Author's Note: This story is a pseudo-sequel to Axolotl's story, In Your Dreams, a story which I highly recommend you read.
Twelve-year-old Monique Hilton was overstuffing bra cups almost seven times her normal size -- with toilet paper. She was standing in front of her Aunt Sheryl's mirror imagining the ultimate confrontation between her and her arch-nemesis, Katherine Sells.
Her eyes clouded dreamlike as her imagination took her from the world of reality directly into the world of fantasy. A world where an event to rival a combined Superbowl, World Series, and Heavyweight Boxing Championship was about to take place. What event? Little Monique Hilton dethroning Katherine Sells as her school's resident tit queen.
It would take place in a heavily trafficked area. That was Monique's plan -- to embarrass Katherine with the largest audience possible. She wanted everyone who attended her school, teacher or student, to know which student wore the biggest bra. And that it wasn't Katherine Sells anymore. No, the student wearing the biggest bra was now Monique Hilton. A fact clearly evidenced by one's eyes.
Like those of Katherine Sells. Monique could picture the moment Katherine saw "Lil' Mo" in her new giant-sized bra. It would be a chance encounter carefully planned by Monique. She would use the 'Highschool Grapevine' to attract Katherine's attention. Monique would allow some of the school's biggest gossips to witness her newly enlarged bustline stretching her top to the maximum. In minutes, the word would spread throughout the school that Katherine Sells was no longer the reigning tit-queen. That Lil' Mo was now Big Mo. Katherine, of course, would have no choice but to seek out Monique and confirm the rumors.
Monique wouldn't be hard to find. Just follow the sound of the crowd. And there would be a crowd. An ever-increasing crowd just waiting for this showdown of bras. Waiting to see the former champ face an opponent who clearly outgunned her. Waiting to see if underdog, Katherine Sells, could triumph over overwhelming odds or be massacred in the attempt. Either way, the crowd would be entertained.
Monique Hilton knew she would be. The twelve-year-old would be entertained and so much more. She would be vindicated. All the times Katherine flaunted her larger chest in Monique's face. All the times Katherine stole a guy's attention from Monique just by arching her back. All the times that lingered in Monique's mind. They would now be avenged. Katherine, your time of judgement is now at hand, thought Monique.
Monique's chest would be covered up for the final showdown. She didn't want to tip her hand. She would wait till Katherine Sells was standing before her. She would wait for Katherine's arrogance to assert itself. She would wait for Katherine to say the wrong thing and then -- POW! She would let the bitch have it.
"Well, well, well," Katherine Sells said, noticing Monique and greeting her in what was Katherine's habitual manner. "If it isn't Lil' Mo."
This would usually spark a round of laughter from any student in the vicinity, especially those students in the all-but-a-name 'Katherine Sells Fan Club'. These Katherine-wannabes would laugh at the lamest of Katherine's statements. But, surprisingly, they weren't laughing this time. Katherine, however, didn't notice the change. And she continued speaking to Monique, who was still waiting for Katherine to say the wrong thing.
"There are some rumors going round, Lil' Mo," Katherine began. "Have you heard them?"
"What kind of rumors?" Monique answered, playing the uninformed innocent.
Katherine looked at Monique. This is stupid, she thought to herself. Why am I wasting my time? But not being one to beat around the bush, Katherine blurted out: "Your breasts. There are rumors going around about your breasts. Okay?"
Monique was tempted to unveil her breasts and give Katherine her comeuppance. But it was too early. She would play the innocent role a little bit longer. The delay would make the final outcome much more satisfying.
"What about my breasts?" she asked Katherine, a smile on her face.
Katherine saw the smile on Monique's face and felt for the first time that something wasn't quite right about this situation. Why was Monique smiling, she thought. Lil' Mo's breasts couldn't really be bigger than mine -- Could they? And suddenly she knew the answer.
Monique saw the shift in Katherine's attitude. She saw her rival go from confident to nervous in an instant and knew this was her moment. She discarded the black garment covering up her chest and just stood still. Letting Katherine have it with both barrels -- literally.
"Wha -- what?" Katherine began, looking at the enormous endowments resting on Monique's chest. "How did you -- you grow--"
"How did I grow such large breasts?" Monique said, cutting Katherine off. She looked down at her breasts as if noticing them for the first time. Suddenly, cupping the twin mounds, it was evident to all present just how big they were, in the way they overfilled Monique's tiny hands. When she removed her hands, Monique's breasts began shaking and jiggling, a sight that excited the voyeuristic students present, while simultaneously causing Katherine to cover her own breasts in embarrassment.
Monique knew that she had won the showdown. She knew without a doubt that she was the school's reigning tit-queen. She knew that her bra and her breasts were the biggest in the entire student body. Hell, maybe, the biggest in the entire school. She knew as the victor she probably should be magnanimous in her defeat of Katherine Sells. But, being a twelve-year-old girl, magnanimity wasn't a quality possessed by Monique Hilton. She was determined to make Katherine pay and pay and then pay again.
"Katherine," Monique began with a smile, "why are you trying to cover up your breasts? I mean you usually want the whole school to see them. Isn't that why all your clothes are a size too small?"
"No, it's our washing machine," Katherine said lamely, giving an excuse that Monique and everyone present had heard a thousand times before. "It has a tendency to shrink my outfits."
Ordinarily, Katherine Sells would be able to get away with the "washing machine" excuse. The guys, happy to see Katherine's endowments on permanent display, would never say anything. The girls, trying to avoid any situation that would put their more modest or nonexistent endowments in comparison with Katherine's, wouldn't say anything, either. Monique, more endowed than the average girl but flatter than Katherine, always wanted to challenge Katherine's habit of wearing outfits one size too small. But she knew to do so would just make her come off as whiny and jealous. Not this time, she thought.
"Oh, come on," Monique said in a loud voice directed at the crowd of students. "Everybody knows you buy your tops one size too small. Everybody knows you get off on flaunting your breasts. Well, I say, stick 'em out. Ain't that right everyone? If Katherine likes people staring at her breasts so much, she should just stick 'em out."
