Dr Hooters - Pt XLVIII by the Road Dog EXPANDING HORIZONS The next morning, as usual, Tarah was the first one up. The morning sun was just peeking over the ocean horizon when she shook herself awake, showered, shaved, made herself up, strapped herself in to her new 36D brassiere, and put on her uniform. The Corona Real resort was only a fifteen minute walk away up the beach, and Tarah enjoyed the quiet, the waves beating against the shore, the sea birds calling out, the soltitude. It seemed she could never get alone enough at the cottage, what with ten of them running madly about. She saw a solitary figure sitting in the sand a bit farther down the beach. It was Jack Cassels, the drummer for Karen's boyfriend's band. He was flailing away madly at a collection of bottles and cans he had arranged in a semi-circle around him, creating a cacophony of tinks! and tonks! that obeyed a rhythmic law that only Jack could interpret. "Tarah! Girl! You lookin' so GOOD!", he greeted her, his long blonde dreadlocks shaking as he clattered away. "Hello, Jack", she responded, sitting down beside him in the firm sand. "what're doing?" "Its morning, girl", he replied, "meditation time. Spiritual survival in de Babylon system." Tarah blinked. She was fascinated by this tall, blonde-haired, blue-eyed boy who had such an admirable appreciation for African culture. In talking to Jack, one got the impression that he had born to the wrong parents. Yet, despite all his efforts, Tarah thought she detected an air of insincerity in his kinta-clothed act. "Jack", she said to herself as much as to him. "Sometimes I won- der if this white black-man act of yours is just a front to help you pick up black women." "And what wrong wid dat, my sistah", he continued in his faux- patois. "De African woman, she d' fountain of life, de source." Suddenly it dawned on her that perhaps Jack wasn't trying to im- press black women as a class, but instead, had targeted one black woman in particular. A note of tenderness entered her voice. "Jack", she said. "If I was interested in a fellow, I wouldn't pretend to be something I'm not just to attract his attention." Jack dropped his sticks in the sand and looked over at her, crys- tal blue eyes sparkling with surprise. "You wouldn't?", he replied in a clear, unaccented Midwestern English. "No", Tarah continued, a bright smile playing across the lines of her mouth. "I wouldn't." "What would you do?", he asked. "I'd just be..." Tarah's remark was cut off in mid sentence as she grabbed the front of her uniform blouse and began rubbing it furiously. "Ee-yah!", she wailed. "What the hell's going on?" Jack put his arm around Tarah's shoulder. "Why, what's happen- ing?" "I feel like my chest's on fire", the black girl replied. "Actu- ally, not my chest itself, but my boobs, if you'll excuse me." "Can I get you some water?", Jack asked, moving as if to stand. "No", Tarah pleaded. "Just, hold me. Please." Jack complied. putting his arm around her shoulders. Tarah leaned into his chest. "It hurts, Jack. It hurts badly. I don't know what it is." Looking down at Tarah's uniform blouse, Jack saw the fabric begin to rise off her chest slightly. "Uh, Tarah", he said. "Is some- thing moving under your shirt?" Tarah put her hand on her left breast, and felt it rise slightly under her touch. Her bra, a 36D, was beginning to feel uncom- fortably tight, restricting her breathing. She opened a button on her uniform blouse and saw two cinnamon half-moons protruding up from the tops of her black lace bra. "It looks like my breasts are growing, Jack", she remarked. "Does this happen frequently?", he asked. "And if it does, when is the next scheduled performance?" She laughed. "No, no.", she shook her head, and the loose curls with their white ribbons were caught by the early morning sea- breeze. "It happened once before, but I didn't grow much. Just a couple inches." "This looks more serious", warned Jack, grabbing her hand. "Look, the next button looks like its going to come right off! Do you want to go see a doctor?" Opening another button on her uniform, Tarah was gratified to see that her bosom had grown substantially. She brushed some sand off the sides, and felt the movement of her new larger breasts as they trembled under her touch. "Why should I want to go see a doctor, Jack? Most girls go to a doctor because their boobs won't grow, not because they do!" "Its not normal!", Jack protested. "I'm not a normal girl!", she replied brightly. "Here, help me up, Jack. I need to get back to the cottage." Another button went flying across the sand as Tarah stood up, and an impressive display of tawny cleavage resulted. Jack put his arm around her unusually slender waist. "Tarah, if this is the way you act if you want to get a guy's attention, I'm not surprised you don't have to put on any act." *********************************************************************** Chrissy sat on the amplifier and watched Brian tune his guitar. "Hwonk! Hwaonngg! Hwi-i-i-nngg! it sang as he fiddled with the strings and the nobs on the neck. Finally, he seemed to have it the way he wanted and strummed a few chords to make certain. Tall, slim, dark-haired, but unusually clean-cut for an aspiring musician, Brian wielded his guitar like