Disclaimer: Please do not edit, reproduce, or redistribute this story. This is a work of fiction. It features female growth themes including breast expansion and muscle growth. This novelette also features character development and descriptions of oral sex. It does not feature graphic violence or “true” giantesses. If you do not like such stories or if you are not of legal age for your locale, please do not read it.

“Compounding Interest”

By Hunter S. Creek © 2005

A Fateful Day

As I think back on it now, I am quite certain that I had never experienced a more stimulating nor a more guilt-ridden kiss in my life. It was completely unexpected but in hindsight not unwelcome. And, although I could not possibly know it then, that kiss was also most definitely worth far more than the ridicule and angst that I feared it inevitably had to spawn.

Why ridicule for a brief, fairly innocent kiss? Well, because the person kissing me at the time was my best friend’s little sister, Brenda. Brenda was heading off to a new boarding school. She apparently had decided to finally act-out on what had been a secret, simmering crush on me. Of course I did not fully realize that at the time.

Oh sure, I had long suspected that Brenda liked me. And, I’m not just letting my ego tell you that. Believe me, having the very short, scrawny, painfully skinny, little sister of my best friend acting like a shy fribble around me was neither fun nor welcome. It certainly was not what my ego (or my Id for that matter) wanted. In fact, back then, I would go to great lengths sometimes just to avoid her. Brenda’s awkward attempts at sneaking peeks at me or at getting my attention were perfect fodder for my friends to throw back at me in derisive jest. Brenda seemed to be aware of the fallout from her attempts at attention but she also could not seem to help herself.

Now, don’t get me wrong. Yes, I often tried to avoid Brenda, however, I was never mean to her or rude to her during all of those times when I was unsuccessful at avoiding her. Part of the problem was that I was often a captive audience, so to speak. Her brother, Tom, and I were often study partners. Also, as I mentioned, Tom was my best friend back then.

One example occurred when Tom and I were with a group of friends in the mall food court. Brenda had come with her Mom. Tom left us to go talk with his Mom for a minute: probably to get some more money. When Brenda spotted us, I shifted uncomfortably and hoped that she would not come over. It would have been fine if Tom was still sitting with my friends and I but with him gone, it would not be difficult for my friends to gather that the object of Brenda’s unwelcome attention was me. Brenda came directly to my table, leaned against it and began to chat. I tried to be polite but I don’t recall a word that she said because all the while my inner monologue was shouting at her to go away. I’m not sure if Brenda eventually got the message or if her Mom called her but she did leave sometime after my friends decided to rib me about her attention.

To be balanced, I should tell you that I would sometimes find myself looking out for Brenda in Tom’s absence. Brenda was a good kid but she was a klutz. She was also a slug: she wasn’t involved in anything. Between the two traits, she caused more than her fair share of accidents. There was more than one occasion where I had to be her “Knight-In-Shining-Armor”. There were several times when Brenda would be subjected to more teasing than usual (or worse) by her classmates because of her klutziness, lack of size, or lack of energy. A favorite prank of some was to lock Brenda into her own school locker. On more than one occasion I would hear her pounding or calling from inside of it as I passed. More often than not I would be the one to release her. In hindsight, I suppose occasions like those probably helped cement her feelings toward me but, in fairness, I really did not think about it back then. I liked Brenda. She was a sweet heart. There was really nothing about Brenda to dislike. I also felt kind of sorry for her. However, I really never felt attracted to her. At that time of my life, Wonder Woman was the type who I thought was attractive.

Anyway, Brenda was heading off for this special boarding school at the behest of her parents and their family physician. Part of the school’s reputation was built on its ability to cater to children who were, shall we say, not typical children. Brenda’s parents and brother had long assumed that Brenda suffered from some sort of eating disorder. Their only evidence was the fact that Brenda had always been so small for her age. Things came to a head two months previously when Brenda brought home her class photograph. It did not take long for her parents to realize that Brenda was the only girl who had not shown any signs of developing -- at all. Brenda was also easily the shortest and scrawniest girl in her class.

For her part, Brenda did not mind the idea of going to a new school. In fact, she was looking forward to it. As I mentioned above, Brenda was the almost constant target of teasing at our school. It was bad enough that she was very bright and so small relative to her classmates but when the rumor of her having “an eating disorder” began to circulate, Brenda’s social life was dealt a fatal blow. I personally never believed anything about Brenda having an eating disorder. Sure, she did not eat as much as some girls her age, but, then again, she was not their size either.

Tom had invited me over for a game of one-on-one basketball on the day that Brenda was to depart for her new school. I actually did not mind the timing because I did want to say “goodbye”. While Tom and I played, I noticed Brenda helping her parents do her packing. I also caught her stealing more than an occasional glance at me. When the time came for her to leave there were hugs all around. I then excused myself to the bathroom. I had expected Brenda to be gone when I returned. Instead, however, I found Brenda standing on the staircase next to the bathroom. Brenda was perched a few steps from the bottom and this made her about my height. Brenda was extremely nervous and was holding back tears. Brenda had always had very pretty eyes. They now seemed to reach out to me. They soon became full of tears. And, for whatever reason, that gave me an immediate pang of concern for her. I stepped toward her to try to be supportive. Before I knew it, Brenda had thrown caution to the wind and had given me a quick but strangely stimulating kiss on the lips. Guilt poured over me like a bucket of Gator-Aide at the Super Bowl. I could only speculate from Brenda’s mad dash from the hallway that she was feeling at least some guilt or embarrassment, or both.

Before I could recover from Brenda’s unexpected kiss, I could hear her parents’ car pulling away. I really could not understand why I was feeling guilt. It was an innocent kiss. Brenda had obviously put some thought into planning it. I had nothing to do with soliciting it or prompting it, except for showing some concern. Then it hit me. I felt guilty because for some odd, inexplicable reason, I had enjoyed it.

Now I was confused. Why would I enjoy an awkward kiss from my best friend’s scrawny, little sister? I was no Don Juan back then but I was not unattractive. Girls had usually thought that I was cute. Also, that perception was further reinforced by the fact that puberty was being kind to me. At that time, I was a little above average height and about average weight for guys my age. I had also avoided acne and Orthodontists. I had great hopes that I would take after my Dad’s side of the family and be at least six-feet tall. That did not seem unrealistic given that I was five-feet, nine-inches at the time.

I chose not to give any more thought to what had just happened, other than to convince myself that no one could have seen it happen. I regained my composure and proceeded to kick Tom’s butt at one-on-one.

Unilateral Pen Pal

First let me say that I have always been a lousy correspondent. I had never been a letter writer. And, back then, I rarely had been given an opportunity to be a letter reader either. That all changed about a week after Brenda left for her new school. My Mom called to me as I returned home from school. Mom knew Brenda and had always liked her. And, being a Mom, she probably suspected that Brenda like me. When I entered the kitchen, my Mom greeted me with a peck on the cheek while playfully brandishing an envelope in a free hand.

The letter of course was from Brenda. She must have wanted me to write back because she had included her return address in no less than five different places. I was glad to read from her. She wrote about the school and the teachers and the students. She mentioned how cool it was to be in a school with so many unusual and interesting and non-judgmental people. Brenda seemed very excited about her new situation and I found myself feeling very happy for her. In passing, she noted that her first physician’s appointment was “tomorrow”. She mentioned how much she was looking forward to it and promised to let me know how it went. To my great relief Brenda made no mention of the kiss.

I can remember feeling more than a bit awkward when I learned that Tom had not received a letter from his sister. I eventually discovered that Brenda had not even written to her parents as yet.

Brenda’s second letter arrived about a week after the first. She still seemed excited about the school, her classmates, and her teachers. Brenda also spent much of her letter praising her new doctors. She was not certain as to what they thought was “wrong” with her and she was also not certain about what they had in mind for her, but she was certain that she was excited about it. Thankfully, Brenda still made no mention of the kiss and she also made no attempt to offer any semblance of guilt regarding my lack of a reply to her first letter.

And, so it went. I received a very nice, upbeat letter from Brenda on an almost weekly basis. Each letter typically contained some news tidbits regarding people that she had met and events at the school. I hated to admit to myself that I actually enjoyed reading Brenda’s letters. I did not enjoy contemplating the potential fallout from someone finding out about them but I did enjoy the letters. I suppose it was a casuistry of ego to enjoy getting an unrelenting supply of letters from a younger female in whom I felt no romantic interest and no physical attraction.

Once in a while Brenda would include some information about her new, strictly controlled diet in one of her letters. I also gleaned that her doctors did not believe that Brenda suffered from an eating disorder. I was so happy that someone who actually knew something about such things had confirmed what I had suspected. Better yet, I was very pleased that Brenda seemed to believe the doctors too.

As Thanksgiving approached I found myself wondering if Brenda would be coming home for the holiday. She had made no mention of it in any of her weekly letters and I could not bring myself to ask Tom or their parents. I was embarrassed enough that I was actually thinking about it, let alone that I had briefly considered talking about it with someone else. Of course, the obvious question you might ask is – “Why not just ask Brenda?” Well, of course, I could not bring myself to ask Brenda. I hated to admit to myself that I actually thought about her at all. Heaven forbid that I should have to admit to her (or myself) that I had any interest in Brenda’s comings and goings. I was getting enough teasing at home for simply receiving a letter from Brenda let alone the grief I would undoubtedly receive for actually writing a letter to Brenda.

Thanksgiving

My parents and I were getting ready to head-off to my Grandparents’ when my Mom called me to the phone. I did not need to inquire as to who was on the other end of the phone. Mom’s mischievous grin spoke volumes to answer my unspoken question.

My Mom lingered just long enough to make my ears flash to a mid-range scarlet before allowing me some privacy. I managed a quick, “hello” before Brenda gushed a torrent of greetings and “you knows”. It was several minutes before she got around to the fact that she was calling me from her parents’ house. To my horror I then heard myself blurt out, “Why didn’t you mention that you were coming home in one of your letters?”

I briefly considered crimping the phone cord on the off chance that my words could be choked-off before leaving my house and reaching Brenda’s ears. It didn’t work. I could almost hear the smile propagate across Brenda’s face as my hastily uttered words vibrated across her tympanic membrane.

The fact that I had shown interest in her schedule, and that I had actually been reading her letters seemed to completely negate the fact that I had yet to write back to her. It even seemed to negate the fact that I wasted no time in shooting down her very shy attempt to schedule some time with me while she was home.

As it turned out, however, I did see Brenda before she returned to school. Tom had asked me over to his house in order to meet his cute cousin, Cindy. Cindy and her folks lived a few towns away from us. She was everything that Brenda was not. Cindy was tall, shapely, and confident. I was interested in Cindy but she seemed to be merely polite in-kind. During the visit I learned that Brenda had been out with friends while I was meeting Cindy. Her mother mentioned that Brenda would be sorry that she missed me. Tom apparently neglected to tell Brenda that I was coming or, better yet, it may not have occurred to him that she might care.

Brenda did not return home from her friend’s until I was well on my way out of their driveway. I waved to the dusk-shrouded group as I continued home. Even in the reduced lighting I could pick-out Brenda’s short, stick-figure silhouette as she gave me an enthusiastic return wave. Something struck me as being not quite right but I dismissed it as I “phew-ed” my close escape from a potentially awkward Brenda moment. Another, more pressing, fact helped to shove Brenda out of my consciousness: Cindy was probably accustomed to dating guys with cool cars. It went without saying that she would be totally unimpressed with a guy on a bicycle. As I pedaled, I felt about as secure with my chances of impressing Cindy as an asthmatic blowfish. I could not wait to get my license.

A Present?

My Mom was never a college graduate but I always suspected that she actually held a graduate degree in Guilt. Mom suggested many, … many, … many, … many times that it would be nice, and only proper, if I were to give Brenda, my incredibly consistent yet unrequited pen pal, something for Christmas. This was, I suppose, a predictable by-product of my reticence to reply to even a single one of Brenda’s weekly letters.

I had long ago surmised that my Mom’s ability to procreate guilt was matched only by her ability to absorb it, assume it, magnify it, and redistribute it. As November turned into December, it became more and more obvious to me that my Mom was somehow feeling guilty and embarrassed for the fact that I was not returning any of Brenda’s letters. What made this situation all the more ludicrous was the fact that Brenda had not said a word to anyone about writing any letters. Go figure.

The one silver lining in this Mom-imposed cloud was the fact that she offered to give me some money to help pay for a gift for Brenda.

I had no idea what to buy Brenda for a Christmas present. This problem was magnified by the thought that she might be planning to buy me a present. This horrible prospect did not actually occur to me, but as you probably guessed, it did occur to my Mom. Tom and I never exchanged presents and neither did our parents. I had no idea what to get Brenda.

As the December teens turned into the early December twenties, my dilemma remained completely unsolved. However, a small hint was uncovered when Tom happened to mention that his Mom was bemoaning the fact that this was the first Christmas where no one had asked for even a single toy. Being an only child, myself, I had never really thought about such things. However, after I thought a moment, I guessed that I could understand. My link of empathy was that I could recall that Tom and I had once been sworn to secrecy for a couple of years regarding the whole Santa Claus thing because Brenda still had faith back then.

I recognized what was likely to be my only safe opportunity to subtly troll for gift ideas for Brenda. After several minutes my only clue was that Tom had overheard his Mom telling his Dad that Brenda needed clothes for Christmas. Tom and I then enjoyed mimicking our respective Dads’ frustration with women’s clothing sizes. Tom mentioned that his Mom was always changing sizes but that Brenda had been the same size forever. In fact, Tom noted that that was one of the reasons why Brenda was at the Special School. Of course I could not ask Tom to tell me what size his little sister wore. However, when Tom went to empty the garbage for his Mom, I slipped into Brenda’s room and noted the sizes for some of her clothes. I also noted physical evidence for her oft-stated fondness for Albert Einstein. She had two posters that featured his likeness and several books about him.

There is nothing quite like shopping for a gift for someone for whom you really do not want to buy a gift. No matter what I could possibly buy, I was bound to send the wrong message. Why? Because I really did not want to send any message! I did not want to encourage Brenda. I also did not want anyone to find out that I was giving Brenda a present. That is, no one except Guilt-Officer-In-Chief, Mom.

Brenda probably thought that she was always very careful to avoid writing anything that might make me feel uncomfortable. It probably never occurred to her that the mere fact that she was writing me a letter might make me feel uncomfortable. However, in one inter-holiday letter she let slip how very disappointed she was that she did not get a chance to see me over her Thanksgiving break. She then very cautiously informed me that she would understand if I did not have time to visit with her during Christmas break as well. After reading that paragraph for the second time I could not help but wonder if Brenda wasn’t now attending the same School of Guilt that had graduated my Mother with high honors.

Christmas

Brenda telephoned me shortly after she arrived home for the Christmas break. She was excited to be home and noted that she was very much looking forward to seeing her friends. She seemed especially pleased when I rescued her from a terrible bout of awkwardness by answering her inquiry regarding my schedule before she stammered through it. Yes, there could be some negative ramifications but I bravely chalked it up to one more instance of being a Knight-In-Shining-Armor. I decided that I had to give her the present anyway so I might as well get it over with on my terms.

Actually, my terms turned out to be rather moot since my parents soon decided to spend Christmas Eve with Tom and Brenda’s parents. This arrangement served to undermine my desire to keep Brenda’s present a secret. I could not imagine how I could enter their house with a gift for Brenda, and only Brenda. You may recall that Tom and I never exchanged gifts and neither did our parents. Against my better judgment, I shared this dilemma with my Mom in the car on the way. To my great relief she did not tease me. In fact, she actually offered a good suggestion. Dad remained silent and mildly perplexed about the whole thing. Dad knew that I had never shown or mentioned any interest in little Brenda but he also knew my Mother well enough to recognize when his son had been made the victim of one of his wife’s guilt-inspired ideas.

Tom and his parents appeared in their doorway on cue as we ascended the porch. I had left Brenda’s present in the car as Mom had suggested. After exchanging greetings all around, I noticed that Brenda was not amongst the hugging and handshaking horde.

I then turned and noticed Brenda coming down the staircase. This was the same stairway on which she was standing when she stole a kiss from me back on Labor Day weekend. I had not thought about that again until now as I watched her slowly descend. The evil half of my brain joked during its internal monologue that Brenda had to move slowly when she was anywhere around stairs because she was such a klutz.

Tom’s Mom called to me so I again turned my attention to the group that was now just inside the front door. After I answered her question I turned again toward Brenda and noticed that she was now standing directly in front of me. She smiled up at me with a very shy, awkward grin and wished me a Merry Christmas. I then did a brief double take not only because Brenda proceeded to hug me hello, but also because she did not “fit”.

Brenda was still scrawny and short but for some reason she did not seem to be “short enough” to fit my longstanding memory of her. I reluctantly returned her hug and then she scampered off toward the kitchen to help her Mom.

A short time later we all enjoyed a marvelous feast. I was accustomed to seeing how much food Tom could pack away but I could not help but notice that Brenda also seemed to be enjoying more than one generous helping of everything.

Brenda eagerly and excitedly fielded some questions from my folks about her new school, friends, teachers, etc. However, Brenda became rather quiet and obviously uncomfortable when her Mom briefly mentioned that there were also some medical aspects to the school. It always struck me as odd that Brenda’s parents never seemed to realize that people could notice how short and scrawny Brenda was (especially for her age) despite the fact that Brenda’s parents were reticent to bring it to the observer’s attention.

Brenda, Tom, and I were volunteered to load the dishwasher after dinner. When Tom excused himself to use the bathroom, I saw my opportunity to give Brenda her present. She giggled all the way out to my parents’ car and all the way back to the kitchen. I was not keen to accompany Brenda to her room so that she could open it in secret but I was less keen about having Tom find her opening it in the kitchen. My suggestion that Brenda simply open it by herself at a more convenient and private time was met with a patient smile and a roll of her generous eyes.

Brenda seemed ready to explode with anticipation. Strangely, I got the distinct feeling that I could have put one of my dog’s old rawhide chews in that box and it would have made Brenda happy. I was very pleased that she seemed to feel this way because I was worried. I was worried because I knew that the T-shirt that I had purchased for her was bound to be too big. Try as I might, I could not find an appropriate T-shirt for someone her age that came in her size.

Brenda squealed with glee as she held up her white, 100 % cotton, “E = mc²” T-shirt. After an exuberant hug, I was left to myself while she ducked into the adjoining bathroom. Brenda’s room looked essentially the same as it had when I stole into it a few days earlier in order to learn her size. The only difference was that there were more clothes and books and also a cluster of identical-appearing medicine bottles next to her bed.

Brenda returned after only a few moments. To my relief, and surprise, the T-shirt seemed to fit her rather well. I hated to admit it to myself but I had been concerned that giving Brenda, a person who was self-conscious about being small, a shirt that was too big might be kind of insulting. Brenda embarrassed herself as she pretended to model it for me. I can recall that Brenda struck me as being fun. I was also happy that I had made her happy. Then, before being escorted once again to the door, I noticed two, ever-so-small nubbins almost hiding beneath the letters on the front of her new T-shirt.

I rejoined the adults in the living room as Tom was attempting to waft a noxious, green fog back into the bathroom and up into the exhaust vent. Brenda joined us soon thereafter dressed in her original top. I was glad and appreciative for the fact that she did not wear the T-shirt that I had just given to her. That was cool of her.

Spring Break

Brenda returned to school with the assurance that she would continue to write to me. Fortunately for me, no one else heard her tell me this. Part of me groaned at the prospect. Part of me was pleased that she was not upset with the fact that I seemed unwilling or incapable of writing to her.

True to her word, I received a letter from Brenda every week. At first she cooed about all of the cool clothes that she had received for Christmas. Later on, she went back to her usual routine of reporting on school, friends, teachers, etc. Eventually she began dropping hints as to whether I might have some free time while she was home for Spring Break.

I thought about writing back to her but I kept feeling silly about it. Brenda was Tom’s little sister: emphasis on the “little”. I had no right to lead her on when I knew perfectly well that there was never going to be anything other than a friendship based primarily on the fact that she was my best friend’s kid sister. I also rationalized that I would much prefer to write to her cousin, Cindy. It just did not seem right to write to both.

