Chapter 2A

The next day, after Cheerleading practice, I reported to Mrs. Reynolds at the scheduled time. When I stepped into the foyer, she had me strip off everything above the waist before she took me downstairs. Leaving my sweater, blouse and bra upstairs, I walked topless down to the family room, where she attached the weights and started the timer. I wandered slowly around the room, looking for some way to take my mind off the pain and the relentless pull of the weights. I couldn't focus on anything. I just kept moving and changing position to spread the load of the weights as evenly as I could. The hour passed slowly. When the timer went off, I tried to cultivate patience while I waited for Mrs. Reynolds to come and release me. It was only a few minutes before she appeared. I was lying on the bench with my arms behind my head and the weights hanging down on either side of the bench, pulling my breasts apart and down. My eyes were red from the pain, but I wasn't crying. When she came in, I sat up carefully and waited for her.

Mrs. Reynolds looked at my nipples where the clamps were attached, apparently satisfying herself that they had not been removed and reattached. "Very well, you may take them off," she told me. I released the clamps and let the weights drop to the bench. I crossed my arms over my aching breasts and doubled over. After a minute, I straightened up and returned the weights to the shelf. Mrs. Reynolds watched as I went to the desk and started in on my studying, then she went back upstairs. The rest of the afternoon passed quickly. I was again watching TV when my mother called to tell Mrs. Reynolds that she was home.

As promised, when I went back upstairs to get dressed, Mrs. Reynolds helped me into me a new bra with larger cups. It was much more comfortable to wear than my old one. It was a better quality bra than my old one, too. It was also much prettier, a small consolation that I was surprised to find meant quite a bit to me.

The rest of the week passed without a change in the routine except for the predicted effects of the hormone pills that I continued to take every day. My voice became less husky and sounded higher-pitched in my ears. My pubic hair became so thick and bushy that I considered trimming it or even shaving it — something that I was certain would infuriate my mother in the extreme.

I seemed to be much more aware of my pussy than I had ever been before. I found myself thinking about sex all the time. I started going into the girls' restroom at school two, three, and then four times a day to masturbate. This almost got me into trouble a few times because my orgasms were becoming stronger and lasting longer. If I took too long to cum in the restroom stall, I would get to my next class late. Often, I would sit through the first part of a class with my eyes glazed over and my clit throbbing in my panties, which seemed to be damp with juice all the time. I started taking them off and going bare under my skirt so my pussy would not get itchy from the damp. Once, forgot to put them back on before cheerleading practice and spent the whole practice doing the exercises, jumps, and tumbling without remembering. No one said anything at the time, but I noticed later that practice started drawing a larger number of onlookers; mostly boys.

My breasts seemed to be getting heavier even as they were getting longer and limper. My nipples developed a constant tingle and I was always trying to sneak a hand under my top to rub them. I seemed to be weaker and I had to work harder at cheerleading practice to stay in shape to do the stunts and routines. Even my mother commented on how I seemed to be changing from a tomboy into a very feminine young lady.

Through all this I dutifully reported to Mrs. Reynolds every day after school or practice. After the first couple of days, she let me attach and remove the nipple clamps myself, under her supervision. That was good, because I could put them in a slightly different place each day and that eased the soreness afterward.

After the first week, she even stopped monitoring my weight sessions, expecting me to keep to the schedule on my own. I was very careful not to abuse the privilege and I was meticulous about setting the timer and not letting the weights be supported in whatever position I assumed. I vividly remembered the first day when I was trapped on the weight machine and could not move at all. It was so much better when I could shift around to different positions so that the strain was not all on one part of my chest.

Every day when the weights came off, my nipples were a little longer and my breasts drooped a little more. This went on for the better part of two weeks. It was Thursday of the second week when things began to change.

I walked to the house at the end of the road as usual and pushed the doorbell. Mrs. Reynolds opened the door only a second or two after I rang the bell.

"Come in, Samantha. How are you today?" She had on a sheer blouse that draped over her hips and hung down to mid-thigh. She wore it as a short dress, unbuttoned, with a matching belt tied in front, holding it around her hips. It was open all the way to her navel and displayed her cleavage completely. I wondered if this was the fifth or the sixth outfit she had worn that day.

"I'm fine, Mrs. Reynolds. How are you?" She looked surprised at my greeting. I could not tell if it was because I had returned the greeting at all or because I sounded so cheerful. I'm not sure why I was in a good mood. I guess you can only stay depressed for so long, even in a terrible situation.

"I'm well, thank you, honey. Come in. Remember the rules..."

I was not even through the door good when I pulled my sweater over my head and started undoing the buttons of my blouse.

