Dr. Hooters Part XXV "Hey Amy! Quit pushing!", Sherry scolded. "Watch it yourself, no-speekee!", came the reply. Sherrie's cheeks burned. Even in the breakfast line they wouldn't let up on her. The first-year girls always ate last, and by the time they were served, the cooks weren't as generous and the food wasn't very hot. Thus the impatience. The other girls in the line, friends of Amy and identical to her in looks and character, giggled and sniggered. God! Help me with these pendejas, she thought. Looking back at them, she wondered how her father could possibly have made such a mistake as to send her up here with these simpering, horse-faced, flat-chested, fat- assed... Well, here comes Missy Melons, she thought. Things would get interesting now. The gaggle of girls behind Sherrie froze into silence as Melissa Mellon strolled by. Her blonde hair swayed behind her, falling loosely over her shoulders and halfway down her back. She took her place at the head of the line, as was her custom. She turned and greeted Sherrie. "Mooo-o-o-o-!", called out one of the girls in line, and the whole group began to giggle. "Good morning, Sherrie", she said brightly, ignoring the remark, "Where's Ronnie?" "Some people think they can cut in line just 'cause they got big tits!", came the accusation from behind Sherrie. Missy ignored it. Feared and envied, Missy was allowed to cut in line because she was at least as strong as she was stacked. "Ronnie's not feeling too well today, Missy", Sherrie replied. She knew how to handle big-breasted girls. Both her sisters were larger than Missy. "That's a shame. I was hoping we could team up on the flag squad today. She's the only one tall enough not to make me look like a flag pole!" Missy was happy for Sherrie's friendship, as the other girls ostracized her as much for her over-exuberant figure as they did Sherrie and Veronica for their race. "I'm probably going to be riding Silversheen today, Missy. If you like, I could pair up with you. I'll be just about level with you if you ride Dark Prancer". "My mother says big breasts are so common!", another girl re- marked from behind Sherrie. Enraged, Missy thrust her fist out over Sherrie's shoulder and poked a long index finger in the direction of the offender. "I'll kick your common little ass, Amy Parmenter!!" Pushing Missy away from the other girls, Sherrie attempted to calm her down. "Hey, Missy, don't get all bent outta shape. She's just jealous!" Missy tucked the front of her blouse back into her skirt, thrust- ing her impressive breasts out even further. "They wouldn't make fun of me if they knew it wasn't all fun being this big. None of the girls will talk to you, and all the boys wanna do is put their hands under your shirt. Why, last year, even my home room teacher Mr. Johnson..." "Listen, my moo-cow", suggested Sherrie, turning Missy around in line, "don't worry too much about your tits. My sisters are both larger than you and they learned to deal with it. Don't be a priss. See if you can talk Mrs. Vanderleer into letting you ride Dark Prancer today, and I'll be your partner for the flag exer- cise!" But 'Missy Melons' wasn't having it. A girl had stuffed her sweater and that of another girl under her shirt, and was parad- ing up and down the line in a gross parody of Missy's sashay. Reaching out a long arm, she grabbed the offender by the roots of her chestnut hair. The hapless girl was pulled into a tight arc by Missy's powerful tug. "Ow! You're hurting me!", she complained. "Shut up, you little bitch!", Missy screamed, "I'm gonna kick your little ass!" She dragged the girl underneath her and began flailing away at her with her free fist. The other girls jumped at Missy en masse and a melee erupted. At first, the tall blonde had no trouble handling herself. She flung the smaller girls about and pummeled the larger ones. Sherrie jumped in to her friend's defense, pulling a fat brown-haired girl off Missy's back. Soon the weight of numbers began to tell against them, though, and Sherry and Missy were driven to the ground. They heard the sharp tweet of Mrs. Vanderleer whistle and her commanding bark of a voice. "Girls! Girls! What's the meaning of this?" Darien Bloomsborough, a tiny little slip of a girl with huge brown eyes and an angelic face, told Mrs. Vanderleer that Melissa Mellon had been making faces at her, and that Sherry had slapped her when she didn't laugh. Most grown-ups believed Darien be- cause she had a very innocent face, and she was a very good liar. She stuck her tongue out at Sherrie. The crowd of girls dispersed. Sobbing, Missy picked herself up off the ground. Her shirt was ripped and torn in a dozen places, and all her buttons had popped off. She stood in front of Mrs. Vanderleer in her big pink bra and fought back the tears. "Melissa Mellon and Sherrie Rodriguez!", snorted the silver- haired matriarch of the Academy. "I might have guessed! Is there no rascality here at the Academy that either one or both of you isn't at the bottom of?" She scowled especially at Missy, who was vainly trying to cover her cantelope sized breasts with the remnants of her shirt. "Both of you are confined to your cabins for the rest of the day!" Slipping her foot behind Darien Bloomsborough's knee, Sherrie was able to send her toppling to the ground for sticking out her tongue at Missy. As they walked away under the baleful glare of Mrs. Vanderleer, Sherrie put her arm around Missy's shoulders. The blonde was crying softly. Glancing at Missy's big bra, she shook her head. There