Speaking of Cindy, you guessed it, she never returned any of my letters. The trouble was, back then, when I was doing all of this, I was not bright enough to see what was really going on.

As Brenda’s Spring Break approached, it occurred to me that my Break did not coincide with hers. Tom and I had the week following Easter whereas Brenda’s school gave them a week in the middle of the semester.

As it turned out, Tom and I had lots of homework to do during the week that Brenda was home. This made it easy to be truthful when Brenda sheepishly inquired on the phone as to whether I would be interested in spending even a little bit of time with her. She did perk-up when I mentioned that Tom and I would probably be doing at least some of our homework at their house.

Mid-week I found myself lugging two fully loaded book bags for our American History project through the snow-filled walkway in front of Tom’s house. As I cursed the fact that my friend seemed to be too lazy to shovel his walk, it occurred to me that I had not shoveled mine either. Halfway up the path I was met by a frost-kissed, smiling face framed by a fur-lined parka hood. As Brenda and I exchanged greetings and a hug, I again noticed that she didn’t seem to fit. She was still short but seemed less short. I dismissed it as being due to a difference in snow depth. Brenda offered to carry one of my bags. I politely declined. All the way to the front door she talked while I could not help but notice that despite the fact that we were moving along, she was still looking less short than usual. Maybe it was her snow boots. As we reached the top step a snowball exploded against Brenda’s back. She screeched and zoomed off in the direction of the snowball’s presumed flight path.

Tom and I got right down to business on our project. We made good progress. When we eventually took a break I drew the short straw. That meant that I got the upstairs bathroom.

While upstairs I could not help but notice that there seemed to be even more clothes than before in Brenda’s room. Unfortunately for me, I had lingered just a moment too long outside of her door because Brenda saw me as she was dashing up the stairs.

“Looking for me?” she inquired with more than a bit of hopeful surprise in her voice.

I explained that I was just using the bathroom and was wondering if it was still snowing outside. The bathroom had only frosted windows so I had to use those in another room. Brenda smiled a bashful smile, bounded into her room, and closed the door behind her.

A short time later Brenda skipped into the dining room where Tom and I were working. She was wearing the T-shirt that I had given her. There was something odd about it. Brenda announced that she was going to make herself a snack and asked us if we wanted anything. We thanked her but declined. She then spun and skipped out toward the kitchen. Tom grumbled something about how he liked it better when Brenda was a slug because she was quiet. Tom also complained about how much more annoying Brenda was now that she wasn’t quiet. Brenda eventually passed by the dining room door on her way up to her room. I noticed that her idea of a snack was three sandwiches and a quart of milk. I also noticed that what I thought was odd about her T-shirt when I saw it earlier was that it was too small and that Einstein’s formula was just a tad distorted. Thirdly, I noticed that her sweatpants hinted at the fact that Brenda might have actually had a butt that was not just bone. Lastly, I noticed that I was noticing all of this stuff about her.

After a while my curiosity got the best of me. I hated to admit it but I had to try to see what was up with Brenda. First she seemed less short out in the snow, then her T-shirt seemed too small, and to top it all off, she seemed to actually possess some semblance of a butt and breast buds.

Of course I couldn’t just burst into Brenda’s room and ask to take a better look at her. So by the time I figured out what reason I could give her for knocking on her bedroom door, Tom was calling me back to concentrate on our project.

No Summer Vacation

I did not see Brenda anymore that week. Because of that, the unconfirmed question of whether she might have actually grown some began to gnaw at me more and more. It was weird. The thought that I was interested in the possibility that Brenda might actually have grown some since September, even a little bit, was kind of unusual. It was even more unusual in the sense that it usually was not unusual to think of a girl her age as growing. It was just that Brenda had been essentially the same size since I met her through Tom years ago.

Brenda’s letters never made any mention of the fact that she might be finally growing. However, Brenda’s letters did begin to mention an interest in field hockey and in some volunteer work at the local hospital.

As the spring semester wore on, it became obvious that Brenda would not be coming home for the summer. She was investing more and more time in her volunteer role as a Candy Striper. More importantly, one of her teachers recommended her for an independent study project. I was reluctant to admit to myself that I would miss her.

One sunny Saturday I was again beating Tom at some one-on-one when his Dad’s car pulled up. I gave an absentminded wave of hello to him and did not notice that he was not alone. After a couple of baskets I became aware that I was being watched. Tom asked for a break so that he could say hello to his sister. I thought that I had misheard him until I turned around and saw him hugging her. Now I had seen Brenda and Tom hug each other hundreds of times but this time, unlike every other time, I was struck by the fact that Tom’s chin did not neatly clear the top of Brenda’s head. Brenda then gave me a bashful, if not apprehensive, little wave. I motioned her over as I walked toward her.

As we walked toward each other my gaze was drawn to the fact that the little chest nubbins that I had suspected Brenda of hiding back in March were no longer a question mark. They had become more obvious. Secondly, I deduced that Brenda’s head was no longer going to rest down around my lower chest during a hug as it had a year ago. Instead, I found myself briefly resting my chin on the top of her head during our salutatory embrace. It felt kind of good.

Brenda was obviously happy to see me and mentioned that fact several times as well. I was more than a bit embarrassed by the attention, especially with Tom standing right there. She suddenly blurted out a desire to change her clothes and dashed off into the house.

After defeating Tom for the second of three, I excused myself to the restroom. I chose to go upstairs. As I was finishing-up, I could hear Brenda call to me that she wanted to show me something before I went back outside. About a nanosecond after she said that, I could hear Tom calling me out for another go. Brenda could hear her brother too. She then assured me that it would only take a second.

When I opened Brenda’s door I was not surprised at all to see that she was wearing the Einstein T-shirt that I had given to her seven months ago. My ego assured me long ago that it would always be her favorite. What did surprise me was how it now fit. Or, more accurately, how it now didn’t fit. Brenda seemed embarrassed by what she was doing but also seemed to be enjoying my reaction to it.

I suppose that I was temporarily agog, because I was only vaguely aware of a lone neuron shouting deep within my brain, “Hey, stupid! Our mouth is hanging open! We really ought to shut it before something flies into it!” When I eventually mustered some return to reality, I finally listened to that lonely neuron and closed my mouth. Brenda suppressed a giggle as there was an audible “clop”.

The T-shirt that I had once worried would be too large for Brenda was now stretching and puckering over a small pair of breasts. Little breasts that were bejeweled with some respectable, if not excitable, nipples. The T-shirt was also just failing to completely cover her innie. Its seams also seemed to be straining a little bit in order to contain her shoulders and torso.

Brenda pressed her feet together and twisted herself nervously as she gauged my reaction. The fact that she was also throwing her shoulders back in order to accentuate her cute little breasts made the moment all the more out-of-character for her and all the more conflicted for me. The tips of Brenda’s ears also seemed to be growing brighter moment by awkward moment. I was conflicted because, like any other guy my age, part of me was keen to be viewing any girl with any semblance of breasts, no matter how small. Part of me wanted to laugh because of Brenda’s apparent attempt to impress me with her still short, skinny, little, junior-grade body. Part of me felt sorry for her because of her almost laughable attempt to impress an older boy.

Brenda’s voice betrayed more than a little nervousness when she then croaked, “Well? Do you think that I might need to ask for another T-shirt for my birthday?”

I knew that there was no good answer to this question. Brenda was nice, and she was Tom’s little sister. And, OK, she was just starting to look like a girl instead of the stump of a pipe cleaner. But, the reality of that day was that I was young and much more interested in hunting for someone who looked more like her cousin, Cindy. I certainly did not want to encourage Brenda and I certainly did not want to mention anything about how she looked. Granted, my curiosity had been piqued some over the last several months because I was not sure if Brenda had actually started to grow or not. I also was still a bit annoyed with myself for caring about whether Brenda had finally started to grow or not anyway. However, that curiosity had now been sated and it was time for things to return to normal. Yes, Brenda had finally started to grow but she was still substandard for a guy my age. Like most guys my age, I was pretty full of myself and quite proud to have just grown to be just over five-feet, ten-inches. The bottom line – I wasn’t interested in her as anything other than the best friend of her brother, I absolutely didn’t want to encourage her, but I also absolutely didn’t want to hurt her feelings.

To my surprise and mild discomfort, my lack of a response to Brenda’s question did not serve to dissuade her from further inquiry.

“Well? Do you?” she chirped as she continued to pose.

I fidgeted some. I still did not know what to say. Unfortunately, I decided to speak anyway because Tom was again calling me out from the driveway.

“Well, Brenda, if you do want another one, tell your Mom that they sell them at the five-and-dime in the village.”

“Oh. Ok” Brenda bravely pouted in a deflated voice.

“I’ve got to go. Your brother is getting impatient and I don’t want him to find me here.”

“Oh. S-sure. S-sure thing. I can s-see w-where that might look a bit odd.” She whispered with a small sniffle.

Brenda gathered her collapsing composure and bravely smiled as she told me that she hoped to see me again before the fall semester started.

For my part, I continued to act like a dolt and merely waved as I swept out of her room.

Can Independent Study Be Too Independent?

Despite my dolt-ness, Brenda’s weekly letters continued to arrive like clockwork. Although, I suppose if something occurs weekly, then I guess that it should be said that they arrived like calendar-work.

Anyway, Brenda was obviously excited about her independent project. The teacher that sponsored and supervised her was apparently quite nice, quite brilliant, and quite busy. So busy in fact that Brenda basically found that she had one of the labs to herself most of the time. Brenda did not really mention what her project was about. She did hint once that since she was grateful to the school for treating her normally despite her “condition”, she wanted to try to give something back by trying to help others with a similar problem.

Brenda also wrote about her new interest in martial arts and in running. She noted that she planned to try out for the school’s cross-country team in the fall.

Although she did not mention it to me, apparently sometime during the course of Brenda’s independent study that summer she decided that – If “x = good” then “2x must = better” and “3x must = much better”.

Brenda never made another mention of her birthday or of her Einstein T-shirt. As you probably guessed, I did not get her anything and did not even send her a card. I do recall being vaguely aware of its passing. And, in my defense, I never sent birthday or holiday cards to anyone.

As my own fall semester approached, Tom mentioned that he was going to visit Brenda at her school. I asked, “Why?” but the answer was obvious. Tom had just received his driver’s license and was eager to exercise it every day, for any reason, to any place. His parents had sanctioned the trip mainly because they wanted to get some items to Brenda before the start of her new semester. Tom and I packed his parents’ minivan with a few boxes for Brenda and headed east.

Tom and I spent the fifty-mile trip doing what we usually did: we talked about girls. There were several in our class that were very cute and Tom and I were trying to decide how to best share them. Of course, in reality, the girls would have a good deal to say about it but Tom and I did not want to talk about details such as those. To be honest, Tom and I were average or better in the looks department. We were chronologically old enough to start dating, hormonally old enough to start dating, but we weren’t all that brave enough to really start dating. We both had a long history of having girls as friends but we were both kind of new at the idea of having girlfriends. Tom and I had been approached by girls to attend things like dances, ice cream socials, etc., but neither of us had thought about how to go about making it a steady activity.

Although neither of us mentioned it, the unstated consensus was that the fear of rejection was an almost overpowering anti-motivator when it came to girls and dating. Emphasis should be put on the word – “almost”. After all, our theory assumed that we would always be thinking with our brains. However, at some level we both were aware that our hormones had tended to motivate and drive our actions to a greater and greater degree over the previous few years of our young lives.

We arrived at the school at supper hour. That had not been our plan but that was how it played out. I knew from Brenda’s letters that the dining hall served supper for everyone beginning at five-O’clock. Tom was not hungry. We decided that he would drop me off at the dining hall and that he would take the minivan over to Brenda’s dormitory and look for his sister. Depending on whether Brenda wanted to eat or not, she and Tom would then come to the dining hall to join me or I would join them later at the dormitory. The problem with this plan was that it assumed that Brenda was actually going to wait for Tom in her dormitory as he had requested.

A Taste Of School

When I entered the dining hall I was struck by how cosmopolitan the student body appeared to be. I knew of course that it was a special school and catered to special students. There seemed to be more girls than guys. A good number of the girls were attractive. I also saw that there were big kids, little kids, and kids who climbed on rocks. There were tough kids, sissy kids, and even kids with chicken pocks. I decided to grab a couple of Armor hot dogs and some fries.

Soon after I sat down at one of the long tables, I noticed that I had not entered without notice. I was not sure how many visitors came to their dining hall but they made me feel welcome and several of the girls made me feel better than welcome.

I kept some of my attention reserved for scanning for Tom and Brenda. I didn’t know whether they would be coming here to find me or not. However, the majority of my attention was given over to Lisa and Laurie. They were attractive twins who had some kind of inherited blood disorder. Of course, I would have never known that had they not told me.

Eventually the girls and I got around to the purpose of my visit. They knew Brenda but had not seen her since their last class. A group of kids then stopped by to talk with the twins. After introductions, they started to talk about some homework and I again scanned for Tom.

Not long into my scan mode I noted a very nice, little, pert butt that sat just above the middle of a thinnish, lean five-foot, two-inch body. The body was wearing jeans that seemed a little too short and a T-shirt that seemed a little too small. Her hair glistened and shimmered as she pushed her tray along the serving line and passed under one light after another. I started to wish that she would turn around so that I could see her face. The pessimistic teen in me briefly speculated as to whether she was at this special school because she had more than one nose or whether she might have the worst case of acne in history.

Tension continued to build just as the pile of food on the girl’s tray did as well. I wondered to myself why such a lean girl would take so much food. The cynical teen in me reemerged and began to assume that she must be getting food for her huge, football star boyfriend.

When the girl with the great little butt finished checking-out I stiffened at the prospect of seeing her face. For a brief moment her torso rotated into profile before her face looked away from the cashier. This profile-view confirmed my earlier rear-view suspicion that her T-shirt was too small. To my great interest, the school name on the front of the shirt was also a bit distorted by a nice pair of AA-sized breasts.

“Holy sh*t!” I thought to myself as the opportunity for, and the reality of, face-recognition clicked-in. It was Brenda.

I stood up to hail Brenda over to the table. She flashed me a huge smile and bounded over. Brenda’s enthusiasm for greeting me was exceeded only by my surprise at how great she looked.

I should mention, parenthetically, that it didn’t occur to me until later, during the ride home, that klutzy Brenda did not spill anything as she negotiated the crowded aisles while holding a fully loaded tray of food with one hand and waving with the other.

Brenda exchanged pleasantries with the twins and their friends and then set to quizzing me about how things were going in my life. All the while she shoveled food into her mouth and exuded perkiness. It also occurred to me, but again only later, that Brenda also seemed to radiate an innocent sexiness. Although Brenda seemed to be completely unaware of it, it was obvious that I was not the only guy in the dining hall that picked-up on it.

Several minutes into our supper, I was more than a little surprised with myself by how great it felt to see Brenda. It was also still a bit of a shock to see how great she looked.

As I metaphorically ruminated over my meal, it occurred to me that this was the first time ever that Brenda didn’t seem short to me. The top of her head was up to my upper lip. I also felt a little silly because at first I hugged her like I usually did: i.e., as if she was a bony, little, fragile doll that might break. However, Brenda actually felt kind of, …, well, …, she felt kind of solid this time. I could even feel a bit of a squeeze for a change when she hugged me back. And, strangest of all, I could feel her new breasts press against me.

Our mutual interest in seeing each other caused Brenda and I to forget about Tom. Eventually I did remember him and mentioned that he was probably waiting for us up in her dormitory room. Brenda laughed and rolled her eyes as she then told me that she had told Tom that she had no intention of missing or delaying supper just to wait for him. Given the amount of food that Brenda was packing away, I wondered if she had eaten at all that day, or even during the five days before that!

I had some mild difficulty keeping-up with Brenda as we trudged up the slope to her dormitory. I did my best to conceal my impending windedness but she could tell that I was obviously not accustomed to the steep incline. I appreciated that she casually backed-off a bit on her pace so as to not embarrass me. She politely did not say a word about it except to mention how long it took for her to become accustomed to the hills herself. She was also very kind to mention that her summer’s worth of cross-country training probably helped as well.

By the time Brenda and I arrived at her room, Tom decided that he was hungry. The dining hall would be closing soon so there was no time to lose. The fact that there was really nowhere to park around the dining hall made time an even more acute matter. The other problem was that Tom did not know how to get to the dining hall by foot. I volunteered to show him. After all, as I eagerly announced to Tom, “There were babes in that there dining hall”. Brenda patiently rolled her eyes as she then shooed us out toward gathering nourishment for her brother.

Because the dining hall was closing, there was very little food and even less eye candy. Tom found enough for himself, however. And, in an unexpected spasm of big brother-ness, he also got a Nestle’ Crunch bar to take to Brenda.

Neither Tom nor I mentioned anything about how Brenda looked during his supper or our trek. Like everything else in life, except that hill, he seemed to be taking it all in stride. Tom got a little winded walking back up the hill so we took a brief respite. A few coeds passed us by so we decided that machismo should triumph over our lack of stamina and we slogged onward.

Brenda’s floor-mates became aware of our presence and spilled out of their rooms as soon as Tom and I hit the top step. I like to think that it was because we were two attractive guys entering an all-girls floor but it may have also been due to the fact that we were both panting so loudly.

Brenda was unloading the clothes from the boxes that Tom and I had brought and then reloading the same boxes with the clothes from her closet. When we entered her room she was folding some T-shirts. Tom decided to use the rest room and Brenda directed him to the one on the boys’ floor: one flight up. Brenda invited me to use her desk chair. She apologized for not being a better hostess. She felt that it would be best if she did not stop her unpacking and folding because she suspected that Tom probably did not want to wait around for her to do it at her leisure. I knew that she was right.

We chatted aimlessly as she alternately unpacked and packed. I looked around her room as I tried to look like I was not looking at her. I noticed that Brenda must have brought her posters from home sometime since Christmas. Brenda also had several stacks of books and science journals, an exercise mat, the now familiar assortment of large medicine bottles, and some two and five-pound “Smart-Bells”.

As I watched her, I noticed that the clothes coming out of the boxes were obviously larger than the ones coming out of her closet. Brenda evidently noticed that I had probably noticed because she decided to hold one of her new T-shirts up next to one of her old ones: but, not just any old one. She chose the Einstein T-shirt that I had given her nine months ago. The difference between the two was obvious: not quite as obvious as the difference between how Brenda looked now and how she looked back then of course. It was only last Labor Day that she looked like a tiny, wimpy, scrawny, little, shapeless girl that was half her age. Now she looked her age and was about average height for her age. She was still thin but now she appeared lean, not emaciated. Oh, yeah. She also had a new pair of respectable AA-cup breasts.

It was only much later that I realized the following. It wasn’t just Brenda’s physical appearance that was different that day; she also seemed to be less childish. She still giggled but it was not purely out of insecurity. She also seemed to have replaced klutziness for confidence. Also, although I didn’t really realize it at the time, Brenda seemed to project an innocent sexiness that was completely effortless. She also seemed to be almost completely unaware of it. That is to say, she noticed that guys were being nice to her and that they were paying attention to her but she probably did not appreciate to what extent their motivation was due to her burgeoning, yet understated, sex appeal.

Brenda seemed to enjoy her coy little game with the two shirts and I played along by playing stupid. I had to admit, though, that I was a little disappointed with the idea that she was packing my gift away. Perhaps, worse, she might have decided to give it away. I hadn’t bothered to ask what was going to happen to all of her old clothes. The egotistical teen part of me had hoped that there might be some sentimental value in it for her. After Brenda spent a few moments considering the two T-shirts, and giving me time to watch, I was pleased to see that she hung the Einstein T-shirt back in the closet.

I really could not say whether I was more embarrassed by the fact that I actually seemed to care about what would happen to a $5.00 present (that I really did not want to give her in the first place) or by the fact that I was enjoying watching Brenda’s new AA-cup breasts give a hint of bob and sway whenever she would suddenly change position from sitting to standing or from standing to bending. I also appreciated the bit of motion that her little butt did when she would shift her weight from one let to the other. I guess that the flexing of her previously non-existent gluteus and thigh muscles caused the effect.

