Chapter 2

“Christ girl, you look a fuckin’ mess!” Darla exclaimed with characteristic understatement as I stumbled up to her AstroTurf garden. She was tending to the plastic roses that were planted along the side of her trailer, but stood quickly as I approached, a horrified expression on her face.

I nodded in agreement, slouched forward, broiled and exhausted from my long walk in the sun. By now it was past six, but I was still baking. I felt like shit and probably looked ten times worse. My chest was damp with sweat and Gene’s cum - some of which I was sure was in my hair - and my shirt, it turned out, had lost its pocket and ripped at the shoulder when Gene tore it off.

What’s more, I hadn’t been able to find my Goddamn panties in that filthy mess of a trailer, and my jean shorts were starting to chafe, although I wasn’t sure if that was because of my own wetness or perspiration.

My mother’s admonitions came flooding back, for once sounding hopeful rather than scornful. There was no way I could do worse than at that moment. I’d hit rock bottom. Textbook fucking trailer trash whore.

“In, in,” she gestured hastily, holding open the screen door. Darla’s trailer was a deluxe model, and the air-conditioning was immediate bliss. I staggered in, head swimming, heading directly for the couch where I half stumbled, half collapsed delightedly along its length, my sweaty hair slapping the cushion as the abrupt motion sent my boobs into wobbly orbits. I slowed them to a stop and sighed.

The brunette divorcee stood over me as I looked up from where I lay. She lurched from side to side along with everything else in the room and absentmindedly wiped soiled hands on her jean shorts. “What the heck is goin’ on with you, hon?”

She looked me over, eyes instantly settling on my chest. She gasped and pointed. “And when did you get them big titties?! Did Tairy finally buy them for you?”

“No,” I said, exasperated. “They just grew. Just this afternoon.”

“Girl, I think you got too much sun out there. Silicon don’t just grow.”

“Darla, they did!”

“Now just you lay right back an’ take it easy,” Darla mumbled, feeling my forehead. “You feel hot ‘nough to burst into flames! Just stay there an’ I’ll be right back.”

I closed my eyes, sinking dizzily back into the sofa, and heard her walk away. My head was spinning wildly. My mind was on the Ferris wheel this time, except the thing was turning at about a hundred mile an hour. Along for the ride was my stomach, pitching about with gleeful abandon and little regard for my well-being. I squeezed my eyes tighter shut and groaned.

Suddenly, I felt something cool and damp across my forehead and tried to open my eyes. The light was blinding, sending the Ferris wheel careering about in all directions, spinning wildly and impossibly on its axis and I closed my eyes, trying desperately to slow it down.

“Just me,” Darla murmured softly. “I brought you a cold flannel and some water.” She held the glass against my lips and propped me up with her hand on the back of my neck. I drank timidly.

“Here.” Darla popped a couple of Aspirin into my mouth and tipped the glass upward. I swallowed the tablets gratefully, the cool liquid seeming to calm my stomach more with each sip.

“Thanks Darla,” I whispered weakly as she guided my head back to the pillow.

“Just you relax there, Mary Beth,” I heard her far away voice say as I fell into an exhausted sleep.

“Hey, time to wake up, sleepy-head!”

I cautiously peeled one eye open, then the other, mindful of the way the light had stung earlier. Darla stood in the kitchen, apron on, two plates in her hands, the smell of eggs and bacon filling the trailer. I was on my back on the couch, under a flowery duvet, which tented upward at my chest. I was also naked.

“What time is it, Darla?” I asked.

“Ten o’clock in the mornin’,” she answered. “You slept right on through. I didn’t even watch my shows last night for fear of wakin’ you, but you slept like a log. I even stripped you down without you wakin’ up.”

I laughed weakly and slowly sat up, still dizzy. Rubbing my eyes I realized that meant I had spent a whole extra night in Bidby Hills. “Fuck,” I mumbled in frustration.

I wrapped the duvet around myself, finding it barely covered the tops of my thighs. Tucking it into my cleavage, and tried to stand but only found myself back on my ass - an ass which felt more ... there than normal. I turned and looked down at it.

There was a hell of a lot more there than normal. My butt, previously neat and perky, was now hefty and curvaceous. My thighs had grown too: thin and athletic to one step short of chubby. This was getting ridiculous.

“My fuckin’ ass grew!” I spat.

Darla stepped out from the kitchen to inspect my stacked backside from all angles. “Well, it does look a bit bigger’n usual,” she conceded. I had finally made it to my feet, although I still felt unsteady, leading Darla to slip her arm around me to stop my teetering.

“A bit?!” I squealed.

“Fine, a lot. Did you get some of them Kardashian ass implants when Tairy bought you them big titties?”

“Darla, I told you, they grew! It all grew! Everything grew!”

“Maybe you better lie down again, hon.”

“No!” I said firmly, taking a swaying step forward. “I don’t need to lie down, I need to find out what the heck is goin’ on.”

Darla guided me to a seat in the kitchen. I fell into it, my ass hanging from the sides and squeezing through the slats at the back of the chair. I looked down at the floor dejectedly.

Then I remembered something. “The anklet!” I exclaimed, snapping back up to face Darla, boobs wobbling lewdly with the sudden movement.

“The anklet?” Darla repeatedly quizzically, her mouth full.

“The anklet! It was fuckin’ hurting when I drove out the gate yesterday. Tairy gave it to me years ago - won it in some poker game at Jimmy’s place.”

Darla stood, shoveling another mouthful in as she bent forward to look at it. “Why don’t you just take it off, if you reckonin’ it’s makin’ you grow?” she asked.

“I tried. There’s no clasp, and it’s too strong to break.”

Fingering one of the charms - an improbably voluptuous female silhouette - Darla bit her lip. “I reckon we could maybe file the bastard off.”

“Darla, that’s a great idea!” I exclaimed excitedly. This could really work!

Scrambling to her feet, Darla lead me to her bedroom and sat me down on the bed. I crossed my legs and tried to tug the duvet even a little way down my thighs. Darla was hunting through her bedside table for her file, and finally beamed at me, holding it up triumphantly.