Illustrations by Paul Forrest
"THAT'S FINE, but will it do what I want it to do?"
Dr Lewis propelled her chair away from her desk and crossed her shapely legs. There was a faint smile playing around her full lips. She allowed her white coat to gape open, revealing a more than well-filled pale blue blouse. Much more than well-filled. It was so well-filled that there were gaps between the buttons, gaps big enough to see what the doctor was wearing underneath, if Lucinda had been sufficiently interested.
Watching her, Lucinda Bedworthy felt uncomfortable. The doctor's bosom wobbled where it rested on her thigh, and her prominent nipples had hardened into noticeably large knobs. Doctors weren't supposed to have nipples. Not even female ones. This was simply not how doctors were supposed to behave. Especially female ones. She hunched her shoulders, her arms across her chest.
"Look here, old thing," said the doctor. "The drug is highly effective. When it first became available, it was, if anything, too powerful." She picked up a leaflet from her desk and adjusted her glasses. "Now, where is it? Can't see the wood for the trees. Um-um-um-ummm." She brightened and stabbed at the paper with a fingernail of un-doctorly length and hue. "Right, this bit's from the manufacturer's press release...
"'... Pubertophen was originally developed in Japan where it underwent a rigorous trials program before being made available to the public.' Jolly reassuring, don't you think? 'It was immediately greeted with acclaim by thousands of Japanese women who found the drug's absolutely unique properties more than fulfilled their expectations.' That's a polite way of putting it. What they are really saying is that the original version was ten times too strong for the general public, what? It worked too damn well, and very, very quickly indeed. There were no half measures. You signed up for a course of Pubertophen and within a matter of days, whammo! - it was working, ducky. And it didn't rotten-well stop working for bloody weeks after you stopped taking the jolly old thing."
"You mean women took the drug and their breasts started growing straight away, and wouldn't stop?"
Dr Lewis looked slightly pained. "I wouldn't put it quite as simply as that, me old sport, but that's what happened. It cost the drug firm a few hundred thousand smackers to hush up the cases where the women didn't stop taking the drug soon enough. Some of us women, it seems, are never satisfied." She permitted herself a private smirk at Lucinda's chest. "But that was the only problem with it. It was too bloody effective. There have been no side effects reported, even from those early users. And of course, after all stocks were recalled and replaced with a toned-down version - Pubertophen without balls - there have been no problems with it at all. Not too many, anyway."
"Strange, I've never heard of it."
"It has only been available in the Land of the Jolly Old Rising Sun, you know? Until now." Dr Lewis tossed the leaflet on to the desk. "But it works, all right, or it would never have received approval here. Not in America, not yet. That's probably why it hasn't really made the headlines. If ... or when ... it becomes available in America, you can expect demand to go sky-high. There will be the usual complaints from every lobby you can think of: animal rights, human rights, women's rights - or for that matter, women's lefts..."
"Why haven't they approved it... ?"
"They will, it just takes longer. It's been approved in Europe because application was made here earlier. It is absolutely one hundred and ten per cent safe. Or more. All it does is to mimic a number of the changes which occur in a girl's body during puberty. Not all of them, thank the Lord, just a selected few. The most important and noticeable of these is that the breasts are encouraged to develop. It's been proven in trials to work in 90% of cases. And it happens extraordinarily quickly."
"Given the nature of breasts, very rapid growth is always possible. You should notice a marked effect within a matter of days."
"Days? Sounds ideal for me. But I'm a little concerned..."
"About the other effects of Pubertophen? That's understandable. Even at your age ... thirty-two... ? you are young enough to remember some of the things that happened to you at puberty. As well as some of the things that didn't, in your case, what-what-what? There might be a little problem or two with your short-term memory, but nothing too terrible. Now, what was I saying? Ah, yes ... Haw, haw, haw! But as I say, the effects are largely limited to breast development. That is the way it was designed, for Japanese women, some of whom would prefer to be more ... how shall we put it ... stacked."
Lucinda nodded. "Please! I'll give it a try. I mean, if it doesn't work..."