Tom returned just as Brenda was finishing the last box. He announced that it was time to go. We both wished Brenda a good semester and bade her farewell. I found myself looking forward to the customary hug. I was also a bit surprised at myself for feeling sad that I would not be seeing her for a while. For her part, Brenda gave me an almost knowing smile as she bade me her last “Goodbye”. It was almost as if she knew something that I didn’t know.

Brenda waved to us as we lugged the boxes out to the minivan. My hands had been full of boxes so I had not acknowledged any of her waves. Then, as Tom and I finished sliding the last box into the minivan, I tried to catch a glimpse of Brenda’s window to see if she was still there, and finally give a return wave. However, she had apparently given up on us acknowledging her waves because I could see her standing a few feet back, away from the window. She was turned a bit but I could see that she was drinking from one of her medication bottles. At the time I assumed she couldn’t find a teaspoon.

Licensed To Drive

I finally received my license to drive a few weeks after my fall semester had started. Up until that point my mobility had been at the mercy of my parents or my friends. And, of course there was my aforementioned bicycle. You remember. The one I had when I went to meet Tom’s cousin, Cindy.

I had been writing to Cindy about once a month since I met her. She finally replied and invited me for a Saturday cookout at her parents’. Cindy warned me that there would be a lot of her Dad’s business associates and their families. In other words, she made it clear that it was not likely to be a real date. I didn’t care. I was happy that Cindy had paid some attention to me and that she was about to pay a little more.

The cookout was fun and Cindy was great. She was funny and charming and looked really, really good. She was also very … umm, … very polite.

Letters from Brenda resumed a week after Tom and I had visited her. We were all back to school now. As you may have gathered, Brenda’s school began a few weeks before the regular public schools. Brenda was very proud of the fact that she did indeed make it on to the cross-country team. She also mentioned that she was going to continue her summer project into the academic year. She reported that she was starting to get some good results and did not want to quit. Brenda never really said what the project involved but she did seem quite enthusiastic about it. She also congratulated me for receiving my license.

Brenda’s school had a cross-country meet at her cousin, Cindy’s private school. Cindy lived only a few towns away from me. It would have been a real pain to pedal there but it was not much of a drive. Brenda never came right out and asked if I would be interested in seeing her while she was at her cousin’s school but she certainly dropped enough hints in enough of her letters. I thought that it would be a great excuse for me to see Cindy.

I wrote to Cindy and told her about Tom and I wanting to come to her school for the cross-country meet. She did not know anything about the match. Cindy was not into sports. She had also never really been close to Brenda. Oh, they got along just fine but, given the age difference, and the difference in maturity, they were just never close. That had always been one of my excuses too whenever someone would ask me anything about Brenda.

Cindy agreed to meet Tom and I for a while after school but since she had to baby-sit her little brother, she would not be able to stay for the match. That suited me fine. I would get to see Cindy and, if I did not want to stay for the match, then Cindy would never know that I just used Brenda and Tom as an excuse to see her.

I could plan this because, as it turned out, Tom could not go after all. He had not been aware that his mother had scheduled an Orthodontist appointment for him. Actually, the appointment had originally been Brenda’s but her Mom began to think that the meet would probably not finish in time. So, Tom’s Mom substituted Tom for Brenda. Tom had so far avoided braces but Brenda was already into her second year of mouth metal.

I met Cindy after school as planned. She didn’t sound too genuinely disappointed when I told her that Tom had to cancel. She looked great: as usual. It was the first time that I had seen Cindy in her Catholic School Girl Uniform. I was hoping that it would not be the last. The little tartan skirt showed off her legs quite nicely, indeed. The tails of her button-up blouse were tied at her waist. This allowed it to hug her C-cup breasts and expose her smooth abdominals. With a body like that, I could not help but think that if her school had a football team, Cindy definitely would have been a cheerleader.

Cindy and I had a nice visit until she had to catch the four-O’clock bus. We exchanged pleasantries and she headed for home while I headed for the starting line.

I had debated some with myself as to whether I was really going to watch Brenda’s cross-country meet or not. As I mentioned, she never really asked me to come. Of course, I never wrote to her so I never told her that I was coming. I was feeling kind of amiss, however, because no one from Brenda’s family was going to be there to see her. Brenda seemed so enthusiastic in her letters about running in general: and about this meet in particular. I just felt that someone ought to be there for her. Give another point for Brenda’s Knight-In-Shining-Armor.

When It Rains It Clings

The cross-country meet was not at all what I expected it to be. An entire gaggle-and-a-half of runners all started at once, they ran around a very long loop just once, and each school had several members who all dressed alike. The loop threaded through a field and a wooded area. There were no bleachers. I naively thought that the meet would be like a car race where a few people would run around and around so that I would have more than one opportunity to catch a glimpse of Brenda. Once I decided to stay, I hoped that Brenda would assume that I would be there, and make my task of finding her easier.

There was a fairly large crowd of parental units lining either side of the start/finish line. The sprinkling of rain insured that umbrellas would be painfully plentiful. Have you ever noticed that if you are the only one without an umbrella in a crowd of people who all have umbrellas, that you are quite likely to get poked by them on an annoyingly frequent and regular basis?

Anyway, given the above, I did not spy Brenda at the starting line. Once the race began I figured that I would just stay where I was as everyone else moved to the “finish” side of the line. I figured that way I would have a clearer view of the runners as they came in. After about 20 minutes I could see the leaders approaching. I felt sorry for them. The course was muddy, wet, cold, and windblown. Some of them had shed the sweatshirts that they had worn at the start. As they finished, they passed me. I could see streaks of brown up their butts and backs where they had kicked mud onto themselves with each stride.

After about a dozen girls had passed I noticed a fairly familiar face striding up the incline toward the finish line. Brenda had tied her sweatshirt to her waist. Her hair was soaked and so was her … umm. Geez!

I noticed that every stride seemed to generate a bit of activity beneath her wet T-shirt. Brenda spotted me before she reached the finish line and flashed a winning smile: despite the fact that she only finished in the top twenty. She started shouting to me before she even reached the finish line, “You came! You came! I can’t believe you came …”

I was then on the receiving end of a very wet and kinetic hug. Brenda was beside herself with excitement. After she calmed a bit she checked her time and informed me that this was the best race that she had ever run. She gushed how happy she was to see me and how she didn’t think that I was going to come. Brenda then told me that I must be her good luck charm.

When Brenda finally stopped flailing about I noticed that she came up to my nose. Only a few weeks ago she only came up to my mouth. I chalked it up to the running shoes and dismissed the more obviously distorted T-shirt as being secondary to its being so wet. I tried not to stare but … I’m a guy.

Brenda excused herself to go change as the rest of her teammates swept past us. Brenda was unfamiliar with the school so she did not want to lose track of her teammates or coach. If she did, she might not find the locker with her clothes again.

I waited in the hallway in order to escape the rain. It was not long at all before Brenda popped out of the girls’ locker room. I was surprised by how quickly she had showered and changed her clothes. Throughout my life I’ve developed a great appreciation for low-maintenance women who have the ability to just wash-and-wear.

Brenda was now wearing dry clothes: a T-shirt and sweat pants. I immediately noticed that her T-shirt still seemed a bit more pleasantly distorted than I had remembered it being only a few weeks ago. It also seemed a little smaller. There was a hint of a pucker across her bust. Brenda’s bra was almost detectable beneath it. I guessed that Brenda might actually be a B-cup now. Or, perhaps she was just wearing one of those padded or miracle bras. Regardless, they certainly looked good on her, especially when combined with her trim waist, lean legs, and runner’s pert butt. Her sweat pants seemed appropriate for the weather. They were a few inches too short and reminded me of what we used to call flood pants.

Brenda’s teammates were congregating down the hall. As Brenda and I chatted about school and her race, I could hear the coach announce that it was time for them to get onto the bus. I had my back to the hall wall and Brenda was standing, facing me. When I turned toward the team in order to walk Brenda toward the bus, there was a sudden flash of Nike red. I was stunned. The sole of Brenda’s left red trainer was against the wall and her calf was in front of my nose. I froze.

“Hold it there, fella!” she slyly giggled. “I’ve got a favor to ask you!”

I was stunned. Brenda’s maneuver poignantly reminded me of her recent interest in martial arts. From what I just experienced, she certainly seemed to be getting the hang of it.

“Umm, s-sure. I gawked. “W-what can I do for you?”

Brenda giggled at my demeanor and uncharacteristic lack of composure. She kept her foot in place against the wall, as she then melted back toward her usually shy baseline.

“I hope that you don’t mind but I told my coach that my brother was here and that he might want to give me a ride back to school.” Brenda blushed quite deeply as she returned her foot to the floor and then tilted her freshly reddened face a bit to stare at it. Now, remember, I knew that Tom was nowhere near here. I also suspected that the coach did not know Tom.

I was a bit surprised by Brenda’s impudent ruse. It was very much out of character for her on multiple levels. I had never known her to lie; especially to an authority figure, like her coach. And, I could not believe that she had been so forward with me.

Normally Brenda would not dream of inconveniencing anyone, especially me. After all, I would be facing a fairly long round-trip drive. However, I also found myself curiously flattered that Brenda would think of this ploy to spend some time with me. I also had to admit to myself that I was impressed with her choice of methods to bring my attention to her question.

As these thoughts flickered through my brain, other parts of me were also stirred. Stirred not so much by her question as by her display of flexibility and form: especially form.

The other cross-country girls were almost all out of the hallway and I could see her coach waiting for some sort of sign from Brenda as to whether she was joining them for the bus ride or not.

I nodded and muttered, “Okay.”

Brenda flashed me an incredibly sweet and sexy smile as she then spun ninety-degrees and waved good-bye to her coach. I imagine that the coach reciprocated but I didn’t see it. Instead I caught myself staring at the now profiled movement that her waved inspired beneath her T-shirt.

Brenda was a bundle of nervous energy during the drive to her school. She spoke a mile-a-minute and fidgeted almost constantly. She seemed torn between someone who wanted to celebrate the victory of her recent chutzpah and someone who wanted to crawl under the seat because now she had to deal with its outcome. I found the external display of her internal friction to be both mildly amusing and kind of telling.

It was not long into our trip that Brenda spied a pair of golden arches and announced that she was starving. She quickly offered to treat me too because, according to her, it was the least she could do for her “chauffer”. She giggled. She got no argument out of me. Fortunately I had truthfully told my parents that I had no idea what time I’d be home and that they should not hold supper for me. Brenda ordered sandwiches enough to total over a pound of “beef”. I was happy with just a fourth of what she ordered for herself.

Brenda then fidgeted some more, unbuckled her seatbelt, and then true to her word, she pulled money out of the pocket of her sweat pants. She then knelt on the seat and brushed her torso across me as she leaned over in order to pay the girl in the paper hat in the first window. That was enough of an attention-getter without the fact that she used my left thigh as the support for her left hand.

The girl in the second window smiled as she saw Brenda and I simultaneously reaching for the drinks and bags of food. By the time Brenda had again resumed her seating position, my body had been aroused to fully salute her recent, close-quarters activity. In hindsight this should not have been unexpected by me, but it was at the time. In fact it was a source of huge embarrassment at the time. Well, perhaps not “huge” but definitely above average.

It took a moment for me to realize that my drink and my bag of food would best be served, so to speak, if I were to place them over the tent pole forming in my lap. Now, if there are any plaintiff attorneys reading this story, they are probably all disappointed that I had not ordered hot coffee.

As we set off again, I found myself amazed at how much and how fast Brenda could eat. And, how much and how fast she could talk. And, yet not do both at the exact same time. Actually, I was relieved at not having to think about talking. I was too busy fretting that maybe Brenda had seen that I had reacted to her, or more frightening, that she might have felt my reaction to her.

The Not-So-Long Goodnight

Parking spots were again in short supply near Brenda’s dormitory so we had to walk a bit: uphill of course. It seemed effortless for Brenda. She did not seem to miss a beat. I had considered just dropping her off in front of the dorm but the Dr. Pepper that I had drunk in the car seemed to have already found its way through my kidneys and into my bladder. It had really not occurred to me that “walking her to the door” would be a big deal. However, as soon as she deduced that that was what I was planning to do, she flushed and gushed her appreciation. It was at that point that I became a little suspicious that this simple act might carry some symbolism or significance for Brenda. I hadn’t yet told her that I just wanted to use a bathroom.

I went up to the boys’ bathroom and she headed for her room. While I was attending to the urgent business at hand, she headed for her room. My ego then finally connected the dots, as only it can, and announced that Brenda might be expecting me to stay for a while or perhaps even get a goodnight kiss. I suddenly felt so incredibly stupid for allowing myself to talk myself into giving her a ride. Granted, Brenda seemed to be steadily becoming a girl that was not-too-hard-to-look-at but she was still just Brenda: my best friend’s little sister.

Brenda had left her door open but I still knocked. Given the internal dialogue that I had just had with myself, I decided that it was probably not a good idea to actually enter her room. I simply thanked her for the “McSupper”, congratulated her on her race, and started to wave goodbye.

For her part, Brenda seemed to pick-up on my intention quite readily. To her credit she was totally cool about it. I thought that I could detect that she was trying to stifle her disappointment but she said that she understood. She acknowledged that it was a long drive back, it was getting kind of late, and it was a school night, etc. She walked toward me and in my attempt to thwart any idea that she might have about a kiss, I stretched out my hand and placed it on her shoulder and told her that I thought that she ran really well.

Brenda got the message but remained totally cool and continued to exchange pleasantries, literally at arm’s length.

She waved to me all the way to my parents’ car. Since I did not have a pile of boxes this time, I reciprocated. When I got into the car I could see her in her window. She didn’t stop waving until after I pulled away. I had not gone far before I realized that Brenda had left her change from our supper on the dashboard. I then circled around and headed back up to the dorm. I figured that no one would mind if I double-parked for a moment. It would also give me a great excuse to leave again right away.

As I hit the top step, I could see Brenda down the hall in her room through her still opened door. She had already changed into a pair of fuzzy crocodile slippers and two-piece pajamas. Neither seemed to fit very well. From the time I spotted her until she spotted me, I saw her gulp down two entire bottles of her medicine. This seemed odd but I certainly was no pharmacist or doctor.

Brenda brightened immediately when she saw me. This was partly out of embarrassment that I might have seen what she was doing and partly out of surprise that I had returned. This was blunted when she saw why I was back. She wiped her eyes before I reached her room and after a slightly awkward moment, I was gone again.

The Ride Home And Then Some

The ride home was uncomfortable at best. I was annoyed with myself for allowing myself to get into the situation in the first place. Then again, maybe my ego was just over-inflated and Brenda had no plan to kiss me, etc. If the latter case was true then I just acted like a heel toward her. I had to admit, though, that I did enjoy most of the time that we had spent together. I also hated to admit to myself that I found Brenda to be kind of attractive. Now, to be fair, I convinced myself that any teen in my situation at the drive-thru window would have become aroused: regardless of what girl had been there.

I found myself mulling over and over again how much Brenda had changed in the last year. It was odd how this very short, scrawny, painfully skinny, little sister of my best friend started to grow into an average-sized, athletic, lean, and B-cupped young woman. Did I say, “athletic”? Wow. She used to be such a slug, and a klutz, and so, so scrawny. Now she was actually filling-out: and, fairly nicely. As I drove, I then thought back to the fact that Brenda’s shoulder certainly had not feel scrawny just 15 minutes previously.

I also realized that my initial impression, back at the cross-country meet, that Brenda now seemed to come up to my nose was verified several times later that particular night. After all, she was only wearing slippers when I handed back her change. Given my own height of five-foot, ten-inches, I estimated that Brenda must have been about five-foot, four-inches.

I then found myself thinking that it was so cool that little Brenda had probably grown about a foot in the last year. Of course what was even cooler, although a bit curious, was that the last two of those inches seemed to have occurred just since Tom and I visited her a few weeks ago.

Now, to me, the strangest part about all of this seeming strange, was not what had been happening to Brenda, but how I felt about it. Before I knew it, the tent pole had returned between my thighs.

Brenda’s subsequent letters contained no mention of the events of the trip other than a very sincerely rendered “thank you”.

The tone and content of Brenda’s letters remained consistent but I found myself wanting to know more about her and less about the usual comings and goings at her school. I soon found myself wondering whether or not I had been somehow confused about the whole thing. Maybe I had simply misjudged her: physically speaking.

Of course, the one thing that I had not misjudged was the fact that she was no longer a tiny, scrawny, frail, shapeless twig. Brenda’s nine months or so of martial arts training, cross-country running, Smart-Bell training, and eating like a linebacker seemed to have finally allowed her to put some nicely-arranged meat on her bones.

The most remarkable aspect of Brenda’s change in the last year, especially to a guy my age, was the bit of sweater meat that she had grown. Brenda’s chest had gone from absolutely flat and downright bony to actually having modestly sized breasts nicely perched on top of some rib-concealing muscles. Then, even more interestingly, her chest swelled from modest AA-cups to respectable B-cups in only a few weeks.

When Tom called to ask me over to work on our mid-semester Social Studies project, he neglected to mention that Brenda was visiting. Mom and Dad were still at work so they did not leave me any wheels. It was unseasonably warm so I decided to ride my bicycle. As I came down Tom’s street, I noticed that he was playing basketball in the driveway with someone who was obviously a girl. I hoped that it was Cindy.

As I approached the driveway, I noticed that the girl almost matched Tom’s five-foot, seven-inches. She also seemed to be quick and quite good with the ball. The girl’s sweat pants were too short and they hinted that they were trying to cover a pair of nice, long, lean, athletic legs. They also hugged a perfect butt. She also seemed to have a fair amount of motion going on beneath her too small T-shirt. She flashed a strip of flat abdomen as she raised the ball above her head. I was immediately jealous of Tom’s luck at finding such an attractive opponent. I did not recognize her from school and was wondering if Tom had hit the jackpot by gaining a new neighbor.

Tom grabbed the rebound but only after just barely out-jumping the girl. He then saw me and called time-out. The girl started dabbing the sweat from her face with a towel as Tom headed toward me. I exchanged pleasantries with him as I dismounted and then squatted in order to chain my bike to his fence. Tom only laughed when I began to ask him about the babe that he was playing. I felt a twinge of annoyance that he was laughing and not telling me.

After I snapped the lock I pivoted and noticed that the flood-pant sweats were now standing beside Tom and I. Before standing, I then looked up and noticed an all too familiar face grinning down at me over the horizon of a nicely sweat-soaked bust.

Brenda offered me her hand and before I knew it, she had helped me to my feet with much more assistance than I would have suspected her capable. Sure enough, she was just about Tom’s height. Both of them came up to my eyes.

“Hiya, Mark!” she giggled. “What’s new?” she then coyly asked through a knowing smile.

I imagined myself impressing her with a witty retort, but instead, I found myself demonstrating fish mouth impressions for her. She giggled again as she then nervously clasped her hands behind the small of her back and shifted her weight back and forth from one foot to the other. The resulting effect of these actions was impressively distracting to say the least. Having her hands behind her back accentuated her breasts and shifting her feet instilled a bit of vertical motion to them. I’m not sure if she planned to do either but my reaction to the effects did not seem to be lost on her. She blushed and giggled again. Although my gaze was transfixed to Brenda’s chest, I could make out a definite eye roll from Tom.

It was at this point that I became aware that my stirring manhood might betray the extent to which Brenda had captured my attention and stimulated my interest. Geez! Brenda looked good! I can recall thinking to myself that Brenda’s cousin Cindy had nothing on Brenda at that point.

Tom then announced that he and I had better get going if we wanted to finish the project. Brenda feigned a pout and a whimper as she said that she had hoped that I might be up for a game of one-on-one with her. Her subsequent sexy grin and blush hinted that the double entendre had probably not been an accident. She then acted as if she was using her towel to dab her sweat-soaked T-shirt dry. Part of me suggested to the rest of my agog brain that I should offer to help. Of course, I didn’t. Tom called to me again. Brenda waved “So long”.

