Wrong Side of the Tracks
It was my sister's fault. It wouldn't have happened if it hadn't been for her inviting me to come up the Hill with her that night. Or maybe it would. Flashback time...
Our family has tits. All the women have the most enormous breasts. So do all the girls, once they start growing. It was probably inevitable, if you saw both my grandmas. There's a picture of our parent's wedding in the front room, and there's just so much tit in that picture! There's my dad's side of the family; his mother and her sisters, and dad's sisters and cousins. Then there's the other side of the picture; my mother's family, my mother and her two sisters who were her bridesmaids. I have to hide that picture when my friends come round, 'cos they all want to stare at it the whole time. We worked out one day that there were sixteen women in that picture, from about forty-five years old down to about thirteen, and the average bust measurement was about forty-five inches. Okay, it was raining that afternoon and there was nothing else to do.
Hang on, I'm leaping ahead again; who's all this 'we'? Well, there's me, I'm Katie, and my older sister. Sandie's two years older than me. Then my two younger sisters, Sonya the Slut and Brenda the Brat; they're a year and two years younger than me. I don't know why so many girls, it seems to be a problem down where we live, on the wrong side of the tracks. We've got a girl surplus.
You might enjoy being a boy down here. The place isn't much to look at, compared to up on the Hill, but we're friendly enough once we get to know you. And any decent looking boy can take his pick of pretty girls. Or willing girls. Or if he's really feeling lucky, girls who are both. I'm not one of the pretty ones, but I'm willing enough, and like I say, I've got these tits.
Even so, tits aren't enough round here. The joke is that there's something in the water on the wrong side of the tracks. The girls up on the Hill always say that whatever it is, it isn't soap. That's what they're like up there. Bitchy. Anyway, something in the water gives us big tits. It's not just my family, there are three more families down here who specialise in really busty girls. Believe me, it's easier being a boy than a girl.
Luckily, the school bus comes down here on its way to somewhere else. So if you catch the right bus, you can find yourself twenty minutes of boy action in the back seats. Or any of the seats, if you're desperate enough. Often, the bus would stop by the bridge at the end of the street, and a dozen girls would pile out, and we'd all say 'hello' because until that moment we really hadn't even noticed each other. And then we'd all be tucking in our blouses and straightening our skirts and if we'd had a good journey, trying to fasten our bras, so we'd look halfway presentable when we arrived home.
Being oldest, Sandie acted as our mentor when our turn came to take the bus to school. Sandie commanded respect. She was no more than average height, but she gave the impression of being able to take care of herself. And she was, still is, very attractive, so she'd never have a problem finding a boyfriend or six, even if she didn't have forty-three inches of bust straining away inside her school blouse. That was the bus going to school. Coming home, Sandie allowed me to look after myself. She had better things to do than looking after her ugly sister.
I was built like a small tank. I had a broken nose from falling out of a tree when I was about five, and they never really got it perfectly straight. People said I had features like a boxer, and I wasn't too upset, as there were some quite good looking boxers around. That was until some of us found a picture of a boxer dog in a book at school, and my friends pointed at it and said, 'Hey, look, it's Katie!'
Some of the boys showed an interest in me, but only so they could find out more about Sandie's comings and goings. Our conversations were brief and never descended to groping. You see, I was a late developer. I had reached twelve without my body showing any external signs of femininity. My younger sisters were way ahead of me. Sonya the Slut had been looking forward to joining the activity on the school bus, and even Brenda the Brat, while pretending annoyance at her rapidly filling shirts, did nothing at all to hide her ripening endowments.
I had tried standing in front of the bedroom mirror and hypnotising my chest into growing, but all I had were these two fried-egg mounds that had no need of a bra at all. I could have borrowed a bra and stuffed it, but someone in the family would have noticed. Besides, the only bras I could reasonably have borrowed would have been my younger sisters', and both Sonya and Brenda were built on a smaller scale, so their bras wouldn't go round my chest. And if I had suddenly appeared in one of Sandie's G cup bras stuffed with socks, the whole school would point at me and laugh.
Of course, Mother Nature stopped playing games and gave me a pair of my own. Correction, she gave me a pair of my own but she didn't stop playing games. I entered my teens with a most unusual problem.