was a tag sticking out from the shoulder strap - 36DD it read. Just like my sisters, thought Sherrie, too big too soon. They walked together until the path to their cabins diverged. "Hey, Missy! Come on over to our cabin later!", she invited. "About ten or eleven, when everyone's at the corral. Later, they'll be busy with the flag exercise, and we can hang out all afternoon!" Missy nodded her head in agreement and a slight smile returned to her face. *************************** The sun rose higher in the sky, the morning progressed. Veronica stirred, turned over, stretched her long limbs and sat up. "Hey, Sherrie-berry!", she yawned, delighted to see her friend in the cabin, " What's shakin'?" Sherrie shrugged. "Missy Melons got into a fight over her big tits. I helped her out. We both got confined to cabin." "These jealous little biddies never let up for a minute, do they?", Veronica asked rhetorically. "Missy isn't hurting anyone by having big boobs." "And its not like she's stealing anyone's boyfriend away. Not up here!", Veronica added darkly. "Anyway, I invited her over later, when they're busy with the flag exercise.", Sherrie related, "That VanderLeer bitch will be down at the stables all morning getting the horses ready." While Veronica was washing and dressing, Sherrie took advantage of the odd free moment to write Marsha Sanchez a letter. Dear Marsha! She thought back to all the weird happenings her last few days in South Florida, and wondered if they'd all been a dream. By the time Veronica was finished, Sherrie had the letter ready. "Be a dear, and post this for me, Ronnie.", she asked, "Cabin restriction doesn't apply to you." Veronica wanted to talk. "Sherrie, what we did last night, I, uh, well..." "Don't sweat it, Ronnie. It doesn't mean you're a lesbian, and I'm not telling anyone. You're a dear friend, and I had a lot of fun last night, but I'd jump over three of you to get my hands on one swangin' thang." Something ignited inside Veronica's dark lovely face. A dazzling smile broke across her face, and a look of tenderness came into her fawn-colored eyes. Veronica lay a long slender cool hand along the side of Sherrie's face and gave her a light kiss on the lips. Then she took the letter out of Sherrie's hand, and ran down to the office to post it. By the time Veronica returned, Melissa had stolen away from her own cabin and was sitting on Sherrie's bed. They were replaying the events of earlier that morning. "I tell you, Sherrie, I'm sick of it!", Missy exclaimed. "Its, like, everywhere I go, girls treat me like shit. They point and laugh, they moo when I walk by, they pick fights with me." Sherrie laughed. "You did a good job on that little Maureen slut. She thought she was gonna get away with that little stuff- ing act." Missy thrust her chest out at Sherrie. "Sherrie, am I **that** big?" Missy was thirteen going on twenty-five, and her large, shapely breasts threatened to burst out of her shirt with the ef- fort. Sherrie could see the floral design on the capacious pink bra Missy was still wearing under the white linen. Shit, she thought, one of her flowers is bigger than my whole cup. "You are pretty big, Missy", said Veronica, closing the door and reclining on her bed. "I'm sixteen, and you're much bigger than I am." Sherrie glanced over at the pale blonde locks flowing over and around Missy's slender shoulders. No wonder the other girls got jealous of Missy. All of thirteen years old, and look at her! Waist-length blonde hair, acres of legs- my God, I bet she has a 34 inseam at least!, little tight ass muscles that do a figure- eight when she walks. If she was flat-chested, Missy would still be provoking jealousy. But she's not flat-chested. Oh, no! She's got b-i-i-i-g tits. Big firm conical tits that fill out a T-shirt like the wind fills out the sail on a sailboat... Reaching under her bed, Sherrie pulled out one of her suitcases and rummaged around in it. She pulled out a bottle of Bacardi Light. "Greetings from sunny Miami, kids!", she shouted. "Let's have a party!" "Hot damn! Liquor!", responded Veronica. "I'll go get us some Pepsi to go with it!" In a flash she was gone. "Sherrie", Missy whined, "I've never done any drinking!" Gawd A-mighty, thought Sherrie. Bet she's a virgin, too! "Don't worry, Missy honey.", she replied, "You don't have to drink a lot if you don't want to, but at least try a little!" Veronica was back shortly with the Pepsis, and Sherrie mixed them drinks in Dixie cups, light for Missy, more robust for Veronica and herself. The three girls sat sipping the rum for a while, and Sherrie and Missy gave Veronica a blow-by-blow account of the fight that morning. After Veronica and Sherrie had had three rum-and-Cokes, and Missy had finished her second, they pushed their bunks into the walls and did a little dancing. Sherrie cranked up some salsa tapes on Veronica's boombox, and showed the other girls some Latin dances. Then Veronica taught them some hip-hop moves behind some heavy city-girl rap. Finally, giggling madly, Missy was persuaded to throw on some country tapes, and she pulled the other two into a staggering line dance. "You're pretty good, Missy!", remarked Veronica. "That was a lot of fun!" By this time, the bottle was almost gone, and all three girls were feeling fairly giddy. Missy, especially, was feeling no pain. After the last line dance, she began strutting around the cabin, cupping her hands under her generous breasts and issuing challenges to her non-present adversaries. Veronica leaned back on the