I found it very difficult to concentrate on the project with Tom. For her part, Brenda only actually distracted us once, and that was because her Mother had asked her to see if we wanted anything to drink. I did. My mouth had been dry since Brenda had first greeted me outside.

I could not get over how un-short and how, … gulp, big Brenda had gotten since I last saw her only a few weeks previously.

When Brenda returned carrying a tray with cups and a large pitcher of apple cider, I also noticed that she had modest lumps on her arms where she never really had biceps before. The cuffs of the short-sleeves of her T-shirt were making little indentations into her upper arm muscles. As she prepared to serve us, she knocked Tom’s pencil off of the table. While he was on the floor trying to retrieve it, Brenda bent over, sheepishly grinned, and whispered that she had something in her room that she wanted to show me later. I mutely nodded as I stared at the distorted and puckered T-shirt directly before me. She then instantly returned to a sober demeanor as Tom rejoined us with his pencil.

Brenda turned and started to leave. I loved the view of her lean, pert butt. Then, I could feel my lips become even drier as I continued to stare open-mouthed at Brenda. Before completely leaving the room, she offered a wave and a brief profile view. Her bust was very nice to behold even when covered by a dry T-shirt. I guess that the fact that it was too small didn’t hurt the view either.

Concentration toward the Social Studies project at hand was even more anemic now. After a bit, my curiosity got the best of me and I decided it was time to find out what Brenda wanted to show me. I decided that I could use the upstairs bathroom and hopefully Tom would never be the wiser.

Brenda’s door was closed but I could hear her inside. It sounded as if she was doing something with cardboard boxes. The sound within instantly froze as soon as I tapped on her bedroom door. After a moment I was greeted with a huge grin and blushing cheeks. She invited me in. I was immediately struck by how great she smelled as I heard the lock click. I had not really noticed when we were outside and it was not because she had showered after her game with Tom: she hadn’t yet. It wasn’t a perfume-like odor and it wasn’t a musky odor. It was just a wonderfully heady, sublime emanation.

Brenda invited me to sit but the only free spot was at the foot of her bed. She was very nervous about something. She paced a little. She fidgeted a little. She blushed a lot. She then stood in front of me, nervously shifting weight from foot to foot like she had done before. I found it extremely difficult to maintain eye contact with all of the resultant activity going on inside of her T-shirt. In my defense, she was staring at the floor out of shyness. She then started to fidget with the hem of her un-tucked T-shirt. This only served to accentuate her new, almost C-cup breasts.

For my part, I was self-engrossed at the thought of just how kissable Brenda had become recently. She looked so cute and innocent (and built) standing there working up enough nerve to ask me something or to show me something. Part of me wanted her to take several hours to say whatever it was that she wanted to say so that I could prolong the view. However, another part of me, the part that kept trying to remind the other part that she was Tom’s little sister, wanted her to get it over with quickly before I acted on any impulse that might suddenly come up.

Too late! Although it had probably sprung to attention as soon as I entered her room, I was only just then becoming aware of the lack of room in my pants. To my horror Brenda must have noticed it too: and, in mid-fidget.

I say that Brenda must have noticed because suddenly, in mid-fidget, she no longer seemed to be nervous. In fact it did not take long at all for a growing grin to shove the blush from her cheeks. I tried to smoothly grab one of the many stuffed animals that were intermingled with the cardboard boxes of clothes and put it over my lap as if I were actually interested in it. The plan didn’t work and now I was the one that was blushing from embarrassment.

Brenda’s sly grin gave way to a coy smile. She then gently picked the stuffed bear out of my now clammy hands, lifted it up, and gave it an audible peck on its button nose. She then hugged the stuffed bear to her own nicely stuffed T-shirt. Then, to my amazement, Brenda sat on my thighs.

I was completely confounded. I was not sure what to do. I was physically very happy and my first impulse was to hug her but I was also terrified. What if Tom or his Mom came in? I then recalled that Brenda had locked the door. Unfortunately, now that I realized that the door was locked, I actually felt even more concerned about feeling guilty.

Brenda must have suspected that I might be feeling more than a little awkward but she did not seem to care. I was pretty sure that she had not planned this part of my visit in advance. It seemed to be a spur-of-the-moment reaction to my jean-encased erection.

Brenda gave me a moment to acclimate myself to our unanticipated positions by fussing with the bear’s bow. She then gave her throat a bit of a clearing sound and turned to look at me. She had the best eyes. Even before she had a three-dimensional body, Brenda had very pretty, sweet, and engaging eyes.

Anyway, Brenda seemed conflicted between her newfound boldness and her base-line shyness. She cleared her throat again and then blurted out that her school was having a Sadie Hawkins dance on the Friday before Thanksgiving and she wanted to know if I would go with her. She then grabbed a flier from one of the boxes and nervously handed it to me.

I was a bit taken aback. Part of me thought, “Is that it? Is this all that you wanted to show me?” However, part of me also seemed relieved that flier was all that she wanted to show me.

“Well?” she prodded with a mixture of coyness and nervousness.

“Umm” I stalled. “Sure. Sure. Why not?” I replied with some nervousness myself.

That was it. I had crossed a line. I could no longer deny to myself that I was not really interested in Brenda. I had just agreed to a date with her.

Brenda jumped up at hearing my words of acceptance. She did a quick spin and then bent over to give me a very warm hug. She acted as if a huge dark cloud had been lifted from her. She was obviously very happy but her smile seemed to suggest that she had also realized that we had crossed a line. The difference between us was that she did not seem to have any reservations about it.

Brenda suggested that it would be best if I stayed with one of her classmates, Roger, the night of the dance since it might not be a good idea for me to drive home so late. Knowing my parents, as we both did, I knew that they would like that idea too. It also occurred to me that Brenda must have spent some time planning this. I was flattered. I was also both excited and terrified at the prospect of going to a dance with Tom’s younger but no-longer-so-little sister.

I noted that I had better get back to Tom before he sent up flares and sent out a search party. Brenda giggled that she did not think that there was much peril to be had in her bedroom. Deep down, I knew better. She saw me to the door, unlocked it, and then turned to face me. She was positively beaming. I suddenly found myself overwhelmed by her burgeoning beauty and intoxicating scent. I don’t know who initiated it but I found myself wrapped in a completely wonderful hug. Brenda nestled her face into my shoulder and sighed a most thoroughly contented sigh.

After a few luxurious, almost guilt-free, moments, we separated. I separated because I felt that I’d better get back to Tom and the project. I think that Brenda separated because she wanted a kiss. She was not aggressive about it but she was not covert either. My anxiety overruled my teen guy impulses so I mumbled something about getting back to Tom, looking forward to seeing her at the dance in a few weeks, and something else that even I could not understand.

Brenda was disappointed that we did not kiss but, as usual, she tried to conceal it. After all, she did just sit on my lap, and we did just hug, and I did just agree to go to the dance with her. Part of Brenda knew that she ought not push too aggressively. However, the part of her that controlled her facial expression and body language suggested disappointment and a hint of resolve.

Tom did not say a word about my extended absence to the bathroom. It did not occur to me until my bike ride home that he might have heard Brenda’s shriek of excitement. It also did not dawn on me until then that Brenda’s hug had been one of the most pleasurable experiences that my peri-pubescent body had had.

I last saw Brenda as she was rushing out the door and calling to her Mom that she wanted to go to the mall to get a dress.

Pre-Sadie Hawkins Dream

Brenda’s next two letters spelled-out some suggested details for me regarding my upcoming visit. I was very pleased, and my ego was also bolstered, by how much attention Brenda seemed to be giving my upcoming visit. It also began to worry me. I really didn’t think that it was a good idea for her to get any long-term ideas about “us”. I was seeing this dance as a one-time “event”. I still hesitated to call it a “date”. To her credit, Brenda also avoided the “d”-word in her letters. I know that I did not fully appreciate it then, but in hindsight, my respect for her had been further reinforced by the cool way in which she seemed to try to make things easier for me.

In her last letter before the dance, Brenda mentioned that she had previously neglected to mention that the dance was not casual. That is to say, I would need to wear a tie and jacket. That was actually quite fine with me. I did not mind dressing-up for parties. In fact, I saw it as a good thing. After all, dressing differently would help deflect any thought that our getting together could ever be part of a routine. Brenda’s letter also mentioned that the girls were not subjected to the usual dress-code restrictions: specifically the usual ban on make-up and heels.

I read that last bit several times before a thought and an image formed in my mind’s eye. I wondered how much of a heel, if any, Brenda would wear. When on equal footing, so to speak, Brenda was almost five-foot, seven-inches to my five-foot, ten-inches. The top of her head came up to my eyes.

I began to wonder if she planned to wear heels that would be three inches or more? How would it feel to have Brenda looking down into my eyes? While I thought about it on some rational level, my deeper levels sounded their opinion by raising the flag. A barely subconscious excitement then washed over me. It would be so weird but also so, so cool to have to look up into Brenda’s eyes.

That night I dreamt that I was with the very short, scrawny, painfully skinny, version of my best friend’s little sister. She was telling me how much she loved the Einstein T-shirt that I had just given her and how she was “never going to take it off”. I then pulled away as she tried to give me a thank-you kiss and she started to pout. Then her face filled with a most determined resolve. The same look of resolve that I had seen on her face when I had last seen her. Then, in my dream, Brenda suddenly started to grow, and Grow, and GROW! However, instead of taking fifteen months to reach her current level of babe-ness, it only took a minute. First her skinny legs started to lengthen and fill-out. Then her chest, shoulders, and arms began to lengthen and gain some meat. The T-shirt began to un-tuck from her shorts. Her nonexistent breasts began to sprout and swell bigger, and Bigger, and BIGGER! I dreamt that Brenda began to smile and pose as her height continued to grow towards mine and her torso began to stretch and distort the Einstein T-shirt. With every breath Brenda seemed to become taller, leggier, more athletic-looking, and bustier. The T-shirt sleeves began to indent into her arm muscles. It was also starting to reveal more and more of her abdomen. Her shorts began to hug her perfect, pert butt after it first became less bony, then a bit rounded, and then very sexy and hard. The T-shirt’s seams soon began to stretch and the formula across the front became more and more distorted as her torso muscles grew and her formerly nonexistent breasts continued to swell. Brenda grinned up at me as she started to approach my height. There was a pause as I noted that she had become her current five-foot, seven-inch, almost C-cup, lean, athletic size and shape. I then dreamt that she again tried to kiss me but I again withdrew. Brenda’s face filled with an even more determined resolve and she started to grow even more! She was soon as tall as me and the T-shirt was starting to surrender to her burgeoning bust and massing muscles. Brenda’s smile grew along with the rest of her. She was clearly enjoying her growth and the fact that it was having on me. After a few more moments, I dreamt that Brenda’s T-shirt was in shreds: blown apart from within. She was looking down at me over the horizon of a huge pair of perfectly shaped breasts. She then started to tease me very overtly by demonstrating how shapely and well developed her legs, arms, bust, and butt had become. I couldn’t take it anymore and felt that I would explode if I didn’t kiss her.

I awoke covered with sweat and thoroughly spent. We had read about wet dreams in our sex education class. That dream had been my first experience with actually experiencing something that I had learned in a class.

I found myself with a new sense of anticipation in the next several days leading up to the dance. I was also feeling a bit stupid about not kissing her before leaving her bedroom the night that she had invited me. Not only because I probably had hurt her feelings, but also because I think that I might have thoroughly enjoyed it.

Sadie Hawkins

Given my class schedule, the distance of the drive, and the time of the dance; Brenda suggested that I go directly to her friend Roger’s room and dress there before picking her up in her room.

That was fine with me. I learned that Roger’s room was on the first floor of Brenda’s dormitory. Since he was also a Student Dormitory Monitor (SDM), he had a private bathroom. Roger was a very pleasant, down-to-earth guy. He was at this special school because of his brittle diabetes. His regular public school did not feel that they had the resources to properly monitor and treat him if he were to have any trouble with his blood sugar. Roger had only high praise for Brenda. He obviously liked her and seemed just a bit jealous that she had asked me to the dance. While Roger and I got ready, several other guys from the dormitory dropped by in order to see who this outsider was that Brenda had asked. I was not sure how to feel about all of the attention. I found it oddly humorous that, to a man, they spoke of my friend’s little sister with an almost ethereal reverence.

I was almost ready when Brenda called down to Roger’s room. She had a problem with “something” and was going to go over to a friend’s dorm to fix it. So, she suggested that since Roger was meeting his date at the dance, I should do the same. Brenda assured me repeatedly that she was fine, that she just needed help with something.

Roger and a few of the other guys politely if not knowingly chuckled when I told them what Brenda had suggested. I didn’t get the joke until one of them speculated aloud that something probably didn’t fit her anymore. They then all chuckled with a sense of anticipation and renewed reverence.

The gymnasium was less than a hundred yards from Brenda’s dorm. It was a very cool night but there was no snow. Roger led me into the dance and was immediately greeted by his date, Linda. Linda was the same age as Roger and me. She was a petite blonde who looked very pretty in her turquoise dress. I took a beat as I noticed that Roger’s tie matched Linda’s dress. I would have bet anything that it was not Roger’s idea for them to be coordinated like that. I then felt a pang of uneasiness as Tom handed a corsage to Linda. She was ecstatic. I also noticed that Linda was far from the only girl sporting a corsage. Almost all of them had one. Uneasiness turned to horror.

Tom must have read my mind because as he was helping Linda with hers, he whispered to me that the Botany Club was selling them in the vestibule at the other end of the gym. He promised to keep a lookout for Brenda for me. He also suggested that I put the corsage in my pocket and grab two cups of punch on the way back. That way if Brenda saw me returning to Roger and Linda, she would assume that I had left to get drinks and had actually obtained the corsage ahead of time. It instantly occurred to me as to why Roger was the SDM.

I did as Roger suggested. He was easy to spot during my return trip because he was probably six-foot, two-inches tall. He seemed even taller when standing beside the five-foot, two-inch Linda. As I got closer I was disappointed to see that Brenda had not yet joined Roger. He and Linda were talking to the group of guys that I had met in the dorm and several girls that I assumed were their dates. Roger and Linda were facing in my direction and talking to a tall girl dressed in a black dress. She was facing the door through which we had entered the dance. As I carefully plied my way through the smattering of couples and groups across the floor, I cold see Roger point at me. The girl to whom he and Linda had been talking then turned and flashed me my new favorite smile.

Every organ in my body leapt with excitement, some more than others, as I recognized Brenda’s face and steered toward it. People glided to and fro, in and out of my beeline path to Brenda. It seemed that all of them managed to obscure my target destination. It was almost as if there was a conspiracy or plot at work. It was a few moments before the last of those between us cleared out. But then, Brenda was gone! I could see Roger and Linda and the others but no Brenda. As I approached Roger and Linda, I noticed that I was out of breath but seemed to have no physical reason to be so. They anticipated my voiceless query by telling me, after I had to promise not to say anything; that Brenda had gone to the girls’ room because she had purchased her own corsage. Roger and Linda explained that they had similarly made Linda promise that she would not say anything about the fact that Roger had told her that I had bought one for her. Roger then cut me off just as I began to express my appreciation.

I then felt a warm tap on my shoulder and I turned to face Brenda’s … nose. She beamed down to me and gushed her appreciation for my having come to the dance. I then found myself again enveloped in a very satisfying hug. And, again, I was intoxicated by her sexy sublime scent. She then took a step back and gushed that I looked great.

“Great” did not even begin to describe how incredible Brenda looked in her simple, but elegant black dress. I was so agog that it was more than a few moments before I managed to croak a “T-thank y-you for inviting me” through my parched mouth. Off to my left I could hear Roger stifling a chuckle and Linda yanking him away by the arm.

Brenda patiently indulged me a moment or two longer so that I could take in how awesome she looked. She seemed to savor the moment almost as much as I did.

Brenda’s hair was pinned-up with some glittering combs and she wore just a hint of makeup. I had never seen her with makeup before. She really didn’t ever need it. Her black dress seemed a bit too small but that made it all the more appealing. The dress had a modest neckline; it was about even with her collarbones, so there was no visible décolletage. However, the dress positively bulged with the suggestion of cleavage. The dress hugged her thin waist and taut abdominals in a very elegant and sexy way before flaring slightly to envelope her perfect, runner’s butt and long, lean thighs. Neutral stockings then helped to accentuate and highlight every luscious curve of her long, lean legs all the way down to her black shoes.

Brenda clicked her heels together when she noticed that I had finally completed my not-so-subtle, head-to-toe ocular adventure. The clicking snapped me to some semblance of my senses and I sheepishly looked up into her knowing, yet appreciative eyes.

My attention then almost immediately wandered briefly back to her bust. God, it was even bigger than when we hugged only a few weeks ago! I figured that Brenda must have definitely ballooned beyond her cousin, Cindy’s C-cups.

Reality crashed upon me as I then felt Brenda gently and playfully grab my chin with her thumb and index finger and gently lift it so that I was once again making eye contact with her. She grinned down at me and said something along the lines of “Hey, Shorty, I’m up here”.

For a nanosecond I thought that she might be angry, or worse, hurt. However, I soon deduced that she was far from being angry or hurt. She was proud. She was amused. And, although I had not yet realized it, she was clearly in charge. I then stammered “O-oh, umm yeh. W-well, you see, I have a corsage for you and w-was just wondering where it could fit”. Her eyes opened wide along with her grin.

I was horrified by my slip of the tongue. “I m-mean ... “go”. Umm .. Yeh, … Where it should “go”.”

Brenda giggled and expressed her surprise and appreciation regarding my corsage. She hugged me again and told me how thoughtful it was. She giggled again when I sheepishly declined to pin it on for her. She then laughed when she discovered that it was actually the type of corsage that one was supposed to wear around one’s wrist and not the type that gets pinned to one’s dress. My embarrassment at not knowing what I had purchased was immediately assuaged when she brightly pointed out that “This way we don’t have to worry about crushing it when we dance”.

Up until that night I had always gone to dances only because I had to go. And, up until that night, I had never actually danced at any of those dances. This time things were different. Brenda was a good dancer. I was not. However, she was patient. I was just happy to be with her.

Brenda’s popularity at school was obvious. Superficially, it was also obvious to see why, especially while we danced up close and personal. When she first came to the school fifteen months ago she was in the lowest one percentile for height and weight for her age group. Now, as we swept around the dance floor, Brenda was taller than average, bustier than average, leggier than average, more athletically built than average, and much cuter than average. Most of the guys ogled her even while they danced with their own dates.

For a while I felt a little self-conscious and even inadequate next to some of the guys that Brenda obviously knew and who obviously wanted to be with her. However, Brenda gave my ego several incremental boosts when she politely but unambiguously declined request after request from guys asking to cut-in.

I did not want the dance to end but, of course, it had to end eventually. When they announced the last song, Chicago’s “Colour My World”, I found myself swept into more of a two-and-a-half-minute hug than a dance. I’m not complaining: quite the contrary.

Brenda and I met up with Roger and Linda soon after the lights came back on. Roger and Linda both winked as she told me that I should not wait for him. He handed me one of his extra keys. Brenda then steered me out of the gymnasium and out into the cold night. Brenda soon seemed cold and was very grateful when I offered her my jacket. It looked good on her. In fact, except for the torso length, it almost fit her. She did not try to button it; instead she held it together with her hands.

That is until she decided that she wanted to hold my hand. I felt her cold left hand searching for my right hand as she then held my jacket closed around her with just her right hand. I didn’t notice the cold. I felt as if I was being warmed by her radiance.

It was an awkward moment when we reached her dorm room. I was again torn between desire and potential guilt. Part of me wanted to head down to Roger’s room while most of me wanted to spend as much time with Brenda as possible. Brenda seemed to pick-up on my internal conflict. After all, this was certainly not the first time she was present for it.

Brenda broke the logjam by telling me how much her feet were hurting. She was not accustomed to wearing heels. She invited me to come in while she took off her shoes. I stood there again distracted by my internal dialogue as Brenda changed into her too-small, fuzzy, crocodile slippers.