Katherine looked around nervously. This newly aggressive, incredibly endowed Monique was intimidating her on an astounding level. Katherine was about to run away in shame when the crowd, echoing Monique, began shouting: "Stick 'em out! Stick 'em out!" With each "stick 'em out", the crowd seemed to move closer inward -- blocking Katherine's means of escape. Combined with their intense scrutiny of her every action, Katherine felt she had no choice but to comply with the crowd. She reluctantly stuck out her chest.
The eyes of every male present seem to double in size, as they watched Katherine's chest jut out in front of them. Involuntary moans of pleasure were heard escaping the lips of many of the guys, who would have paid money for the sight standing before them. Other guys surreptitiously snaked their hands in their pants. Those who were witnessed by their neighboring classmates were embarrassed but didn't remove their hands. The sensation below their waist took precedence over everything else.
Monique, noticing the reactions of the guys, felt like her plan of embarrassing Katherine was on the verge of backfiring -- something she refused to let happen. "Well, gosh almighty, Katherine," she yelled in an over-the-top voice designed to get the crowd's attention, "you sure do have some big ole titties. What are those things? D-cups?"
D-cups? Katherine thought to herself. Everyone knew she was bigger than a D-cup. And without thinking, Katherine said exactly what Monique wanted her to say. "I don't wear D-cups, Monique" she said, in her loudest voice, trying to educate the crowd on what was and what wasn't true. "I wear a F-cup bra. If anyone wears a D-cup, Lil' Mo, it's not me -- it's you. I wear a 34-F, thank you."
No, Katherine, thank you, Monique said to herself, loving the way her arch-nemesis had fallen into her trap. "My mistake, Katherine, it's just that both D and F-cup sized bras can be bought off the rack. And since I now have to buy my bras specially made, I seem to have trouble identifying the *smaller* sizes," Monique said, throwing out her chest for emphasis. An action that made the crowd go berserk.
Those guys affected by Katherine sticking out her chest were unprepared for the sight of Monique doing the same. Whereas Katherine's chest had stretched her top, Monique's was ripping hers to pieces. While Katherine had displayed inches of cleavage, Monique's was over a foot. The guys, who secretly had placed their hands in their pants when they saw Katherine, were not hiding their actions when they saw Monique. Not caring who saw them, they stroked their penises in plain view of everyone. An act mirrored by many females, who were publicly masturbating, spurred on by the sight of Monique's jutting chest. A chest of which many were asking the measurement.
Monique listened to the inquiries about her bust measurement and bra size. She also listened to the moans of her masturbating classmates. And knew the moment had arrived. The moment for her classmates to see just how *big* she was.
"Attention!" she yelled to the crowd. "Attention, everyone. Does anyone want to know how big my chest is?"
Silence suddenly enveloped the crowd. Everyone, including the masturbating students, stopped what they were doing and focused on Monique's every word. She didn't say what they thought she did. Did she?
"Does anyone want to know how big my chest is?" she asked, again, sparking an outcry of responses. "I do", "Hell, yeah" and a litany of other similar yells filled the air.
Monique waited for the voices to die down slightly and then she said with a smile, "Does anyone want to *see* how big my chest is?"
If the first question created bedlam, the second created something bordering on the psychotic. Like an angry mob, the students approached Monique. Their sole attention focused on her top, which they seemed intent on ripping off.
Monique fearfully drew back, determined to avoid the mob of students approaching her. She was terrified of the crowd's potential for violence. And then she had an idea. Monique reached behind her back and suddenly found herself holding a bullwhip. How the whip appeared in her hand didn't concern her. All she cared about was having something that might prove useful in calming down the crowd.
Monique cracked the whip and yelled: "Get back!" In an instant, the crowd was cowering at a distance Monique felt was safe. They looked like obedience school dogs obeying the sit command and Monique was tempted to say, "Good dogs." Instead, she looked at the crowd with her sternest look and said: "I can't believe you people. I offer to show you my big ole titties and you act like animals. I'm tempted to call it a day and go home."
Hearing this, the crowd, especially the guys, began begging. They would have done anything to see Monique's tits and they let her know it. They whined, they cried, they genuflected. And Monique capitulated. After all, if she was confronted with breasts her size for the first time, she probably would have acted like a psycho, too.
Katherine, meanwhile, was questioning her sanity. Monique's newly grown tits. The mob of students clamoring to see said tits. The bullwhip. It was all too much for Katherine's mind to deal with. And yet, Katherine couldn't make herself leave the scene of all this -- this weirdness. She had to stick around and see what else would happen.
Monique had begun taking off her top, causing a mini-tug-of-war to ensue, as she tried pulling the stretched material over her enormous bosom. Every time it looked like Monique had her top off, the top would rebound, returning to its original position. The crowd of students felt tortured by Monique's striptease. Every time they thought they would see Monique's bra in its entirety, the top would escape from Monique's hands and recover the bra. It was driving the crowd crazy and Monique feared she would, again, have to use her bullwhip.
And then one of the students yelled out the words: "Rip it!" He was referring to Monique's clinging top. If she couldn't take it off the conventional way, she should just rip it off. An idea supported by the other students, who turned the student's words into a cheer. "Rip it off, Monique, rip it off! Rip it off, Monique, rip it off!" yelled the crowd of students. Stomps and hand claps were soon added to the cheer, as a thought occurred to Monique. They've formed a pep rally around my tits. Isn't that the cutest thing?
Monique felt she had no choice but to give the people what they wanted. She looked at the crowd of students, allowing them to notice her hands on the fabric of her shirt. She cupped and jiggled her tits causing a roar of approval from the crowd. She grabbed the shirt, again, with a strong grip and yelled:"Are you ready?"
The crowd yelled:"Hell, yeah!"
"One!" Monique yelled, beginning a count to three.
"Two!" She pulled the shirt tight.
"Three!" She ripped her shirt Hulk Hogan style, revealing the biggest bra the group of students had ever seen.
The cheers of approval were deafening.