"I can say with some certainty that Pubertophen will not be ineffective in your case, Miss Bedworthy. It is Miss? I can't read what it says on your notes, it's been crossed out..."
"Miss. I was divorced, and reverted to my maiden name."
Dr Lewis raised an eyebrow at this apparent blatant attempt to confuse the National Insurance system.
"My married name was Panayiotis, and everybody used to ask me to spell it. I'd much rather be Bedworthy."
"Gosh, yes! Rather! Excellent! First rate!" The doctor stood up for the first time. Lucinda couldn't help staring at her. Standing up, she was endlessly tall, with enormously long legs sheathed in sheer nylon. With a strange gesture, as if she were nervous, Dr Lewis fastened the buttons of her lab coat. But only up as far as her waist. Above the waist, it seemed that there could be no chance of her fastening the buttons at all. In fact, there was no way the two edges of the overloaded garment could ever be brought together. The doctor's bust, in a word, was immense. She moved sensuously across to a metal cabinet, her thighs rubbing silkily together, her broad hips twitching, her rotund buttocks moving hypnotically beneath the smooth white cotton. Lucinda almost gasped. The doctor must have been six feet tall yet she wasn't wearing shoes. She walked with her toes pointing daintily outwards, like a ballet dancer, or maybe a duck.
The doctor fumbled with the lock of the cabinet for a moment before swinging open the door and bending to examine the lower shelf. The coat and the skirt were so close-fitting that the outline of a pair of exceptionally brief panties was clearly visible. Lucinda swallowed, her throat constricting. Higher up, there seemed to be no corresponding outline to suggest that the doctor was wearing a bra. Surely she must be, with such vast breasts? It must be a very special bra indeed to hold up a pair like that. They must weigh simply tons! She wondered how she would look with breasts even a quarter that size. After all these years with nothing at all...
"Here you are, Miss Whatever-Your-Name-Is-Bedworthy. Just read the label, it's quite straightforward. Any ill effects, just give me a bell..."
Lucinda read the label on the bus going home. She read it five times. There was nothing else to read about Pubertophen. Disappointingly, there was no illustrated explanatory leaflet, no notes, just the brief warning on the brown plastic bottle. She shook it, listening to the pills rattling inside. A month's supply. A full month's course of treatment.
One tablet to be taken before meals, every four hours.
Do NOT exceed the stated dose.
Do NOT use if pregnant.
If you are taking any other medication, consult your physician.
KEEP OUT OF REACH OF CHILDREN.
Four hours. Lucinda opened the safety screw cap of the bottle and carefully tipped one tablet into her palm. It rolled around in a shaky circle, shiny and pink. You should notice a marked effect within a matter of days. She hesitated for a second, then swallowed it.
They weren't a bad bunch at the office. They enjoyed a good laugh and a bit of sexual innuendo. Lucinda had long ago given up being offended by references to her non-existent bosom. As the only flat-chested woman out of six females in the office, she realised there was nothing she could do but join in the fun and shrug off the teasing. The other girls were naturally more developed than Lucinda, but such a state of affairs was quite normal as far as she was concerned, and always had been. She supposed she was jealous of them, to a certain extent, but there was no point in brooding over it.
"What's the pills for, Loose?" It was Barbara, the startlingly blonde office junior.
Lucinda started in alarm and screwed the top back on the bottle. Barbara was standing grinning beside Lucinda's desk.
"Nothing, really. Just something the doctor gave me. I have to take one every four hours. Just sort of pain killers. For tennis elbow." She swallowed one and took a gulp of her coffee.
"Cheese roll," Barbara intoned in her reading-out-loud voice, ticking off Lucinda's name on her list. "Wow, tennis?" she exclaimed in her more normal animated tones. Everything within ten yards of her vibrated. "You play tennis? I wish I could..." She sighed wistfully. "Anna Kournikova ... Jennifer Capriati ... Mary Pierce ... Martina Hingis ... Jelena Dokic - she's got big nipples - Natasha Zvereverevereverevereva..." Lucinda began to wonder if Barbara might be about to recite the top hundred female tennis players with comments on their more prominent features when appropriate. The girl continued. "I wish I could play tennis. Venus Williams ... well, not her, not with blonde hair. But you know what I mean. Not that I'd be any good. Can you see me trying to play tennis with these things? Although Serena Williams is pretty big..."