I was jolted back to the here-and-now when Brenda quietly asked me what I was thinking. She was now standing in front of me and looking up at me: but not by much. It then struck me that the top of Brenda’s head had, only a few weeks ago come up to my eyes but now her eyes came up to my nose. She was only about an inch shorter than me! As that thought clicked in my brain, Brenda smiled: on cue; almost as if she had heard the click.

Brenda then asked, in a voice affected to sound innocently curious, if I was tired. I truthfully told her that I was not. Her smile broadened.

“I’ve got some popcorn and some soda pop,” she offered. “Oh! And, I also haven’t returned Linda’s DVD-TV yet” she sheepishly announced with a cock of her head as she peered up at me with one eye.

Brenda then fidgeted “Ummm, would you like to go get changed and then come back for a while?” Her dress soon betrayed the stirrings beneath as her fidgeting intensified to the point where she was again shifting weight from one foot to the other with her hands clasped together behind her.

“S-sure”, I gulped. Before becoming completely mesmerized by the sway and wobble of her pert C/D-cup breasts.

Brenda beamed and seemed to shift gears from insecure to confident when she then noticed my body’s reaction to her body’s reaction to her nervousness.

While I changed my clothes down in Roger’s room, I could not help but wonder what Brenda would be wearing upon my return. I could not imagine Brenda looking anything but great in anything. Conversely, only fifteen months ago I would not have been able to imagine Brenda looking good in anything.

Post-Sadie Hawkins

I bounded up the steps to Brenda’s room only to find a note pinned to her door. “I’ll be back in a few! Just make yourself at home!” I cautiously entered. I don’t know why, but I somehow felt guilty being in there without her. But, then come to think of it, I didn’t usually feel all that comfortable in it when she was there either.

I took a cursory look around. I only had eyes for Brenda when I was in there ten minutes previously and had not noticed the little TV with the built-in DVD player or the microwave oven or the boxes of clothes or the ten and twenty-pound Smart-Bells. I fiddled with my watch as I looked around. It never fit correctly in cold weather: too tight when indoor and too loose when outdoors. “Nuts!” I groaned as I dropped it and then watched as it bounced under Brenda’s bed. I got down on all fours and peered beneath it looking for the luminous face in the shadows. I did not immediately see my watch but I did find dozens of medicine bottles. Most were lying horizontal but a few were standing upright.

Curiosity got the best of me as I pulled one of the horizontal bottles out into the light. The printed prescription was positively polysyllabic. Even after reading the label, I had no idea what had once been in the empty, recapped bottle but the directions indicated that one should “drink two tablespoons once a day with food”. I pulled out a few more. I unscrewed one and noted that the liquid medicine smelled like cherries. Curiously, most of Brenda’s medicine bottles were empty. The empties were all horizontal. Only six of them were full. The full bottles were all standing upright and closer to the head of the bed. Dates for the bottles seemed to be grouped. None of the bottles had a date that was from more than three weeks ago. Although they all seemed to contain the same unpronounceable medications, their labels demonstrated that they were from many different pharmacies. Some were from here, some from my hometown; many were from places in-between. I heard a door un-stick down the hall. I found my watch as I replaced the bottles.

By the time Brenda returned to her room I was sitting at the foot of her bed with a welcoming smile fixed upon my nervous face. She looked great. Brenda wore a robe that was too short for her arms and only covered the top half of her long, shapely, bare, runner’s legs. It was tied closed with a sort of sash-like belt.

She returned my welcoming smile with one of her own. She reached out her hand and pulled me to my feet. Once again I was surprised by how much power she could muster. She wrapped her arms around me and pressed in against me. I then followed her lead as we swayed slightly to and fro and hummed “Colour My World”. Brenda then purred, “I wasn’t ready for the dance to end. Were you?” I gulped a dry-mouthed affirmation.

When we finished humming the song she broke our embrace. She graciously bowed toward me as she barely stifled a giggle. “Thank you, good sir. I had an absolutely wonderful evening at the dance”.

I responded in kind but I also affected my best British Broadcasting accent. She giggled aloud and bade me to sit. Brenda flitted about the room putting popcorn in the microwave, pulling out and then tossing a stack of DVD’s to me, and pulling some bottles of soda pop out of her mini-fridge. The latter activity was performed with a deep bend at the hips instead of a much simpler, but less scenic squat to her knees. “Wow!” I almost muttered aloud. Brenda certainly had developed a great butt and grown an awesome pair of legs.

I narrowed the pile of DVD’s down to two: a chick-flick and a black-and-white, screwball comedy. I asked her to pick one. I really did not want to watch the chick-flick but was prepared to do so if called upon. She mentioned that she had not seen either movie yet. To my relief, and admiration, she selected the comedy.

None of my friends shared my appreciation of old movies. Dialogue and character development were completely lost on them. Most of them felt that special effects and quick cuts were the only ingredients necessary to make a great film.

Brenda pulled out a few large, overstuffed pillows and asked if I wanted to sit on the floor or stay on the bed. I suspected that this was a test: not unlike the one that I had just performed on her regarding the choice of movies.

I elected to stay on the bed. From her response, I gathered that that had been the correct answer. The bed was against the wall so we used the pillows and the wall to recline and still see the television.

Brenda kicked off her fuzzy crocodile slippers. The right one landed with a “foosh” into her wastepaper basket. “Oh, I’m sorry, Reginald Ignatius Gregory Hugo Theodore the third”, she giggled. I stared at her blankly as she bent over the basket to retrieve the errant slipper.

“W-who did you just apologize to?” I verbally and physically blinked.

“Reginald Ignatius Gregory Hugo Theodore the third” she patiently and slowly repeated while trying to stifle a giggle.

“You named your right slipper?”

Brenda nodded giddily.

“So, madam, Do you have a name for your left slipper” I inquired, again using my best British Broadcasting Corporation announcer accent.

“Yes. He’s Fred,” she chuckled.

“Just Fred?” I asked with more than a little confusion and chortle in my voice. “Why does the right crocodile slipper have such an impressive-sounding name but the left one is just, just – Fred?”

“Well,” Brenda began while trying to muster a straight face, “it’s because he is so full of himself and Fred is not”.

I nodded, but not because I understood. “So, just out of curiosity, how do you know that Reginald Ignatius Gregory Hugo Theodore the third is so full of himself but Fred isn’t?”

Brenda affected an exaggerated double blink of dismay and giggled, “Well, he-he’s so full of himself … be-because he’s always right! An-and Fred can never be … of course!” Brenda then lost herself in a fit of giggles. She was too cute and her giggles too infectious for me not to join in.

Brenda eventually composed herself, pressed the button, and the movie began. We both settled in.

I felt so cozy and content lying near, but not directly next to, Brenda. The distance seemed to keep the various components of both my Id and my Superego happy.

About fifteen minutes into the movie, Brenda’s foot twitched and she gave an audible yelp. I inquired as to what was wrong. She initially blushed and brushed off my concern. A few minutes later it happened to her other foot. I could tell that she was in discomfort. I again asked what was wrong but before she could answer, she had another pang of pain. She started to massage her feet with both hands. When the other foot jumped, she finally admitted that they must be spasms. “I’m not used to wearing heels and I don’t think that my feet are too happy about it.”

I respected her apparent wish to take care of her bipedal problem herself but it didn’t seem to be working. Since Brenda seemed to find it difficult if not impossible to adequately massage both feet at the same time, I again offered my assistance. I hadn’t really thought my offer through until she finally beamed and nodded. She then spun around by pivoting on her butt so that her foot was now nearer to me and her head further away.

Unbeknownst to me, Brenda was ticklish. So my first gentle attempt at massaging her Fred foot was met with a fresh round of giggles. Unfortunately, another spasm cut them short. I soon got the hang of it. It seemed to work … eventually. Brenda’s spasms gradually became less frequent and less intense. Her winces became coos. I lost track of the movie as my attention turned exclusively to Brenda’s foot.

Her foot was soft and smooth but also powerful as evidenced by her spasms. I also noticed that it was about the same size as mine. A few moments after the last spasm subsided, Brenda stopped massaging her right foot. She didn’t seem to mind at all that I was still massaging her left.

“That feels really good, Mark”, she purred. “Do you mind if I flip over? It might make it easier.” I nodded.

Brenda then turned over onto her stomach. Her robe didn’t follow smoothly, and as a result, her pajama shorts were left alone to cover her butt. I was struck by how long and smooth and athletic Brenda’s legs were. They seemed to go on and on before ending just under her perfectly contoured pajama shorts. She rested her head on my ankles and her hands on my feet and looked toward the television.

Brenda rhythmically flexed and extended her free leg at the knee as I continued to massage her other foot. Brenda’s thigh and calf muscles were almost hypnotic as they flexed and relaxed for each cycle. I gradually found myself massaging her ankle and then her calf. Brenda responded with an approving purr.

The movie played on. After a while I noticed that Brenda had shifted so that she was now leaning on her elbows with her head raised and her back arched. I thought that she was going to continue moving in an attempt to find a more comfortable position but she didn’t. My curiosity as to what she might be doing was quickly answered when I felt her hands begin to massage my feet.

I wasn’t the only one who was ticklish. She shot me a very coy and mischievously sexy grin.

I stopped massaging when I reached the point where I literally could not reach any further. Brenda again turned to look at me. It took but a second for her to realize my limitation. She smiled and rolled and spun until she had her head on my lap and the rest of her body between my legs. This was totally unexpected and set off a shower of pleasure and panic.

I naively assumed that she didn’t know what was going to happen. It never occurred to me that she was planning on prompting a reaction. She appeared to innocently watch the movie as my answer to her new position began to spring to fruition. I was convinced that if she noticed anything, I was going to broil to a crisp from embarrassment and then my ashes would just blow away. I was beginning to feel a definite lack of space in my pajamas and it wasn’t long (heh heh) before I could feel a definite tenting of the snaps at the fly. Brenda had positioned herself so that the tent formed between her head and the television.

She seemed unfazed as I started to panic. The tent stretched higher and higher as my boxers and pajamas stretched further and further. My worst fear then began to occur. I could feel the tip escape the fold-over fly of my boxers. It was only a brief moment later before I felt the cold of the pajama fly snaps: and, then, to my intense embarrassment, Brenda’s warm, rhythmic breath.

Without so much as a single word, I then felt the wet warmth of Brenda’s tongue begin to caress and probe it. This was all new to me. Nothing like this, or even remotely like this, had ever happened to me before. I wasn’t sure what to do. As it turned out, I really didn’t have to worry. I hadn’t really considered that a sex drive would come with an autopilot. Of course at my age it also came with lousy brakes, no clutch, and no steering wheel.

I thought that I was going to explode. I did give a little jump at the moment of contact but Brenda acted as if she ignored it. I could feel my toes curl and uncurl as her tongue continued to explore and excite me. My breathing quickened. Brenda’s tongue remained purposeful and powerfully effective. Brenda lapped and kissed me further and further toward the edge. I had never before felt such powerful impulses. Then Brenda stopped as soon as it began to twitch.

Brenda’s silence was then broken by a purr and another change in position. She pulled her knees around and under her. She then leaned her face toward mine. She merely looked at me. She was obviously very pleased with herself: and, I’m proud to say, not at all disappointed with me. She then sighed a very sexy, contented sigh and offered, “I hope you don’t mind that I invited your friend to come out and play”.

She then lowered her head. I could feel her mouth slowly engulf the tip and then more and more of the shaft. To my amazement, she seemed to swallow my entirety. She then came back up and smiled, “In case you’re wondering, my friends and I used to practice at the Fair with corndogs”.

Brenda then kissed me very deeply. So deeply, in fact, that I swore that the tip of her tongue pushed my in-nie into an out-ie. She then cooed, “Do you mind if I try something?” I could only muster a nod. She smiled, obviously appreciating my condition and proud with the ease with which she induced it.

Brenda then leaned back and stretched up while still on her knees. She then slowly undid her robe and let it fall off behind her. The buttons on Brenda’s pajama tops were obviously holding onto their buttonholes for dear life. Like everything else that she wore lately, Brenda’s pajama tops were much too small for her. My eyes goggled at the beautiful breast flesh and cavernous cleavage that lay barely concealed behind the gaping spaces between the pajama buttons. Brenda wasn’t wearing a bra.

She granted the top button a reprieve from its sentence of trying to contain her burgeoning breasts. She then hesitated at the second button and asked if I wanted to help.

She giggled at my awkward attempts to free the second button and then the third. My hands were so shaky and my task accomplished so slowly that one would have thought that I had never loosed a button before. As the third button fell away, Brenda’s breasts surged forward in relief. I could feel myself twinge again. Brenda grinned and matter-of-factly understated, “Do you like them? They’re new”.

She then leaned forward toward me a bit and giggled, “It was really weird. One day I just started to feed and water them and viola! They started to grow!” she giggled with a purposeful shake of her shoulders. The resulting sway and bob was absolutely mesmerizing. “I guess they’re like your friend. I just treated it nicely and gave it some attention, and it grew bigger too!”

I succumbed to the rapture of another wonderful kiss before she continued; “They treat me well … and, they seem to have lots of friends … so I think that I’ll keep them” she teased as she squashed them gently together in front of my nose. “Who knows, why if we treat them right, they might grow even bigger!”

“Are you going to be nice to them, Mark?” I mutely nodded my approval as she released them. She giggled anew as she watched my eyes follow the resulting bobbing of her breasts.

In contrast to my own fumbling, Brenda deftly released all of the snaps on my pajama fly with a single flick of a finger. She then scooted my pajama bottoms and my boxers down my legs and off into a pile with her robe. She then squared her face with mine and warned, “Now, I’m not sure if I’m big enough yet to do this, so don’t laugh if it doesn’t work”. I promised.

Brenda then lowered herself until her breasts came into contact with my tip. I could feel it quiver in response to the contact. She then gently squashed her breasts to try to envelope it. It felt wonderful. Brenda squealed victoriously. She then kneaded and rubbed her breasts up and down my shaft for a while right up to the point that I thought that I would explode. Then she stopped.

Brenda resumed eye contact with me. She seemed a bit disappointed with herself as she pouted, “We’ll have to try that again when it’s easier for me. Okay?” I wasn’t sure what she meant but it had been fine with me. Brenda then lied on her side beside me and began to slowly and gently stroke me. I felt that it would only be fair to finally reciprocate attention so I slowly and gently caressed and dry suckled her breasts. She moaned her approval and encouraged me to continue.

I decided that it was Brenda’s turn to just relax and enjoy herself. I took her hand away from my shaft and rolled her over onto her back. I then knelt so that I straddled her. I began by kissing her face and nuzzling her ears. From time to time I kissed her gently and then deeply. I worked my way down her neck and onto her chest. Her newly developed breasts remained nicely prominent on her chest without completely pancake-ing.

Brenda went wild as I licked and nuzzled and nipped at her nipples. She bucked and moaned and purred for more. Her nipples each fit quite nicely between my lips and also between my lip and tongue. I teased her by attending to a nipple and then leaving to caress somewhere else. Each time that I returned to stimulate a nipple, Brenda quivered her approval. I worked my way south while occasionally jumping back to a nipple. Eventually I slipped the fingers of one hand beneath the waistband of her pajama shorts while reaching the other hand behind to caress her butt. I was surprised at how firm it was. As my other fingers slid from the waistband down to the moistened lips between her legs, Brenda stiffened and then quivered and cooed.

It didn’t take long for me to bring Brenda to climax after climax once I found the right combination of nipple nuzzling and clitoris kneading. She quivered and bucked and shrieked her approval over and over until she collapsed into a hyperventilating, exhausted, sweat-soaked pile of passed-out pulchritude.

I was too proud of myself for what I was able to do for Brenda to even think about the fact that I had not cum.

She looked so incredible lying there asleep and wearing such a contented, loopy grin and such an incredible body. I covered her with a blanket and started to dress. I cleaned up the popcorn and the soda and shut off the last bit of the movie. I thought that I heard her whisper, “That was incredible”, as I crept out the door.

Roger wasn’t in his room when I arrived. I can’t say that I was surprised. I unfolded the sofa bed and left his bed as it was: piled with clothes. I fell asleep soon after settling in.

It was dark when I awoke. I had become aware that someone had entered the room. “Is that you, Roger?” I hoped. There was silence. I then became aware of Brenda’s intoxicating scent again washing over me. I then tasted cherries as I was kissed, deeply.

“Why didn’t you stay?” Brenda whispered as she started to caress my temples with her fingers.

“I thought that you probably needed the sleep” I truthfully replied.

“You could have slept next to me, you know,” she whispered as her fingers left my head.

“I snore,” I chuckled. “What are you doing down here?” I then wondered aloud.

“I woke up and realized that you had left before I had a chance to properly thank you or to finish what I had started.” In the darkness I could determine that her voice was now coming from the foot-end of the sofa bed.

“What do you mean” I started to ask as I felt the far end of the blankets lift up and Brenda crawl beneath them.

She slipped herself along between my legs and readily found my pajama snaps. “Just relax,” she whispered. I then once again felt the incredible sensation of her full, warm, moist lips enveloping my tip. Slowly she took more and more of me into her mouth. Then she started to slowly back off. Brenda repeated the cycle over and over. She also punctuated it with some exquisite tongue-lashing. It felt so good that I wanted to do something for her but she brushed my hands aside as she concentrated on her self-appointed task.

Brenda was incredible. Her technique was gentle but firm, smooth but surprising, and it all added up to the most awesome orgasm of my life. I could hear her sucking and slurping every drop as she completed her task with relish. She then paused as she continued to kneel beneath the covers. I wondered aloud if she was okay.

“I-I’m okay. I think that I just hyperventilated under the covers,” she assured me. She then crawled further up so that her head was on the pillow next to mine. She whispered that she was cold and wanted to spoon. She gave me a pull as a hint that I should roll over onto my side with my front against her back. I could feel her curl-up into a fetal position. I then bent my knees to match hers. The soles of her feet were on the tops of mine. Brenda then reached for my right hand and pulled it over the top of both of us so that it rested on her right breast. We both drifted off to sleep.

About a half-hour or so later, I was jarred awake by Brenda trembling and moaning. “Are you okay?” I whispered. She felt very warm and sweaty.

“I f-feel r-really w-weird!” she stammered as she grabbed my right hand and pulled it back onto her right breast. I then felt something really weird too! It almost felt like her breast had just swollen a bit bigger. Brenda continued to tremble and I felt her feet push down against mine. Then, as quickly as it had started, it stopped.

Brenda and I lied there in silence. I didn’t know what to say. She apparently didn’t either. She seemed to be okay so we then drifted off to sleep again.

The Morning After

Roger woke me a little past seven. He was just coming in from Linda’s. He grinned and told me that there was a note from Brenda on the mirror. Now, I’m usually a morning person but I seemed groggier than usual. Brenda’s note asked me to come up to her room after I changed.

The shower was nice. I was getting hungry. I hoped that Brenda would be in the mood to go for breakfast. When I arrived at her room I was again greeted with a note indicating that she would be back shortly. Brenda’s room appeared to be pretty much as I had left it last night except for the two empty medicine bottles that now stood on her nightstand. My curiosity got the best of me so I looked beneath her bed and did a quick count. There were only four full bottles left. She must have drunk two entire bottles last night before coming to pleasure me in Roger’s room. That would help explain the cherry-flavored kiss.

Brenda was still toweling her hair when she returned to her room. I was absentmindedly thumbing through one of her photo albums. The photographs brought to attention the incredible changes to Brenda’s once puny little body that had occurred over the last fifteen months.

As Brenda entered the room, she noticed me sitting at the foot of her bed. She immediately flashed a killer smile when she spotted me. I responded in kind but then I was struck by something. I got to my feet. Brenda then wrapped the towel around my neck in order to pull me closer toward her. It then hit me. Brenda was now eye to eye with me. She seemed to not want me to notice that she had noticed that I had noticed. “So. What’s new?” She playfully inquired and then gently kissed my lips. I was again overtaken by her scent.

Brenda eventually released me from the towel lasso and continued to dry her hair. My jeans were beginning to rapidly run out of room again. Brenda glanced down at the burgeoning bulge struggling for room behind my zipper.

