And so she did.
New Patty didn't just take off her clothes and flash her tits. No, that would've been too mundane. Too boring. No, New Patty had to make her disrobing an art. A dance. One of exotic(erotic?) proportions.
It occurred to Cathy that Patty couldn't dance. At least, Old Patty couldn't. It was a fact of life that Old Patty with her two left feet, lack of rhythm, absence of balance, and omission of grace would never--no how, no way--ever become a dancer.
Apparently, no one told that to New Patty.
She glided over to Cathy's bookcase CD/cassette player located in the corner of the room. She tuned-in to the local jazz station. And, as if on cue, a sultry, sexy, sax-filled song began to play. The name of the song? *Pure Sex*.
A quality New Patty had in abundance: Pure Sex. It oozed from her pores, glistened in her sweat, and resided in her flesh. Pure, unadulterated sex. And Cathy was feeling it.
She watched as New Patty sashayed in front of her. Taking center stage like a true professional. One starring in a one-woman show for a one-woman audience. Patty, the headliner. Cathy, the voyeur. Let the dance begin.
Patty started swaying her hips. Left to right and then, right to left. Working in little circles and pelvic thrusts without rhyme or reason. And yet, remaining on beat. Working with the music, instead of against it.
She grabbed the hem of her skirt and started playing with it. Stretching it one moment, contracting it the next. She so animated the skirt that it looked alive. But then, without warning, Patty gave the skirt a slight tug. Instantly, it was on the floor, revealing a sight that would've warmed the heart of singing sensation, Sisquo. Patty was wearing a tiny, nearly non-existent thong--th--thong--thong--thong!
Cathy was hypnotized by the thong. The way it barely covered New Patty's nether region was something she couldn't take her eyes off. It's synthetic, neon-colored artificiality was such a contrast to the "now you see them, now you don't" naturalness of New Patty's pubic hairs, girl juice, and smell of sex that Cathy thought her eyes were permanently affixed to it.
And then the buttons hit her.
While Cathy was in her thong-trance, New Patty continued her exotic(erotic?) dance. She had worked her way above the waist. She played with the blouse just as she did the skirt, but her audience of one didn't notice. She was being ignored. Okay, part of her was being ignored. Well, New Patty knew how to deal with that.
She arched her back and threw her chest out. The fact that Cathy didn't come on the spot at this sight(as most people did) only confirmed the fact that New Patty was being ignored. But she knew how to remedy that.
The buttons on her blouse--made taut by New Patty thrusting out her chest--were already close to flying off. New Patty would just give them a little assist. A slight push of her hands and suddenly New Patty's bra-busing blouse was bombarding Cathy with buttons.
"Ouch!" Cathy yelped. "What are you trying to do? Put someone's eye out?"
New Patty didn't open her mouth. She did, however, open her blouse. Revealing a sight that made Cathy forget about the flying buttons. Forget about the thong--th--thong--thong--thong. Hell, it even made her forget her name.
Patty saw the glazed look on Cathy's face and smiled. It was a look she knew all too well. The one that showed Patty, much like the fictitious Shadow, also had the power to cloud men's(and women's) minds.
New Patty didn't know what methods the Shadow used to cloud minds. And, to be honest, she really didn't care about his methods. Her methods, which she *did* care about, could be summarized in two words. Those words being: Her bra.
It really wasn't that special. Her bra. Bigger than the average sizes, of course, but otherwise a typical, store-brought bra. White and functional. A bra that derived its mind-clouding powers in the way it did its job. In the way it cupped and supported New Patty's tits.
That was the mystery: How did the bra, in fact, cup and support New Patty's tits? It shouldn't be possible. The white fabric stretched to the max--the breaking point--ensnaring breasts that spilled out above, below, and to the sides of the bra. It was like a band-aid trying to seal a river dam. It shouldn't be possible. And yet it was. The kind of thing that clouded one's mind.
The bra was re-enforced. That was the secret. But on such a grand scale that it would literally be centuries before such advancements appeared in the foundational garment industry. Cathy had M.I.T. to thank for that.