Monique waited for the crowd to quiet down. She had a while to wait. A while in which she stood regally before her adoring public allowing them to look at her and her gigantic brassiere. An exhibitionist high that Monique never wanted to end. So, when the crowd finally quieted down, Monique asked, "Who wants to see me out of my bra?"
Monique, now used to the crowd's reaction, waited for the right moment and began undoing the numerous hooks in back of her bra. Undoing her bra proved easier than removing her top, but it still was a chore. Monique twisted, wrestled and shimmied with her brassiere, causing her breasts to move in all sorts of strange and wonderful patterns. When she had the hooks undone, Monique stood clutching her bra to her chest. She thought she was prolonging her teasing of the crowd, but her breasts were so large that there was no way holding a bra in front of her chest could effectively cover them. So she let go of the bra, allowing it to hit the ground.
And, predictably, the crowd went wild.
Monique stood naked before the crowd of students and realized she wasn't embarrassed. If anything, she wanted to show the crowd of students more, so she put on a little 'tit-show' worthy of the biggest names on the strip circuit. She shook and jiggled her tits in every way imaginable. She raised her tits to her mouth (individually and collectively) sucking on her fat nipples. And then she measured them, which was the climax the crowd of students had been waiting for.
"I'm going to need a volunteer for this," she said selecting Tim McGee, one of the more athletic guys of the school, who she secretly had a crush on.
Tim walked alongside Monique and listened as she told him what to do. She told him to read the numbers on the measuring tape, adding when she said 'add'; calculating when she said 'calculate'. If he thought he couldn't follow her directions, she told him in her most direct tones, he should probably go back to the crowds and she could select another guy. Tim, of course, did exactly what Monique told him.
Monique's first instruction to Tim was to measure underneath her breasts. Tim obeyed Monique's directions, taking as long as he possibly could to get the measurement. Monique didn't say anything about how fast Tim had to follow her directions and the student was determined to take his own sweet time. As Tim encircled Monique's rib cage with the tape measure, Monique's breasts made contact with his skin. He shifted and worked with the tape measure, feeling the weight of Monique's mounds on his hands. The softness and sheer size of Monique's breasts were intoxicating, causing Tim to drop the tape measure and grasp the bulge in his pants.
"Tim," Monique exclaimed, realizing what her helper had done. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Uh," was all Tim could say, as he embarrassedly removed his hands from his pants.
"Go back in the crowd," she ordered, wondering what in the world she had ever seen in Tim McGee.
Tim walked toward the crowd. He glanced over his shoulder, hoping that Monique would give him another chance, but the mean look on her face convinced Tim that he had blown his chance. What a loser, Tim said, putting himself down.
"Tim," Monique's voice said, suddenly addressing the boy and lifting his spirits.
"Yes, Monique," he said, his voice filled with eagerness.
"What did the tape measure say?"
"I don't know," Tim replied stupidly.
"Loser," said Monique, watching a hurt look form on Tim's face. Why do guys have to be so stupid? she thought. That idiot couldn't remember a simple two-digit number. Well, no more male assistants. I'm selecting a female. And Monique began scanning the crowd for a female who could assist her in measuring her tits.
Any female in the crowd probably would've made a good assistant, excluding some of the girls with reputations of preferring girls over guys. Monique figured getting a lesbian to measure her breasts would result in a situation similar to Tim's -- having to dismiss an assistant on grounds of dropping a measuring tape and jacking off in public. No, thought Monique, I need a girl more straight than gay. And then her eyes focused on Katherine Sells and a smile came to Monique's lips. Why not have my arch-nemesis do the measuring? That would be like poetic justice or something, Monique thought, recalling a term she learned in English class.
Katherine Sells refused. There was no way she was going to measure Monique Hilton's breasts. That is until the crowd convinced her to change her mind.
Monique allowed Katherine to protest being selected as the girl needed to measure her breasts. She let her arch-nemesis whine, moan, bitch, and complain without saying a single word. She actually let Katherine think that maybe another girl would be selected. And then Monique went to look for her discarded bra. The bra had disappeared -- probably stolen by one of Monique's overeager fans looking to take home a souvenir -- but the message had been sent. Monique was going to go home right that minute if Katherine wasn't the one to measure her tits. Knowing this, the crowd quickly convinced the reluctant Katherine to measure Monique. Godfather-style, the students made Katherine an offer she couldn't refuse.
Scared by what the crowd may one day do to her, Katherine picked up the tape measure. She was shaking so hard and her mind was so frazzled that she didn't hear Monique speak.
"Make sure you're honest with the measurements, Katherine," Monique said in a mean spirited fashion. "I'd hate to think what would happen if you were found to be a liar."
Katherine got the message. She would be as honest with Monique's measurements as she could. And so, she began where Tim McGee was dismissed. She measured underneath Monique's tits. Katherine, like Tim, found touching Monique's breasts pleasurable, but the threat of the crowd helped to keep the feelings under control. She would measure Monique, as if she was a professional bra-maker, accurately and with complete detachment.
"Thirty," was the number eventually announced by Katherine.
"All right, everyone," Monique yelled at the crowd, getting their attention. "I measure thirty inches under my breasts. Which gives me a 36-band size when buying a bra. I could explain in more detail how I got the number 36, but since most of the girls and guys present either don't wear bras or wear tiny, little training bras, I figure any real discussions of bras wouldn't be understood. But I'm sure Katherine, who knows a little something about bras, can confirm my 36 band size."
Katherine looked at the crowd, noticing all the eyes on her, awaiting her confirmation of what Monique was saying. She was annoyed at Monique's comment about her knowing a 'little something' about bras. Katherine Sells wore a 34-F bra, which for a twelve-year-old -- hell, even for an adult -- was pretty damn big. She was tempted to give the former Lil' Mo a piece of her mind. But in the end, all Katherine could do was nod her head and agree with Monique.
"All right, Katherine," Monique said to the crestfallen girl. "I need you to measure the fullest part of my bust."
"I know," an annoyed Katherine said, wrapping the tape measure around Monique's humongous juggs. "I have had my own tits measured, you know?"
"Oh," Monique replied, without missing a beat, "are they now measuring training bras?"
