The Power of Prayer
Caution: This Humor Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/ft, ft/ft, Consensual, Lesbian, Heterosexual, Fiction, Humor, Exhibitionism, Size, Body Modification, Big Breasts, Workplace, School,
Desc: Humor Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Even Heaven has to move with the times. The Body Parts (Puberty) Division is split into Male & Female sections. For the Senior Managing Angel, Gabriel Jr, this mean redundancy (De-layering in Heaven corporate speak) and he's not happy. For the Division this means possible standardising all breast and penis sizes in the name of fairness (And efficiency). Customer research is needed and Gabriel agrees to pose as a girl and go down to take a look. There he meets God's favourite - Emily Thorpe.
DEL AND SHEL Murchison were twins. They were born in that order, Adele seven minutes before Rochelle. Adele never let her sister forget it, either, even as they were growing up identically, with identical long dark - almost black - hair, dressed in identical dresses, or identical jeans and T-shirts, with identical shoes or sandals.
Everybody said how identical - and how beautiful - they were. They probably meant how beautifully dressed. The girls were certainly identical, but beauty wasn't really an appropriate word. Their looks were striking rather than beautiful, their mouths a little too wide, their noses slightly too Roman, their eyes just a bit too close-set. It didn't matter, the twins were so lively, so vivacious, no one really remarked on their looks. Not often. Anyway, opinion had it, they were young; they would grow into their looks later.
And it started happening, as these things do. As they approached their tenth birthday, the twins were experiencing a growth spurt. In a matter of weeks, they had grown out of all their jeans and shoes. Twice. They were suddenly and dramatically six inches taller. They had legs right down to the ground and right up to their armpits. They looked like a pair of young racehorses, striding leggily around in the slightly ungainly fashion of colts.
They were taking after their parents in that respect. Their mother was almost six feet tall, their father and elder brother were six feet three. The twins were beginning to resemble their mother in another way, too. She was a statuesque woman with broad hips, powerful thighs and a notably prominent bosom. Although Del and Shel didn't yet have the bosom, they were very quickly getting the family backside.
"You'll have bosoms soon enough, girls," Mrs Murchison reassured them one day when the girls expressed dissatisfaction with the way things were going. "You're only just ten."
"We're only just ten," Shel agreed, "so why have we got the biggest bottoms in the whole school?"
"Speak for yourself, little sis," said Del. "You have the biggest bottom in the whole school."
"It's only that much bigger," Shel held her fingers a couple of inches apart.
"How do you know?" The twins' mother was aghast.
"We measured each other with your tape measure," said Del.
"And you cheated," muttered Shel.
"Now, that's enough, both of you! You're both taller than the other girls in your class, so it's only right and proper that you should have the biggest bottoms."
"And the longest legs?" said Shel. "Why couldn't some of this growth have gone to our chests? The other girls in our class have got busts already."
"Not all of them, dear," said Mrs Murchison firmly.
"Two of them have," insisted Del, exaggerating only slightly. By a factor of 100%, in fact. One other girl in the twins' class did have a bosom worthy of note. A dozen or so of the others had little bee-stings in their blouses, but Emily Thorpe was spectacular by any standard. She had shown the label of her bra to anyone in the class who was interested. 34DD, it said. Nobody knew quite what it meant, but it sounded mighty impressive. As, for that matter, was Emily. Her tits stuck out about a mile and a half in front of her. She bumped into things. They knocked books off desks. No doubt she would get used to them in time.
Del and Shel wanted some. Not necessarily as big as Emily's - the twins were well brought-up and not greedy - just as long as they were big ones. And preferably within the next few weeks.
Their mother hugged her big-bottomed girls to her. "You'll get breasts, don't worry!" The girls squirmed and blushed at the word. "You'll just have to ask God to send you some, won't you?"
"And He will?"
"Did you pray for yours, Mummy?"
"Of course. All little girls do."
Emily Thorpe must have prayed really hard, the twins thought. Well, if that was all they had to do, they would do it. Being nicely brought-up children, they knelt by their beds and asked God to send them some really big titties. Or boobs. They didn't want to use the word breasts in case God got embarrassed.
And lo, the Lord heard their prayers. Perhaps it was because they were identical twins and their prayers were thus twice as powerful as all the other little girls praying for bosoms. Whatever the reason, He heard, and He listened.