"Come on, Katie, you're going to miss the bus!"
"Tell Sandie to walk on up, I'll catch up with her." I got the buttons done up at last and pulled on my baggiest school sweater. Thank God for the cold October wind. What was happening to me? I caught up with Sandie as the bus came along the road.
"What kept you?"
"Can you sit with me, Sandie... ?"
"As long as you don't expect me to sit with you on the way home. What's up?"
"My shirt," I said cryptically. Sandie's eyebrows went up but she said nothing until she had greeted her friends and the bus was trundling up the road.
"What's wrong with your shirt?"
"Hey, shitting hell! About time!"
"No, Sand! Don't tell everyone. They ... they're swollen, but they don't feel good."
"When's your period?"
I blushed. My sister hadn't spoken to me like this before. "I dunno," I mumbled. "Soon..."
"It's okay. You get bigger before you start. I always do."
"You do?" I'd never really noticed, she was so huge anyway.
"It will feel better once you come on. They'll get smaller again."
This was good news? But by lunchtime I felt like an overinflated balloon. As soon as I could take a look in private, I realised they were puffed up bigger than ever before. Not just the whites of the eggs, the yolks, too. I put them away and spent the rest of the day hunched up like Quasimodo.
And on the bus going home, as the usual crowd gathered round Sandie, I slumped into a vacant seat, trying to get comfortable. A boy blundered down the aisle of the bus and lurched against me with an elbow.
"Ouch! That was my tit!"
There was a stunned silence when the kids all around me realised who had said it, then they all laughed.
"That was Katie's tit, Digger!"
"Good job she told you."
"How'dya find it, Digger?"
"Shut up, you guys!" said Digger. "I said I'm sorry. Hey, shift across, Katie." He sat down next to me. "I'm sorry," he said.
"I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to. I fell over."
"See ya!" And he bounced out of the seat and joined his gang at the back of the bus. I could still feel it. It really did hurt, a sickening ache, right inside. The bus bounced along, making it worse. I tried looking out of the window, utterly miserable.
"Hey, Katie! It's not that bad, is it?" He was back. "Don't cry. I said I'm sorry."
"It's not that." I fumbled for a handkerchief, feeling wretched. He produced his, to my surprise. It wasn't particularly clean, but still...
"Don't let them get you down, Kate." He dabbed at my cheek with his hankie. The bus jogged on and I felt the warmth of him against my thigh. It was the first time I'd ever quite realised I even had a thigh. "Which one was it?"
"Which of your tits?" His hand was already cupped, hovering.
"Oh, hey! No, Digger!"
"I won't hurt it," he said softly, and to my amazement he didn't. He only held his hand on it for two or three seconds, then he took it away. "I am sorry. You get off here. See ya tomorrow, okay?"
"Okay." He stood up and I wriggled free, hearing a lusty cheer as Sandie followed me down to the front of the bus and out of the door.
"What were you up to?" she demanded as another male-voiced roar went up. She waved to them. "What was Digger up to?"
"Nothing!" I said, too quickly.
"Don't tell me, then."
"I shouldn't have done that," said Digger next morning. We were on the bus again and he was leaning over the back of the seat in front of Sandie and me.
I went red immediately. "I ... it was all right," I stammered.
"No it wasn't. It will be all over the school this morning that I copped a feel of Katie's tits." And as Sandie stared at me, Digger swung round and sat down again.
I realised later that he was trying to warn me. He was sweet like that when you got to know him. But for a day or two, boys would approach me with their hands cupped as if to squeeze a pair of tits the size of melons. Or even the size of Sandie's.
"It's your own fault," she told me. "You shouldn't have let him touch you."
At least, the fullness and the ache went away, almost as if Digger had done it by the laying-on of hands, although I was alarmed to notice that they were still quite puffy.
"When's your period due, Katie?" My mother really has a superb sense of timing. Saturday morning breakfast is our one all-together family meal. Sandie gasped in shock, Sonya and Brenda got the giggles and Dad screwed the top back on the ketchup bottle and pushed his plate away.
"Yesterday," I answered truthfully.