Katherine could only grit her teeth, as she wrestled with the tape measure and got Monique's bust measurement. "Fifty-six," Katherine said. And then she did a double take. Fifty-six inches? That meant Monique's bust was--
"--Sixteen inches bigger," Monique was saying to the crowd of students. "My bust of fifty-six inches is sixteen inches -- over a foot -- bigger than Katherine Sells."
The crowd was stunned. Sixteen inches. Lil' Mo's tits had grown sixteen inches bigger than Katherine's. Unbelievable, thought the crowd, confident after Monique's revelation about her bust measurement that nothing could shock them. Monique's announcement of her bra size proved the crowd wrong.
"If you think my bust measurement is *huge*," Monique said, playing up to the crowd, "wait until I tell you my bra size."
The crowd silenced in an instant. Everyone present wanted to hear this latest pronouncement coming from Monique Hilton.
"Fifty-six, which is my bust measurement," Monique began, letting the audience's tension build, "minus thirty-six, which is my band size gives a cup size of..."
And she stopped speaking.
The crowd, naturally, started protesting. Frustration prompted many to start demanding the cup size. Complaints of Monique being a tease filled the air. It never occurred to any of the students to subtract thirty-six from fifty-six and get Monique's cup size. No, the only person present who seemed to have any idea on how to compute a bra size besides Monique was her arch-nemesis, Katherine Sells. Monique could tell Katherine had computed Lil' Mo's bra size by the glazed look of astonishment in her eyes. Monique watched as Katherine was about to blurt out the cup size and beat her to it.
"A T-cup!" she exclaimed. "I wear a 36-T bra!"
"Since when?" came a voice behind Monique. A voice that didn't belong to any of her classmates.
Monique turned around slowly and saw her smiling aunt, Sheryl. Monique felt all the blood leave her face as she realized she had been caught wearing her aunt's bra -- by her aunt.
"Answer me, young lady," her aunt said seriously. "When did you start wearing a 36-T?"
Monique felt like she was going to die, as tears started running down her face.
Her aunt, realizing how embarrassed her niece was, went to embrace the girl. This proved to be incredibly awkward, as Sheryl's 36-T figure collided with Monique wearing a 36-T bra stuffed with toilet paper. But despite the awkwardness, Sheryl managed to calm her niece down enough for a calm, rational discussion.
"Now, Monique," began Sheryl in her gentlest of tones, "why were you wearing my bra?"
Monique looked at her aunt, a woman sporting some of the biggest all-natural tits on the planet. Tits that were even bigger than Monique's mom's, who after three pregnancies wasn't small by any stretch of the imagination. How could this woman understand her desire to be bigger? There was no way and Monique said so: "Aunt Sheryl, you wouldn't understand."
"Try me," was all Sheryl said, shooting her niece a look that basically said, until you do talk to me, I'm not going to let this conversation end.
Monique knew that look well. She also knew her aunt wasn't bluffing. Sheryl would not, under any circumstances, let Monique out of her sight until her niece told her what was bothering her. And so Monique began.
"Aunt Sheryl..." Monique, began, trying to get the words out. "It's my breasts."
"What about your breasts, honey?"
"I want...I want them to be bigger," Monique said, getting to the heart of the matter.
Sheryl was stunned by what her niece had said. "Mo, you're a twelve-year-old wearing a C-cup bra," she said, looking at the womanly chest Monique was carrying. "You're already bigger than the average woman. And at twelve-years-old, you're still growing. Why I bet that--"
Sheryl stopped talking when she heard her niece crying.
"I knew you wouldn't understand," said a sobbing Monique.
"What do you mean, 'I knew you wouldn't understand'?" asked a confused Sheryl.
"You -- you're a T-cup," Monique replied. "There aren't too many women bigger than you."
So, that's Monique's problem. Some big chested classmate is making her feel insecure about her breasts, thought Sheryl, recalling her own insecurity of growing up with a younger sister, whose big tits made her own seem nonexistent. If it wasn't for the secret I learned about -- dreamed about? thought Sheryl I'd probably feel the same way as Monique. I wonder if the secret could help her as well.
Monique stared at her aunt. Sheryl had that faraway look on her face, she seemed to get whenever she was deep in thought. Monique wondered what her aunt was thinking about but knew, when her aunt was like this, the only thing one could do was wait.
Fortunately, Monique didn't have long to wait. Her aunt's eyes went from faraway to luminescent, a sign that Sheryl was enthusiastic -- some would say overenthusiastic -- about something.
"Mo, how would you like to know the secret of how I grew my breasts so big?" asked Sheryl, her voice overflowing with energy.
"Secret?" Monique, unprepared for what her aunt said, replied. "What secret for how your breasts got so big? Didn't they just grow?"
"Not exactly," Sheryl said with a smile. "My breasts required a whole lot of help to get this big."
"Implants?" Monique said stunned. "I always thought your breasts were the work of Mother Nature, not a plastic surgeon. Implants, how much did you--"
"Wait a minute," Sheryl said, cutting her niece off. "I don't have implants. My breasts are the work of Mother Nature. It's just Mother needed a little help."
"What kind of help?" Monique said, eager for her aunt's response.
Sheryl was about to answer Monique's question when the full impact of what she was about to say hit her. She was going to tell her twelve-year-old niece to do something that involved sex. Sheryl wasn't even sure what her niece knew about sex. Hell, Sheryl wasn't even sure she wanted to know what her niece knew about her sex. And what about Nikki, Monique's mom and Sheryl's sister, how would she feel about Sheryl giving advice of a sexual nature to Lil' Mo? Why did I have to open my big mouth, thought Sheryl, thinking about the best way to end this conversation with her niece.
Uh, oh, thought Monique, noticing her aunt's hesitation and nervousness. This secret of hers must involve sex and boys. I better say something before she clams up and never tells me the secret.
"Aunt Sheryl," Monique said in her most mature voice, "if this secret of yours involves sex and boys, feel free to tell me. I've had sex ed at school and there's very little you can tell me that will shock me."
Sheryl looked at her niece, doing a double take. Kids sure grow up fast these days, she thought. Well, if Monique was as educated about sex as she claimed, there was no point in beating around the bush with the secret.