“So, umm, … I’m hungry. Are you?” she coyly inquired as she stepped a long, luscious leg towards her dressing table and grabbed a hairbrush. “That midnight snack was wonderfully sweet and creamy and satisfying but I’m definitely hungry again”. She then licked her full, pouty lips. My snack dispenser stirred even more.

Before I knew it, I was flat on my back and Brenda was teasing off my pants and my boxers. She set straight to work. Just as last night; as soon as it twitched, but before I came, Brenda stopped and asked if I would mind if she tried to breast f*** me again. I told her that it was perfectly fine with me.

Brenda coyly undid her belt and opened her bathrobe. To my amazement, she revealed a pair of perfectly pert breasts that seemed to be bigger than they were last night! She cupped one of her freshly swollen breasts with each hand. “For some reason, I have this feeling that I might be able to do more satisfying job for you today,” she purred with a sexy wink. Brenda grinned and winked before leaning her lips toward mine. Brenda again seemed to then tickle the inside of my navel with her tongue before I could utter anything about what I had just noticed.

Brenda lowered her breasts onto the tip and then nestled my shaft between them. They felt so warm and wonderful! There was an oh-so-silky firmness to them. I could also tell that I seemed to be more thoroughly enveloped than I had been just last night. Brenda then brought her expert tongue and lips to bear on the tip. She rubbed and kneaded and licked me to frenzy.

Brenda again savored collecting every drop into her eager mouth with her talented tongue and lips. I was exhausted! It was a thoroughly deep and satisfying exhaustion. I reached for Brenda’s shoulders and tried to pull her down beside me but she hesitated. It surprised me how powerful her shoulders felt as she resisted me. I must have been more tired than I had thought. “Say please”, she giggled. I mumbled a “please” and she eagerly spooned again beside me.

Almost an hour later I was again awakened by Brenda: she was trembling and moaning. She stammered her assurance that she was perfectly fine. A few moments later, the episode passed and she began to massage my hand. I was pleasantly surprised that such a simple non-erogenous act could be so satisfying. I again drifted back to sleep.

When I awoke again about mid-morning, I was aware that Brenda was no longer lying beside me. I could hear her in the room though. I opened one eye and noticed that she was struggling a bit to button-up one of her school uniform blouses. She barely succeeded just as both of my eyes came to focus on her.

Brenda noticed that I was awake and shot me another incredibly sexy and welcoming smile. “Well, good morning, … again,” she teased.

“Good morning, again, to you too.”

“Do you want to try, again, to head out for some breakfast before they close for the morning?”

I was still groggy as I slowly got to my feet but I could tell that something about Brenda didn’t quite fit. Besides her blouse, that is.

“Here let me help you,” she offered with a hint of maternalism. She handed me my jeans and my boxer briefs. “You’ll need these … for a while,” she grinned.

I tripped myself up a bit while trying to put my boxers on while standing. Brenda caught me. I was struck by how she was able to catch and steady me with not a lot of effort. “Whoa! Be careful there!” she teased. I then let my boxer briefs drop to the floor and stood up straight. I think that Brenda realized what I was about to do so she mirrored me and stood up straight as well.

I found myself looking up slightly into Brenda’s beautiful eyes. A very pleased-with-herself grin appeared as she winked down at me. “So,” she giggled, “What’s new?”

I then brought my eyes from her eyes to her nose, which was now straight ahead from my gaze. Her grin broadened as my eyes traveled south past her mouth and towards a magnificent pair of busty bulges that were split by cavernous cleavage. The blouse was obviously too small and its buttons were puckering and allowing large gaps between them. I had to take a step back in order to see farther south around them. I could then see that the blouse was not tucked-in and that Brenda was still wearing her pajama shorts. Below the shorts were her long, athletically muscular, silky legs, and bare feet.

I then darted my gaze back up to her twinkling eyes. It was if they had been waiting for me. “Enjoy the view?” Brenda teased.

“Ummm, ... uh … s-sure,” I stammered.

“Well, if you liked what you just saw, then you’ll probably love this!” she purred as she then started to reach her arms up above her head. POP! A blouse button surrendered. POPPITY POP! Two more buttons followed. Brenda giggled and I goggled. Her breasts then relaxed forward into an unrestrained, more comfortable, position. She lowered her arms.

Just as she had done at the dance, Brenda then gently grabbed my chin with her thumb and index finger and steered my eyes up to meet hers. They were twinkling merrily. Brenda was obviously enjoying herself. Her gaze exuded sexuality and confidence. And, I was completely overwhelmed by both.

Brenda then gave my chest a shove with a finger and I plopped back onto the bed. She leaned in and we shared another deliciously satisfying kiss before she then stood up a bit. This allowed her to then press her magnificent breasts into my face. I immediately began to nuzzle and lick them. “See, Mark” she cooed, “I told you that if you treated them right, they might grow bigger”. I certainly was doing my absolute best to treat them right; and Brenda’s moans of pleasure confirmed it.

Brenda’s stomach gave out a very audible growl and she reluctantly broke away. “Come on, Shorty, you have to help me find something that I can wear to breakfast.”

Brenda pulled me to my feet and led me to her closet. After a few moments I spotted and then pulled out the “E = mc²” T-shirt that I had given to her last Christmas. I facetiously offered it to her with a coy smile. She giggled and then held it up to her bloated chest. It now looked absolutely ridiculously small compared to her. In contrast, only ten or so months ago, it was a little too big for her. She then prolonged the moment for me by pretending to seriously consider wearing it. She removed the blouse and again held the little T-shirt close to her. As Brenda posed with it I was struck by not only the size of her recently non-existent breasts but also by the tone and amount of pectoral muscle that she had grown beneath them. Her shoulders and arms were also shrouded with not insignificant amounts of muscle. They were probably at least as big as mine now. Only last year, she was a scrawny, bony, little twig.

“Hmmm, no, it’s a good thought, though” she chuckled as she returned the relatively tiny, T-shirt to the closet, “but I don’t think that it’ll work for today”. Brenda then noticed that for a change I was not staring at her breasts but was instead, staring at her arms. She rolled her eyes as if she was being patient with an indecisive child in a candy store. “I was beginning to wonder if you were ever going to notice these,” she mused as she flexed her biceps. She giggled at my reaction. “I see you approve then.” Brenda then bent over to pick up one of her twenty-pound Smart-Bells. I watched with awe as she effortlessly started to curl it. She grinned, “Go ahead and feel it”. She had read my mind. Her arm was silky smooth, warm, and surprisingly hard. It soon brought a stir to my groin.

“You know,” she began, “only a few months ago, I could hardly lift this.” She smiled and then handed the weight to me. “Here, Shorty, give it a go.” I had no trouble curling it but my bicep didn’t seem to bulge quite as much as hers did while curling it. I set the weight down and returned to Brenda in front of her closet. She selected a sweatshirt and then squeezed herself into it. She then announced that it would have to do for now because the dining hall would be closing for breakfast soon.

Brenda slipped on a pair of too-small sweatpants and, despite the cold weather, had to settle for a pair of sandals because her sneakers no longer fit. She then swept me out of the room and toward the dining hall. With Brenda wearing flat sandals and me wearing sneakers, we were almost the same height. There were very few people in the dining hall. In fact a young teen worker was about to shut the door as we approached. Brenda knew the guy and after a quick, effortless flirt, we were in. I was very hungry and thought that I had grabbed a lot of food but Brenda filled two trays worth. She was ravenous and did not say much. She did throw me several flirtatious winks and approving grins whenever she would catch me ogling her.

I had promised my folks that I would have the car back by noon so I had no time after breakfast. Brenda repeatedly conveyed her disappointment that I was not going to be giving her any dessert. We shared an incredible series of kisses and hugs before my watch alarm sounded. As I finally waved goodbye to Brenda, I was buoyed by the thought that I would be seeing her at home next week for her Thanksgiving break.

Thanksgiving 2

The drive home found my head swimming and my groin stirring over and over again as I replayed the incredible memories of the last nineteen hours. I was so agog by the fact that little, scrawny Brenda was now bigger than me, and how I felt about it; that I didn’t really consider how or why. All I knew was that I approved, on every level, and in fact on some levels, I found myself hoping that Brenda would grow even bigger.

That night I again dreamt of my friend Tom’s tiny little sister growing. Growing bigger and bustier and stronger. Growing longer, shapely, muscular legs, bigger breasts, and bigger and more powerful chest, shoulder, and arm muscles. In my dream I watched Brenda grew out of her clothes and her shoes and then finally tower above me. She then picked me up and cuddled me in her huge, powerful arms as I nuzzled her huge breasts. I woke up exhausted and spent but strangely eager.

My Mom called me to the phone that Wednesday evening. It was Brenda. She had just arrived home with her parents and was wondering how I had been since she had last seen me. She also wasted no time in asking if I might have some time to get together while she was home. Unfortunately both of our parents had made a full schedules for the four days of the holiday so we didn’t have many options. Brenda also teased that I should also understand that she would have to spend some time shopping for some more clothes. We decided that she would visit me on that Sunday before her parents took her back to school. I told her how much I was looking forward to seeing her and she purred a ditto.

Thanksgiving was fun but I kept thinking about Brenda. I chuckled to myself, as my aunt brought in the turkey, that Brenda’s family probably had to roast a second turkey just for her.

When the appointed time on Sunday arrived, I was in my room combing my hair. I wanted so badly to look good for Brenda. When the doorbell sounded, it occurred to me that my Mom had not seen Brenda in quite some time and that she would be in for a shock. Mom had always liked Brenda and had always felt sorry for her being so small. As I clambered down the stairs I could see my five-foot, four-inch Mom pleasantly chatting as she craned her neck to look up at Brenda’s delighted eyes. Brenda had already removed her snow boots and coat and was wearing a new sweatshirt and new jeans. Both were a little too big for her but the sweatshirt still couldn’t hide the fact that Brenda was packing a pair of Major League Yah-bow’s.

When I hit the foyer floor my Mom asked me with some trace of awe in her voice if I didn’t think that Brenda wasn’t looking much “healthier”. Brenda and I stifled chuckles. Mom then said that she would have some cider and cookies for us if we wanted them.

Brenda then used her long, powerful runner’s legs to dash up the stairs ahead of me. This offered me a great view of her perfect, pert butt. Brenda collected me into a powerful and loving embrace when I reached the top of the stairs. Her mysteriously sensuous scent overwhelmed me. Her kisses were passionate and deeply moving, so to speak. We exchanged pleasantries as we moved into my room and resumed our more physical greetings.

Brenda had to lean down a bit and I had to face up a bit to make lip contact. We finally broke and stood staring at each other. I was staring at her upper lip. She smiled a knowing smile. Brenda then raised her eyebrows as if looking for approval as I looked up. “Five-foot, eleven-and-a-half,” she whispered proudly. “I just know you were dying to ask,” she grinned.

“I missed you,” she then purred as she guided my head to nestle onto her generous bosom.

“I missed you too,” I sighed contentedly. “I had a wonderful time last weekend.”

“Me too, Shorty” she whispered as she hugged me tighter. “When am I going to see you again?” she inquired.

“Soon, I hope,” I responded very truthfully and hopefully. She smiled.

“My Mom will be up here any minute.”

We then reluctantly broke and both had a seat. With Mom in the house about to serve us cider and cookies, neither of us wanted to risk doing anything more intimate than what we had already done.

Geez! Brenda looked incredible. I just wanted to embrace her and kiss her and, … well, … you know. But, instead, we chatted while I enjoyed the view and tried to cover my raging hard-on. It had taken me my entire life to figure out how to turn this equipment “on”. I hadn’t yet even started to consider how to turn it “off”.

Our visit was all too short because Brenda had to be home soon. Her parents had to drive her back to school. Neither Brenda nor I knew it at the time but Brenda’s parents weren’t driving to her back to school merely to return her. They had an appointment with the Headmaster and the doctors the next day.

Santa And Brenda Are Coming To Town

Brenda’s next letter started off typical enough but then my eyes tripped over words that were completely unexpected. Brenda wrote that her parents were transferring her back to our public school beginning with the spring semester. I could not tell from the letter how Brenda felt about this. It was probably fair to say that she really had not had much time to fully process the news before posting the letter to me. I was glad that she had told me so that both of us would have time to think about it before the Christmas break.

Somehow my classmates found out that I had become chummy with Tom’s “little sister”. Now, remember, no one at my school had actually seen Brenda in over a year but, they all assumed that she was still the same short, scrawny, little, shapeless twig-of-a-nothing runt. Grief, teasing, needling, sniggering, snide remarks, and looks of dismay all came my way in huge, constant doses over the next several weeks – Ho Ho Ho. I knew that Tom had not been the one to let the word out because he caught a fair amount of grief himself about a rumored relationship between his little sister and me.

I suppose that you might be wondering how Tom felt about all of this regarding his sister. Well, believe me, so was I. Curiously, Tom never said anything to me about his little sister shooting up to five-feet, eleven-and-a-half inches in a little over a year. He didn’t mention anything about her bony chest finally sprouting breasts and then having them rapidly balloon to DD-cups. He didn’t mention anything about the rest of her filling out so athletically either. And, he certainly didn’t mention if there was any truth to the rumors about his sister and I seeing each other. I was not sure if he was just trying to be a gentleman or if he was in some sort of denial about the whole thing. I sure as heck was not going to ask him.

I tried to imagine how Tom must have felt. He basically watched as his once much smaller, little sister steadily and rapidly grew bigger and bigger over the course of fifteen months and eventually became his big sister. Tom was five-foot, seven-inches and Brenda had just told me that she was five-foot, eleven-and-a-half-inches. I was five-foot, ten-inches and my eyes came level to look at Brenda’s nose. I could only imagine what Tom must have thought when he first stared Brenda in the chin. The sister that only last year only came up to his lower ribs now towered over him by four-and-a-half-inches. Brenda might actually outweigh him now too. Last year he outweighed his little sister 140-pounds to 60-pounds.

Of course, I tried to ignore the Microcephalic mouthbreathers that ragged on me about Brenda. I certainly wasn’t going to let them get my goat and I certainly was not going to ruin their upcoming surprise.

My next chance to see Brenda came when Tom called to ask if I would be able to convoy with him up to her school to help her pack and move back home. He didn’t think that the minivan alone could do the job. Tom’s Dad couldn’t do it because he was trapped out of town. There was a big snowstorm in the Midwest. Their Mom wanted to make certain that Brenda came home as scheduled. There was also the distinct possibility that the storm was heading our way and would potentially further delay her move or possibly even cause Brenda to miss Christmas with her family.

We arrived safely at her school just as the first flakes started to waft to and fro before my headlights. We both parked near the dormitory. Brenda had secured permission from Roger for us to use the loading zone. Tom was unfolding a tarpaulin on the minivan’s floor as I looked up to see if I could spot Brenda. I could. She was in her window waiting for us. I waved and then turned to help Tom. However, he had just finished so as I turned around again I could just make-out Brenda’s silhouette beyond her curtains. She appeared to be draining one of her medicine bottles. Tom was fiddling with the minivan’s remote lock at the time.

Brenda greeted us both very warmly. As I suspected, she appeared to be an inch or so taller and generally a bit bigger than she had at Thanksgiving break. As evidence, the jeans and sweatshirt that she had worn to my house that Sunday were no longer too big for her. She smothered Tom in a welcoming, sisterly hug. The top of his head now came about to her nose and it looked like he was probably getting a straight-ahead view of his little sister’s throat. Brenda gave me a quick, polite hug and thanked me for coming with Tom to help her. With Tom standing there, I was glad that she didn’t do more. As for me, I now had an eye-level view of Brenda’s mouth.

It did not take long for us to pack-up Brenda’s things. She had no difficulty whatsoever carrying boxes right along with Tom and me. In fact, I suspected that she could probably lift more than Tom or even me, if called upon. The snow was falling faster as we loaded the last box and Brenda disappeared to say goodbye to some folks. Apparently there had been a farewell party for her the night before and most of the other kids had already left for the break.

I had shrewdly left the passenger seat free in my parents’ car while piling stuff onto the passenger seat in Tom’s parents’ minivan. That made the decision of whom Brenda would accompany all too obvious without it looking all too obvious. Brenda found it difficult to keep a straight face when she affected a reluctant shrug and whine and said that she would agree to “put up” with me instead of riding with her “big brother” since there was really no other way.

Brenda barely waited for Tom to get the minivan started before she maneuvered herself to give me an incredible, cherry-flavored, tonsillectomy with her talented tongue. We both agreed, reluctantly, to show some restraint because we had to keep behind Tom. Between the headlights and the snow, I doubted that Tom would be able to see what his sister and I were doing, but I was hesitant to gamble.

Brenda pouted her way back into her seat and promised to behave herself. I wasn’t convinced but, then again, I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t flattered: and maybe a little disappointed.

A few minutes later we merged onto the highway and Brenda began to ask questions about our school. She had been away for three semesters. Not much had changed except the teasing that was being heaped my way. I didn’t feel like telling Brenda about that aspect of school but for some reason it began to slip out. Brenda reacted with a combination of outrage and concern but then these seemed to give way to a few giggles. It seemed to tickle Brenda immensely that I was being teased for dating a scrawny, little twerp when nothing could be further from reality. Brenda told me how glad she was that I did not tell anyone about how much she had grown or how big she had become since she left. “I’m quite sure that my big brother hasn’t said anything to anyone either,” she added with a dab of sardonic relish.

Brenda then began to tell me how sorry she was that I had to put up with the teasing, “… just because of little ol’ me,” she purred. She seemed genuinely concerned but also seemed to pile a little additional melodrama on to that concern. She punctuated her words by slowly resting her left hand onto my thigh. I was struck as to how large her hand was in comparison. As Brenda continued to then verbally pout her sympathy for me, her hand gradually moved closer to the tent that was rapidly forming in my jeans.

I muttered some weak attempt at deterrence but Brenda continued. Soon she began to gently stroke and massage the tented area itself. I was fairly new to driving and really had very little experience driving through heavy snow. Now I was struggling to do both while the very cute, very willing, and incredibly well-built “little” sister of my best friend was trying to coax my manhood to come out and play.

I brushed her hand away but it quickly returned and resumed its mission of stimulation. I then tried to grab Brenda’s wrist and push it away but I was met with a surprising amount of resistance. Brenda giggled, “Maybe you should start taking vitamins or something, Shorty.”

Brenda then folded my hand into her larger ones. Brenda then gently brought my hand to her full, pouty lips and kissed it. She also nestled the back of my forearm against her generous, pert, firm breasts. I was not comfortable driving one-handed but my anxiety soon melted as her warm, inviting tongue and lips began to caress and suckle my thumb and each of my fingers in-turn.

“So. Are you going to let me play with it now?” she cooed as she then gently returned my right hand to the steering wheel. I didn’t say anything but she could tell that I was conflicted. “Please?” she persisted. I resisted. “Pretty please?” she lilted as her fingers again began to stroke the bulge beneath my zipper. Other than the obvious safety concerns, I really couldn’t see a downside to letting her have her way. But, something still made me feel anxious.

“Come on, Mark,” she purred. “You know that you want me to,” she cooed as her hand gently cupped over my tent. “Don’t you want me to make you feel good?” she teased. “Don’t you want me to make you feel really good?”

There was a moment of mutual silence. I couldn’t believe that Brenda had given up that easily. I couldn’t believe that deep down I was disappointed that she had given up so easily.

I suppose that I should have known better. Brenda released her seatbelt, turned a bit in her seat, and replaced her left hand with her right. She then rested her left hand on my shoulder while her right hand stimulated my groin anew. She then leaned toward my field of vision (without blocking my view of the road) and smiled sexily at me.

Brenda then adopted a coy grin and a little girl, Shirley Temple-like voice and said, “You see, Mister, I’m just a helpless little girl with a great big crush on you. And, you see, all I want is to make you feel really, really good!” She gave me a gentle squeeze with her right hand and a powerful squeeze with her left as she then continued in the little girly voice, “Don’t you want little-ol’-me to make you feel good? Don’t you want me to help you to relieve all of that stress of driving in this snow? And, … and, … don’t you want to help make me get … bigger?”