While taking some Advanced Placement(A.P.) courses in Chemistry, Old Patty outlined her theories of "Bra Reenforcement" to some of the brightest minds on campus. Reluctant at first, they all said, to a man, that it couldn't be done. So, Old Patty introduced them to New Patty. And, in no time at all, a miracle was created. One to cup and support those two miracles belonging to New Patty. Miracles that Cathy was dying to see.
So, New Patty obliged.
She worked the hooks and straps loose. Slowly. Sexily. Still moving and grooving to the sounds of *Pure Sex*. She lowered, then raised the bra, teasing Cathy into a tizzy. Now you see them, Cathy, now you don't. That was New Patty's game and she was playing to win.
Just as Cathy was about to throw in the towel and admit defeat, New Patty showed what a gracious winner she could be. She removed her bra.
Looking at New Patty's naked tits, Cathy had to agree with that stuff she said earlier about the cab. It *was* too dark to see New Patty's tits. To truly see them. The difference between seeing them now and seeing them was like night and day.
Cathy had thought they were big in the cab, seeing them now they looked humongous. The tanned flesh, muted by the darkness, now glowed in the light of the neighboring lamps. The inch-long nipples were still suckable, only more so. Cathy had to have them and she had to have them now. She rose from the bed, her right foot inching towards New Patty, who she planned on charging. Tackling. One--Mississippi, Two--Mississippi, Three--Mississippi. "CHARGE!"
Cathy never made contact with New Patty. Something got in her way. New Patty's bra.
It hit Cathy in the face, ensnaring her in a mess of straps and bra cups. Immobilizing her, as she struggled to get the damn thing off. A process that took Cathy Lane all of five minutes to accomplish.
But she was free of the bra. And mad as hell. She was all ready to give New Patty a piece of her mind when she saw it. A small, rectangular label resting on one of New Cathy's bra straps. She looked at the label, reading what it said. Impossible, she thought, blinking her eyes. This is a 48-J cup bra!
"You wear a 48-J cup bra!?!" she asked, verbalizing her thoughts.
"Of course not," New Patty answered, laughing a laugh that no longer belonged to her cousin. "48-J was the largest size I could find off-the-rack. It's actually two sizes too small."
"Two sizes too small?" Cathy asked in disbelief. "What size bra do you need?"
"A 34-Z," New Patty said in a matter-of-fact tone.
Cathy was about to comment when she suddenly found herself in complete darkness. Her head, suddenly trapped by two large masses, reminded her of the recent "trapped in New Patty's bra" incident. And then the masses started shaking.
Startled by the sudden activity, Cathy screamed. But only for a moment. Soon, she started to enjoy the sensation. It felt good. Made her feel secure. She didn't want it to ever end.
And then the alarm went off.
New Patty had an alarm wrist watch. And it, like the guy controlling the rides at the fair, just said Cathy's time was up.
Cathy almost cried as she watched the two masses--New Patty's 34-Z breasts--leave her. "Where are you taking--uh, going?" she asked.
"Oh, I have a date," New Patty said with a smile. "And like that rabbit in *Alice In Wonderland* I can't be late."
"With Enrique?" Cathy asked, thinking of Mr. Long Dong.
"Oh, hell no," New Patty said. "Enrique was just an appetizer. Henry--King Henry--is a four-course meal."
And with that, New Patty went to the bathroom to prepare for her date with King Henry. Cathy went to bed, where she stayed all night.
Although in bed, Cathy couldn't sleep. There was too much mental activity going on in her head. The changes in her cousin, both physical and mental, were too much for her to deal with. What happened to you, Patty? she wondered. What about the cousins' promise? And the Three Musketeers--you, me, and Daniel.
"Daniel!" she yelled aloud. What's he going to do when he sees New Patty? What's she going to do when she sees him? I got to keep them apart.
"There's no way in hell those two are going each other," Cathy said just as the front door was opening.
New Patty was home.
Cathy, faking sleep, watched as New Patty took off her clothes, dumping them wherever they laid. She climbed in the top bunk, fluffed her pillow a few times, reclined in a fetal position, and started snoring. Loudly.
