Dr Hooters - Pt XXXIX by the Road Dog FAST TIMES IN CENTURY BEACH Steve plopped a bronzed leg over the arm of Jeremy's overstuffed chair and opened a magazine. "So, what kinda computer ya got now, Jeremy?", he asked. "An old 486 my dad brought home from the weather center", Jeremy replied, pushing his long blonde bangs off his forehead. "They were gonna trash it. They're not using anything but Pentiums or better these days." Steve put the magazine down and wandered over for a closer look. His ignorance of computers was almost total, but Jeremy knew enough for the both of them. "Hey!", he shouted, "Where's the C:> prompt?" "I'm running Linux", was the calm reply. "What the fuck's Lie-nux?", Steve asked, genuinely puzzled. He reached inside Jeremy's refrigerator and popped open a beer. That was the great thing about Jeremy's house; if you could put up with the constant computer chatter from Jeremy, it pai d off - he lived with his divorced father who was never around, and they al- ways had plenty of beer in the 'fridge. "Still drinking Pauli Girls, I see", Steve commented. Jeremy clattered away on the keyboard. "It seems more Linux-y to be drinking a German beer", Jeremy explained. "After all, it is a European operating system." "Oh, yeah", agreed Steve, who didn't have the slightest clue what Jeremy was talking about. "Whatcha doin'?" Jeremy frowned with concentration. "Writing a MIDI interface for this port I picked up off an old ST." "Huh?" "MIDI", explained Jeremy. "It'll let this computer talk to all my keyboards. I can create all kinds of neat effects, record dance tracks, drum rhythyms, things like that." "Oh. For the band", Steve replied. Now here was something he could relate to. About a week ago, Steve asked Jeremy if he knew of a good keyboardist to join a band he, Jack, Brian, and Tom were putting together. 'Tom's the best guitarist in this part of the state', he told Jeremy. 'We need someone on keyboards that can keep up with him.' Jeremy volunteered himself. He had been working on computer- en- hanced keyboards for some time, salvaging used equipment from his father's job at the weather center, and what he could hustle from other tech-heads at his part-time job at the music store. Steve was underwhelmed. Despite this faint praise, Jeremy had agreed, and promised Steve to have something ready for him by next week. "So, what kinda games do you play on this Lie-nux?", Steve asked. "Got Doom", Jeremy told him. "Aah! I'm tired a Doom!', Steve replied, running a well-tanned hand through his rich shock of sun-bleached hair. "You got Fighting Fists Of Fury?" Jeremy clacked away at the keyboard some more, then threw a switch. A dozen electronic devices sprang to life with a deafen- ing hum. "This isn't a Genesis 32", he scolded. "I use it for research, and for attaching to the Internet!" "The Internet! Hey! Cool!", Steve's interest awakened. "Where's the dirty pictures?" "Ah shit", Jeremy swore. "That shit's gonna be the death of the Internet. The only place I can get instant answers for all my questions on computer-generated sound and acoustics, and a bunch a losers wanna shut it down 'cause of a few tit shots." "Still", he continued, "I downloaded something last Thursday maybe the band can use." Jeremy touched a switch under his table, and the terminal at Steve's elbow ignited. Jeremy clacked at the keyboard, and the screen went blue. "Wuzzat?", Steve asked, puzzled. "X Windows", replied Jeremy. A large window popped up on the monitor, and the form of a slender young woman with long chest- nut-colored hair falling over her shoulders and back appeared in- side the window. She wasn't wearing any clothes. "Holy shit, Jeremy!", Steve exclaimed, "I didn't know you could do that with a computer!" He stared at the screen. The young woman had her back turned to the viewer, but she was looking over her right shoulder, so that you could see her high, arched eye- brows, dark expressive eyes, high cheekbones, and pouty mouth. She had her arms lifted over her head, one pulling her thick, dark brown tresses back. Her well-defined back narrowed to a spectacular waist, which burgeoned out into a firm, rounded ass with prominent cheeks, and divided into smooth, chisled thighs and calves. Her right breast, not large, but high and well- shaped, was just visible with its dark areola and nipple. Steve pulled his breath in sharply in appreciation. "What a babe, Jeremy! Got any more like her in there?" "Wanna see her dance?", Jeremy said calmly. "Uh, yeah. Of course." Jeremy pulled a keyboard out from behind his computer, attached a cable to the newly added MIDI port, switched it on, and began fingering a catchy little snippet of a song. The figure on the computer screen pirouetted, turning her front towards the viewer, and began to move in time to the music. Now Steve could see her proud little egg-shaped tits, and her dark bush, as she strutted back and forth on the screen in time to the music. "Hot damn!", Steve shouted. "This is great! Did you do this?" "Not the actual programming, Steve", Jeremy replied. "I just put a few pieces together, out of the box so to speak. The only thing I added was the MIDI interface." "Too bad she doesn't have any tits", Steve commented. "Other than that, she's