Okay, maybe He didn't listen hard enough. Perhaps He had other things on His mind. Being God is one Hell of a job, even when You are One in Three and Three in One. Anyway, He screwed up, bigtime. Okay, to be fair, maybe it was one of His angels who couldn't read the instructions. It was perhaps an unusual request: two identical sets of those DDs, please, like Emily Thorpe's. You know Emily Thorpe, Lord?
The Lord knew Emily Thorpe, all right. He had made her in His image, after all. Emily's dimensions were quite fresh in His mind. So was the total weight of her breast flesh. There had been a bit of a row about it, He remembered.
"What's all this, Lord?" It was one of the managing angels from Main Stores - Body Parts (Puberty) Division.
"All what, Gabriel?" saith the Lord, somewhat testily, for verily it had been a long day. All He needed right now was a militant angel shouting his mouth off.
"You've given one ten year-old girl ... Emily Thorpe... four girls' share of breast."
"So what? There's no Holy Law that says all girls have to have tits the same size."
"I know, but for Chrissakes, look! Four times as much as she ought to have! This you call fair? Gordon Bennett!"
"I didn't get where I am today by being fair, Gabriel. I've signed the requisition, just pick the parts and get them out, okay?"
And so it was done. Emily Thorpe's mother was bewildered. Emily was ecstatic.
But now, six weeks later, here was a repeat order for two identical sets, from the same school. "Sod this," snorted Gabriel, crashing away at the keys of his computer. "Who do they think I am, the Tit Fairy?" It had been bad enough issuing one huge set to this Thorpe girl, without this additional blow to his stock control. "They can have one set, and they can think themselves lucky they're getting that." He hit Enter, logged off and grabbed the phone to castigate the suppliers of pubic hair. That latest batch had been almost straight. He'd be able to use some of it in Japan, but only the black...
The order for the Murchison twins' tits was the last one to come down to the Puberty Warehouse that afternoon. "What the fuck's this, at four o' clock on a Friday?" demanded Barnett, the stacker truck driver, who already had his coat on, ready to leave. He snatched the requisition and ran a grimy finger down the list of items. "Breasts, female. Extra large. One pair." Despite his anxiety to get back to his cloud before it started raining for the weekend, the warehouseman was a conscientious angel. He checked the overall consignment weight as listed. It was a curiously high figure, even for a pair of extra large breasts. These things happened. Sometimes God got confused between pounds and kilograms. Better check it out with Gabriel, just to cover my ass. And he picked up the phone.
"Shit! Fucking Gabriel chatting up his lady friend again. You can never get through to him." Barnett slammed down the phone and picked up the requisition form again. It was stamped URGENT across the top. Obviously a prayer request, with authority right from the Top. He hesitated for just a moment, then climbed aboard his stacker truck and whirred off between the racks.
Del awoke and scratched herself. It felt good, so she did it again. Shel was still asleep, snoring gently in the lower bunk. Saturday morning, no school! Del scratched her armpit, which had been getting rather hairy of late. It wasn't the only thing that was getting hairy, she thought, biting her lip and allowing a hand to stray in the general direction of the juncture of her robust thighs. That region was getting even hairier.
Down below, Shel stirred and mumbled something, and Del froze. She lay still for perhaps two or three minutes, then slowly moved her right hand again. The other hand came up automatically to her chest. Del wondered why it bothered, there was nothing there apart from a pair of nipples like a boy's.
She gasped and her eyes opened wide, staring rigidly at the ceiling. "It can't be! I must be still asleep and dreaming. That's what happens when you say your prayers at bedtime." Then her fingers unfroze themselves and moved across her chest. She rubbed at it. It was at that moment that Del realised that her chest wasn't 'it' any more. It was 'them!' She brought her right hand up, its other task forgotten. Her palms encircled and cupped her nipples. No doubt about it, they were decidedly puffy. And tingly. Almost an itch, although there was no apparent way of scratching it. Slowly, so as not to wake her sister, she sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, then lowered herself to the floor. Gathering her nightie around her waist, she padded over to the dressing table ... and hoisted the nightie up to uncover whatever was underneath.