Lucinda couldn't see Barbara playing tennis with those things. It was a remarkable enough thing that Barbara could even carry a tray of cheese rolls. She had difficulty typing. Barbara was barely five feet tall, but her frontal aspect more than rivalled that of Dr Lewis. The men in the office never ceased to make lewd comments about Barbara's attributes, and Barbara was not slow to encourage them.
"Did I take a pill just then?" Lucinda had completely forgotten.
"Course you did, silly! You'd forget your 'ead if it wa'n't screwed on. One thing, though, Loose. How do the pills know they're supposed to go to your elbow? What if you had a headache? Would they make that better and forget about your elbow? Or would you have to take an extra one?"
Lucinda didn't know. The rest of the office began clamouring for its cheese rolls, and Barbara chirped, "I can't stay here all morning talking to you. You'll get me shot." She wobbled away, her breasts visible even in retreat. A pair like that? What if I got the brain to go with it? No, Lucinda decided. No on both counts. Nobody else had a bust like Barbara's. It looked so vast mainly because she was only four feet eleven tall. That and the fact that it was vast. And nobody had a brain like Barbara's either. The boss only kept her around to brighten the office. She was cheaper than hiring rubber plants. She could type, just about, but when she had her chair far enough back for her to reach the keyboard, she couldn't see the screen. Barbara was practically useless, apart - it was said - in bed. But she couldn't even count up to twenty-eight each month without taking all her clothes off so she could use her toes. She was, in a word, totally indispensable. Two words, in fact.
Derek, the shipping manager, appeared with a mouthful of cheese roll and a pile of paperwork. "Here you go, Loose, the usual Thursday stuff. I'm off this afternoon, any chance you could get the top half finished by lunchtime? The rest isn't so urgent..."
"Of course!" Derek was so dishy. If she hadn't still been married to Kostakis when she'd joined the firm, she would have jumped at Derek. Not literally, of course. It would have scared him off for good. Lucinda Long, she thought, not a bad name. So much more melodious than Lucinda Panayiotis. Loose All-Saints, as they'd called her at her previous job. Bunch of intellectual wankers.
"Thanks!" Derek always said thanks like that. As if he meant to say something more, but never quite got round to it. She sighed, watching his bottom surreptitiously as he moved away between the desks.
"You can't have him, Loose!" giggled Jennifer softly, pausing beside Lucinda's desk. The place was like Piccadilly Circus this morning.
"Oh, hi, Jen. I can dream, can't I?"
"Can't we all? Actually, though, he probably fancies you most of all. Strange, considering he's such a tit-hound!"
"He is?" Lucinda was genuinely surprised. "Who said that?" Across the office, she could see Derek in conversation with Barbara. He was having difficulty looking her in the eye. It was a common problem...
"One of the girls went out with him. No names, but she's left now. Apparently, he couldn't keep his eyes out of her cleavage. It explains why he hires so many well-endowed girls, though, doesn't it? I mean, look at us all..." Jennifer's voice tailed off. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean..." She gathered up her papers and sped away, blushing furiously.
But Lucinda couldn't get the thought out of her head. Having a well-developed bust was intended to do good things for her self esteem. This was something else. A real bonus. If it made her even more attractive to Derek as well... !
She could hardly wait for Pubertophen to start working its magic. If Dr Lewis hadn't been exaggerating, she wouldn't have long to wait. 'You should notice a marked effect within a matter of days.' She tried to think. "Did I take a pill just now... ?"
Dr Lewis hadn't been exaggerating. You could trust her; she was a doctor. Within a few days, Lucinda was feeling decidedly different. Normally, she looked forward to her work. It was as satisfying as routine office work ever gets. There were clients to deal with on the phone, and the satisfaction of dealing with problems as they arose, without undue interference from her superiors. Like Derek.