"Monique," Sheryl began, trying to mirror the mature tone of voice her niece used, "the help I was talking about involved having boys ejaculate on my breasts and me wiping the resulting semen in my flesh like lotion."
Monique stared at her aunt. And then began laughing.
Sheryl couldn't believe her ears. She had deliberated long and hard on whether she should or should not tell her niece the secret for growing big breasts. And when she finally made her decision and told her niece the secret, the girl laughed in her face. How ungrateful could you get?
"Monique, what's so funny?" Sheryl asked.
"You," the girl replied. "You really expect me to believe that having a guy come on my tits will make them larger. That's the most ridiculous thing I ever heard."
"Well, Monique, seeing as how I'm a T-cup and you're a C-cup," began her aunt, trying to get her point across in a way her niece would understand, "I can't help but bow to your superior knowledge of growing breasts." Sheryl emphasized "growing breasts" by throwing out her enormous rack. Monique quickly got the point.
"So you're serious?" Monique asked her aunt, still thinking the woman was joking.
"Just try it," Sheryl said.
And that's exactly what Monique did. She tried her aunt's secret with Leonard Wordlow, the biggest nerd in school.
She had met him after-school in the science lab, Leonard's second home. He was doing a science project for extra credit, mistakenly believing he could surpass the A+ he was already earning in the class. Monique looked at the gangly, bespectacled stereotype of a nerd and wondered if she would have the nerve to act on her aunt's advice. She knew that there were other, better looking guys in the school, who would be more than happy to cream her tits. And if this worked, the way her aunt said it would, she would certainly give them a call. But this was the first time and Monique still had her doubts. She wanted to try her aunt's advice with a guy that no one would believe was capable of a sexual act. A guy who would be laughed off the school grounds if he even suggested a girl looked his way. A guy, in other words, like Leonard.
Monique approached Leonard awkwardly. She had no idea on how to seduce a guy. Especially a guy like Leonard. She tried calling his name in her sexiest voice but Leonard, totally engrossed in his lab work, ignored her. She tried sidling up to him but was shooed away like some annoying insect. Monique couldn't believe the things Leonard was doing to her. It was almost like he was rejecting her. Well, thought Monique, I'll give him something he can't reject.
Monique walked around the lab table so that she was standing directly in front of Leonard. She saw the barest hint of recognition in his eyes. So he does know I'm here, Monique thought. Monique looked around the lab, making sure that she and Leonard were the only ones present. She took a deep breath and began undoing the buttons on her top.
Leonard's mind, for the first time since he heard the word, wasn't on Science. All his attention was focused on the girl standing before him, removing her top. He knew he knew her name, but his mind couldn't seem to recall that fact. His mind, usually cluttered with nothing but facts, was blank and Leonard had no choice but to operate on instincts. Primal instincts.
Monique hadn't noticed the change in Leonard. She was still removing her top, wondering if her amateur attempts at seduction were enough to make Leonard do her bidding. Leonard's actions proved Monique was more than qualified. Hell, his actions proved the girl was probably overqualified for the job of seducing Leonard Wordlow.
The scientist-in-training had started drooling. It wasn't every day that a beautiful girl came into the science lab and started taking off her top. Leonard's mind caused him to forget what he was doing, literally dropping the experiment he was working on. This cavalier approach to Science caused a minor explosion to occur. Monique panicked as she watched flames erupt from the counter of the lab table. But the panic was short-lived as a stunned Monique watched Leonard put the flames out with his bare hands, his eyes not leaving her amateur attempt at seduction for a second.
And then Monique stopped what she was doing. The explosion. The fire. Leonard. It was too much for her mind to take in. The situation had just gotten too weird. Maybe, Leonard wasn't the right guy, Monique thought, as she began buttoning up her top. The school had other nerds.
Leonard saw Monique buttoning up her top and a cry of anguish came from his mouth. He was so close. It was Monique or nothing. If she left, he doubted if any other girl would come into the science lab and take off her top -- EVER! Out of desperation or some primal sexual urge, Leonard began unzipping his pants, trying hard to release his enlarging member. It was this gesture more than anything else that caused Monique to stay in the lab and let Leonard have his way with her tits.
When Leonard began unzipping his pants, Monique had stopped buttoning up her top. She wanted to see what Leonard was packing in those corduroy jeans of his. Maybe, getting a laugh in the process. Monique, like most of her classmates, figured that Leonard and the school's other nerds had little dicks. She expected to see a cocktail weiner, yet Leonard revealed something rivaling a salami.
Monique couldn't believe her eyes. She quickly went back to unbuttoning her top and then her bra. She didn't waste any time displaying her C-cup sized breasts. Her erect nipples seemed to beckon to Leonard as they jutted an inch in the boy's direction.
Leonard instantly lowered his pants and underwear, causing his rod to point arrow-like in Monique's direction. He didn't think how this maneuver would inhibit his movement. His only concern was getting his hands around Monique's naked breasts.
Monique watched Leonard walk penguin-like in her direction. Several times, Leonard had almost tripped and fallen to the ground. He was, in a word, ridiculous. And the scenario occurring before Monique's eyes had all the comedic elements of an old slapstick movie. And, yet, Monique didn't laugh once. Leonard's below-the-waist salami and how it could really cream her tits was all the girl could think about.
Leonard was the first to make skin-to-skin contact. His hands flattened against Monique's breasts. Monique felt Leonard's touch. His hands were wet. With sweat? Monique wondered. No, not sweat, she concluded as a strong odor suddenly permeated her nostrils. Chemicals? And for a brief moment, Monique's mind wondered exactly what Leonard was working on. But then she felt Leonard's member rubbing against her and rationalized that the chemicals he was working with were probably harmless.
Monique's attention was fixed solely on Leonard's man-rod, which she grabbed. It filled both her hands -- easily. She began intuitively stroking her hands up and down -- up and down. The moans erupting from Leonard convinced her that she was doing it right.
