Chapter 1: The Saturday Night Game

This story all started when I was thirteen. At that age, I was a really skinny little girl and, to my horror and despair, I had no bust at all. All I had on my chest were a pair of protruding nipples. They were pale pink, and surrounded by slightly puffy pinkish-brown areolae, about two inches across. They were the only signs of womanhood about my physical appearance. My hips were slim and boyish, I had hardly any curves down there, either.

It frustrated me to be the flattest-chested girl in my class, at thirteen. I spent ages examining my chest in the mirror, but no amount of visualising would make my breasts grow. I had nearly worn out the tape measure as I willed them to get bigger. But my measurements obstinately stayed the same, something like 24-21-26. I was five feet tall.

What made it a thousand times worse was that my little sister was everything that I wasn't, and had everything that I wanted to have. She had curves; shapely hips and legs, plumply rounded buttocks - and a lovely big pair of tits! And, shit, my little sister Tanya was only ten!

She had first started developing when she was still only eight! Everybody knows girls are developing earlier, these days but that's ridiculous. I saw her one morning, a few weeks before her ninth birthday, when she had just got out of bed, and her little night-dress was bulging with a pair of budding breasts. They stuck out far more than mine - not difficult, I know - and it made me feel inadequate. Soon, within just a few weeks, Tanya's breasts were a good handful each, and not my little hands, either.

What is a girl supposed to do? I turned to religion. I tried praying for tits of my own, but nothing happened. In fact, I began to think God was answering the wrong girl's prayers, because Tanya's boobs got bigger and bigger. By the time she was nine and a half, she was wearing a C-cup bra. Not that she told me her bra size. I found that out for myself one Saturday night, when I first invented my new game. It happened like this.

Our parents were about to go out to our next-door neighbours' house. They spent every Saturday evening there, although I have no idea what they got up to. Probably just drinking and watching smutty videos. As usual, they told me to phone if anything was wrong, and asked me to make sure that Tanya went to bed as soon as she'd had a shower. My sister had just come in, and complained loudly and bitterly that she wasn't *dirty*, she didn't *need* a shower and she didn't *want* to go to bed early, but Dad said she was to be in bed by nine pm *or else*. So Tanya shut up as my parents said goodnight and went out, leaving her to sit down and wolf her dinner. I'm sure everything she ate went straight to her tits.

Fortunately, she went quietly upstairs afterwards, and before long I heard her singing in the bathroom. Little cow, what right did she have to be so happy? Just because she had a figure and I didn't. Then a strange urge suddenly came over me. I wanted - no, needed - to see Tanya; to see what she looked like naked.

As soon as the sound of the water stopped, I went upstairs to see if I could sneak a look at her. How much had she grown since last week? In a moment, she came out of the bathroom with a towel thrown loosely across her shoulders, her full breasts bouncing heavily as she arranged her long dark hair with both hands.

Her breasts certainly looked bigger than ever. Her tummy was slightly plump with puppy fat, her hips were much broader than mine, and there was a thick triangle of dark fur on her lower belly. That really got to me; my own pubic hair was thin and wispy.

She smiled sweetly at me, glancing down briefly at my flat chest as she did so, then back into my eyes, almost mockingly. Mercifully, she said nothing, which would certainly have made me dissolve into tears; but disappeared into her bedroom, leaving me standing outside my own bedroom door. Tanya's bulky sweater was lying on the floor where she had dropped it, and I absently picked it up and put it in the laundry basket, on top of her other clothes. They were still warm. They smelled of girl. That was when I had My Idea.

I moved the sweater aside and picked her bra out of the basket. I held it against my chest and felt my cheeks growing hot. There was a lump in my throat, and my pussy felt damp. I pressed my fingers against my crotch, harder, and it felt nice. It felt very nice. Like feeling sick, in a lovely kind of way. Quickly, I slipped into my bedroom and closed the door.

Stripping off my shirt, I fumbled with the bra, pulling it round my body. I had never worn a bra in my life. The hooks were awkward, I had it upside down. Taking it off again, I tried to puzzle out which way up it went. There seemed to be half a dozen ways it could go, and five of those were certainly wrong. I began to blush as I thought about this ridiculous situation. My little nine-year-old sister knew how to put a bra on, and I didn't! The label said 30C. What that meant, I wasn't sure, although I thought maybe it was the size.