"Wow! It worked!" She was so excited, she didn't know what to do first. Wake Shel? No, not yet. She hurried away to the bathroom, sat down and inspected them closely. They weren't in the Emily Thorpe league yet by any means, but they were already capable of mounting a challenge to the rest of the girls in the class who had bosoms. They were almost flat, apart from the area surrounding the nipples, but the slight swellings covering her chest seemed to be as big as her hands with fingers spread right out. And those puffy bits in the middle were indescribable. They were shiny! And they squashed in when she pushed them flat against her body, but as soon as she let go, they sprang right back out again. She tried it again. It worked every time.
Del stood up, allowing the nightie to fall down and cover her again, then she stood sideways to the mirror, sticking out her chest and pulling the nightie tight with her hands round her waist. There they were! She tried another pose, one hip thrust out to the side, her hand behind her head. They were still there, in fact, they looked even bigger!
"Del? You in there?"
"Yeah. Hang on, can't you?"
"Quick!" said Shel. "I've got something to tell you."
Her too? Logical enough. After all, they had prayed at the same time. Del flushed the toilet and opened the door a crack.
"Let me in, I need a piss!"
Shel hurried in and sat down. She had been right, Del thought, as a gushing cascade flooded deafeningly into the toilet bowl. It seemed to go on for hours. "What did you want to tell me?" Del had to raise her voice to make herself heard. She stood with her legs crossed, suddenly desperately aware of her own need.
"In a minute. Let me finish this first." Relative silence fell for at least another thirty seconds, broken only by the mighty sound of waters. Eventually, Shel stood up and wiped herself. "Wow, I needed that!"
"Tell me about it." Del sat down in a hurry on the warm seat and dispensed a thunderous torrent of her own.
"I thought you'd just been," said Shel, surprised.
"I was doing something else. Not that!" Del reddened in embarrassment. "I was sitting there thinking. Anyway, what's this big secret of yours?"
"Back in the bedroom. Come on!"
They closed the bedroom door behind them. "Let's see them, then," said Del.
"Your ... what you were going to show me."
"I wasn't going to show you anything. I was going to tell you something. Something I thought about. You know tonight, when we say our prayers? Well, I thought of something. Do you think They would mind if we changed what we asked for. Instead of just ordinary DDs like Emily's, why don't we ask for something really big?" Shel peeled off her nightdress and strode around the bedroom looking for clean underwear.
Del gasped. Her sister was as flat-chested as ever. "It's too late," she blurted, without thinking.
"What's too late?" Shel found a pair of panties in her drawer and hauled out an enormous T-shirt.
"This!" Del hauled up the front of her nightie. Shel was resolutely rummaging through her drawer again, searching for some socks. "Well, look at them, then!"
"Look at wha..." Shel looked round, and saw. "You've got tits," she said unnecessarily. Then she felt at her own chest through her T-shirt. "When did you get those?"
"Last night. Or this morning. They just grew."
Shel came over to investigate. "They're not very big," she said, her lower lip trembling.
"Ouch! They're tender! How would you like it if I pinched yours?" She tried, but there was nothing there to pinch. If the Tit Fairy or whoever had paid a visit in the night, there had been a misunderstanding.
"It's not fair!" Shel began to sob. "I prayed too. I was praying just as hard as you." She had been, too. She ran her hands surreptitiously down the sides of her hips, and around the back to squeeze her buttocks. Still the same. Perhaps it had been a mistake to pray for a smaller bottom at the same time as she prayed for a bust. It might have confused God.
"Don't worry, sis!" Del cuddled her and offered a corner of her nightie to wipe away the tears. "Yours will come. I got mine first because I'm older than you."
"Seven minutes older!"
"Maybe if we wait... ?"
They waited fourteen minutes, just to be on the safe side, but nothing happened. Shel's chest remained as flat as before, and when she quickly checked lower down, her bottom was just as obscenely huge as ever.
Their mother was sympathetic but not much help. "You don't need a bra yet, dear," she told Del. "We'll have to leave it until they're more than just a couple of fried eggs. And by then, Rochelle will have hers, too."
Fried eggs was an accurate description. Del's breasts were almost flat, with a plump rounded yolk sticking out of the middle. Shel lost her appetite and pushed her plate away, her eggs untouched. Del ate them.
Convinced now of the power of prayer, the twins prayed extra hard each night. Shel asked for tits, any size, huge for preference, but anything would do as long as they were bigger than Adele's. Oh, and a smaller bottom, please, God. Good Night!