I gulped. She heard me and suppressed a knowing giggle. She knew that she had raised the premier, but as yet unspoken topic that had been on my mind since last weekend. Brenda knew that she was now striking home with me on multiple chords and at multiple levels. I had never said anything to her about it. Yet, she somehow knew that I wanted her to keep growing bigger and bigger.

Confident that she had struck upon the winning chord, she began teasing me again with the little girly voice, “Don’t you want to help me grow some more?” She could undoubtedly feel the reinvigorated stirrings beneath her right hand. She continued, “ Don’t you want to help me become a big girl? You know, Mister, I really, really hate being so small”.

The windscreen was beginning to fog. I switched on the defroster. Brenda giggled.

Brenda sensed the growing weakness in my resolve and began to unzip my jeans. I could begin to hear my own pulse quicken as she continued the little Shirley Temple-like voice, ”I just hated being so, soo small and so, soo helpless.” She sighed and her affected little girl voice continued, “I know that you don’t want me to have stay so small, Mister. I know that you like it that I’m a little bit bigger than I used to be. So, Mister Mark, I know that you’ll like me even more when you’ve help me grow a whole lot bigger. Gee whiz, golly gee, gosh, Mister, you know that you want me to get bigger. I just know that you wish that this little-ol’ friend of yours would grow a whole bunch bigger … just … for … you!” She was right, of course.

Brenda continued in the little girl voice, “Just let me make you feel good. Just relax and let me make you feel really, … really good. And, you’ll get your wish. Just let me make you feel good and you can feel me grow again!” I could feel my erection spring through the flap of my boxers as soon as Brenda released its zippered prison.

“Just relax, you big Mister Mark you,” she giggled. Brenda then continued in that same little girl voice, “Just relax and keep your eyes on the road, Shorty. I’m going to make you feel so, so good … and, in return, you can help make me grow so, so big”.

Brenda shifted again and I stiffened as I felt her heavenly warm, moist lips pucker onto my tip.

“And, I’m going to savor every … single … drop,” she promised as she briefly came up for air.

She then set to work massaging and sucking and kneading and licking the tip and shaft with expert ease.

“And, then, after you’ve made me bigger, she smacked, “I’ll be able to make you feel even better.” She resumed. “I’ll be able to give you so much more pleasure,” she breathlessly whispered as she again briefly came up for air.

“Can you imagine that?” she asked. That’s it, Shorty. Just relax and imagine how big you want me to be,” she cooed after a quick gulp of air and before returning to work.

I was starting to reach climax when Brenda decided to pause and tease me bit more. “Yes. Just imagine how big you want me to be. Just relax and imagine it, Mark. Mmmm. B-bigger b-breasts.”

She licked and sucked and tongued some more before purring, “Mmmmhmmm. Long-longer, str-stronger legs.”

I was again reaching climax when she paused and breathlessly whispered, “And, mmmmmm, mm-much b-bigger and s-stronger m-muscles”.

I couldn’t avoid imagining the picture that she painted with her enticing and breathless words. Truth be told: I didn’t want to avoid it either. Brenda then went for the kill and within moments I was gushing spurt after spurt into her eager mouth for all I was worth. It was all I could do to keep us from spinning into a ditch.

Even after I finally stopped ejaculating, Brenda kept pleasuring me all during the afterglow. I was still quivering from the aftershocks. True to her word, Brenda worked to clean me of every last drop. We were both sweating. She had been magnificent!

Brenda then rested her head in my lap and would occasionally tease me with intermittent laps of her tongue or puffs of her breath. It wasn’t long, however, before I could tell that she had fallen asleep.

Tom signaled that he was going to pull off into a rest area. I was actually kind of glad because the weight of Brenda’s head was making my leg fall asleep. I woke Brenda gently. She was breathing restfully and still had her head nestled in my lap. I adjusted my accoutrements and Brenda hers.

We both decided to use the “Comfort Stations”. I didn’t really have to go but I wanted to double-check to be certain that Brenda had not left a visible mess. Tom and I exchanged pleasantries and commiserated about the weather. I offered to be the trailblazer as a change of pace for the rest of the trip. He accepted.

Brenda returned from the ladies’ room. After inquiring as to how her brother was holding-up and exchanging some pleasantries she suddenly whispered in my ear, “It’s going to happen any minute. Let’s get going!” She didn’t have to explain or tell me twice. I checked my watch and estimated that it had indeed been almost an hour since Brenda got her wish in the car.

I brushed the snow that had accumulated since we had stopped and waited for Tom before pulling back onto the highway. Brenda seemed mysteriously quiet.

A few miles later Brenda excitedly whispered, “M-Mark, I th-think it’s starting”. She then grabbed my right hand and scooted it up under her sweatshirt and between her wonderfully warm, bra-less, bountiful breasts. I did a double take since I thought that she had a bra on earlier. “I r-removed it in the b-bathroom,” she quivered, reading my mind.

Brenda’s breathing quickened and she started to quiver. It was just like the two times when we were in bed, except now I was driving and she was trying to give me a hands-on, front-row seat. After a moment or two of Brenda’s quivering, moaning, and panting, I could feel the pressure on my right hand increase smoothly, warmly, and erotically. I had felt Brenda’s breasts balloon slightly the other times but this time was absolutely incredible. My hand was surrounded with slowly swelling breast flesh. I was so distracted by the feel of Brenda’s expanding breasts that I almost didn’t notice that her chest muscles were also growing. A few moments later Brenda was probably an inch or so taller, almost another cup size bigger, and more than a bit more muscular. She was also far more exhausted than she had been only a few minutes earlier. Brenda slept the rest of the way home.

Christmas 2

I had some difficulty waking Brenda when we arrived at her parents’ house. She was zonked. Tom and I were eventually able to rouse her with some gentle prodding. Brenda’s Dad was still not home but her Mom’s welcome was exuberant enough for both parents. She also chided Brenda for not wearing a coat in such bad weather. Unbeknownst to her Mom, Brenda had tried to squeeze into the one that she brought in the car but she was now just too big for it.

We then set to work unpacking in the snowstorm. A couple of times I tried to catch a glimpse of Brenda as a comparison to Tom or, better yet, me. I think that Tom may have suspected that his throat-level view of his sister was a bit further south than it had been back at her dormitory. If he did notice anything, he did so in silence.

I had just lifted a box and turned to take it into the house when Brenda grabbed me from behind with her arms around my chest. “Wait a second,” she whispered into my ear from behind. “They’ll be inside for a few moments yet. I want to check something.” I could then feel Brenda push and pull to spin me around to face her. Her beautiful eyes glittered down at me with the reflections of her parents’ Christmas lights. My eye-level view was now of her chin. A grin began to spread across her face. “You know, since I started growing bigger and bigger, you just keep getting cuter and cuter, … Shorty. I can’t wait to see how cute you look after our next … um … private time,” she giggled.

I became overwhelmed by her words and by the power of her scent as I initially looked up into her eyes and then straight-ahead. As mentioned, my eyes only came up to her chin.

Brenda giggled, grabbed my hands, and pressed my palms, one each, onto her breasts. “These puppies gotta be at least a size bigger ‘n double-D’s now. Don’t you think?” she giggled. Then she winked down at me and said, “But, you’ll have to wait for another time if you want to see how big anything else has grown: my Mom’s coming”.

We soon finished unpacking and, although their Mom invited me to stay for supper, I made my farewells. My parents were probably getting worried about me. I also felt that a growing girl like Brenda could probably use my portion of food anyway. And, besides, after what Brenda had just said to me, I needed some, um, private time.

Thanks to the snack that she coaxed from me on the ride back from her school, Brenda stood at six-foot, two-inches with a thirty-seven inch inseam. To no one’s surprise Brenda’s Christmas list primarily featured clothes. To be honest though, I preferred seeing Brenda when she wore clothes that were a bit too small.

Brenda made it very clear as to what she wanted from me for her Christmas present but our families over-scheduled the Christmas break and so we saw very little of each other.

The day before we were to begin our spring semester, Brenda called and invited me to come over. She explained that her parents took Tom to see his favorite team play. She had the house to herself and wanted to see me. I wasted no time in getting there.

Brenda met me at the door wearing shorts and a too small fuzzy sweater. The fact that she was obviously bra-less pressed to the surface as soon as she opened the door for me. She looked awesome! She seemed to have grown almost another half-of-an-inch or so since I last saw her. Her fuzzy sweater was wonderfully deformed and its buttons puckered in its attempt to contain her almost F-cup breasts. She did a runway model spin to show me the sensually powerful and perfectly rounded butt that topped her long, shapely, muscular legs.

She bent down a bit to plant a very deep and sensuous kiss. I was instantly captivated by her familiar, fantastic scent and intrigued by the hint of cherry flavor in her kiss. Brenda must have just taken some of her medicine.

Although Brenda spent time simply chatting with me, offering me something to drink, and in general just trying to be a gracious hostess, I could tell that her mind was not on any of it. Brenda was gearing up toward full seduction mode. Slowly but surely, I was overwhelmed. It didn’t take Brenda long to let me know that she badly wanted to pleasure me into pumping her mouth full of another one of my growth-inducing snacks.

I chuckled to myself, as once again Brenda told me that she wanted to see if she could possibly use her breasts to engulf and stimulate me. She was being facetious in her understatement. It had been some time since there had been any question at all as to whether Brenda was “big enough”. In fact her breasts had ballooned enough over the last few weeks that she now could completely conceal my manhood between them with no effort whatsoever. Ironically, I was the one who was beginning to wonder if my equipment was big enough.

It was obvious that Brenda loved becoming so tall and busty and athletically built. This particular day, she couldn’t wait to show me that she could curl eighty pounds with just one arm. I could barely curl the same eighty pounds with both arms. Brenda wanted more.

Brenda loved teasing me about finally being bigger than me. Although I never really said anything, she sensed that I loved it too. She also enjoyed planting the idea in my mind that it was me who had helped her to grow from being a very short, scrawny, painfully skinny, little runt into a tall, leggy, busty, athletically built Amazon. She also loved saying that it was I that could make her grow even bigger still. And, that it was me, Shorty, who was going to reap the greater benefits as she grew bigger and Bigger and BIGGER!

As a result of our “private time” that afternoon, Brenda grew to just over six-foot, four-inches tall. Her breasts ballooned to F-cup or better (sacrificing two buttons from her fuzzy sweater in the process).

As I lied on her disheveled bed trying to recover, Brenda flexed and brandished her freshly swollen muscles for me: including arms that had grown to eighteen-inches. I was in awe. Brenda demonstrated for me that she could, thanks to me, now curl ninety-five pounds with each arm. It was then that we heard her parents’ car pull in the driveway.

Brenda gave me a very bosomy, sensual, power-packed, and grateful goodbye hug as I stared ahead at her throat. She then steered me in the right direction and I absentmindedly tottered out their front door. By the time that her parents entered their home, I had a vacant, dopey smile affixed to my face and I was completely drained. Her parents gave me a bit of a quizzical double take as I passed but seemed determined not to want to know what was going on.

Back to School

Brenda and I never rode the same bus to school but I would have given anything to see the looks on the faces of the other students that next morning. Although Brenda had gone to that school since Kindergarten, she had not been to that school in a year-and-a-half. The kids knew that she was returning because Tom had told them. However, he left out the fact that the little sister that he once towered over by more than a foot, now towered over him by about nine-inches. Brenda also now outweighed him 240-pounds to 150-pounds.

Brenda later told me about the reception that she received at her first day back to our school. There was initially a palpable silence when the bus pulled-up to collect Tom. Everyone could see that Tom was talking with a stacked, muscular Amazon but they could not see her face. That is, they couldn’t tell that it was Brenda until she ducked her way along the aisle between the rows of thunderstruck minions. Most of who used to pick on her for being so short and scrawny only three semesters previously.

By virtue of their size, school lockers had once joined the hordes of microcephalic mouthbreathers in taunting little Brenda. Brenda could never reach the shelf near the top. This day, however, she had no trouble at all looking down into her six-foot tall locker. Brenda would also tell me later that the first time that she looked into her new locker, she was reminded of how many times some idiot had pushed her into it and then locked her in. This day she giggled to herself that she probably couldn’t fit inside it: even if she tried.

Physical Education had been another nightmare for little Brenda. This day, however, she was viewed with a combination of reverence and intimidation by her classmates as they stole awed glances at her while she changed her clothes, showered, and was able to stuff the basketball.

James Robinson, a six-foot, six-inch junior, and Mr. Roberts, the six-foot, six-inch boys’ basketball coach, were the only two people in the school who were taller than Brenda at that time. Brenda had always thought that Robinson was a conceited git whose physical height was exceeded only by his towering ego. Conversely, Brenda had always thought that Mr. Roberts was kind and cute. When Mr. Roberts had last seen Brenda, she only came up to his stomach. Today he could see her shyly giggle up at him with her eyes almost level with his nose.

Only one of little Brenda’s old tormentors demonstrated enough stupidity to taunt her this day. Reggie Norton decided to say that Brenda was a “freaky nerd”. Brenda drew applause and gasps when she summarily turned Norton into a replacement wreath for the main door by hoisting him up and then hanging him onto the wreath’s hook by his jacket collar.

I loved hearing Brenda regale me about how many of her teachers were distracted by her. We had no dress code at our school but Brenda had worn her old Special School uniform: a tartan skirt and button-up-the-front blouse. Of course, thanks to our recent “private times” the blouse just didn’t fit like it had when Brenda’s Mom had purchased it only a few weeks earlier. The seams and buttons were hanging on for dear life with each flex, breath, and wobble. As a result some teachers would drift off in mid-sentence during class and others simply stared, slack-jawed, as she passed in the hall. The post and peri-pubescent male students didn’t stand a chance. Brenda swore to me that she noted no less than eleven guys with wet spots during her first day back.

Needless to say, Ms. Burgard, the decidedly non-feminine girls’ basketball coach, hopefully approached Brenda before the end of lunch. Brenda had often felt bullied by Ms. Burgard during much of her scholastic career. Brenda disappointed her by semi-facetiously telling her that basketball would conflict with Chess Club and that she also wanted to save herself for football in the fall. She further told Ms. Burgard, as she gave her a spectacular rear-view and herself an audible pat on the buttock, that she didn’t know what a Tight End was but that it sounded right up her alley. Brenda told me that she could only hear Ms. Burgard sputter something unintelligible as Brenda then sauntered away from her.

I only saw Brenda briefly that day. It was after lunch. She and Tom were talking outside of the Principal’s office. They were both glad to see me but once Tom left to get to his next class, Brenda earned me a ton of cool-points by giving me a peck on the cheek in front of a group of my female classmates. Of course, the girls didn’t know who she was so I was not too embarrassed to be seen being kissed by my best friend’s little sister. The girls only knew that this tall, leggy, busty, athletic babe thought that I was kissable. Ironically, if Brenda had done that to me a year-and-a-half earlier, I would have been laughed out of the school. Unfortunately, I wasn’t bright enough or mature enough to realize all of that at the time that it happened.

My phone rang the moment I entered the house after school. Mom told me that it was Brenda. She could not wait to tell me about her day. Brenda also wanted to tell me that she would most likely have the house to herself on Friday. Her parents had plans and Tom had a date. Brenda then probably felt that she was sweetening the offer by saying that she was going to “try” to cook dinner for me.

Friday was a school day filled with the distraction of spending an evening alone with Brenda. Tom confirmed his date with his new girlfriend, Lindsey, and I encouraged him to take his time and to have a great evening. He responded in kind only because he did not know that his little sister and I had made plans to be together.

The Power of Three

There was not much snow on the ground when I headed over to Brenda’s. My parents actually offered me the car but I felt that a bicycle would be stealthier and less suspicious for the neighbors. A young guy arriving on a bicycle just seemed more innocent than if the same guy were to pull up in a car.

Brenda greeted me with an incredibly deep and luxurious kiss before I could even finish saying “hello”. Her jeans and knit shirt were fitting her form quite nicely, indeed. Between welcoming kisses, Brenda told me that she had plans to make spaghetti and garlic bread without the garlic. I offered to help but she told me that everything would be ready to go in a bit. I had become accustomed to how much Brenda could eat but this night she positively gorged herself with incredible amounts of surprisingly tasty spaghetti.

Between gulps of food, we chatted about the rest of her first week back to school. She giggled every time she referred to how short and puny most of the other kids seemed to be relative to her new size. She then led my imagination along by wondering aloud how much cooler it would be if she were to grow even bigger. Her hint was then punctuated and prodded toward fruition when she reached over and began to stroke the area around the zipper on my jeans. She suggested that we should go up stairs to her bedroom.

I knew this game. I enjoyed it immensely too. Part of the fun was watching Brenda as I pretended to resist a little either by playing dumb or by playing shy. This night Brenda was more persistent and expedient than usual. It was almost as if she did not care whether I pleasured her or not. She seemed fixated only on making me happy: or at least on making me ejaculate.

She was moving in for the kill when she suddenly stopped in mid-deep throat and excused herself. I lied there on the sofa with my wants and feelings all askew and my testicles and penis ready to explode. Brenda then reappeared a few moments later: her sublime scent now featured a fairly strong hint of cherries. “Now. Where was I?” she purred as she zeroed-in on her goal once again.

Before long, I was again in sublime ecstasy and began pumping more and more into her eager mouth. As per usual Brenda did not waste a drop. She continued to stimulate and cuddle me well after the afterglow abated. Then she started again with a renewed sense of purpose. She acted as if I had never cum the first time. Usually she let me rest until her growth spurt. I was slow to rise to the occasion but she was not disappointed. She greedily devoured all that penile peristalsis could deliver to her.

Brenda was disappointed that it was almost an hour before I could become erect yet again. Her spirits soared, as did my rigging. I had completely lost track of time but I didn’t seem to care either. I finally insisted on trying to pleasure Brenda since she had basically denied herself anything but ejaculate snacks so far this evening. She gave in.

I loved playing with Brenda’s breasts. They were so big and firm and almost gravity-defying. She obviously loved to have them played with too. This evening I also nibbled her earlobes and did all of the other things that I knew she liked. Her arms seemed to hold some special intrigue for me that night. Her arm muscles had grown bigger than mine a few weeks back. This particular day they seemed much bigger and more powerful than anyone’s that I had ever seen.

Things were going well. I was enjoying Brenda’s body and she was obviously enjoying how I was causing it to feel. Brenda then seemed to display a sense of urgency. She suddenly pushed me down and onto my back. She began to lick and slurp and suck with more of a sense of purpose than usual. The air of excitement synergized the physical pleasures of the moment and soon I was able to fire stream after warm, creamy stream into her mouth. She thickly mumbled her excited approval.

Just as she finished, I began to feel it. Brenda began to quiver. She rested herself onto me with her pelvis pressed atop mine: her knees and elbows straddled to either side. She flexed her back a bit so that her fuzzy sweater-covered bust was pressing into my chest and her lips could be locked with mine.

It was the familiar quiver at first but then the intensity quickly built to a level that was much higher than ever before. It suddenly dawned on me that Brenda had experienced each of her previous growth spurts after consuming only one of my creamy loads. This night, however, she had slurped, sucked, and swallowed three. Brenda still straddled me: her actively bulging fuzzy sweater remained pressed into my chest but she released her kiss. A look of exaggerated ecstasy spread across Brenda’s face. “Ohhhhh! Unnnngggh. Y-yessss …sssss,” she moaned.

I could sense that Brenda’s body was starting to lengthen: especially her legs. Her knees had been dug into the mattress but as her legs grew; I could feel her heels slowly brushing further and further down my legs. Her bust also seemed to move closer to my face as her lips moved towards the top of my head. I could also feel her breasts continue to swell against my chest. “Mmmmmm! Bii … gggggg … errrrr! Mmmmmhmm … Mmmmuch b-biggerrrr,” she purred.

Brenda then straightened her elbows so that her hands were now supporting her. This brought her ballooning breasts briefly out of contact with my chest and almost into my face. I could tell that the already over-matched buttons on the fuzzy sweater were straining even more as their incredible load swelled even bigger.

Brenda seemed determined to tease me by keeping her burgeoning bust just out of reach of my lips. Or, maybe she just wanted to make certain that I’d be able to breath. At that moment I didn’t care if they suffocated me. What a way to go!