Leonard, for his part, continued caressing and kneading Monique's breasts with his hands. They covered every inch of Monique's C-cup pulchritude, moving faster and faster. A tingling sensation resulted. One of pleasure that increased the speed and effectiveness of Monique's handjob.
Leonard was on the brink of coming and said so. His body tensed up, ready to empty its load. "I'm coming," Leonard yelled, and then--
Nothing.
Monique didn't want Leonard to come yet. She somehow concluded that delaying the act would be to her benefit. So, acting purely on some instinct she didn't even know she possessed, Monique had squeezed Leonard's manhood with both her hands, effectively stopping him from coming. It was a process Monique performed about three times in succession.
Leonard was going crazy. Why wouldn't Monique let him come? "Mo -- Monique..." he pleaded with the girl. "Must come. I -- I must come."
Moments later, Monique gave Leonard what he wanted. She let the boy come.
Monique, sensing that Leonard had reached the point of no return, grabbed his flesh-rod, directing it towards her chest. "Come on my tits," she instructed Leonard. And the aspiring scientist did so. He came like a human firehose drenching Monique with his boy-juice. Boy-juice that Monique was only too happy to rub into her tits.
Leonard, for his part, didn't see Monique's actions. Because of the strenuous sex act he had just undergone, the boy lay unconscious on the floor. He didn't see Monique's breasts, like twin sponges, absorb his cum, tingling in the process. Nor did he see Monique instantly orgasm as a result of the tingling. To Leonard, the whole experience was just an erotic dream gone completely out of control. Who would ever believe that Monique Hilton had come into the science lab and seduced Leonard Wordlow?
Monique Hilton, that's who. And she had the proof literally in her hands. As breasts that used to rest comfortably in her palms now overflowed them. Her C-cups had grown to D-cups in a matter of days. She was still smaller than her arch-nemesis, Katherine Sells, but only for the time being. Now that Monique knew her aunt's advice worked, she knew it was only a matter of time before she was big enough to dethrone Katherine.
Lost in her vindictive thoughts about Katherine Sells, Monique didn't notice her Aunt Sheryl passing by her opened door. Her aunt, on the other hand, sure noticed her. Sheryl saw her niece looking at her new endowments and couldn't believe her eyes. Monique's breasts were unbelievable. It wasn't just their size (what's a D-cup to a woman who wears a T-cup size bra?), but that they were so firm, so wonderfully shaped, so beautiful. They looked like -- no, they had to be -- the work of magic. A magic that was causing Sheryl to feel things she probably shouldn't be feeling. And about her niece of all people. But Sheryl couldn't think about the moral aspects of her feelings, she could only think about relieving them. Which she did in her room with some motorized assistance.
Monique was completely unaware of both her aunt's presence and the effect her newly-grown tits had on her aunt. Her mind was on other things. Katherine Sells still being one of them. Monique now knew she had the secret to give her the winner's edge and couldn't wait to make her fantasy a reality by dethroning the girl as the school's tit-queen. She just had to grow two more cup sizes and she would be Katherine's equal. But that wasn't Monique's dream. She didn't want to be as big as Katherine Sells, she wanted to be BIGGER, she wanted to be so big in comparison that she made her rival seem flatchested in comparison.
So Monique got organized, planning her agenda. She first decided that she would keep her new endowments literally under wraps. She didn't want anyone, especially Katherine Sells, to know she was growing until just the right moment. She thought about the 'Comers', the nerds whose job it would be to come on her tits. She would have preferred to have some of the more popular guys in school be Comers but that would have only increased the chances of Katherine prematurely finding out about Monique's expanding tits. No, Monique concluded, the Comers had to be guys like Leonard Wordlow, guys believed to be incapable of sexual activity. And if her list of Comers proved to be as endowed as Leonard, well that would just be a fringe benefit -- a pleasurable by-product to counter the pain Monique was about to experience on a daily basis.
Monique took a final look at her breasts, thinking what she was about to do -- what she had to do. She couldn't go outside with her newly-grown D-cups jutting out the way they were. She had to keep them covered -- literally. So Monique began wrapping her torso up Mummy-style with some gauze wrappings she bought at the local pharmacy. It was painful just reducing D-cups to C-cup size. Monique could only imagine with dread the future pain that was inevitable as her breasts continued to grow. But the twelve-year-old had her plan and was determined to stick with it.
Monique later shocked her Aunt Sheryl with her reduced appearance. Sheryl had planned on talking to her niece about her sudden growth, but when she saw Monique, the girl looked the same as she always did. She seemed less jubilant than normal, but Sheryl knew the moods of kids Monique's age went up and down like seesaws. Sheryl concluded that she must've dreamt her niece's new growth. "I really need to learn to differentiate between dreams and reality," Sheryl said to herself, paraphrasing a long-running joke between her and her sister, Nikki.
But in a little over a week's time, Sheryl discovered that she hadn't been dreaming at all. She discovered that not only was Monique growing but she was approaching a size that rivaled her aunt.
Monique had established her network of Comers with a quickness and efficiency rivaling a government intelligence bureau. She knew the habits and whereabouts of her Comers at all time. A task simplified by the fact that Monique's Comers could usually be found in a lab room, chess room, or study hall. Because her Comers were the best and brightest students of the school, Monique rarely had to deal with adults intruding on her plans -- they all seemed to trust her Comers implicitly. This allowed Monique to be serviced by her Comers, on average, three times a day. And her tits grew accordingly.
Monique, now used to the daily pain of wrapping her tits Mummy-style, had continued disguising her endowments. She knew her tits were growing, but since she hadn't been measuring them, she still felt like she had to grow bigger to dethrone Katherine Sells. It was Monique's Aunt Sheryl who showed the twelve-year-old exactly how wrong she was in her thinking.
"Monique!" Sheryl screamed when she saw her niece trying to hide her breasts with medical tape. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Aunt -- Aunt Sheryl," Monique began, shocked by her aunt's sudden appearance.
"Why are you taping down your chest? Don't you know you can injure yourself by doing that?" Sheryl stated to her niece, trying to help the girl see reason.
"Uh, no," Monique said stupidly. The twelve-year-old didn't even think about the physical effects of taping down her chest. Her only concern was keeping her growing breasts secret. Monique had a plan and nothing else mattered.
