Chapter 1

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?"

"It's tight."

"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.

"It hurt."

"I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to. I fell over."

"Well..."

"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 what?"

"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.

"What?"

"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'!"

"Well, don't."

"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..."

"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.

"Hi."

"How's it going?"

"All right."

"Great."

"How 'bout you?"

"Yeah, great."

"I get off in a minute."

"I know."

"Well, see you, then?"

"Yeah. Katie... ?"

"Yeah?"

"See ya tomorrow, right?"

"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.

"Hello."

"Hi!"

"How's it goin'?"

"Great!"

"You look ... different."

"Do I? How?"

"I'm playing tomorrow. For the school!"

"Wow! Where?"

"Midfield. Left side."

"Uh?"