"And it happened yesterday?" she pursued me like a dog on the scent.
"Yes, of course."
Mother looked at me as if trying to see through my T-shirt. Brenda snorted like a pig and set Sonya off again. "Looks like we'd better be thinking about brassieres, hadn't we?"
"Doesn't it," said Sandie quickly.
"Looks like we'd better be thinking about brassieres, doesn't it? You said 'hadn't we'."
"What are you talking about, child?"
"'It looks'," Sandie explained, "how does it look? It looks, 'like we'd better be thinking about brassieres' is an adverbial clause modifying the verb 'to look'. Doesn't it?"
"Doesn't it what?" I wish Dad wouldn't join in these discussions.
"All I said was, it's about time we thought about getting some brassieres for Katherine. Look at her, she's sticking out in a most unattractive manner." I wish Mother wouldn't join in either.
Brenda sniggered again and almost deposited something green and unpleasant on her plate. Sonya cackled. "Katie's getting tits," she announced to no one in particular.
"Don't use that word, Sonya," Dad said bravely.
"I only said 'tits'!"
"But that's what they are. It's in the dictionary." Clearly, if Sandie could turn the breakfast table into an English discussion forum, Sonya could have a go as well.
"What size are you?" Mother hadn't finished with me yet, not by a long way.
"I don't know."
"I'll measure her," said Sandie, getting up. "Come on! Just Katie," she said as two younger sisters tried to tag along. "It doesn't need the rest of you."
She took me up to her room and closed the door. "Thanks, Sand."
"What a family! You wanna take your T-shirt off?" She already had a tape measure in her hand, as if she used it every day. She was staring at my chest when it emerged into the daylight. "Wow, look at those! Sorry, Kate. I wasn't being funny. They're coming on all right."
"They're most unattractive."
"Don't listen to her. Mine were like that when I was nine."
"But I'm twelve!"
"Don't worry! You've got them now. They've arrived. Let me get the tape round you. Under here."
"You've missed them..."
"That's the way you do it." She looked at the tape and mumbled some incantation. Sandie is better at English grammar than at mathematics. "You need a thirty-six."
"That wasn't thirty-six round there."
"I know. That's the way it is." She waved the tape around again, making an impression. "You're an A cup."
"Is that bad?"
"It's a start. You'll grow. And you're big and strong, too, so you'll be able to carry a much bigger pair than those two kids."
"Yeah, but when? They've got big ones already."
"Soon, I promise!"
That was the first time I'd been measured for a bra. The second was about six weeks later, in the same room. Sandie looked puzzled. "Mine get smaller again afterwards," she said. "Yours haven't."
"Tell me about it. I'm not complaining. But they did."
"Did what? They got smaller after your period started?"
"For a day or two. Then they got bigger again, only without the horrible feeling."
"You're a B cup now, at least."
"My bra still feels okay. Except..."
"Last night, coming home on the bus. I was watching..."
"Digger? I think he fancies you."
"Me?" I was getting hot and flustered. How could Digger be interested in me? Not pretty, almost flat chested and twelve. A face like a boxer. Or a bulldog.
"He says you're different. Not like the other girls."
Gee, thanks, big sister! I made an excuse and left, so I never got a chance to tell her how my tits had felt so swollen when I got home last night.
It happened again a few nights later. Digger didn't come and sit next to me, but I could hear his voice all the way home, and when I looked back as the bus drove off, he was looking out of the window. Sandie was waving to them all as usual, but I'm sure he was looking at me. It felt weird, like I wanted to be sick, or go for a pee, or something, and my blouse felt really tight all of a sudden. I was glad it was getting cold, 'cos I was wearing my jacket. Maybe there was nothing to show, but it felt as if there was.
I hurried to my room and took my jacket off. No doubt about it, no doubt at all. They were bigger again. And they felt... woooh! Whatever it was, that funny feeling definitely meant they were getting bigger. It lasted half an hour or so, then kind of went away, and when I looked, my tits were back almost to the size they'd been yesterday.
So why didn't I think about Digger and play with myself, and see if my tits grew bigger? I don't know. I had homework and stuff to do, and my little sisters were giggling in the next room. Really annoying.