just perfect!" "Try moving that little white ball over there to your right", Jeremy instructed. Steve rolled his hand over the ball, and to his astonishment and delight, the girl on the screen blossomed with new breast tissue. As he moved the ball in a clockwise direction, the girl's breasts swelled and grew, covering her chest, her rib cage, final ly hanging to her navel, then her waist. Amazingly, the shadowing changed as well, so that the effect was one of stunning realism. "Can I make them as big as I want?", Steve asked as he rolled the ball yet further, dropping the young woman's breasts to the top of her thighs. "There is a limit", answered Jeremy. "The effect stops halfway between her knees and her ankles. I think the programmer real- ized that this would be sort of an upper limit to the human abil- ity to stand upright." Steve pushed the ball again. Sure enough, the girl grew out to the prescribed limit and no further, no matter how hard he mas- saged the ball. Nevertheless, her breasts had changed from perky to ponderous- great, massive mounds of flesh they would hav e been in real life. Steve moved the ball in a counter clockwise direction, and the girl's breasts returned to their original size. "God! This kinda turns me on!", he remarked, stroking his crotch through the cutoffs. "Just don't jizz on the keyboard, Steve", Jeremy warned. Steve, though, was entranced. he repeated the cycle several times, growing and shrinking the girl's breasts at various rates. "You know what would be great?", he remarked. "If you could put some clothes on her, and watch her grow right out through 'em!" Jeremy reached over and hit several keys on Steve's keyboard. "There! Now she can't dance anymore, but she'll do just what you said." The young girl was dressed in a pair of tight blue jeans and a white shirt buttoned down the front. Steve hit the button, and watched entranced as stress lines began to form on the front of the girl's shirt, gaps opened between her buttons, the gaps widened, and finally, her breasts exploded out of the shirt, rip- ping through the buttons tearing the seams. Steve was elated. "I've never seen anything like this!", he shouted. Jeremy showed him the key sequence to re-clothe her, then Steve repeated the performance several times. "You like that?", Jeremy asked him. "Hey, there's more. Ever hear of Dr Enlarge? He's written almost ten or fifteen stories about girls' tits enlarging. Here!" He touched another button on his keyboard, and a printer began spitting paper onto Steve's lap. Steve scooped up the paper and began reading. Before long, he was transported into a semi-magical realm where girls' breasts swelled to unimaginable proportions, much to the delight of their husbands and boyfriends. "God", he mumbled, "I wish Karen's would do that!" "I never had you picked for a big-tit man, Steve", Jeremy said. "Karen can't be any bigger than a B-cup, at best." "Well, tits usually come attached to a girl", Steve commented. "Karen's got a 34-A, but at five-seven and a hundred fifteen even, she doesn't really need any more. It doesn't matter how much you like the tits if the rest of the girl doesn't do any- thing for you, and you'd be surprised how fond you can get of a pair of tits if you like the girl that comes along with 'em." "That's pretty deep for a twenty-three-year old bass player and beach bum", Jeremy said. "I have my moments, buck-o", affirmed Steve, returning to the growing mound of literature in his lap. **************************** Watching Karen descend the stairs from the Science Hall at Fla- gler Community College was one of Steve's favorite pastimes, and he was glad she elected to take the class this summer. On a good, windy day, her flawless legs were admirably displayed. And today was one of the windiest. Karen's thigh-length skirt threatened to blow up around her waist, and flash-flash-flash went her yellow panties as she struggled desperately with books, hair, and skirt. Steve dashed out to help her. The wind was really picking up. He ran up the steps and grabbed Karen's books out of her arms. Smiling bravely, she reached down and pulled the hem of her skirt into place. She gave him a small kiss on the cheek. "Thanks, Sir Gallant Knight", she joked. "How long did it take you to de- cide to come to my rescue?" Steve grinned. "When I saw you decided to wear yellow today, Kin-kin", he teased her, using the name her baby brother Aaron called her by. "But I'm not wearing yellow today...", she began to protest. Then, as Steve's import sank in, she walloped him from the side. "You pervert!!", she shouted jokingly. "I'm not the one you should be worried about, Kin-kin. Old Dr. Evans there, I think you could have given him a heart attack", Steve cautioned as he held the door of the Volvo open for Karen. Inside the Volvo and safe from the rising wind, Karen smoothed her skirt across her peerless legs. She smiled as Steve climbed in beside her. "How's about full payment for the rescue?", he demanded. Laugh- ing, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him passion- ately, full on the lips. After about a half a minute, the two of them came up for air. Steve started the car. "So. How was Biology today?", he asked. Fumbling around in her purse