Del asked for her own set to get bigger than Emily's, then as an afterthought, for Shel to have some, too. Any size ought to do, but be reasonable, Lord. Just don't let them be bigger than mine, okay? Good Night!
It was working. At least, it was working for Del. Her breasts grew almost visibly each day. She swiftly blossomed into a remarkably well-endowed young lady. She still wasn't yet quite up to Emily-sized, but her mother decided she really ought to have a bra without waiting for her twin to catch up.
Del showed her sister the label.
"36D? What's it mean?"
"It's ever so complicated. I didn't even understand it all myself. They put the tape measure round me just here, then up here. And all the time the woman was making little coo-ing noises and telling me what a big girl I was. You'll find out when you get yours."
Nothing was happening. It wasn't working. One morning, Shel lay in bed watching Del trying to fasten her bra. There seemed to be lots of her sticking out of it in various directions. It was too small. Quite a lot too small. "Have you been praying again, Del?"
Del blushed a little. "Of course. I've been asking God to let you have some boobies."
"So have I. It's not working."
In fact, Del was overjoyed to see how well it was working. Each night, she asked Him for bigger tits, and sure enough, she was getting them. Perhaps there was a bit of a delay with Shel's, but Rome wasn't built in a day, after all. Everything comes to she who waits.
Shel, meanwhile, was close to despair. As she fought her way into her jeans, she made the unwelcome discovery that her bottom was an inch bigger than it had been before.
"It's a sign that you're still becoming a woman," her mother reassured her. "Slowly but surely. But you're only ten, dear, you mustn't expect everything to happen all at once."
"I don't want it to happen all at once," Shel wailed, "Just in the right order!"
"What have you done this time, Lord?" Gabriel burst into God's office without knocking. "We're still getting urgent top priority prayers from these Murchison twins. You can't just keep signing the requisitions willy-nilly and passing them down to me for order processing."
"Did you send them their consignments last month? Are you sure your warehouse didn't screw up again?"
"You tell me! You're supposed to be the omnipotent One round here."
God swivelled in His chair and tried to log on. "What's My password?" He snapped after several attempts.
"That's just the trouble. Ah, that's got it. I'll have to change it to something else."
"Why not make it something easy to remember, like Your birthday."
"It's all zeroes, you fool. Right, which page is it..." He mused over the data for a while then stabbed a finger at the screen. "Look, you only sent them one set. They wanted two."
"Of course I only sent them one set. Nu. They were being greedy. I can't go around dispensing largesse like it's going out of fashion."
"It's hardly fair, giving one twin a pair of great big tits and not the other..."
"Fair?" Gabriel flung out his wings in a despairing gesture. "Oy, gevalt! Fair? I got where I am by being fair?"
"So what's with all the Jewish, Gabriel? You realise, you've probably broken some poor young girl's heart. You gave her sister a big pair of tits..." God reached for a calculator, His eyebrows shooting up into His receding hairline. "How many kilos in a pound?"
"Two point two. And it's the other way round. It's pounds in a kilo."
"Oh, no! Holy Shit!"
"What have You done this time?"
"It's what we've both done. Or should that be what We've both done? What happens to the capital letter at the front of the personal pronoun when only one of us is holy? Or Us?" Gabriel's eyes were glazing over. "Whatever. I thought it was the other way round, so I've gone and requisitioned tits more than twice as big as I meant to. That wouldn't have been the end of the world. But you've bollocksed it up by only sending out one set."
Gabriel sighed heavily. "We can get round that easy enough. We can just take back the huge pair and replace them with two smaller pairs. As long as our monthly breast mass returns tally okay, nobody will be any the wiser."
"No, that's not allowed. You can't take them back. Once they've got their breasts at puberty, they've got them. Spontaneous regression does not occur. And it's all down to you, Gabriel. Your department sent out the one pair. The trouble is, they've sent out one pair weighing as much as the total weight of two pairs. Okay, I can hold up My hands..." God held up His hands... "and admit that I got the metric conversion wrong. If that had been the only thing wrong, these kids would have ended up with boobies maybe twice as heavy as they expected. No harm in that, no harm at all. Sheesh, it happens all the time. But your cock-up would have meant one poor girl getting no tits at all, while her unfortunate identical twin sister got the whole lot. Sadly, the combined effect of all this is that one of these girls is now on her way to getting a pair four and a half times bigger than she originally asked for. And since she originally asked for them, I've approved three more routine developmental increments. By the time all that lot works its way through the system, she's going to end up in VAST Magazine. Jee-zus!"