Besides, it wasn't like a regular thing. My tits didn't get bigger every evening on the bus. There were three buses came our way, and Digger didn't always catch the same one as Sandie and me. But meanwhile, it was getting near that time of the month again.
Thinking about it, maybe Digger was waiting until I had a decent-sized pair of tits up my shirt. If so, he must have realised things were starting to happen up there. I knew he was a tit lover by the way he looked at Sandie. And he wasn't going to get anywhere with her. She had a dozen boys after her. Besides, she wouldn't do anything to spoil things between Digger and me.
He sat next to me on the bus, plonking himself down almost as if it were the last available seat.
"Hello," he said.
"How's it going?"
"How 'bout you?"
"I get off in a minute."
"Well, see you, then?"
"Yeah. Katie... ?"
"See ya tomorrow, right?"
I floated off the bus, waved goodbye to the bus with Sandie, and flew up the street. Up to my room. There, look at them. My bra had left red marks on my tits where they were swollen and squeezed against the straps. It was really too small. I slipped into a nice cool T-shirt and looked at myself in the mirror. If I got close enough to the glass, I couldn't see my face. Really, really sexy. When I bent over forwards and shook them, they wobbled. Ow.
Mother's timing was a little off. She brought up the question of my period, but Dad wasn't there. She must have been losing her touch. But her eyes bored into my chest. "You're very large this month," she accused me, as if I wouldn't have noticed.
Sonya the Slut and Brenda the Brat stared at my shirt and giggled at each other. They were bigger than me and that was all they cared about.
"I'm due any day now," I said. Was I going to have to go through this ritual every twenty-eight days for the rest of my life?
"Just make sure you do," said Mother darkly. I don't know what she meant by that, and I doubt if she did either.
"She isn't wearing a bra," said Sonya.
"It's too small," I muttered.
"They'll end up round your knees!" That pleased my younger sisters. Top-heavy little bitches.
"How's it goin'?"
"You look ... different."
"Do I? How?"
"I'm playing tomorrow. For the school!"
"Midfield. Left side."
"Oh, you mean where! At school. on the playing field. You fancy coming to watch?"
"Come to school on a Saturday? I see enough of that place during the week!"
"Oh." He went all quiet.
"Girls don't watch football, do they?"
He brightened a bit. "Yeah. One or two. One or two of the better ones."
"How are you getting there? There's no school bus on a Saturday."
"My dad's taking us up there. Me and Shaun. We'd have room for you." If he'd had a tail, he'd have been wagging it.
"Shit, this is my stop. Where can you pick me up?" I staggered down to the front of the bus at a trot, not really expecting an answer. Certainly not right in my earhole.
"Right here," he said.
I got off the bus, aware of a howling, hooting noise from the occupants. Then it was driving away up the road, and Digger was standing next to me.
"You got off!"
"How are you going to get home?"
"Hello, Mrs Grimsdyke." Mother must have been thinking what a nice young man I had brought home.
"This is Digger."
"Digger's come to help me with my French homework. N'est ce pas, Excavateur?"
"Oh? Oh, yeah!"
"That's nice. But not in your bedroom, surely?"
"All my books are in there," I whined beseechingly.
Mother was not convinced. "No noise, understand?" I suppose she meant 'no sexual relations' really. It was a miracle she didn't ask me if my period had started yet. It had.
"She's nice," said Digger as we sat on the edge of the bed.
"Only 'cos you're here. I usually change my clothes when I come home..."
"I won't look," he said quickly.
So I had to do it. He didn't look, because I watched him in the mirror and he only took a couple of little peeks as I pulled the T-shirt over my head then tried to get my too-tight bra off before putting my arms into the sleeves. It's harder than you'd think.
"That's better," I said, emerging and smoothing the shirt down over my tummy. Inevitably it made my breasts stick out.
"It looks better!"
"I'm no good at French," he said.
We both spluttered and blushed. I got up and fetched my books.
"We have to look as if we're working." Why did everything I said have to come out sounding like a corny seduction scene?
"Your boobs are getting bigger."
"No, I mean, since we came in and you took your bra off. They're bigger now than they were."