it was a chain saw. A succession of unearthy sounds issued from the amplifier, then Brian picked his fingers down the neck in a long arpeggio. "That sounds pretty good, Brian", Chrissy said. "Ah-eh", Brian responded. "I'm still just warming up. Tom's the lead guitar. I'm just rhythm, but I got a couple solos in this new set we been workin' on." Chrissy twisted a strand of her short dark hair with her fingers. She didn't know what to expect when she dropped in on Brian in Jeremy's garage as he was setting up. Most of her boyfriends had been jocks, athletes. Real regular All-American types. Musi- cians stayed up all night, drank, slept all day, and had horrible reputations. But he seemed happy to see her, and he didn't throw her out. But then, Steve was a muscian, and Karen, whose judgement Chrissy trusted, was nuts about him. And even Jeremy, whom all the girls had once thought quite horrible indeed, was showing signs of be- ing civilized. So she was willing to let the friendship blossom, finding Brian to be a quiet, soft-spoken young man with a wistful air, and quite attractive. Brian looked up at her. "That's a nice outfit you're wearing, Chris", he complemented her. "You look good in it." Chrissy looked down. "Thanks", she replied. She had put on a brocaded cotton vest fastened down the front with three big but- tons. It had a lot of fringes hanging off of it, and Chrissy thought it might look like something a musician's girlfriend would wear. Underneath, she had on a skin-tight pair of faded jeans, her oldest pair, washed and rewashed to a satiny softness that hugged every curve. Curves was one thing she had more of, since that day on the beach with Susan and Ginny, and she was grateful. The brocaded top used to fall vertically from her chest to her waist without an interruption. Now, she hovered between a B- and a C- cup, a great improvement on her tiny frame, and the brocaded top dis- played two gentle rises about halfway down. Brian's large, skillful hands moved rapidly up and down the neck of the guitar, and she started to daydream, about those same large, skillful hands ranging up and down her body; touching her neck, her shoulders, her waist, her womanhood. An odd sort of tingling broke out in her pelvic region, and spread quickly her her chest. Her breath began to come in pants, as a pressure be- gan to build behind her nipples. "Brian, help!", she gasped. "Please, help me down!" Brian unplugged his guitar and lay it in the holder. "What's wrong, Chris?", he asked. "I feel hot, flushed", Chrissy complained, putting her hand on his shoulder. "Help me over to the couch." Putting his arm around the tiny brunette's slender waist, Brian helped her to the floor. Almost instantly, she doubled over and grabbed her breasts. "EEE-e-e-e-o-o-o-w-w-w-!", she caterwauled. "That hurts!" Brian got her safely to the garage couch, where she collapsed and began rocking back and forth gently, whimpering slightly. Then, Chrissy felt the pressure give way as an enormous wave of delight swept over her, and she felt the rough fabric of the top scrape slightly against her naked breasts underneath. Hovering over her in an attitude of concern, Brian fanned her with a sheet of paper. Looking down, he saw Chris's top rise slightly, and a gap appeared between her second and third button. "I don't know how to tell you this, Chris", he said, but it looks to me like you've got some animal crawling around under your shirt." "A-a-a-a-y-y-y-o-o-o-w-w-w!", screamed Chrissy, and the top con- tinued to rise, the gap expanding, and stress lines appearing un- derneath, and along the sides of, her breasts. "No! No! No!", she complained. "Not here! Not now!" "Not what? Not when?", aked Brian, totally baffled. "My breasts are growing again, silly!", she hissed. " -?-" Brian was struck speechless as he watched the gap between her buttons open wide enough to allow a small wedge of breast tissue to protrude. A gap had also opened between the first and second button as well, and Brian got a good view of Chrissy's cleavage pressing up into it. "Breasts just don't grow", he muttered. "**Mine** do", Chrissy replied. "I used to be as flat as an ironing board, remember? Then, a week or so ago, I was sitting out on the beach with Ginny and Susan, and wham! I grew tits! Nothing big or spectacular, but decent. Just like that!" "Uu-uhh-h-nngg!", she grunted, and one button went skittle- skattle away across the garage floor, and Chrissy's new breasts heaved forward into the new gap, pressing hard against the re- maining two buttons, an almost vertical line down the middle sep- arating them. Brian held his breath as he waited for the shirt to explode, spilling its contents out into the open air. They didn't. The last two buttons held, but Chrissy's shirt was stretched almost beyond recognition as it strained to hold in her now-cantaloupe-sized breasts. "Thank God!", sighed Chrissy as she tried to push the avalanche of breast flesh back into the top, failing miserably. "I think they've stopped growing for now." "Chris", Brian admitted. "I can't say as I've ever gone through anything like this with any other girl!" In response, she ripped off the brocaded top, her thick nipples swelling as they came into contact with the cool morning