These last few days, she had woken up with a feeling of dread. Lying in bed in those few minutes before the alarm clock went off, she found her mind wandering off at strange tangents. What if a client called to complain about something? Would she be able to handle it? She began to have serious doubts about her ability to deal with a problem by phone. All this sudden self-doubt. It wasn't like her at all. It felt the way she'd felt when she'd spent ten minutes over her homework for Miss Robinson's History class. She wanted to pull the covers over her head and stay in bed for the rest of the day. Of course, if she did have to go to the office, she could always ask Derek to help her.
Derek! She rolled over on to her stomach and rubbed herself against the mattress. It felt amazing when she did that, even if she didn't leave her hand on her pussy before she rolled over. And when she did leave her hand there, it felt absolutely indescribable. There was just time...
Lucinda hurried to the shower, ten minutes late. As she soaped her chest, she could feel a marvellous sensation in her nipples. Or was it down between her legs? It was impossible to say where the feeling was coming from: it was inside her, all over. God! I'm going to be late for the train!
She made the 0759 by thirty seconds, and slumped in her seat. As the scenery sped by the window, Lucinda clamped her thighs together. It wasn't an uncomfortable sensation, and it certainly wasn't at all unpleasant, but it was deeply disturbing. Around her, the other passengers swayed in their seats, their noses in books and newspapers, or staring slack-jawed into space with miniature headphones squawking tinnily out of their earholes. Did they see anything different about her, she wondered. Then she found her hand straying across her chest and she blushed violently and stared out of the window again.
And once she was in the city she found that the underground train was packed with multi-scented humanity as usual - all standing, but now, everyone seemed to be intruding more than ever on Lucinda's personal space. In front of her was an enormous suit, with broad shoulders like a rugby number eight. He was hanging on to the strap with a hand the size of a side of beef, rocking with the movement of the train. As they approached a station and the brakes came on, she allowed herself to lean forward against him, pressing her hips forward against his backside. Even when the train sighed to a stop, still in the dark tunnel short of the station, she remained in close contact, feeling herself moistening. She didn't care. It didn't matter if she came in floods right there on the train, if it relieved the dull ache in her loins and her nipples.
With a lurch, the train started again, and the big man rocked back against her. She felt his bum thrust back against her as she was forced to cling to the handrail to keep her balance. And as the lights of the station flickered past the window, she realised that this was where she got off.
The big man moved, turning to face her. "Thowwy," he lisped in a high-pitched voice. "Excuthe me..." As they got off the train together, he tucked his briefcase under his arm and loped off towards the exit with massive grace. Lucinda had to push her way out of the crowd and lean against the wall to recover her composure. Incurious faces flickered past her in a blur.
"Hi, Loose! You okay?"
Jennifer wheeled out of the impatient throng and stared at Lucinda anxiously. "You look a funny shade of pink, love. You sure you're feeling all right?"
"Nothing. I just felt a bit faint all of a sudden. A bit of a temperature, I think."
The crowd had dispersed like magic, heading for the escalator and the street. The platform was miraculously almost empty in seconds. Jennifer placed a cool hand on Lucinda's forehead. "Wow, you are hot! You're probably coming down with something. A couple of days off is what you need. Come on, anyway. You'll feel better up in the fresh air."
Lucinda took Jennifer's capable arm and they escaped to street level. It did feel different as they came out into the cool grey morning. She clung on tight to her workmate's hand as they headed for the street crossing. "I feel like an old woman..."
"You don't look like one! I wish I had your virginal complexion!" They reached the other side of the street. "Right, you'd better come into the office and have a cup of Barbara's coffee. If you still feel woozy at lunchtime, why not slip off home early? Derek will understand. Come in first, though; if you've got a nasty disease, we all want to catch it, too, then we'll all make a long weekend of it."
You wouldn't want to feel the way I do, Lucinda thought, as they went inside to start another ordinary day at the office.
Not quite an ordinary day. Lucinda was alternately either hot and flushed or cold and shivering. It was like the start of a cold or 'flu, except that each time she became hot and flushed, she also felt unaccountably horny. That was the only word for it. But just saying the word to herself made her feel ashamed, and made her blush all over. She could feel the redness creeping down her neck into her shirt. And Derek was looking at her again.