"Well, how do you like that," Cathy said in a quiet, but annoyed voice. "No prayers, friendly goodnights, or anything. And snoring? When did she start that?
Three hours later and Cathy was still wondering about New Patty's snoring. Its loud, abrasive quality was keeping her awake, so there really wasn't much else for her to do. Except, maybe, talk to New Patty about her snoring.
"Patty...Patty," she called, without any response from her bunkmate.
She called louder. Still no response.
Cathy was about to kick New Patty's mattress--Hard!--when she heard a voice say: "Yes, how may I help you."
The voice was cold and metallic. Computer-like. It was neither Old Patty's voice nor New Patty's and yet Cathy knew the voice was a part of both of them.
"Who--who are you?" Cathy asked.
I am the Logic Center of she, you know as your cousin, Patty. How may I be of assistance?"
Cathy couldn't believer her ears. It must be some kind of joke. New Patty was putting her on. Well, two can play that game.
"Okay, Logic Center," Cathy said, stifling a laugh. "Can you do something with that snoring? It's keeping me awake."
"Snoring? Breathing with a rough grating noise while sleeping. Make it cease? It is done."
And it was. Just like that. One minute snoring, the next silence.
"You weren't lying. You really are Patty's Logic Center."
"Lying? To convey a false image or impression. That is something I cannot do."
"You can't lie?" Cathy asked in amazement.
"That is what I said."
And Cathy's mind went back to what was keeping her awake. Before the snoring. She thought about her cousin's changes and realized that this was a golden opportunity to find out what happened to Patty.
"Computer," she said, doing her best to sound like a Star Trek commander, "tell me why Patty looks so different from the last time I saw her."
"Error. Error. Error. Logic Center Not Computer! Logic Center Not Compute! Error. Error. Error. Logic Center Not--"
"Logic Center, quiet!" Cathy said, correcting her initial mistake.
And the Logic Center obeyed.
"Logic Center, tell me why Patty looks so different from the last time I saw her."
"Subject Patty using both her superior knowledge of Chemistry and the resources of M.I.T. developed an agent possessing certain mutagenic effects when applied topically on subject's mammary glands."
"In layman's terms, com--Logic Center," a confused Cathy said.
"'In layman's terms'? The language or manner of expression employed by one who is a nonprofessional. Subject invented a cream that grows breasts."
"Cool," Cathy said, letting the Logic Center's words sink in. "So, is that why Patty is acting like such a bitch?"
"'Acting like such a bitch'? Not familiar with term as stated. Please clarify.
"Is that why--uh, subject's personality is so radically different from her norm?"
"Affirmative. The "cream that grows breasts", to use the layman's term, has as a known side effect: wild, mood changes."
"Can this side effect be removed?" Cathy asked, her mind already seeing a future with New Patty-sized breasts.
"Affirmative. Subject doesn't possess the necessary information, but it is 94.38% certain that one Cathy Loretta Lane can remove said side effect."
"So, I can make this cream that grows breasts?" Cathy asked, excitement filling her voice.
"Affirmative."
"How? What's the formula?"
No answer.
"Logic Center?" she asked, thinking the Logic Center was gone.
"Yes? Waiting."
"What's the formula?"
And suddenly, Cathy heard humming coming from the top bunk. It sounded like her song--Patty's song--the cousins' song, only it had a mechanical quality to it.
Then the Logic Center sang:
"Meet Cathy, who's lived most everywhere, >From Zanzibar to Barclay Square. But Patty's only seen the sight. A girl can see from Brooklyn Heights-- What a crazy pair!"
I never heard this part of the song before, Cathy thought, as the Logic Center continued:
"But they're cousins, Identical cousins all the way. One pair of matching bookends, Different as night and day."
"Different?" Cathy said, "When did the cousins become different? I thought they were the same."
Still the Logic Center continued:
"Where Cathy adores a minuet, The Ballet Russes, and crepe suzette, Our Patty loves to rock and roll, A hot dog makes her lose control-- What a wild duet!
