Laura and the Chocolate Factory (Part 2 of 3)
A Second Generation Whateley Academy Tale
Laura and the Chocolate Factory
With contributions from Kristin and Mage
Part Two of Three
Saturday, October 16, 2016 - Evening
Labs, Whateley Academy
Face in her hands, sobbing, Laura sat outside one of the labs' conference rooms. She'd been in and out of the room, answering questions from the technical program staff, replaying the telemetry of her field generator, and generally feeling guilty that her invention had badly injured her friend. The inquiry was so thorough that it felt to Laura like some type of Star Chamber passing judgment on her and her invention.
All of the crew that had been at the test range had their turns inside the conference room, one at a time, answering questions from the technical panel. Caitlin Bardue had been in and out of the room several times, as had been several other members of the Magical Arts program and medical staff.
The sound of the conference room door opening didn't penetrate Laura's guilt-induced funk. She did finally notice when Mrs. Cody sat beside her and put her arm around Laura's shoulder. "How are you doing?"
Laura shook her head, sobbing a little more. "I didn't mean to hurt Morgana."
"I know," Mrs. Cody said soothingly. "But this is Whateley. Accidents happen."
"Have you had anything to eat?"
Laura shook her head. "I'm not hungry," she moped.
"We've gone over the video from the range several times and talked to the medical staff from Doyle," Mrs. Cody reported.
"When will the ... official ... report come out?" Laura asked softly.
Mrs. Cody chuckled. "This isn't a formal board of inquiry or a hunt for a scapegoat. We're trying to find out precisely what happened so we can make sure it doesn't happen again." She stood and offered a hand to Laura. "Let's go inside so you can listen to what we've found so far."
Surprised, Laura followed Mrs. Cody into the conference room and sat in a vacant chair against a wall. She winced once more at the seniority of the panel; the department quite clearly took accident investigations very seriously.
Slowly, carefully, the group walked through the video and other 'evidence' for Laura. Even though it didn't completely satisfy her conscience about the accident and injury to her friend, it was clear from the camera views that when her PFG had vented due to the overload, the plasma plume was directed away from Morgana. With information from Doyle about how her burnout seemed to have progressed, and an assessment of the flame patterns by Caitlin Bardue and others from the magic arts department, it was evident to all that Morgana's burnout started first, and the resulting heat overloaded the PFG which caused the plasma venting, rather than vice-versa.
The weight of evidence didn't assuage Laura's conscience, though. When the panel finished summarizing what they believed happened, Mrs. Cody led Laura out of the room.
"As I said, it wasn't your fault," Mrs. Cody said to the dejected girl as the pair walked toward an elevator out of the labs.
"It was testing my field generator ...." Laura started to protest.
Mrs. Cody shook her head with a sad expression. "If a mutant is going to have a burnout, he or she is going to have a burnout. Something will inevitably trigger it."
"But ... if she hadn't come with me to the range ...?"
"What would have happened if Morgana's burnout happened in an unsupervised place, like hiking in the woods or walking to the Village to help you babysit?" Mrs. Cody queried. "What would have happened then?" She could tell that Laura was considering the question. "She wouldn't have gotten help as quickly as she did," the instructor replied without waiting the blue girl to answer. "She probably would have died."
Mrs. Cody shook her head. "If she was going to have a burnout, the only place that would have been better for her sake would have been directly in Doyle." She looked squarely at Laura. "One thing you need to learn as a gadgeteer and devisor is that you cannot be responsible for how someone uses your invention. Was John Browning responsible for all the killings that happened because of how people used his guns?"
Laura thought a moment. "I guess not."
"Your inventions are objects. They have no inherent evil or malice. It's the person using the tool that makes actions good or bad. Does that make sense?"
Laura nodded slowly. "But it doesn't make it feel any better."
Saturday, October 15, 2016 - Very Late
Emerson Cottage, Whateley Academy
"Hey, Nate, turn out the damned light!" a junior in Emerson called to his roommate.
"It's Saturday! Why should I go to bed early when I'm gonna sleep in tomorrow?" Nate Gibbs retorted. He was sitting on his bed propped against a pillow by the wall, his laptop open. Without looking, he reached to his desk, near his bed, and snatched a piece of chocolate. He'd just about taken a bite when he laughed uproariously at something on his computer. Unlike his roommate, he wasn't an exemplar, but was a little bit on the chubby side. "Man, I keep telling you to watch the GamingGeek channel!" he managed to stammer when his laughter calmed. "He's so damned funny!"
"I don't want to do anything except sleep!" Steve Leonard, also a junior, complained. "My team has a sim early tomorrow morning, and I want to get some sleep!"
"Fine," Nate replied gruffly, shutting his laptop as he devoured another morsel of chocolate. "I'll get my headphones so you won't hear!"
"And turn out the light!" Steve griped. "And don't laugh so loud!"