Light-headed, she got up and lunged out of the room. Even after five minutes, sitting shivering and sweating on the toilet, she didn't feel like facing up to the world again, but she knew she had to. Shakily, she wandered back to her desk.
"You're not very well, are you?"
Derek. He loomed over the desk, looking concerned. "Oh, sorry?"
"You can't stay at work like that. I bet you've got a temperature, haven't you... ?"
You could place a cool hand on my brow if you like, she thought. Or take my temperature with a thermometer. Rectally. Shit! What had brought that thought to her mind? She flushed deep crimson again. Derek had her coat in his hand.
"Come on, you," he said. "You're in luck. I brought the car in today. I'll run you home. If you go on the tube in your state, you're likely to end up in Upminster rather than Amersham."
"Who said I live in Amersham?" she said faintly, but she stood up and felt for her coat sleeve. It was like when your mother held out your coat for you: the sleeve was at the right height, but the angle was always totally wrong. Her arm creaked as it went down the armhole. "Thanks," she mumbled as he took her arm in a firm but gentle grip.
"Bob, mind the store, okay? Barbara, you can entertain Mr Hogshaw when he shows up? Jen, can you look after the Dawson account if they call, please? Any problems, I'll be on my mobile number, but it should be okay. Come on, Loose! Let's go!"
The traffic wasn't too bad once they had sped down a few back streets and reached the main road out of London. Derek drove fast and tidily. She settled back in her seat, still shivering slightly. "You're not too cold, are you?" He turned up the heater, even though she shook her head. "You are in a bad way, you know. Should we stop and get you something for your temperature? Then you can go to bed for a couple of days and not worry about work."
"You'd better call the doctor, come to that. I'll call him when we get you home."
"Her. It's a her." An image of the gorgeous Dr Lewis came to her and she felt another surge of heat flood through her body. What would tit-hound Derek think of Dr Lewis? She forced her thighs together and closed her eyes tight.
"You'll have to direct me from here." Derek's hand touched her thigh, bringing her back to consciousness. It felt huge and hot. Before she knew what she was doing, she laid both her hands on it and held it there. Then realisation dawned and she let go. The hand shot back to the wheel, gripping it with whitened knuckles.
"I'm sorry! I must have been asleep."
"You've been asleep for half an hour. I drove gently..."
"Sorry?" he said. Had she spoken out loud? She blinked out of the window, trying to recognise her surroundings.
"Left here, then left again in a hundred yards. My place is on the left. Number twenty-eight."
The car glided to a halt, and Derek switched off. "Just here? Nice place."
"I live in the upstairs." He was already round to the passenger door, helping her out. She wanted to grab him and hold on tight. Would the neighbours be watching? Serve them right if they were. She took his arm and held it with both hands as they went down the front path. She had to let go to open the door, and felt another shivery chill as she led the way up the stairs.
"Coffee?" she asked automatically as they came through into the compact kitchen.
"Thanks, Loose. Although you ought to be thinking of something for that 'flu of yours. Got to get the temperature down. Wow, you're boiling!"
His hand was like an ice pack on her cheek. She had to force herself to fill the kettle. Concentrate, Lucinda!
"I'll go to bed straight away," she promised. "Thanks for bringing me home."
"It was the least I could do." He looked around at the kitchen, then strolled to the window, not really at his ease. "Great view! You can see for miles."
"You can see even more from the bedroom," she blurted, then decided 'what the hell' and grabbed his hand. "Come and see!"
He didn't resist as she dragged him through into the bedroom and across to the window. The curtains were still drawn. She flung them wide, paused a moment then opened the window. Icy but mercifully fresh air came blasting in. Doggedly she continued her sales spiel. "There! How about that, then? It's an extra twenty-five a month on the rent for that view."
"I bet it is, too." They stood close together, shivering as they gazed out over the station and the garage and the insurance offices and the estate agents' advertising boards to the distant vista of beech woods and fields. Eventually, there was no more to see and he turned round. "Nice room!" Then it was Derek's turn to go red all over.