"They can't be!" But I knew he was serious. This was confirmation of what I had suspected for some time. My tits weren't always the same size. And this was turning into one of those occasions when they were bigger, rather than smaller.
"Does it happen a lot?"
"I've never noticed."
"Can I touch them?"
"I'd rather..." And I took his hand.
"They're still getting bigger," he said.
"You mustn't keep staring at them!"
"I'm not staring. It's just that every time I look at them, they're bigger. Look!" He pulled me up and showed me in the mirror. "See?"
There was no point in denying it. They were bigger, and noticeably so. He was standing behind me, and a hand sneaked over my shoulder and cupped one. Wow, it felt amazing! Quickly I turned to face him. The only way to get his hand off there was to hug him round the neck. It worked, but it brought both tits into contact with his chest, or slightly lower. What the hell, if it felt good? We kissed. It took quite a long time.
"Jeez, Katie! Where'd you learn that?"
He leaned back and bounced my tit up and down. We both watched while he did it. "How big are they?" he asked confusingly.
"You can see how big they are. They're that big."
"What's that in inches. Boobs are always in inches."
News to me. "Sandie said they're thirty-six."
He looked fairly impressed.
"You can measure them if you like."
"Thirty-nine? You said thirty-six."
It was my turn to be impressed. He measured them again. They were no bigger, but importantly, they were no smaller either.
But later that evening, they were thirty seven and a half. Strange.
I learned a few more things in the next six months, before Digger and I went our separate ways. He was my first, and I learned that you never forget your first lover. I'd already learned that my breasts became dramatically larger when I was aroused. That first fumble in my room wasn't the half of it!
By the time I had reached thirteen and shared a birthday party with my friend Louise, I had come to realise that my bust varied between thirty-eight and forty-three, depending on a variety of factors; mostly the time of the month, but also what I was doing sexually, so to speak.
It was popular with the boys, I can tell you! I became Katie, the girl for whom you took a tape measure with you when you went on a date. They didn't need to; I always had one in my purse. I think they even had bets about how big I would get during a date.
The problem was where to go on dates. I didn't want to take boys home. Mother was getting worse with her remarks about my bust size. She was forever ruining mealtimes with her questions about the date of my next period. Of course, those questions made Sonya and Brenda's day. Those two were another reason for not bringing boys home. Although big sister Sandie was okay, Sonya would grab any opportunity to 'accidentally' come barging into my room in her underwear. You can imagine the effect on my boyfriends of the sudden appearance of a beautiful young girl with stunningly full bouncing breasts just about contained in her flimsy bra. Sonya's diary became as over-full as her bra cups, mostly with my boyfriends.
Brenda wasn't far behind her sister. In fact, where it mattered, she wasn't behind at all. Her bust size was already two inches bigger than Sonya's, and despite Sonya's steady development the gap was now rapidly widening. But the kid was shy, perhaps with good reason. A fast-ripening forty-seven inch bosom was still something of an embarrassment for her. She restricted her accidental appearances to occasional trips to the bathroom, and still managed an impressive hit-rate.
And we still weren't old enough to be left unattended on our own. We went on holiday as a family.
Even on the wrong side of the tracks, our dad earned enough to save up for two weeks on the beach. Okay, it wasn't quite at the peak season of the summer, but it was warm enough in late August to spend all day basking in the sun.
Of course, we'd arrived, and I didn't have a bikini. It had never really crossed my mind that I might ever need one. I hadn't ever seen myself as a bathing beauty type. So on the first sparkling Sunday morning, we all trekked down to the beach and staked out a prime position, I was the one sweltering in a sweatshirt and jeans.
"It's your own fault, Katie, you should have brought your shorts. The others have brought their shorts."
"They don't fit."
"A bikini, then!"
"I haven't got one. You know I haven't got one."
The younger girls had them all right, although Brenda would have been well advised not to make any sudden movements. They lounged on their towels, peering over their sunglasses and reading books without turning the pages. Sandie came to my rescue as usual.
"Come on, Kate. Let's go and find a nice bikini for you. Dad?" She snapped her fingers at him.