And then the Logic Center sung the part of the song that Cathy knew:
"Still, they're cousins, Identical cousins and you'll find, They laugh alike, they walk alike, At times they even talk a like-- You can lose your mind, When cousins are two of a kind."
"Uh, that was nice Logic Center," Cathy replied, "but what does that have to do with the formula for the cream that grows breasts?"
The Logic Center responded to Cathy by singing the last verse of the Patty Duke Show's theme. Looping the verse, over and over again, it seemed to be emphasizing the identical nature of the cousins.
Cathy, however, didn't notice what the Logic Center was doing. She kept asking about the cream's formula and the Logic Center kept repeating the last verse of the Patty Duke Show's theme.
"So, you're not going to tell me the formula, Logic Center?" Cathy asked in frustration.
"Affirmative."
"Why not?"
And, again, it repeated the last verse of the Patty Duke Show's theme.
"So, because, Patty and I are so alike," Cathy said, putting the pieces together. "I already know how to make a cream that grows breasts."
"Affirmative."
"And you're not going to tell me the formula?"
"Affirmative."
"Well, that's not fair," Cathy whined.
"Nobody ever said life was fair," and suddenly New Patty's snoring was back.
But Cathy didn't care. She knew what she was going to do today and who she was going to do it with.
What she was going to do was make her own cream that grows breasts. One better than that stuff Patty used. And who she was going to do it with was Daniel. The Third Musketeer.
When Cathy woke up, she had slept an all-time low of three hours. And yet, she felt as energized as she did when she got her usual eight hours of sleep. She looked at the top bunk, letting her eyes confirm what her ears already knew. Patty was still in bed.
Cathy, unlike Patty, didn't take off a single piece of clothing upon entering her bed. Thus, all she had to do was put on her sneakers and leave. Simple, right? But Cathy, who didn't turn on the lights for fear of waking Patty, almost did that very thing. Apparently, her night vision wasn't as good as she thought. After tripping over some of Patty's discarded clothing and bumping into some heavy furniture--ouch!--Cathy was surprised she didn't wake up Patty, who continued to sleep.
Cathy finally exited the Lane home and made a beeline to the Newberry home. She had to get to Daniel before Patty did.
Making it to the Newberry home, Cathy sighted Daniel's window. She checked and double-checked that she was in front of the right window, it would've been embarrassing if she was at the wrong one. She picked up some nearby gravel, weighing it in her hand. She wanted to make sure that it was neither too much or too little. She tossed it at the window, praying that she didn't break it, and heard...
Nothing.
Hmm, must have missed the window, she thought, picking up more gravel. This time, she threw harder. And still, she heard nothing.
"What's going on?" she asked, overfilling her hand with gravel. "My aim can't be that bad, can it?"
She threw the gravel with all her might, no longer caring if she broke a window or not. Fortunately, she didn't break a window. Unfortunately, she hit Daniel, whose head was sticking out the window.
"Cathy, is that you?" he asked, suddenly catching gravel in the face. "Ouch!"
"Daniel!" she exclaimed, seeing what she done. "Are you okay?"
"No," Daniel said in a weak voice. "Not really. But stay where you are and I'll be right down."
Daniel treated his eye, put on some clothes, and went to see Cathy. Despite his pain, he greeted his friend with a smile. "So, what's got you up this early in the morning?"
Cathy, seeing the bruise around Daniel's eye, turned away slightly from her friend in guilt. She couldn't believe how well he was behaving. Not complaining about Cathy waking him up so early in the morning. Not commenting about Cathy hitting him with a pile of gravel. What was he a saint? No, Cathy thought, he's just the same old Daniel. The Third Musketeer.
But that wasn't entirely true.
Daniel wasn't the "same old Daniel". He, like Patty, had undergone some pretty radical physical changes lately. Take his height, for instance. Back when he first moved into Cathy's neighborhood, he was little more than five-feet tall. Shorter than the cousins, then. But now at a height of six-feet-two, he dwarfed both Cathy and Patty.