The door opened. "How can I help You, Dad?"
"Who sent for You? Never mind, since You're here. We've got a bit of a crisis. A pair of twins praying for breasts, but one of the girls seems to have got the whole lot instead of it being shared out between them."
"Holy cow! Gabriel again?"
"Why do I always get the blame for everything that goes up the Swannee round here? I could always find another job. With my experience I could get on the phone to Beelzebub and walk straight into a top manager's job in Outer Darkness. I could be out of this place just like that." Gabriel attempted to snap his fingers, but failed to produce a sound. Cursing, he tucked his clipboard under one wing and left the room.
"Okay, Pops," said the Son of Man wearily. "I'll take a look at it. I'll have to do it from up here, though. Wild horses wouldn't drag me down there again. Not after last time..."
"Just do what You can, Son. Nobody can do more. I'll leave You to it. I'm busting for a shit. Here's all the stuff on the screen. You know about Windows 2003, I guess?"
"I ought to," Jesus said with a wry grin. "I worked on it with Damien and the boys." He stared at the screen, his brow furrowing. "What a screw-up! Okay, do I have permission to take anything I need from the Puberty Warehouse?"
God spread His hands wide. "It's all Yours, Son. All of Creation if You need it. Just make sure You answer those two little ladies' prayers. They're some of the best customers We've got. They pray every night, without fail." Up on the balcony, the celestial choirmaster sounded his tuning fork and rapped for attention with his baton. "Uh-oh," God muttered. "If All Saints are going to get back together, I'm outta here."
"Trust Me, Father! I'm the One Who created Tina Small, remember? Hang on, which of these two kids wanted the tits? Was it Del or Shel?"
There was no reply. God was already hurrying away to the bathroom. It didn't matter, really. He could check the prayer logs. Jesus perched on the corner of the desk and tapped a few keys experimentally. Del's prayer log file came up. She had been requesting huge boobs for six weeks, and had recently been requesting even larger ones. She had even taken to praying at school lunchtimes, while sitting on the toilet.
It all seemed to make perfect sense. The poor deprived kid must be getting desperate, seeing her sister getting bigger and bigger. Perhaps she had been just a little excessive in her demands, but she was a tall girl for her age, so she could carry it off, no problem. After a while, He picked up the calculator and entered a few numbers, then multiplied them by 2.2. The answer made His eyebrows ascend, yea, even unto His halo. "I never trust these new-fangled devices. Still, if that's what it says, so be it."
"I don't know, I really don't, Adele!" Her mother scratched her head as the custom bra maker extended her tape measure once more round the girl's dangerously wobbling rack. "Nearly fifty-two inches? Anyone would think you'd been given Rochelle's share of bust as well as your own! But even if you had, you're still twice as big as you ought to be. Yours are bigger than mine already, and you've only been growing six weeks. Where's it all going to end?"
The custom bra maker, whose improbable name was Veronica Twizzell, shook her head mournfully. "I've known some girls - even young girls like Adele - to carry on developing explosively for months."
"Explosively?" Del looked deeply concerned.
"It's all right dear, it's only a figure of speech. Little girls don't explode. Nor do big ones."
Veronica checked the most recent tape measure reading, blinking with bewilderment. It seemed to be almost half an inch bigger than it had been a moment earlier. "She's got a sister, you said?"
"A twin. Rochelle's out in the car. The poor kid didn't want to come into the shop. It would be too traumatic for her. She says it's bad enough having to share a bedroom with a twin sister who's grown more than half a metre in six weeks, without helping her to buy bras as well. I suppose one can see the girl's point. I'll tell you what, Veronica. Why don't you carry on measuring Adele for her new bra. Allow a little extra for growth this week. I'll go and take Rochelle round the shops. I'll be back in half an hour."
"Where are you taking her?" Del asked peevishly. "You're not getting her more new clothes?"
"Only another pair of jeans, dear. Her last couple of pairs seem to have shrunk in the wash. They're really shamefully tight around the bottom."