She darted forward and threw the bed covers across the enormous wet patch on the pale blue bottom sheet. Perhaps he hadn't noticed. Jesus! She kicked at the pair of drenched panties which were seeping a pool of juices on to the polished floor. They refused to disappear conveniently out of sight under the bed, clinging wetly to her shoe. She shook her foot, but they wouldn't come off. She tried to distract Derek's wide-eyed attention elsewhere, "The kettle's boiling at last... !" and kicked harder as she half hopped towards the kitchen. At least, the appalling evidence of her early-morning arousal finally let go of her shoe.
With the tips of finger and thumb, Derek plucked the heavily-soaked panties from his shoulder and placed them in the laundry basket. He brushed at the material of his suit jacket then rubbed his hands together. At least he didn't sniff his fingers, that would have been disastrous.
"Thanks," she said. There didn't seem to be anything else appropriate to say. It was time for coffee.
Lucinda had a feeling she hadn't handled the situation particularly well. Derek had mixed her a large mug of hot lemon-flavoured patent cold cure, gulped his scalding coffee and disappeared down the road at a rate of knots, muttering something about having to get back to the office. Lucinda had another feeling, one which couldn't be ignored for one second. Only after she had overcome her burning need did she take two of the pills - she couldn't remember taking one first thing that morning - and feeling another shivery fit coming on, climbed into bed fully dressed, straight into the soggy patch.
"Did I do all that?" she asked herself wonderingly. Receiving no immediate reply, she crawled through it and curled up in a miserable ball in the dry quarter of the bed.
The hot lemon drink, with its other magic ingredients, evidently worked well. It was dark outside when she woke up, starving hungry and bursting for a piss. She crawled across the still-soaked sheet and blundered her way to the bathroom, feeling like death warmed up. "I hope I don't look as bad as I feel," she mumbled, peeling off her sweat-soaked clothes and dumping them in a heap. "Or worse," she said, peering at the mirror and inspecting a bloodshot eye.
Her gaze travelled downwards and her heart stopped beating.
She took a pace back from the mirror, then forward and looked again at her reflection. Still the same. Finally, she looked down at herself. The real thing was just as shocking as the reflection had been.
"Breasts," she said, for that was what she had seen.
Her first instinct was to call Dr Lewis. She even had the phone in her hand before she realised she didn't know what she was going to say. After all, she had been taking the pills for just a week. Pubertophen was supposed to start working in that time. It would be a waste of the doctor's valuable time calling her up just to say the treatment was working as expected. She put the phone down and pulled aside the front of her bathrobe. Her nipples were puffed up and throbby. Tingling. Wonderful. The feeling of horniness was back, but now, after three or four days of it, that was more of an old familiar friend. She shivered again. Time for a bowl of hot soup, then back to bed - nice, clean, dry sheets - with a good book. Preferably something really smutty.
There's a warm and comforting feeling about waking up at the usual time then realising that you don't have to go to work. Lucinda felt that feeling next morning. Two whole days off, to get over her temperature and everything, then the weekend, then back to work on Monday. It sounded as attractive as a month in the South of France. She stretched herself, right down to the toes, spreading her legs, arching her back, then relaxing. It felt so good. So good, in fact, that she didn't immediately remember...
Then she felt the insistent pressure of the bed covers on her chest, and realised that her chest didn't feel quite normal. She sat up and had a cautious little squeeze. "Bloody hell! Is that all me?"
Out of bed and running to the bathroom, she could feel the weight on her chest. She was almost bouncing! And in the mirror, with the light on, there they were all right. And then some! They nearly filled the palms of her hands now. They felt almost like someone else's, except for the delicious feeling as she rubbed her hands over the fat, rubbery nipples, and traced the slight crease in the skin beneath each swollen mound. They covered quite a large area on her chest, she noted critically, studying them with her head on one side. "If they just fill out a little bit now, they're going to be really noticeable," she murmured, stroking them until thrills coursed through her whole body. "Lucinda," she scolded herself shakily. "You are in grave danger of becoming a walking erogenous zone. The thought was enough to make her gasp and sit down on the toilet seat, chewing her lower lip and squeezing her budding breasts just as hard as her numb fingers could squeeze.