for her brush, Karen found it, and began pulling the tangles out of her long blonde tresses. "OK, I guess", she replied. "Dr Evans was going on and on today about stamens and pollen, and I don't see what any of this has to do with my becoming a nurse." "And what did you do today, Mr Scholar?", Karen asked. She looked over at him and smiled, her clear blue eyes glittering. Steve swallowed hard. If he told her the truth, she'd be on him for wasting the day with Jeremy. If he lied, she'd eventually find out... "I, uh, went over to Jeremy's and we hung out for a while", he confessed. Karen's blue eyes flashed quickly with anger. "Jeremy Preston!", she snorted. "If ever there was a case of wasted talent, there it goes!" "Hey, Kin-kin", Steve protested. "You've got Jeremy all wrong. He's a genius! We're lucky to have him in the band." Karen wasn't buying it. She crossed one long, well-muscled leg over the other and balled her hands into fists. "Some genius!", she hissed. "A genius of perversion! A sick genius! Do you know what he did with that picture of me with the other cheer- leaders in my high school yearbook?" "The one he scanned and, uh, doctored up?" "Do you know what he did with that? He made me look like I had breasts like a cow! He did the same to Chrissy, to Courtney, to Sue-Kim, and to Keesha. Then he had the ***balls*** to post it on the Internet, with **our** phone numbers right underneath. I got calls for months after that!" The photo she was talking about was one of Steve's most prized possessions. Last year, when Karen was still a Senior at Flagler High, Jeremy had scanned in one of the pictures of the cheerlead- ing squad into his computer. Then, using some high-quality graphics program, he had made it appear as if all the cheerlead- eers were busting out of their sweaters. It was hilarious, of course. All the girls Karen mentioned; Chrissy Simmons, Courtney Penrose, Susan Kim, and Keesha Sanders, were pathologically flat-chested, as was Karen herself, but Jere- my had made them all look as chesty as porno stars. "Jeremy almost had to go to court for that!", Steve protested, pushing his own lanky sun-bleached bangs out of his eyes as he turned right onto the beach road. "If the school had been keep- ing better records..." "Well, it taught him a lesson. I'm glad!" Karen seemed willing to drop the subject. "What were the two of you doing, then?", she asked. "Probably reading pornography off his computer!" Steve blushed slightly, remembering the stories Jeremy had print- ed out for him. Wow, they were great! He remembered one, where a college guy gave one of his girlfriends a pack of mints, and her breasts exploded until they were the size of her dorm room. He looked over at Karen's modest endowments and wondered... No, he thought. Just a silly story. The beach swung into view as Steve wheeled around a corner. Due to the approaching storm, it was almost deserted. A family with small children was packing their car to leave, and Steve saw one or two brave surfers still wading through the swells, looking for rideable waves. "So, did Mr. Genius say when the hurricane was going to hit?", taunted Karen. "'S'not a hurricane, Kin-kin", replied Steve. "Its just a tropi- cal storm. 50 mph winds, and thats just in gusts." He pulled up in front of the cottage Karen was sharing for the summer with all the other girls. Steve wondered why, if Karen objected so vio- lently to Jeremy, she moved in next door to him. A stray gust of wind blew a garbage bag across Steve's wind- shield. He opened the door and let Karen out. Immediately, the wind pressed her skirt and her blouse hard against her, outlining her slim, athletic body. Steve looked her over. Not wearing a bra today either, he thought as he ogled her barely-jiggling bite-sized mounds. As a breast man, Steve found it hard to explain his attraction for Karen Pollock, ex-cheerleader and future nurse. She was about five-seven, one hundred fifteen pounds, tall and slender. Her athletic pursuits, aerobics, cycling, and weightlifting, left her toned and trim. Hours at the beach had tanned her a golden brown. Karen's legs were legendary. Long, slender, and well-formed, they had already appeared in a couple of local shoe shop commer- cials on television, and now, with the wind whipping her skirt up around her firm, shapely thighs, Steve could see why the panty- hose people were starting to sniff around, starting to make in- quiries about her. All-American girl, he thought, Florida-style. And she's all mine. Karen leaned into him and kissed him deeply, passing her tongue into his mouth as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him to her. They kissed for a while, then Karen turned and bounced up the steps into the cottage. "See you Wednesday, Stevie honey! Pick me up at eight, OK?" Steve waved and grunted, and the door closed behind her. Looking up to the top story, Steve saw Court- ney in one of the windows. She smiled and waved at him as well. Steve smiled to himself as he turned away and stared out over the ocean. The waves were growing in volume and height, smashing fe- rociously against the shore, and the clouds were coming in thick- er than before. All these babes in one house, he thought, and I got the finest one of all.