"Here, let me help you with that," Mrs. Reynolds said considerately, after she shut the door. She took my sweater and put it on the table in the foyer. She would have helped unbutton my blouse, but I had it off before she got the chance. I handed it to her and had reached behind me to unhook my bra when she held out a hand and said, "Wait. Let me do that."

I stood quietly as she put my blouse on the table and then turned to me and put her hands on either side of my breasts and felt how they were filling my bra cups. She slipped her fingers into the cups and felt for slackness. There wasn't any. My breasts completely filled the DD-cups and bulged out of the top of the bra.

"Very good," she said, "you're coming along nicely." She reached behind me, pressing her breasts against mine in the process, and unhooked my bra. She pulled it over my shoulders and away from my breasts, which fell free and hung swaying on my chest. Before, they had merely bounced when I took off my bra, now they dropped. Mrs. Reynolds smiled to see the progress she was making with me. She picked up one breast and hefted it in her hand. Then she did the other. She nodded and said, "You are getting much bigger. It is time for you to move to a larger cup. I think I might have something that will fit you."

I wondered how a woman who never wore a bra was going to have one lying around that would fit someone so much smaller than herself. Then it hit me. Half of the big house was probably filled with her wardrobe. She had most likely gone shopping and bought a bra in every size that might fit me. I envied her the casual way that she passed it off as 'something I might have'. She was warped, but she had style.

"Come along, now," she said. I picked up my bookbag and followed her down to the family room, my breasts wobbling at every step.

Once downstairs, I put my bag on the floor next to the desk and assumed the now-familiar stance. She smiled to see me come to attention. She took my arm and led me over to the weight bench. She sat me down and went over to the wet bar. She came back with a cup of water and three of the small white pills. I tossed them into my mouth and took the cup from her. After I had swallowed the day's dose of hormone pills, she took back the cup and returned it to the bar. As she walked away, it dawned on me that she never checked my mouth to see if I had actually swallowed the pills. She never peeked at me to make sure I was wearing the weights and she had stopped checking the timer. She expected me to follow her instructions and not to cheat. It was ironic that this woman, whose single-minded goal was to ruin my body, apparently trusted me more than my own mother did.

I waited on the bench, expecting another series of injections, but Mrs. Reynolds returned empty-handed. Seeing me look at her hands, she guessed my thoughts and said, "No injection today. We'll see how you do over the next few days before I decide about that. You are really making better progress than I expected."

I know it's weird, but I smiled and blushed to hear her praise me.

"All right," she said, "Time to put on the clamps." She started toward the shelf where the clamps lay, but she stopped when she saw that I was going to beat her to them. She watched as I carefully positioned one clamp and then the other on my nipples and then lowered the weights to the ends of the chains. I bounced on my toes to jerk the weights and get the clamps seated firmly.

As I felt the clamps tighten and the familiar weight pull my breasts down my body, I shuddered slightly at the pain. I stood still for a moment with my eyes closed, allowing my nipples to become acclimated. The pain drained away quickly and I smiled with relief. When I opened my eyes, I saw Mrs. Reynolds looking at me. She had a strange look on her face. I wondered what she was thinking.

"Don't forget the timer," she reminded me. With the weights swinging, I walked casually over to the box and rotated the dial around to the 60 minute mark

She looked at the weights swinging from my stretched breasts and asked, "You seem to be quite comfortable with those on now. How much can you do?"

In answer I bent over further and further until the weights were pulling my breasts up instead of down and my hands were palm-down on the floor.

"Very good!" Mrs. Reynolds exclaimed. "Oh, but of course, your cheerleading! You must do a lot of exercises at cheerleading practice. Can you show me some others?"

I went through several of the flexibility and strength exercises that I had done earlier that day at practice - lunges, leg kicks, back bends, rotations, straddles, splits. The only things I left out were jumping and tumbling. I tried to do everything as smoothly as I could to keep from making any sudden changes of direction, but many of them hurt like hell anyway with five pounds of iron hanging from my nipples. I'm sure much of the pain showed on my face. When I finished, there was a sheen of perspiration on my body and tears were streaming down my cheeks. I still flashed Mrs. Reynolds my Cheerleader Smile at the end, even though my nipples felt like they were on fire.

She applauded generously when I finished and climbed out of the full split to my feet again. I saw her glance at the timer. She went back upstairs without a word. I sat on the weight bench and leaned forward and rested my arms on the barbell, allowing the weights to hang free of my chest. I had just caught my breath when Mrs. Reynolds came back with her sons.

"Samantha? Please, can you do that routine again?" she asked. The truth was, I had pressed myself to the limit the first time through and my breasts were aching badly, but the prospect of having a new audience motivated me and I went back to the middle of the room and braced myself to begin again.