Ten minutes later, she came to her senses, lying on her back on the sheepskin bathroom rug. She was drained. To her surprise, the insides of her thighs were soaked, and her pubic hair matted with sticky juices. Twenty minutes later, wrapped in towels, she sat in front of the gas fire, wondering what was happening to her. "Just as well I wasn't going to work," she said, looking at the clock. She would have missed her regular 0859 train by at least ten minutes. Or three orgasms.
And next morning, sitting in the same pose, she would have missed the train by half an hour. She'd even have had to run to catch the 0956. "This won't do, Lucinda!" This time, she did call Dr Lewis.
"Miss Bedworthy, old thing! How can I help you?" She imagined the tall doctor reclining in her swivel chair, that half smile on her lips, those epic breasts...
"I've been taking the pills..."
"Oh, yes? So how's the jolly old puberty progressing?" There was a sound of a husky giggle over the line.
"Well, fine. I mean, it's working all right. Quite fast, actually. I mean, I've got ... I've started getting ... I'm quite ... that is..."
"Breasts! But you've got some side effects, right?"
"You could say that, yes." There was a pause. The doctor was obviously waiting for her to describe the side effects. "Well, I have some quite strong feelings of ... arousal."
"Golly! Lucky old you! Very often?"
"Erm ... how can I put this? Like, all the time?"
"All the time? Hmm. That's a little unusual. I envy you. How about the jolly old boobies? Growing nicely?"
"Oh, yes. Very satisfactory."
"Keep an eye on them until Monday. Keep taking the jolly old pills. Your arousal level seems a little unusual, but we generally find it will die down when your breasts really start growing. At the moment, things are just getting into their stride, you see? Normally, girls experience a few days of mildly erotic sensation - like we want to screw the arse orff absolutely anything in trousers - then the old titties become fuller, and everything settles down just tickety-boo. Call me on Monday, and if there are any more problems, you can come in to the surgery and I'll take a look at them ... At you ... Okay? Bye for now!"
She thought over what the doctor had said. Nothing seemed quite right. The horniness would die away when her breasts started growing. No! Her breasts had swelled noticeably in the last twenty-four hours, but if anything, she was randier than ever in her life before. Automatically, she fumbled beneath the towels and sought her slippery slit yet again. Within seconds, she was moaning and writhing in the most intense, wracking orgasm ever. That was another thing, she thought. Each time she came, it seemed to be getting worse! Or better! One way or another, it was a deeply disturbing thought.
At least, those hot and cold spells had passed away now. It had been a glorious sunny Saturday morning, ideal for shopping. It was the same as when she had been a young schoolgirl. It had been brilliant just to wander round the shops, listen to records, have a Jumbo Cheese Dog, try on some clothes. And buy a bra!
"My first real woman's bra," she trilled, cupping the weight of her breasts in front of the bathroom mirror. The satiny material was shiny-new yet soft and yielding as she fondled her blossoming curves. "They're so heavy!" They went up and down when she lifted them. When she let go, they jiggled, despite the bra. Lucinda Bedworthy, jiggling!
Another thing, she noticed. The embarrassing horniness now seemed to be under control. More or less, anyway. She'd had some stirrings of arousal while trying on bras in the fitting room, but nothing compared to recent days. And now, here she was, standing in front of the mirror, squeezing her tits without getting even remotely turned on. Almost. Breathing heavily, she sat down on the toilet seat and brought herself to a thunderous climax. Yes, she realised, the horniness situation was getting better, just as the doctor said it would. At the same time, when she did succumb to the forces of nature and take one off the thumb, her orgasms were reaching incredible new heights. Her love-life could be very interesting in future!