"Take that tape off," Sheryl commanded her niece, as she left to go get something.
Monique began unwrapping her bosom. Staring at her reflection, Monique had to admit this was the first time since her 'Growth Project' began that she had seriously looked at how big she had grown. Undoing the medical tape, strand by strand, Monique felt like she was opening a Christmas or a Birthday present. "All I want for Christmas, Santa, are the biggest tits in school," she imagined herself saying, causing herself to laugh out loud.
"I don't see what's so funny, Monique" her aunt said, returning with what looked to be a measuring tape.
"Sorry, Aunt Sheryl," Monique replied sheepishly.
Sheryl watched as her niece removed the last of the medical tape and blinked in disbelief. That can't be all Monique? she asked herself, staring hard at the unbelievable endowments carried by her twelve-year-old niece.
"Monique," Sheryl said, trying to control her voice, but failing miserably, "you've sure done some growing lately."
Monique looked down at her chest. Her aunt was right. She was gigantic. Her breasts were more than big enough to dethrone Katherine Sells. And Monique smiled, knowing that her dream was now a reality.
"Aunt Sheryl," Monique said, turning to her aunt, "I just used your secret."
"You mean--"
"Yes, I rounded up a group of boys and had them come on my tits. Just like you told me," Monique said, feeling like a student concluding her tenure with a master by stating the last and final lesson.
"And it worked?" Sheryl asked stunned.
"Of course it worked! You have your T-cups and I have my... Well, I don't know how big I am, but I'm a lot bigger than any ole C-cup, that's for sure," Monique said with a smile.
Sheryl just looked at her niece, trying to let the girl's words sink into her head. She had told her niece that having boys come on your tits made them grow because that was what she believed made her tits grow. But to be honest, she'd always had her doubts. Her sister Nikki had told her on numerous occasions that it was a hormone imbalance and not boy-juice that was responsible for Sheryl's explosive growth. Sheryl wanted to believe her sister but the 'boy-juice theory' had seemed so real to her. And now her niece was proving the boy-juice theory worked or was she. Sheryl couldn't help think: if I had a hormonal imbalance then it's completely possible for Monique to have one too. Oh, who cares how we got our big tits as long as we got them, Sheryl finally concluded.
"Aunt Sheryl," Monique had been calling. "Aunt Sheryl." But Monique knew her aunt was lost in thought and wouldn't be lucid until she had come to what she felt was a sound and logical conclusion.
Sheryl had made her conclusion. Her niece had big -- no, enormous -- tits. Tits that had been flattened by medical tape for who knew how long. Tits that needed the support of a proper bra, one that her niece surely hadn't been measured for, which Sheryl confirmed by questioning her niece.
"No," Monique told her aunt honestly, "I haven't been measured since I first got my C-cup size bra."
Sheryl looked at her niece. The girl was a lot bigger than any C-cup size bra. How much, Sheryl really didn't know. But she had a tape measure, a topless girl and loads of curiosity.
"Come over here, Monique," she instructed her niece. "I'm going to find out just how big you are, okay?"
Monique nodded her head and watched as her aunt measured under her breasts.
"Twenty-six inches," Sheryl responded. "That gives you a band size of 32. That's rather typical of a girl of your slight build."
Monique nodded. She was used to being a 32-C. But looking at the whoppers jutting out from her chest, she knew that even though the 32 remained that the C was nothing but a distant memory.
"Monique, I'm going to probably need your help for this next measurement, okay?" Sheryl said, speaking from personal experience. The next measurement was the fullest part of Monique's bust.
Aunt and niece shifted and corralled Monique's breasts. It was an exercise for both of them, but they finally got the desired measurement. "Forty-eight inches!" Sheryl exclaimed. "Forty-eight minus thirty-two gives you sixteen. And the sixteenth letter of the alphabet is--"
"P!" shouted Monique. "Aunt Sheryl, I wear a 32-P bra!"
Sheryl just looked at her niece, thinking how only four cup sizes separated Sheryl's T-cups from Monique's P-cups. Combined with the fact that Monique was only twelve and was sure to grow larger and one could understand why Sheryl suddenly found it difficult to speak. Her niece was incredible.
Monique's thoughts were on similar lines. But instead of comparing her cup size to her aunt's, she was comparing them with her arch-nemesis, Katherine Sells. Monique knew that Katherine wore an F-cup bra. Hell, everyone at school knew that Katherine wore an F-cup bra. Well, if F is the sixth letter of the alphabet and P is the sixteenth letter then that means my bra cups are more than twice Katherine's. I'll bury her, thought Monique, knowing that the time had finally come for her to dethrone Katherine as tit queen of the school.
That night, Monique slept like a baby. She knew that the next day would be THE day. The day her dream became a reality. Wait till you get a load of me, Katherine, Monique thought as she drifted into sleep. The new me, that is.
The next day, Monique moved with the energy of someone high on speed. She couldn't wait to get to school. Her Aunt Sheryl had managed to stop her and give her a gift. "Here's one of my old bras, Monique, it should probably fit you."
Monique tried on the bra and though it wasn't a perfect fit it would be more than sufficient in aiding her to dethrone Katherine. Monique looked at herself wearing her aunt's old bra and smiled. She looked just like she did in her daydream, enormous bra and all. Ready or not, Katherine, here I come, Monique said to herself.
Monique arrived at school incredibly early. It appeared she was the first and only student to arrive. Monique looked around, hoping to find someone she could show her new endowments, but there weren't anyone. No gossips. No popular kids. No one. Monique sighed in frustration. This wasn't turning out the way she planned.
Monique continued walking the halls of the school. Soon, she approached the girl's locker room. Monique entered and heard the sounds of water and a female voice singing. Monique looked around and saw one of the student lockers being used. Finally, Monique thought, someone to see the new me.
Monique wanted to surprise whoever was using the shower. She wanted to make such an impact that the individual couldn't help but tell the school about the new Monique Hilton. So she removed her top, stripping down to the enormous bra given to her by her aunt. She positioned herself strategically, so the person exiting the shower would have to see her. She threw out her chest making her enormous bust seem that much better. And waited.