I had not seen Jim and Bud since Mrs. Reynolds caught me with them. I had been too preoccupied with my own situation to think about where they had been, but since she had been able to round them up on short notice, I had to assume that they had just gone upstairs to another room of the house and had been warned to stay out of the family room while I was there. If that was the case, then they must have heard me screaming the day their mother put the weights on me for the first time. They must have known that their mother was torturing me, even if they did not know how she had gone about it. Now, they looked uncomfortable at being called in as witnesses

Mrs. Reynolds and the boys took seats and I started my routine over with the same moves that I had shown Mrs. Reynolds before. This time I tried to add more flairs and poses between moves, both to give my presentation more polish and to give me a couple of seconds between exercises to catch my breath. Through the first few moves, I could see Jim and Bud looking at me with keen interest. To them, this must have been very erotic. A topless cheerleader doing an exercise drill must have seemed like a fantasy come true and they watched my first few moves intently. I noticed that Mrs. Reynolds was dividing her attention between watching me and watching the boys. Apparently, she had brought them down not so much to have them see me do my routine or witness my punishment, but so that she could see their reactions.

The second time through was agony. I tried to keep smiling, but the pain had me in tears almost from the start. I was still tired from the first routine and I made several missteps that made the weights jerk. When that happened, my eyes would roll back in my head and I would grimace, which spoiled my appearance. After the first of these I looked at the boys to see if they noticed. I could see that their expressions had gone from excited to disturbed. They were finding the sight of my breasts being tortured to destruction to be less than erotic. As I continued with the routine, they started to glance away more and more and their expressions ran more to horror and disgust as my breasts became longer and more stretched from my movements. I could feel the weights start to slap against my hips, which meant the clamps had pulled my nipples almost down to my navel.

After a while the pain began to take on a different color. It was as though my brain was being overloaded with signals and started going haywire. It still hurt like hell, but I was starting to feel sexually excited as well. It was almost as if my nipples had their own connection to my clit and whenever they throbbed, my clit throbbed as well. I felt my pussy getting wet and I knew my juice was leaking out onto my panties. I wasn't wearing the thick panties that went with the uniform because we saved those for the games. I had on a pair of my regular nylon bikinis and if they got wet they would stick to me like a second skin. I decided not to worry about it. My fate was pretty much sealed, and this seemed trivial. I wondered if I should even bother to keep my skirt and panties on. Surely my being completely naked would suit Mrs. Reynolds' purpose better, anyway? I decided that it was not a good idea for me to be stuffing the suggestion box with ideas on how to more effectively degrade and abuse me.

All this distraction was helping me work through the intense pain in my breasts, but did not seem to be dampening the fire that was growing my pussy. My workout seemed to be activating the hormones that were by now saturating my body. My judgment was affected as well. I began to get bolder in my routine. I allowed the weights to swing more and when they clanked together, I felt the sharp vibrations shoot through my breasts and into my clit.

I started pushing myself to the edge of what I could stand, regardless of the damage I was doing to myself. I managed not to do any jumps, but I found other ways to show off. I twirled around so the weights would fly out away from my body and lift my breasts into the air. I bent over forward and let them swing around in big circles. I did a back-bend where I leaned back so far that the weights were pulled around my sides and then over my shoulders to hang behind me. That went so well that I put my hands down and turned the back-bend into a handstand and then swung my legs over into a toe-touch. When I stood up, I was really proud of myself and I decided to do a front walkover into a split for a dismount. I put my palms back on the floor and leaned into a handstand and kicked my feet over and down, pulling one leg behind me to land in a full split. I finished with the weights and clamps hanging down behind me, and my breasts stretched up over my shoulders. They were stretched out so much that I could not even see my nipples. I threw my arms up in a V and flashed a big smile. I had never been so proud of a routine. The pain in my breasts seemed far away.

I looked over at Jim and Bud. They looked like they were about to throw up. The expression of disgust on their faces made it clear how they felt about my routine.

"Ingrates," I thought, "They have no appreciation for the degree of difficulty involved in that performance. I'd like to see them do that with iron weights on their nipples!"

I looked at Mrs. Reynolds. She threw a nasty look at her sons and then she looked back at me and smiled from ear-to-ear and gave me a one-woman standing ovation. "Bravo!" she said. I bowed my head briefly in acknowledgement and lowered my arms. I was exhausted and dizzy. I put my hands behind me and leaned back so I could swing my leg around in front of me. I sat on the floor, trying to catch my breath. I considered moving the weights around to my front, but my breasts actually did not hurt as much with them draped over my shoulders, so I let them stay there. A different part of me was being stretched in this position and it was a profound relief to have the weights pulling me backward for a change. I put a hand up and touched my right breast where it went over my shoulder. I could feel my nipple where the clamp had it pulled down to my shoulder blade.