"Grumbling, Dad handed over the money and I trailed off behind Sandie, up the beach to the shops.
It took a surprisingly long time, parading round the shops, as Sandie wanted to check out the boys. "Look at that one," she would say, and I would look at a rack of startlingly-hued swimsuits. "Not those, him!"
"He's just a boy, Sand."
"Whaddya mean, 'just' a boy? Look at his bum!"
She's turning into a pervert, is our Sandie.
We achieved what we set out to do in the end. As I dived into the ladies' room and came out with my jeans and sweatshirt in a bag and my tank-like curves more or less encased in shiny peacock blue polyester, Sandie negotiated herself a date for later that evening.
"Sorry, Kate. There was only one of him. Maybe tomorrow night he'll bring a friend for you."
We got back to the beach to find Sonya and Brenda heavily involved in beach volleyball with a bunch of boys and their flat-chested sisters. Mother had her face buried in a book, deliberately not noticing whenever one of Brenda's nipples popped out, which seemed to happen every two minutes.
"Let's go and join in," Sandie urged me in a hoarse whisper. "Look at the bum on that one!"
"You're all sisters? All four of you?" The other boys called him Poxy, which didn't sound very nice at all. I didn't know whether it was something to do with his surname or because he was so spotty. He wasn't the one with the bum that Sandie liked, she'd gone off with him. And to my surprise, Mother told Sonya and Brenda to go and sit next to her where she could keep an eye on them, leaving the field open to me. Which was good news except that most of the boys crept away as soon as my kid sisters' privileges were withdrawn, leaving me with Poxy. And all he wanted to talk about was my sisters! "You all look alike," he lied.
"We do not! I've got a face like the back-end of a cow."
"I don't mind," he said graciously. "And I like my girls with a bit of meat on them."
"Let's go for a walk," I suggested. "My kid sisters keep staring at us."
"You mean those two are younger than you? Wow!"
"Come on!" I almost dragged him away by his sweaty paw.
"Where d'ja live?" he asked my wobbly cleavage as we plodded across the sand.
He stopped dead. "Stanbury?"
"Why not? People do live in Stanbury. Lower Stanbury."
"Oh. Lower Stanbury!"
I'd heard it spoken like that before. "Don't tell me. You live up on the Hill?"
"Of course. How old are you?"
What should I tell him? He wasn't too bad looking, if it was dark, and he probably had plenty of money. But what if I fibbed about my age and my sisters blew it? I'd be in deep shit. Honesty was always the best policy. "Sixteen," I said.
He didn't question it. He must have thought about Sonya and Brenda's huge tits and thought that if they were younger than me then I had to be sixteen at least. He obviously didn't know much about tits.
"It's boring here," he said. "Nothing to do."
"We could go for a swim."
"The water's too cold. And the sun's going in." I was sure he'd made it go in somehow. We wheeled round and headed back to my family enclave.
"I want to get my clothes," I explained.
Brenda sniggered at me as I picked up my beach bag. "Spotty-face has told sister to cover herself up."
"No, I bet the police told her to put her clothes on because she's scaring the children," said Sonya.
"That's enough, you two!" Mother was being nice to me this week. Even so, I grabbed Poxy's arm and led him away before she could bring the subject around to menstrual matters.
Somehow, twenty minutes later, we ended up in his hotel room. It was posher than our bed and breakfast, and he had a room all to himself, with a TV and a double bed in it, and its own little bathroom, a hair-drier and a kettle and stuff for making coffee. If I'd had all that in my room I'd have stayed in there all day just to get my money's-worth.
"D'you want coffee first?" he asked.
"First? What's second?"
He sat down on the bed and looked lost. I began to think he hadn't done this before. And suddenly I felt sorry for him! I took my sweatshirt off and he gave a kind of gulp. If he liked his girls with meat on them, I probably fitted his specifications. My tummy bulged out over the top of my jeans, and my bikini bra was pretty well overflowing. I sat down next to him and ran a finger down his narrow chest. The old magic was working; my bra was starting to creak already. I turned to face him and climbed on to his lap, my knees straddling his scrawny legs as they protruded from his long baggy shorts. Then as if changing my mind I got off him again and peeled my jeans off with the maximum of hip-wiggling.