Moments later, Monique heard both the singing and the shower stop. She heard the plop -- plop sound of wet footsteps moving forward. Monique felt excited knowing that whoever this individual was, she would be instrumental in the coming battle between Monique Hilton and Katherine Sells. This person would be the light drawing Katherine moth-like to Monique. This person would be--
Katherine Sells, herself.
Monique blinked her eyes in astonishment. Out of all the females in school, the last one she expected to see exit the shower was her arch-nemesis, Katherine Sells. But that was exactly who exited the shower.
"Hey, nice tits, Monique," Katherine said without any malice.
Monique looked at Katherine in disbelief. Did she hear what she thought she did? Did Katherine Sells actually compliment Monique's breasts?
"How big are they, Monique?" Katherine asked.
"I have a forty-eight inch bust and wear a 32-P bra," Monique answered, thinking how this conversation wasn't going anything like her dream. She should be fighting with Monique not carrying on a pleasant conversation about her breasts.
But the pleasantries continued as Katherine not only complimented Monique on her tits but asked if she could see them. Monique hesitated. This was after all Katherine Sells, her arch-nemesis. But then Katherine did something that surprised Monique. Katherine took off her towel, revealing her 34-F bosom in all its glory.
"What do you think, Monique?" Katherine asked, suddenly invading Monique's personal space with her breasts.
Monique didn't know what to think. She never expected this kind of behavior from Katherine Sells. She always thought the girl hated her. And yet here that girl was showing Monique her tits.
"They're beautiful," Monique found herself saying.
"Thank you," Katherine replied. "Of course my 34-F is nothing compared to your 32-P. Can I see them, Monique? Can I see them out of that humongous bra you're wearing?"
Monique couldn't believe her ears. Did Katherine Sells actually ask to see her tits? Monique felt as if she stepped into the Twilight Zone. Where are you, Rod Serling? This wasn't Katherine Sells, Monique concluded. And if it is then she's trying to set me up or something.
"No," Monique barked, regaining some of the animosity she felt for Katherine. "Why should I strip for a flatchested bitch like you?"
"Monique," Katherine cried out. "How -- how could you say something like that? I -- I'm not flatchested. And to call me a bitch... What did I ever do to you?"
Monique looked at her arch-nemesis crying and realized that she couldn't answer the girl's question. What did Katherine ever do to me? Monique asked herself. She mentally revisited all the 'bad things' that she swore Katherine had done to her and saw that in reality they were nothing. Misunderstandings, one and all.
"Katherine," Monique said, undoing her bra, "I'm sorry."
Katherine looked in Monique's direction. She was going to say something smart like 'you should be', but then she saw Monique's breasts. They jutted out -- twin spheres of perfection, areolae the size of frisbees, nipples two inches in length -- drawing Katherine to Monique like a magnet.
Monique felt Katherine's tongue -- everywhere. The tops of her breasts. The undersides. The nipples. Wherever there was breast flesh, there was Katherine's tongue. Her tongue was so effective in pleasuring Monique that Katherine didn't even have to use her hands. But she did. With a strength and gentleness obtained through years of servicing her own breasts, Katherine's hands complemented her tongue, multiplying its effectiveness. An effectiveness that resulted in Monique having one orgasm after another.
Not to be outdone, Monique began playing with Katherine's tits. Monique didn't have Katherine's techniques but the results were about the same. Soon, Katherine, like Monique, was experiencing one orgasm after another.
The girl-juice was flying.
Monique didn't notice until later, but she was unconsciously scooping up the girl-juice, rubbing it in her tits. Much like the boy-juice of her Comers, Monique absorbed the girl-juice sponge-like, soaking up every single drop. She had felt the resulting tingle, but attributed it to Katherine and her sexual techniques. Techniques that she was to experience on an almost daily basis as she and Katherine became a couple.
Monique had said goodbye to her Comers. Okay, she still visited Leonard when she got the urge for something -- male, but essentially her heart belonged to Katherine and vice-versa. The two girls, possessors of the biggest tits in the student body, made a striking couple. A couple made even more striking when one of the participants, for lack of a better word, mutated.
It was Monique.
Days after her encounter with Katherine, the twelve-year-old noticed her clothing no longer fit. She expected to have trouble finding tops, but shoes, pants, and undergarments? It seemed that Monique was undergoing some sort of fantastic growth spurt. Her legs seemed to increase in length daily as if while Monique was sleeping some sadist was stretching her out on a medieval rack. Her muscles increased along with her height giving Monique diamond-shaped calves, block-like thighs, washboard abs, and peaked biceps. Her pecs hidden beneath her gigantic breasts ensured that Monique would never have to buy a bra to support her endowments. And that was just the changes she experienced in height and growth.
Monique also experienced an accelerated puberty. The twelve-year-old physically looked like a woman in her twenties. Beautiful and sexy. Her face was flawlessly smooth with sensuous lips, a pert nose and eyes that shone like gemstones, impossible to ignore. Her hair, thick and lustrous, ran down her back mane-like giving Monique an air of regalness befitting a queen. Or an amazon, which judging by her great height and musculature was what most people thought her to be.
Monique, like most of the people in her life, wondered what was responsible for this incredible change in her appearance. It took some time but she soon concluded that if boy-juice was responsible for her breasts growing then girl-juice was probably responsible for her transformation into an amazon. She discussed this possibility with her Aunt Sheryl.
"Girl-juice?" Sheryl said in astonishment, thinking that was the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard. Boy-juice was one thing, but girl-juice? "Monique, I bet you're just a victim of a hormonal imbalance."
Monique looking down at her aunt, who she now towered over, couldn't believe her ears. Hormonal imbalance? That was the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard. Or was it? A hormonal imbalance could explain away Monique's big tits, muscles and height. And it seemed more logical then rubbing boy-juice and girl-juice into your tits and expecting your body to change. But Monique liked her boy-juice and girl-juice theories. Theories she had planned on telling her younger sister when the time was right.
And years later that's exactly what she did.