I stole a glance of Brenda’s arms just before her ballooning bust blotted out my visual field. They were swelling too. Her sweater sleeves appeared relatively shorter and much too tight now.

Brenda again backed her breasts away from my face just enough so that I could appreciate the effect that their growth was having on her over-matched sweater. Pop! “Oooooh! Yessss! Tee Hee. B-b … iggggg … errrr,” Brenda moaned with a hint of giggle. Poppity pop! A second button failed spectacularly and pinged off my forehead.

Brenda then leaned back. Her knees now supported all of her weight. Her groin straddled mine. I stared up at the undersides of her still ballooning breasts. “D’ya like these?” she cooed as she framed them with her hands. I mutely nodded. She grinned and whispered, “I thought you might”, before lapsing into another series of growth induced moans.

Every part of her was still growing. From the noises that she made I could tell that she obviously loved every moment and every sensation of it. She recovered and asked, “Well, Shorty, how about these? Do you like these too?” She then flexed her arms and the seams of her sweater failed as both biceps exploded to attention. Brenda smiled her knowing approval at my reaction to her incredible, and still growing, guns.

With her arms up in the air, flexing for me, Brenda sat back so that my pelvis was now supporting most of her weight. As much as I was enjoying the show: she was getting very heavy. She realized this and shifted all of her weight back to her knees. “Oopsie!” she playfully teased, “I guess that I might finally be getting too big for you, Shorty!”

By this time enough buttons had failed and fled, and enough seams had torn so that her sweater became essentially useless as far as preserving any semblance of modesty that Brenda might have still retained.

Brenda continued to moan her approval of the spectacular developments that her body continued to undertake. I heartily approved, too! Especially when Brenda then started to again dip down to tease me with her breasts. She would bring them just close enough for me to lick or nip at a nipple and then slowly pull back away. Her face radiated sublime pleasure, satisfaction, and confidence.

After a few minutes, I could tell that her growth was beginning to slow. Exhaustion then started to overtake Brenda and she rolled to a position beside me so that she could spoon me. It was obvious that she was now too big for me to spoon her anymore.

Her perspiration-moistened breasts felt incredible as she nuzzled them into my back. Her body had been taller and bigger than mine for some time now but I could tell that there had been a much more significant increase in her size just in the preceding incredible minutes. Part of me wanted to try to see just how much bigger Brenda had become but most of me was completely content to remain relaxed and enveloped and dominated by my partner spoon.

We slept for about an hour before panic overtook us at the sound of Brenda’s parents’ car crunching the snow outside in the driveway. It was dark both outside and inside the room. We both leapt out of bed and scurried to find my footwear. Brenda told me not to turn on the light because then her parents would be able to see us through the window. Brenda had no idea what she was going to put on herself to replace her shredded fuzzy sweater.

As the front door opened, I knew that I didn’t have any time at all to enjoy seeing even a shadow of Brenda in all her freshly grown and expanded glory. I could easily tell, however, when she grabbed my shoulders to kiss me goodbye that she had become much, much bigger much more powerful and than she had been earlier this evening. After a quick kiss, I scooted out her window and slid down the garage roof towards my waiting, snow covered bicycle. I later found out that Brenda had simply closed the window behind me, jumped into bed, and pretended to be asleep when her parents came in to check on her. Unbeknownst to me at the time, my third load hadn’t yet kicked-in and Brenda had another spurt of growth after I had left.

Brenda and I did not see each other the rest of the weekend. I spoke briefly to her Mom that Sunday. She told me that Brenda had gone to the mall. I chuckled to myself as I assumed that Brenda had gone to buy some more clothes.

The Power of Three Revealed

Monday morning arrived with another beautiful blanketing of fresh snow. I waited for Brenda near her locker before Homeroom. As it turned out, she and Tom arrived late because their bus had some difficulty with one of the snow-covered hills. I was obviously disappointed. I had impatiently waited all weekend to see what had become of Brenda’s body as a result of my Triple Cum Cocktail.

My answer finally arrived after second period. I was at my locker when I felt a large hand firmly but gently rest upon my shoulder. “Hi-ya, Shorty,” an all too familiar voice giggled to me from above. Her grip on my shoulder prevented me from turning to face her right away. “My Mom told me that you had called yesterday. Did you miss me?” she giggled. I told her that of course I did and that I would be very happy to see her, if in fact, she would actually let go and let me see her. Brenda giggled.

“Well. Okay. But I hope that you won’t be disappointed.” She giggled again as she gently kissed the top of my head! A tremendous shiver went up and down my spine and settled in my groin. Brenda then released her hand from my shoulder. I turned slowly and met Brenda … face-to-bust. I blinked several disbelieving but appreciative blinks before allowing my eyes to slowly skim up toward her very satisfied grin and then finally rest on her giggling eyes.

I could tell that Brenda approved of my reaction. She then bent down and provided me with a dizzying kiss. When she abruptly straightened again, there was a definite delayed wobble beneath her bloated and wonderfully deformed new sweatshirt.

Brenda then enveloped my chest with her hands and lifted me up for another kiss. I was surprised and more than a little turned-on by the ease by which she had delivered my lips up to hers. She giggled as she then set me back down. “I’ll let you think about which method you like better,” she teased.

The bell rang and Brenda giggled a goodbye as she bounded off to her next class. The rear-view was almost as spectacular as the front-view. Beneath her too-small sweatpants I could see the powerful muscles in her long, incredible, athletic legs and beautiful butt as they rhythmically flexed with each step.

I caught a brief glimpse of Brenda later in the day as she was coyly chatting with James Robinson. In a reversal, Robinson’s eyes now barely came up to Brenda’s cute, little nose. He was obviously impressed with the incredibly built, Amazonian girl giggling before him: as evidenced by the bulge in his sweatpants.

I tried to call Brenda several times after school but her phone was busy.

The next day, Brenda didn’t seem to follow her usual routine so I did not really see her at all until I spotted her across the football field. Judging from their sizes, I guessed that she was again talking with Robinson.

When I did manage to reach Brenda’s telephone, Tom answered and I talked with him. I still didn’t feel comfortable asking him if I could talk with his little sister. And, he didn’t offer any useful, sister-related information.

After about two weeks of essentially no contact with Brenda, I was becoming anxious. I was not yet consciously aware of it but my worst-case scenario was that Brenda was avoiding me. Unfortunately, my imagination had not been cynical enough to guess the whole truth.

Tom invited me over to study another Brenda-less week later. I was looking forward to seeing her much more than studying with Tom but of course I could not let him know that.

My only contact with Brenda at their house was when she breezed past the dining room door as Tom and I studied at the table. “See you later, Tom,” she shouted as she then headed out of the house toward a honking horn. I was crushed. Hadn’t she seen me? A few moments later a car pulled away.

It was difficult for me to keep my attention paid to the homework at hand. I wanted to know where Brenda had gone. And, I wanted to know who was driving her. The problem was, I couldn’t very well ask Tom.

After a few more weeks of life without Brenda, I found myself thinking about her more and more. I also found my “private time” filled with visions of her. The most effective and persistent were those where she would grow right before my eyes. I imagined her growing from a shapeless, scrawny, tiny girl who only came up to my chest into a tall, leggy, busty, powerfully athletic Amazon: an Amazon to whom my eyes would only come up to her chest. The best part was: it wasn’t really a fantasy. The worst part was: it wasn’t really a fantasy!

Such mind’s-eye images were extremely effective at helping me to, um, relieve my frustration. However, as you can imagine, they were not nearly as much fun or satisfying as when Brenda was actually present to assist.

After another week of being essentially avoided by her, I decided to write Brenda a letter and ask what was going on. To my knowledge I certainly hadn’t done anything to hurt her feelings or cause her to be upset with me.

My letter was short and to the point. Unfortunately it was also unanswered. In the meantime I had seen Brenda around school and around town with different guys. Robinson seemed to be one of her more consistent companions. I don’t know why. She had always despised him. But, then again, he had money, a nice car of his own, and was a popular athlete. I didn’t have money, I had to borrow my parents’ car, but I was not unpopular.

A week later I wrote Brenda another letter. It too went unanswered and unacknowledged. I was becoming like a lovesick puppy. I really missed her.

Several more unanswered and unacknowledged letters later, I began to realize that I was not just missing Brenda’s incredible body but also the nonsexual fun that we had together.

Brenda and I literally bumped into each other at the bakery on the day before Valentine’s Day. She was there with a few school friends. Although Brenda didn’t say anything; apparently we both were there to pick up packages for our Moms. Brenda, unlike her friends, was polite but that was it. I couldn’t help but feel how much I missed her and wanted to tell her but – I didn’t. I thought that it was simply not cool to say anything about my feelings in front of her friends.

As Easter break approached I was absolutely miserable. None of my letters to Brenda had been answered. I had only seen Brenda a few more times and each time she had only been polite to me: as she would be to an acquaintance. On one occasion she introduced me to one of her giggling friends as, “… a friend of my brother’s.” I was devastated. She seemed nonplussed as she stood towering over me with an expression of awkward embarrassment. I did notice that she, of course looked spectacular, was the same size as she had been the day at my locker. Brenda body didn’t seem to be growing anymore. On the other hand, from my perspective, her ego seemed to have swelled right along with her popularity.

At that point I wrote a letter that not only asked Brenda what the problem was but also contained a fairly lengthy bit about how I felt about her. I just didn’t seem to care anymore as to whether my liking her would cause me any embarrassment.

The following week Brenda was at the food court in the mall. She had been collecting an entourage of male and female sycophants since her return to school and they all seemed to be present. Brenda looked great. She was stuffed into a new fuzzy sweater. Her incredible thighs were neatly but only partially covered by a pleated tartan skirt. A pair of pink anklet socks punctuated the ends of her long and athletically muscled calves. I sat alone across the way and tried not to look lonely or to stare. After Brenda had finished, she and her gang headed roughly my way. I could see smirks and sniggers splashed throughout her herd. I could only imagine what they might say if they steered toward me.

It didn’t take long to find out. Brenda came over to me and waved-off the others when she was about five feet away from me. I stirred anxiously. I had an uncomfortable sense of upside-down déjà vu. Brenda may have had the same because, with her back to the others, she then allowed a stunted ironic smile to briefly flicker across her face. But then she seemed to appear more serious, even thoughtful. She hesitated for a moment and then leaned towards me with her hands on my table. She then whispered so that only I could hear, “I read your letter, Shorty. Keep it up.” She then rose and rejoined her gaggle of gigglers.

I was confused but also extremely pleased that Brenda had even deigned to speak to me! I found out from Brenda much later that she had originally been egged-on by her gang to come over just to tease me. Brenda yielded to the peer pressure but had actually not decided what to say to me until she got a close look at me. She also had not planned to acknowledge that she had read any of my letters. However, apparently once she saw the genuinely pitiful look on my face, and realized that I had only looked at her eyes, even though her enticing, barely constrained bust would have been easier for me to see, she had second thoughts. However, as I mentioned, I didn’t find out about any of that until long after the fact.

I slouched around the mall for a while longer that day: trying to make sense out of what was going on. The irony of our apparent role-reversal was not completely lost on me. I missed Brenda. I supposed that she should be allowed some fun: being popular was a new and potentially intoxicating experience. I also reasoned that she was even allowed some revenge for how I had treated her for all of those years.

Before I finally left the mall I had became more and more convinced that it was Brenda’s fun and personality that I missed: her new, incredible body became almost an afterthought to me. Much as I enjoyed playing with it and helping to make it grow, if given a choice, I would’ve jumped at a chance for a date with the old, short, wimpy, little Brenda. I wrote Brenda another letter when I got home.

A Force To Be Reckoned

My letters to Brenda continued unanswered. When my parents left me on my own during their two-week second honeymoon, my letters to Brenda became longer and more heartfelt. It did not take long for the letters to become very diary-like: all-inclusive but unilateral.

I would occasionally see Brenda around school. After all, it was not easy to overlook her very tall and incredibly well built and bodacious body. Unfortunately it was also difficult to overlook her ever-expanding circle of saccharine sycophants. Worse: Robinson seemed to have become an ever-present, panting fixture as well. Brenda rarely ever said a word directly to me during our brief encounters at school. A tentative mini-nod was all that I could hope for. On the other hand, however, Brenda’s surrogates did a very effective job of chipping away at my ego and diminishing my social quotient.

I was growing discouraged. However, in hindsight, I never gave up on the possibility that Brenda still liked me and that we would be friends again. There was something in the way that she interacted with her friends when I was around. Brenda did not seem happy around her new comrades. She never smiled. The exception -- Brenda would give me a bit of a nod and a guarded smile whenever she saw me at school. I began to believe that the luster of being the Queen Bee was probably tarnishing from all of the saccharine heaped upon her by her disingenuous, self-absorbed, sycophantic minions.

Even though Brenda did not appear to have had any more significant growth spurts since that day that I triple dosed her, she seemed to become more and more attractive. Perhaps it was just because she was maturing as a person or perhaps it was just my own heart growing fonder in her absence. Either way, I was gradually developing a deeper understanding of how Brenda might have felt when our roles were the opposite only a year previously.

The football bleachers were always a popular gathering spot for the cool crowd during lunch and after classes. One day I noted Brenda and her bunch gathered with the football players and the cheerleaders. It was common knowledge that Brenda had considered joining the boys’ football team and that she had also considered joining the cheerleaders. She would have been a standout in either. Her martial arts training and weight lifting helped her to hone her huge, incredible body into a formidable and flexible instrument. Of course, being the tallest person in the school, and having an impressive set of muscles didn’t hurt her chances at breaking the gender barrier in football. And, having the best legs and butt and the biggest breasts didn’t hurt her chances for cheerleading. As a side point: I had actually considered trying out for football at one time but my hopes of taking after my Dad’s side of the family fell short. I never did grow taller than five-foot, ten-inches. That fact, and the fact that I was never good at putting any useful weight onto my frame, dashed my chances for gridiron glory. Anyway, I could not help but notice that Brenda seemed detached from the surrounding crowd. She waved to me. Although pleasantly caught off guard, I cautiously waved back. I did not wish to attract anyone else’s attention.

Later in the week I spotted Brenda at one of the local fast food places. She was again surrounded by her gang but seemingly detached. I decided not to enter the shop once I saw her. I didn’t know it then but she saw me at the door as I was changing my mind. I then absentmindedly headed off. I was no longer hungry. As I passed one of the few alleyways in our small town, three toughs grabbed me. Before I knew what was happening, my nose was bloody and pressed flat against a brick wall.

Two of the hoods held me in place as the third tore the wallet from my pocket. None of them were pleased to discover that I had only nine dollars on me. I stupidly tried to turn my head to see what was going on. My lights then went out.

I woke up sometime later with a cold compress over my nose and eyes. I could hear voices and the steady beeping of a machine. As I stirred, the voices hushed themselves. A second or too later someone spoke in a very tentative, solemn voice, “Are you okay, … Shorty? You really had me worried.” A flood of warmth washed over me. It was so good to hear Brenda’s voice. I didn’t care that I was in a lot of pain. I didn’t care that I wasn’t sure where I was. I didn’t even care that I couldn’t move my arms. I just felt so deeply moved and pleased that Brenda was with me: and, talking to me.

Brenda whispered that I was in the hospital. She explained that I couldn’t move my arms because I had a broken one arm and that I had an intravenous line in the other arm. Brenda then enveloped that hand with a genuinely sympathetic squeeze. The doctor joined us at that point. He went on to describe the rest of my injuries. He also told me that the hospital was trying to find my parents. They were not scheduled to return home until the weekend.

The doctor explained that he did not want to remove the compress because of the injuries that I had sustained to my nose and eyes. I could not see Brenda but I was extremely grateful that she was still holding my hand.

I was released from the hospital the next morning. Brenda and her parents insisted that I stay with them until my folks could return home. I do not recall much of those next couple of days but I do remember falling in love with Brenda and her falling in love with me. The day I returned to school, Brenda scuttled her sect of sycophants.

If you ask Brenda today, she will tell you that she had always been in love with me. But, she would also tell you that she had worked so hard for so long to suppress those feelings for me that once she finally became popular; she thought that she had succeeded. However, according to her, even when she was trying to enjoy her popularity, she never stopped caring for me. Brenda also maintains that once she saw me so helpless and so pitiful lying there after my attack, all of her carefully constructed barriers melted and she decided to dump her popular image and embrace her feelings towards me. Fortunately, I was finally smart enough and mature enough by then to be honest with her and, perhaps more importantly, with myself.

Brenda and I have been married for quite a while now and we are both very happy. We have two sons and a daughter.

In case you were wondering, I was prompted to finally write this story because today I noticed that my little girl, Laurie, was now taller than me. I had a bit of a flashback at breakfast as my sweet little girl smiled down at me as she poured me some coffee. Laurie is also now at least the same height as her five-foot, ten-and-a-half inch, older brothers.

Like her Mother when she was young, Laurie had always been a short, scrawny, little thing. Like her Mom too, she was also a late bloomer. This past semester, however, Laurie finally hit puberty. It did not take long after that for everyone to realize that puberty was being exceedingly kind and generous to little Laurie. Given how quickly she was growing out of jeans and busting out of tops, I began to wonder how long it would be before my little girl was going to eventually tower over her brothers and I. This morning I got my answer. Now, as I write this, I wonder if my little girl will eventually tower over her Mom as well.

Although she never had another rapid spurt, Brenda has never really stopped growing. Something in the medications that she took affected her such that puberty eventually slowed but some aspects of it never really ended. In fact, those affects also seemed to have made it difficult for Brenda to become pregnant with each of our three children. As of today, the short, shy, scrawny, little girl that once barely came up to my chest is now my loving wife: and I barely come up to hers.

Over the years, my wife, Brenda, and I have had several conversations about her time at the Special School. We talked about the medications that Brenda had taken and how, while she was there, she was able to game the system in order to get her hands on such large amounts of it. We have also discussed her motivations for taking so much of it. Brenda once explained to me, “You didn’t seem to be interested in me until I finally started to grow. So, I just had to keep taking more and more of the stuff until I was convinced that you might finally find me attractive”.

Brenda will readily admit, however, that she enjoyed growing. She will also tell you that she got a little carried away because she really enjoyed the fact that I enjoyed her growth. Once she left the Special School, however, she was no longer able to obtain anymore of the medication. In fact, she drank the last of it that day that I had triple-dosed her.

Brenda claims that although she loved the sensation of growing, she really never planned to grow quite as huge as she did. Of course, Brenda likes to “blame” me for adding such a tasty and powerful “extra stimulus” to her medication and causing her incredible growth and impressive development to be magnified even more. Brenda still somewhat facetiously claims that she had everything under control, and that she would not have grown even half as much, if it hadn’t been for me adding my “guy chemicals” to her already potent cocktail of medications. Needless to say, neither of us have any regrets.

Having said that, Brenda and I have never discussed any of the details behind her impressive size and continuing growth with Laurie or the boys.

Now, especially since this morning, I can’t help but wonder if the impressive effects of those medications haven’t somehow been passed along from my wife to my once petite and painfully skinny little girl. Perhaps something about finally beginning puberty may have finally triggered their latent effects in Laurie.

Laurie seems to be taking her growth spurt in stride: her brothers are not. This is especially true of late because Laurie suddenly seems to be growing at a faster rate than before. Not only has she grown taller than her “big” brothers but she has also been packing on a fair amount of muscle. All three already seem to understand that it probably won’t be long before she is stronger than them. I’ve tried to ease my sons’ uneasiness. After all, their Mom, my wife, has arms that are bigger than my thighs.

Needless to say, Laurie has become very popular with boys. So far she seems to enjoy her newfound attention from the guys. However, as my wife privately notes, that might change if Laurie outgrows them all. For now, however, as far as Brenda and I know, Laurie does not yet have a boyfriend, per se. But I must admit that I am getting suspicious, because, after all, given my own experience with her Mom, I can’t help but wonder if some young guy hasn’t unwittingly been causing my baby to grow so big and so fast. Given Laurie’s shyness about discussing boys with her Mother and me: only time will tell.

The End of “Compounding Interest” by Hunter S. Creek © 2005