His build had changed also. Once thin and frail-looking, it was now built and buff. It, combined with Daniel's rugged features, caused Cathy to wonder when exactly did all these changes happen? At what moment did little Daniel Newberry become Dan the Man. Where was she? And how did she miss this--this transformation happening right under her nose?
Daniel's personality--inner qualities--unlike his exterior didn't seem to change at all. Still loyal to the cousins, he stood by them as their Third Musketeer, even when it seemed every available female(and many un-available females) had him in their sights--determined to grab and bag them some Dan meat.
And looking at Daniel standing in front of her, which she was able to do after some of her guilt went away, Cathy saw he still had the same sense of humor. He had this bulge--huge bulge--resting along his thigh. It was unreal: Daniel trying to stuff his pants. Didn't he know that the secret to stuffing was making it big, but realistically big. The size of that thing..."C'mon, Daniel," she wanted to say, "Who do you think you're kidding?" But that wasn't the Musketeer way. Playing along was. So, if Daniel wanted to pretend like he had a horse-size dick, who was she to say otherwise.
"So, what's got you up this early in the morning?" Daniel asked again.
And Cathy told him. Everything. The shaking cab. Long Dong. Big Tits. Logic Center. And the cream that grows breasts. She expected Daniel to laugh at her, but he didn't. Instead, he said, "So, you want me to help you make your own breast growing cream?"
Cathy couldn't believe her ears. Daniel didn't question her story. He was volunteering his help. Incredible. But, then again, he was the Third Musketeer.
Cathy, however, still had her doubts. "You believe me?" She asked.
Daniel nodded.
"How come?"
"I don't know," Daniel said, shrugging his shoulders. "I just do."
"You guys are all the same!" Cathy suddenly exclaimed. "You'll do anything just to see some big tits!"
"Yep, anything" Daniel said with a smile. "Even trying to make a breast growing cream when I suck in Chemistry."
Cathy laughed at Daniel's humourous remark. It felt good. Laughing. But she knew that the laughter was just the calm before the storm. New Patty was still around, and Cathy still had to make sure that Daniel and her didn't see each other. At least, not until she had her own cream that grows breasts made.
It took a week. A week of ducking and dodging New Patty. A week of research on top of research. Daniel's calm, reassuring presence helped, but Cathy was glad when the cream was completed. At least, she thought it was completed. There was still one step in the process left to do. Cathy had to test the cream.
Daniel and her went to an obscure place they hoped Patty didn't know about. Since there weren't that many places in Cathy's community unexplored by the Three Musketeers, the choices were slim. But, this place was one of the unexplored. At least, Daniel and Cathy hoped so.
They bought out their gear. Notebook, pencils, stopwatch, tape measure, portable table, and, of course, breast growing cream. They arranged the gear on the portable table and stared at each other. Frozen in place, they seemed incapable of movement.
Finally, Daniel spoke: "You don't have to do this, you know?"
"But I want to," Cathy said in a soft, quiet voice.
"Then why aren't you using the cream?"
"I don't know."
"Well, you don't have to do this, you know?" Daniel repeated, smiling.
"Oh, shut up," Cathy said also smiling. "Give me the cream."
And Daniel did.
He logged the info in the notebook. Cued-up the stopwatch, and then waited. It was on Cathy now. She was the one running the show. He was just a spectator. A watcher.
Being watched by Cathy, who began undoing her bra. It was step one of the trial: removing her bra. She had thought of growing out of her bra, but was scared. What if the bra didn't give? What if she couldn't outgrow it? And the pain? No, it was a lot better for her just to remove the thing.
She kept her blouse on, though. Totally confident, that with a few buttons loosened, she would have no trouble outgrowing it. Besides, if the cream didn't work, the last thing she wanted to do was expose her modest bosom to Daniel. He might have done some growing(as did Patty), but she hadn't.
"Well, here goes *something*, I hope," Cathy said lathering her hand up with breast growing cream.
She stuck the hand covered with the cream inside the opening of her blouse. She rubbed a hand-full of cream on one breast. Re-lathered her hand and put an equal amount of cream on the other breast. Instantly, she felt her skin start to tingle.
"I think it's working, Daniel!" she yelled.