"There, that's better, isn't it!" I said, and pushed him on to his back. The bikini bra wasn't going to take much more of this. If being seduced made my breasts swell, they seemed to be swelling twice as fast now that I was the seducer. "I've got to get this off before something happens to it," I said, reaching behind me to undo the hooks. Gosh, it was tight! Then out I tumbled, and Poxy gasped. I think I may have gasped myself. "What's your real name?" I sighed in his ear, my breasts on each side of his neck. "I can't call you Poxy while we're ... making love!"
"Oh, fucking hell!"
"I can't call you that, either," I said as I toyed with his shirt buttons. "Can't you take this off?"
He half sat up and pulled at it. A pale bluish-white chest came into view, and the broad elastic of a pair of paisley-pattern boxer shorts that seemed to be tugged way up beyond his waist.
"You haven't told me your name yet. Take these off, too." I plucked at his shorts and he hastened to get them off as well. They joined his shirt and my clothes on the floor.
"Y ... you won't laugh?" he stammered.
"What's there to laugh at?" I wondered what he meant. Did he have a really silly name, or did he have a little tiny cock?
"Percy," he mumbled. "Percival! Percival Prendergast Pocksleigh! It's not my fault."
I didn't laugh, although I was dangerously close to sniggering like our Brenda.
"I can't help being skinny either," he went on, deciding to make a clean breast of things.
"Oh, for God's sake, stop feeling so sorry for yourself," I snapped at him, sitting back on my haunches and yanking his boxers off. "Oh, my God!"
He tried to cover it with his hands, but he only had two and they weren't big enough. And it wasn't even hard! Not yet, anyway. If I had anything to do with it, it soon would be. We would be back at school in a little over a week's time, and I was going to be telling the other girls all about this thing. And to think, I'd never believed them when they said they grew this big. I ran a finger along it and it twitched like a python. There was just one thing worrying me. How the hell was it ever going to fit?
There are some things a girl doesn't tell. It fitted, all right, and it seemed to get even bigger while it was in there, but it was only in there for five minutes, and for three of those he was sobbing and saying sorry. I scrambled off the bed, dripping with juice, and made my bandy-legged way to the bathroom. Poxy Percy lay on his back, wilting and dribbling and still apologising while I cleaned myself up with a handful of tissue.
"Don't worry about it, Pox," I said as I came out. "It will be better nex..."
He'd fallen asleep. His great log hadn't dwindled much in size, lying between his thighs, wet with my girl-cream. It looked nearly as thick as one of his legs, although his legs weren't very thick, not as legs go.
That's when I heard the voices. They were right outside the door, quite loud, and shushing each other. I ducked back into the bathroom and half closed the door. Just in time; the bedroom door squeaked open and someone came in.
"Shhh! It's OK, he's asleep." A boy's voice.
"What if he wakes up?" A girl. A familiar voice?
"He won't. He has a wank every afternoon and falls asleep. Come and have a look at it!"
Quiet footsteps padded across the carpeted floor.
It was familiar! Sandie, in here?
"It's all wet," said the boy. "I told you, he's just wanked himself to sleep. There, now do you believe me when I said how big it was."
Sandie evidently agreed. There was a long silence. Surely she wasn't just standing there looking at it? No, she was obviously looking around the room as well. "Does he wear a bikini?" she asked.
"A blue bikini. That one on the floor. It's just like ... my sister's!"
The boy was doubtful. "He must have pinched it. He's a pervert. I bet he nicks underwear off clothes-lines. He's waited till she's taken it off then he's grabbed it. C'mon. My room's next door."
"I don't know, Terence. I ought to be getting back..."
"Just a quickie, Sandra! Five minutes!"
Five minutes wouldn't have been bad, I thought. His whole family must have been the same, although this Terence probably wasn't as big as his brother in the pants department. He'd only been inside me for five minutes and I could still feel it. Lucky Sandra!
I heard them still debating it as they crept out of the room, and I took a deep breath before preparing to come out again. Which was when I caught sight of myself in the bathroom mirror.
"Is that all me?"
I was bigger than ever, ever, ever before.