air. Reaching behind Brian's neck, she pulled his face down to her level, and began devouring him with kisses. ****************************************************************** The wind whipped through Susan's long hair as she bicycled down the promenade towards town, snapping it away behind her like a jet-black flag. Some of the cars honked as they zipped past. "Assholes!", she shouted after them. She had never heard of any girl giving up any pussy because some guy honked at her, yet the bastards never stopped honking. Well, let 'em look, she thought. They probably don't have any- thing so good waiting for 'em at home. She pumped harder, and the fabric of her Lycra biking shorts rubbed ffff-t ffff-t against her seat. On top, she was wearing a white bikini top, and her impressivly tanned and cut abdominals flexed and pushed with her exertions. Nice to have something to stick in this top for a change, though, she thought. A 32-B looks good on me. I know Asian girls aren't supposed to be large, but it was a pain in the ass being flat-chested. Another car, a green Volkswagen, honked, and Susan was about to flick him the bird when she recognized him as Tom Gallagher, the lead guitarist for Steve's band. She pulled the bicycle off the road, and walked it up to Tom's Volkswagen, which had pulled over just slightly ahead of her. "Give you a lift into town, Susan?", he asked. Tall, husky, with an unruly mop of dark red hair, Tom had a gap between his front teeth, which made him look boyish and ingenuous. Never pass up offers from good-looking fellows, Susan reasoned. At least he had a bike rack on the Volkswagen. "Sure , Tom", she agreed. He got out and helped her mount her bike on the rack. "Where'ya going", he asked he once they were back on the road. "Talbot's", she answered. "Gotta pick up my check." "OK", he smiled. "Talbot's it is." It was a fifteen minute drive from the beach to the mall where Talbot's department store was located, and it would have been a two-hour bike ride. Before long, Susan was glad for the lift and the company. They talked about Steve and Karen, about the band and their upcoming dates, about a band contest that was to be held in Century Beach later next month, about Susan's work and her prospects for college in the fall. Then straight out of the blue, Tom invited Susan out. "I thought, maybe next Friday, we could have a couple of drinks, go dancing, and check out some of our competition", he said. Susan was stunned and delighted. "Why, yes, Tom", she replied, "I'd love..." Her response was cut short by a sharp stabbing pain in her chest. It came again and again with increasing intensity, until she could barely breath. Sweat broke out on her brow, under her white headband. "Are you alright, Susan?", Tom asked her, slowing down to look over at her. "Yeah, yeah", she gasped, patting him on the forearms. "A-a-y- eee!" The stabbing pains resolved to a calm rush of heat that suffused her whole trunk, starting from directly under her nipples, and spreading to her arms and down the inside of her thighs. "I'm turning around!", Tom said, and he did a U-turn at the next corner. Susan looked down. Two little mounds of teakwood- colored breast flesh was just beginning to peep over the top of her bikini-bra. She felt a shiver run down her spine, and she hoped Tom would make it back to her house before the growth be- came noticeable. Another warm wave washed over her, and her growing breasts forced their way up and out of the confines of the bikini-top, both on the top and on the sides now. Susan vainly tried to pull the top up to cover her expanding assets, but this just drew Tom's atten- tion to that part of her body. "If I might make a suggestion, Susan...", he started. "I know! I know! I need a bigger top", she moaned. "I didn't this morning. It fit fine!" "Say WHAT?" "Watch!", she commanded. "My breasts are growing. See?" She grabbed his shoulder, and turned her chest towards him just as another warm wave crested inside her abdomen. Her insistent breasts pushed the bikini-top away from her chest, and two little crescents of flesh appeared under the cups. Tom almost went off the road as her breasts continued to expand, pushing the top out and causing the shoulder straps and side bands to cut deeply into her shoulders and ribs. Susan smiled broadly. "This is decent, Tom, don't you think?" "I'll be damned! I'll be damned!", Tom muttered to himself. He turned left onto the beach road, and the ocean came into view. "We're almost there, Susan", he said. "Hold on!" Susan's breasts surged against the bikini top again, almost caus- ing the two folds of burgeoning breast-tissue on the top and on the bottom to meet across the stretched and straining band of cloth the top had become. Tom's eyes nearly fell out of their sockets. He pulled up into the driveway of the cottage just as Susan's bikini-top gave up the unequal struggle. The hooks in the back gave way with a tremendous rip, and Susan's golden breasts heaved into the open air as she flew out of Tom's car and up the stairs into the cottage. "Uh, Susan", Tom called to her. "Are we still on for Friday?" "--Sure!!--", he heard from inside the cottage. He started the Volkswagen and pulled slowly out of the driveway. "Uh, I'll call you tomorrow!"