bed. "You know", she mused, "I'm sick of this goody-goody crap they make us wear. Let's dress like sluts!" "I wanna be a slut! I wanna be a slut!", shouted Missy. Sherrie squeaked with delight at this idea. She had brought plenty of provocative Miami summer-wear with her, but she hadn't had a chance to use it. She dumped the contents of a full suit- case onto her bed, and the three girls fell to the task with a vengeance. They worked on Sherrie first. With Veronica's styling iron, they put a flirty curl into Sherrie's straight black hair. False eye- lashes, eye liner, and mounds of rouge went onto Sherrie's face, creating a whoreish, street-hardened look that even surprised Sherrie herself. She put the lipstick on herself, tracing a scarlet line around her pouty lips, then filling it with carmine. Brown eye-shadow completed the make-over, and then Sherrie slipped into a pair of shorts that she had to exhale to get into. Being small-busted, Sherrie bound her chest with tape under her tits to push them up and together, producing a respectable amount of cleavage for her size. "That's a little trick you two will never have to resort to", she said as she slipped on a red halter top, and pulled on a pair of red, five-inch spike heels. She admired herself in the mirror. Veronica drew in her breath, and Missy giggled madly. "What a little whore, Sherrie!", Veron- ica beamed. "You look good enough to eat!" Veronica's hair was perfect, so Sherrie and Missy just tied a white bow across the top, and let the rest fall across Veronica's face and shoulders in loose curls. Blue eye-shadow and Sherrie's blue clear-glass contact lenses created a striking contrast with Veronica's chocolate complexion. "I gotta try this mini-skirt!", Veronica shouted, pulling a white skirt out of the bottom of her traveling bag. She wiggled into it, and sure enough, it was breathtaking. Veronica's long legs plunged out of the bottom of the white skirt like a cocoa explo- sion. Tight as a sausage casing, the skirt hugged every curve and slope of her shapely ass. "Now for the boobs!", exclaimed the black girl, peeling away her Academy uniform shirt to reveal a flawless double scoop of choco- late ice cream encased in a black lace bra. Veronica pulled the bra away, showing how little she needed it. Her nipples were so dark, they looked purple, and the well-defined areolae on her softball-sized, teardrop-shaped breasts were the size of half- dollars. Sherrie threw her two shirts. "What'll it be, Ronnie?", she asked, "Tight to show the nipples, or loose 'n' open to flash the whole boob?" "Loose 'n' open, baby", Veronica laughed. "Hell, I'll just use the uniform shirt." She pulled the Academy's linen shirt back on, but left five of the seven buttons unfastened. Her neckline plunged to her navel, revealing most of her breast mass, includ- ing an impressive display of 'undertit', the part of the abdomen cast into two crescent shadows by the curve of her breasts. Then Veronica and Sherrie fell to work on the hapless Missy. Her long fine hair they teased into a great thick mop about her neck and shoulders, anchoring it with beads and braids. Then they traced her eyes with mascara and eye liner, filling in above the eyelids with a pale green eye-shadow to match her eyes. "Let's give her a real raunchy mouth!", Sherrie exclaimed, as she dabbed on the lipstick. It was easy, as Missy's mouth was a lit- tle wider and larger than average. By the time Sherrie added the lip gloss, both the girls agreed that Missy had a perfect blow- job mouth. Being about the same height as Missy, but more finely built, Veronica loaned her a pair of jeans. It took them a half-hour to pour Missy into them, but the results were spectacular. Veroni- ca's jeans followed every line of Missy's long, curvaceous legs. The jeans were so tight, that Sherrie and Veronica had forced Missy to strip off her panties, and the bulge of her mons Venus and the labiae of her cuntal regions were clearly visible through the thick fabric of the jeans. When it came time to display Missy's ample breasts, the girls were flummoxed. Nothing Missy had was whoreish enough for their purposes, and nothing Sherrie or Veronica had would accommodate Missy's abundance. Sherrie dug a sequined bustier out of the bottom of her suitcase. "This belongs to my sister Mary Lou", she explained. "I borrowed it just in case. She's pretty big on top. See if it fits you, Missy." Missy pulled the bustier around her chest, astounded at the ca- pacity of the cups. "Your sister must be huge, Sherry", she ex- claimed, "I'm flopping around inside like I didn't have any tits at all!" "Mary Lou's big, all right", Sherrie answered, "biggest girl I know. We'll just have to pad you out with some good old toilet paper. To your credit, though, you do a better job of filling Mary Lou's lingerie than most girls, and I bet you're still grow- ing." She turned to Veronica and laughed. "Hell, Ronnie, you or me, we'd need a whole roll of T-P to fill that thing out!" They got Missy padded and zipped into the bustier, then stood back to admire their handiwork in the full length mirror. Three street-walkers stared back at them. The contrast between Missy's busty Nordic beauty, Veronica's leggy African features, and Sherrie's vigorous cinnamon-and-clove athleticism was striking. "Hey!", shouted Veronica, "We hot as shit! Too bad they ain't no fellows within twenty miles a this place." They fell onto the beds laughing. Sherrie poured the last of the rum into their cups, and the three girls sat back and drank.