Prologue

“No, I’m not fucking any of them.”

Some days, it felt like I had to say some variation of that sentence fifty times. Really, it was more like a half-dozen, but that’s still a very high frequency for such an uncommon statement. To be honest, though, I couldn’t really blame them. Had I been in their shoes, I might’ve asked the same.

“No, I’m not gay.”

Okay, I didn’t have to say that sentence fifty times. I mean, at least most guys knew better than to ask another guy if he was gay. That’s just rude. I wished more people would be mature enough to understand it was indeed possible for a guy to be friends with a group of gorgeous young women without banging any of them. But the follow-up question came quite often, as if it was the only reasonable explanation for why a guy like me would NOT be fucking one of “The Big Tits Club” girls.

I really hate that name, by the way. I understand the name, but I still hate it. It’s immature. It’s objectifying.

But it is undeniably ... accurate.

Let me be clear and state for the record that none of us came up with that nickname. As far as I can tell, it was coined by the Varsity football team during our junior year, and the name spread like wildfire. Nothing we could do about it. As I said, it was ... accurate. Belle, Mari, Alice, Sam, Zofi, and Naimh: six hot girls, every single one of them a D-cup or bigger.

Oh, and me: the lone male in our clique of best friends. Alice once called us “The Magnificent Seven”. After “The Big Tits Club” nickname took off, Mari tried to rename us “Sam’s Club” after our de facto leader (it didn’t work). Belle tried “Matty’s Angels” (didn’t take, either). Eventually, Sam suggested that the girls just own it - be proud of their curves and take the nickname for a compliment. We were “The BTC”, even me.

It wasn’t always this way. Well, obviously, the girls had to grow into those figures, and Belle and Zofi didn’t get up to the D-cup range until the end of junior year. What I meant was: we hadn’t all been friends forever and didn’t become a group of seven until just last year. The group grew in bits and pieces organically over time. But at the core of the BTC were me and Belle.

I was the only child of two lawyers who, in my opinion (and theirs), should never have been together. As Mother frequently reminds me, my father only married her because she accidentally got pregnant. My earliest memories are of them fighting. They were always fighting. Not physically or anything like that, but they were both verbose people with enormous lexicons and a deep-rooted conviction that THEY and only they had the correct position on any number of issues.

My parents bought a big house in the Silicon Valley suburbs planning to live the American dream and raise a big family, but as far as I could tell, they hated the act of raising a baby so much that they never had another kid, and they weren’t too fond of each other, either. Instead of filling the extra rooms in the house with siblings, each parent got a home office in which they seemed to spend the majority of their time avoiding each other. That they also isolated themselves from me was just collateral damage. How they managed to NOT get divorced until after my eighth birthday, I’ll never know.

At least they became pretty good friends with the Kramers, our next door neighbors who had a daughter a month older than me. Annabelle’s dad was a surgeon and her mom a stay-at-home wife. They were both sweet and loving and would have had more children if not for her mom’s medical issues. Little blonde Belle and I played together as toddlers, and my parents were happy to dump me with the Kramers all day every day. Oh, they came to pick me up at night and put me to bed in my own room, but I spent more time at Belle’s house than I did my own. I certainly have more fond childhood memories of Belle’s mom than I do of Mother.

Belle and I were in junior high when her mom passed away. I was as heartbroken as she was. Belle’s dad withdrew into his work after his wife’s death. My mother had always been a workaholic, and was partner in a firm that kept her at the office close to eighty hours a week. So that left Belle and me with a lot of time alone. Well, not alone. We had each other, and she was the sister I never had. We walked home from junior high together, and then rode our bikes to high school. The day after I got my license, Belle was strapped in the passenger seat the next morning for our first drive to school. We didn’t even need to discuss the matter. It was just assumed she would be there.

We spent all afternoon at either her house or mine. Belle’s dad at least always came home for dinner, so the three of us would spend that time together. But after dinner I would go into my big empty house alone. Maybe two nights out of five during the weekdays, Mother would come home before I fell asleep. She worked a lot of Saturdays as well. Sundays she tried to make an effort to bond with her only child, which usually involved having brunch together and awkwardly talking about school and stuff before disappearing for the rest of the afternoon. But I could tell she was going through the motions to assuage her own guilt and that was it. Didn’t matter. I stopped caring once I started high school.

Belle was the sister I never had, but we weren’t best friends. At school we lived our own lives. In elementary school I hung out with boys who liked to play soccer and two-hand touch football in the field. I had no idea what Belle did during recess, nor did I have any inclination to find out.

I did know that Belle’s best friend since second grade was Mariangel Hernandez. Even if they got assigned to different classrooms, their bond remained and they would seek each other out during lunch or recess. Belle was the confident, outgoing one while Mari was the shy wallflower. Mari would often come home with us to hang out after school, so I got to know her pretty well. She was very nice and could become quite talkative once she got to know you. Then Mari’s boobs really came in during junior high, and I mean... damn. Boys started talking about her boobs left, right, and center, she started getting a TON of attention, and she did NOT like it at all. She tried to cover up her curves, started eating a lot, and got rather chubby (which caused her no shortage of self-esteem issues). Making matters worse, the added weight just made her boobs even bigger, compounding the problem. And by the end of eighth grade, a hot topic of discussion was who had the biggest tits in junior high: Mari or Samantha Smith.

Speaking of Sam, she didn’t become friends with us until high school when she adopted Mari. I don’t know exactly what started the friendship. For all I know, Sam and Mari simply bonded over having really big boobs that EVERYONE in the school always stared at. The big difference was that Sam soaked up the attention and purposely wore low-cut tops to attract even more eyeballs while Mari always wore thick sweaters and turtlenecks to try and cover up. Perhaps merely being in Sam’s orbit deflected attention from Mari and allowed her to hide in Sam’s shadow, or something.

Sam had ALWAYS been popular, ever since her family moved to the Bay Area from Australia in seventh grade. She was gorgeous, and she knew it. She strutted around campus like she owned the place, and in some ways she did. Getting from one side of school to the other in-between classes could sometimes be a challenge due to the crowding in the halls, and yet those crowds would magically part like the Red Sea when Sam came walking. Back then, she was still a brunette. She didn’t start dying her hair blonde until halfway through freshman year, but once she did, she got even MORE popular, if you can believe it.

As for me, I started playing Magic: The Gathering in junior high and hung out with a group of like-minded boys and one girl: Ailiseu Choi. Her first name meant “iris” in Korean, but she was the total opposite of a pretty flower. Alice had no accent to speak of, was taller than most of the boys, very athletic, and not afraid to tackle someone on the field. She’d started playing soccer and two-hand touch football with the boys back in fourth grade, and while the two of us had never been friends outside of recess back then, we were friendly acquaintances.

Everything changed when Alice hit puberty. She started growing boobs, pretty big ones, and all of a sudden guys started treating her differently. They weren’t Mari’s massive mammaries, but they were boobs nonetheless and Alice suddenly became a “girl”. Now perhaps because I already spent so much time with Belle and Mari, I knew how to act around a female of the human species and didn’t get all weird around her. Alice appreciated that and started spending more and more time with me. It got to the point when the school newspaper’s gossip column speculated that we were a new couple. At first, both of us denied we were romantically involved, but after a while it seemed easier to just ignore the rumors and even go along with them a bit. Boys certainly bothered Alice less when they believed she was my girlfriend, and once we realized that, we mutually agreed to just let the rumor mill do its thing.

Chapter 1 »