For some reason, Lucinda's thoughts turned automatically to Derek. "No good dreaming about that one, girl, after dragging him into the bedroom and letting him see such a damning array of evidence. You've blown it!" An overpowering image came to her of the two of them behind Derek's desk in the office; herself kneeling between Derek's legs, administering a blowjob he would remember for all time. Sadly, she peeled off her panties and unhooked the bra. She laid it down lovingly, then picked it up again and stroked the cool material. Size 34B, she read on the label. After being a size 34-nothing-at-all for most of her life, being promoted to Miss Average was a major step on the ladder. Most women are wearing the wrong size bra, she remembered reading once. She had laughed ruefully: her correct size having been no bra whatsoever. Now, here she was, with a 34B that fitted her perfectly. "I'm one of the minority whose bra fits," she giggled as she stepped into the hot shower.
It didn't fit next morning.
Getting dressed, she pulled up her panties then reached for one of her new bras with a feeling of pleasurable anticipation. She felt so big! At last, she had something to support.
And it didn't fit.
At first, she put it down to inexperience. Perhaps one's breasts swelled a little during the night, the way your shoes get tight when you watched a movie. But increasingly unsuccessful efforts to load her breasts into the cups seemed to suggest only one thing. She was too big for a 34B. The bathroom mirror confirmed it beyond doubt. Although she could get the bra on by fastening the clasp in front then twizzling it round the right way, when she hoisted up the shoulder straps and tried to tuck herself away out of sight, there was an awful lot of creamy bosom sticking out that hadn't been there yesterday. There was a generous cleavage, and little bulges around the sides. There was even a little crescent-moon of breast sticking out beneath each cup. Surely not!
"This bra must be smaller than the other one." But when she had retrieved yesterday's bra from the laundry basket, blushing as she disentangled it from a wretchedly soggy pair of panties - thoughts of Derek again - she discovered that the other one was just as bad. Her breasts bulged out of it in all directions. Even with all the straps and hooks and things on their loosest settings, she had to conclude that all three of her brand new bras were too small.
At least, she thought, she would be able to take two of them back to the shop, unworn. She would drop in on Monday morning and get the right size. What size? 34C? 34D? Probably a D, but she would have to try it on before she bought it. Just as she had done on Saturday morning with those wretched 34B things. They had been the right size, and now they were miles too small. Curse you, Dr Lewis! Those things were expensive.
And thinking of Monday morning, what about the office? She could perhaps disguise her new figure with a loose sweater or something, but how long would it be before someone noticed? Already, her breasts were too big to hide completely. She had been flat chested, and now she had shot up to something like a thirty-eight inch bust, almost overnight. Thoughts of Derek the boob-hound again.
"I'll call Jen and explain that I'll be in to work on Monday, but an hour or two late." Jen would understand...
"Hello?" Jen sounded as if she had just woken up. "Loose! Hi! You all right? Feeling better?" The mouthpiece was covered at the other end of the line. A lot of rustling, and she faintly heard the muffled words, 'It's Loose ... No, not that, you silly bugger ... it's Lucinda!' Then a lot of giggling and schoolgirlish snorting.
"Much better than last week, thanks. Look, about tomorrow. I'll be in, but I need to see the doc first thing in the morning, okay? So I'll be a little late."
"'She says she'll be a little late... ' Oh, okay, I shouldn't think it will be a problem with Derek." Silence, rustle, rustle, mumble. "About eleven, you think? Hardly worth coming in at all, really?"
"I suppose not," said Lucinda, already weakening. After all, if she was going to have to buy a new bra or two, perhaps she could really see Dr Lewis as well. "Could you explain to Derek when you see him?"
"No problem!" There was what sounded like another burst of muffled giggles. "I'm sure Derek won't have any objection at all!" More giggling, and a masculine snort. "Well, I mustn't keep you. See you on Tuesday, then? Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed!" The giggles down the phone became hysteria.
"Okay. Tuesday it is. Thanks, Jen. Byeee!" Disgusting bitch, Lucinda thought. Still in bed with some bloke at ... she checked the time. "Oops! Perhaps eight o'clock on a Sunday morning is a little early to be calling..."
Lucinda picked up the phone at eight on Monday morning, and called Dr Lewis's number. The receptionist tried to offer her an appointment for sometime in the middle of next week.
"It's very urgent, and she told me to call her this morning if there was any trouble with my treatment. And there is!"