And Daniel, whose eyes were drawn to Cathy's nipples pushing their way through her blouse, agreed with his fellow Musketeer. The cream was definitely working. And fast.
One moment, Cathy was pancake flat, the next she had mounds--little ones. Followed by orbs. Then globes that grew in an instant. Getting bigger and bigger.
Her blouse was overwhelmed in an instant. One moment, it was merely taut; the next, it showed visible stress lines. Then, without warning, it was reduced to shreds. Literally.
"Incredible," Daniel said, not believing his eyes.
"But when will it stop?" Cathy asked.
"I don't know, Cathy," Daniel answered. "It's your formula not mine. I flunked Chemistry, remember?"
"But there getting so big and heavy!"
And they were.
Cathy was finding it difficult to stand up. Her new breasts, so firm that they stuck out at an almost 90-degree angle, were affecting her balance. Her posture. She had to sit down, lay down, or something.
"Daniel, I need your help," she said.
Daniel rushed over to Cathy, who instructed him to stand behind her and ease her to the ground by holding her back. Daniel positioned himself and tried to comply with Cathy's directions, but the weight of her tits were too great. As buff as he was, he still couldn't help Cathy balance. He tried, but it was inevitable that the two Musketeers would fall down.
Which they did.
Daniel was positioned in such a way that he broke Cathy's fall. His hands, reaching for the most accessible things, ended up grabbing Cathy's new tits...which finally seemed to stop growing.
Daniel didn't take his hands off Cathy's tits. The idea never entered his head. As he fondled them, squeezed them, and played with them, he thought this must be the closest thing to Heaven on Earth.
Cathy agreed. Daniel's touch on her tits was incredible. She never felt anything so...so pleasurable. She wanted more. She needed more.
She moved her hands towards Daniel's zipper, accidently scraping the bulge. Wouldn't it be great if Daniel really was that size, she thought, but size isn't everything. She worked the zipper of his pants down. Sticking her hand in the fly of his pants, she rummaged around and found...and found--
The bulge was real.
"Dan--Dan--Daniel," she stuttered, "Where--where did this come from?"
"Where did what come from?"
Cathy briefly squeezed the object in question.
"Ow!" he yelled. "Oh, my flesh-rod."
"Your flesh-rod?" Cathy said, letting the words linger in the air.
"Yeah, it grew."
And Cathy thought that was the understatement to end all understatements. But why talk about Daniel's flesh-rod when she could experience it.
She worked it out of his pants. Which proved to be a bit of a challenge. With Daniel lying beneath her and the weight of her tits above her, Cathy wasn't the most coordinated of people. But she finally accomplished her mission. And, boy, was it worth it.
Once Daniel's flesh-rod was freed, the two Musketeers worked on turning Cathy over, positioning her so that she was facing Daniel. That was almost as difficult a feat as freeing Daniel's flesh-rod was. But since it was difficult, and not impossible, it was a doable goal. Accomplished, after a rather lengthy period of time.
Now that the two Musketeers were facing each other, the next thing to do was position Daniel's flesh-rod. They tried positioning it, so that it entered Cathy, but it was too big. Cathy thought she was up to the challenge, but she wasn't.
"Cathy...I didn't know you were a virgin," Daniel said, realizing what his flesh-rod had done.
"I am, uh, I was--I'm sorry Daniel," Cathy said, as tears started running down her face.
"No, Cathy, don't cry. I'm--I'm one too."
Cathy stared into Daniel's eyes, seeing the truth shine through. "What are we going to do, then?" she asked.
Daniel, shifting towards Cathy, whispered in her ear, and she nodded. "I saw Patty do that with a cabbie," she said, "And it looked like fun."
Daniel thought it would be fun as well. He positioned his flesh-rod, aiming it for Cathy's cleavage. And scored a direct hit. Then together, Daniel and Cathy, pressed on her overabundance of titflesh making the perfect home for Daniel's flesh-rod. It was a perfect fit.
Daniel started pumping, working his way up and down Cathy's cleavage. Varying his speed. Fast, one moment; slow, the next. The friction was good for both of them, causing them to moan in synch with each other.
"I'm coming," they both said together. "Don't stop."
And they didn't until together, Cathy and Daniel, came together.
"Awesome," they said together.
The two Musketeers enjoyed their post love-making, each one exploring, to the best of their abilities, the other's abundance of flesh.
"This is great," Cathy said, "but I really want to know how big I am. Resolve the experiment as it was."
"I kinda want to know how big you are, too," Daniel said.
"Pervert," a laughing Cathy said.
"Takes one to know one," Daniel replied, laughing as well.
But they both knew Cathy was right. The experiment needed to be resolved.
Daniel worked his way out from under Cathy. Stuffing his flesh-rod back into his jeans, he looked at her lying on the ground. How am I going to do this? he thought, when he had an idea. He started stockpiling leaves under Cathy, creating a cushion that she could move on without hurting herself. The cushion, with the addition of more and more leaves, also helped Cathy to sit up. With a little maneuvering and a lot of leaves, Daniel had Cathy's shoulder resting on a neighboring tree.
He got the tape measure off the portable table and tried positioning it around Cathy. The tape was too small. Daniel wasn't sure what to do next, when he spied Cathy's ripped to shreds blouse. It occurred to him that using a combination of the tape measure and the discarded material he could get the information he wanted.
Being a breast man, he pretty much knew how to measure Cathy for a bra, but he ran it by her anyway. She agreed with the planned procedure, and watched as Daniel went to work.
Daniel measured under Cathy's breasts--something that the tape measure could still be used for--and came up with a measurement of 28 inches. He added six to the number and announced to Cathy that she wore a 34-something.
Cathy nodded her head in agreement. Patty, post breast growing cream, wore a 34-Z bra(if such a thing could be found at the local department store), and since her and her cousin looked so much alike, it made sense that Cathy would wear a 34-something as well.
Daniel went to work, trying to find her bustline. Using his tools--the tape measure and tattered blouse--he finally got a number. He didn't believe it, so he measured again. "This is impossible, Cathy," he said, "but I'm showing that you have a 120-inch bustline!"
"A 120-inch bustline!" Cathy echoed, "Why that's twice as big as Patty. I wonder what sized bra that would be."
"You'd wear a 34H4!" Daniel blurted out.
"A what?" Cathy asked confused.
"A 34H4," Daniel repeated, "It means that you wear a conventional 34-inch bra band, which we've already figured out, and a H-cup on the *fourth* lap of the alphabet!"
"I do. Wow!" Cathy exclaimed, "But who uses that kind of system. I've never heard of it before."
"Well, right now it's just used by Veronica Twizzell and some of her co-workers at Discoveries. But as more and more women start to outgrow the common Z-cup bra, I'd expect to see it used more and more often. It's the sizing system of the future, Cathy."
But Catherine Loretta Lane wasn't listening to a word Daniel said. Her breasts. Her 120-inch tits had her total attention.
"I'm twice as big as Patty!," she yelled, "There's no way she'll ever be bigger than me again!"
"Want to bet," came a familiar voice.
Cathy tried to look in the direction of the voice, but couldn't in her current position. But she didn't have to, she'd know that voice anywhere. It was New Patty.
"Oh, so I see you've discovered how to make a cream that grows breasts," she said. "Well, why settle for a pale imitation when you can have the original."
And with that, Patty started pouring cream over her 34-Z's.
"Daniel, pass me my cream," Cathy said.
And he did.
Turning in the direction of Patty, Daniel saw that her cream had already started to take effect. Her 34-Z's were growing so fast that, in mere moments, they overtake Cathy's 34H4! Totally eclipsing them.
But then Cathy's cream started working.
Daniel didn't know which cousin to watch, since they both were growing so fast. Every time, one cousin was outgrown, the other would use some more cream and overtake her.
It was crazy. The kind of thing to make you lose your mind. Then Daniel thought of that song Cathy was always singing. The cousins' song.
He looked at Cathy and Patty continuing to outgrow each other, listening as they debated the merits of their respective cream and sung:
The End