"Okay, don't get your panties in a bunch!" Nate shot back. He set his laptop on his desk, which was right beside his bed, and began to prepare for bed, pausing as he disrobed to munch on more of his chocolate bar. Slipping on a robe, he grabbed his toiletries bag to head for the showers, pausing once more to shove a square of chocolate into his maw.
A few minutes later, Nate came back in his room. As he dropped his robe and started to pull on his PJs, he noticed that his roommate was focused on him. "What?" he asked gruffly.
"Something looks ... different!" Steve noted hesitantly.
Nate noticed that his roommate was looking at his chest. "Fuck you!" he snapped angrily. "It's not my fault I've got man boobs! The docs said a lot of ... heavier ... guys do!"
"I wasn't ...." Steve started to apologize and explain quickly. He knew Nate was sensitive about his weight and body dimensions, and like many heavier teens, a cocktail of unfamiliar hormones and a little extra fat made it appear that he had small breasts. "Sorry."
"I wish you had your own moobs so you could understand how embarrassing it is!" Nate added, unhappy at the subject which caused him no small amount of torment, especially from the exemplar boys.
"I said I was sorry!" Steve repeated. He decided to change the subject. "Hey, have you got any extra chocolate?"
Nate glared at his roommate. "Whose fault is it that you only bought two bars?"
"Don't tell me you ate all the bars you bought?" Steve countered. "Six? Look, if you give me one now, I'll buy you another tomorrow after breakfast!"
Nate looked at his remaining Punk Pink Penguin candy bars, then at his roommate. "I've got a chocolate chili and a hazelnut left," he finally relented.
"Chocolate-chili," Steve quickly replied.
As he pulled on his pajama tops after silencing his roommate with a chocolate bribe, Nate glanced down at his chest. Maybe his chest was a little puffier and itchier, but the doctors had told him it would be a while before his 'moobs' went away, and that losing a little weight would help. He glanced at the last uneaten square of unwrapped chocolate bar on his desk, thinking a moment, then he relented and snatched up the morsel of chocolatey goodness. He'd start back on his diet in the morning.
Saturday, October 15, 2016 – Evening
Taking a week of vacation to visit her parents after she had delivered Laura's neural neutralizer, Asami Nishimura began to prepare for bed. The previous day, her clothing had felt a little small, notably in her blouse, and her bra seemed a little small, but she had discounted the minor discomfort as fatigue from her travels back to Japan. Throughout Saturday, the discomfort grew more significant, and by the time she stripped off her clothes, she couldn't ignore the fact that the buttons on her blouse were straining. Beneath them, her bra was pushed out from her chest significantly, and the straps had left ugly red marks on her shoulders.
Asami barely noticed the red marks. Instead, she was staring in total disbelief at her breasts; she'd been modestly endowed, like most Japanese women, but somehow, her chest had swollen, and she had an ample bosom. That had explained the discomfort; somehow, through the day, her boobs had grown to what she guessed was a large C or D cup.
At once, she was both elated and horrified. How had this happened? Why had her breasts grown so much in such a short time? And yet, she had very noticeable boobs. While they weren't as large as the breasts of some notable porn stars, they were nevertheless substantially larger than any of her office-mates. Or even her class-mates from the university.
Asami knew she was going to have to visit a doctor; this type of growth could mean a tumor or other serious problem. And while she relished the feelings of cupping big boobs on her chest, of feeling them sway and bounce as she twisted and bounced around the room, she knew that they might interfere with her job. Her large boobs might be considered a distraction in a professional office. She might be treated as eye-candy instead of an upcoming consular officer.
She had a lot to think about, but as she slipped into bed, she relished the feeling of unconstrained breasts flopping and sloshing about on her chest as she turned and wiggled.
Sunday, October 16, 2016 - Breakfast
Crystal Hall, Whateley Academy
Horace sat at the chocolate sales table alone, since Lori had obviously overslept and Laura was scheduled for manufacturing more chocolate bars. There was a line of customers, some of whom seemed to be getting impatient. Fortunately for Horace, his urgent phone call to Laura was answered, and she trotted into the cafeteria and to the table.
"I got here as quickly as I could," she said as she sat down. She noticed that a few of the guys in line seemed to be staring at her, and she unconsciously flinched at the unwanted attention. "Where's Lori?"
"I think she slept in." Horace turned his attention back to the customers, the line of whom had split into two lines now that there was a second person at the table.
"Morning, Horace," a sophomore boy sang out cheerfully as he stepped to the head of the line after Horace had completed the previous sale.
"Hey, Sam," Horace replied to his friend from Melville Cottage. "I assume you want more chocolate?"
"Yeah. Probably another ... probably thirty bars," Sam replied thoughtfully.
Horace's eyes bulged. "Thirty? Pigging out on chocolate?"
Laura had caught the exchange and decided to interrupt. "You already ate the twenty-five you bought yesterday?"
"Nah," Sam chuckled. "After Friday's swim class, I was having a little chocolate as a snack in the locker room, and, well, I ended up sharing small samples. A bunch of us decided to pool our money. After we practice, it's nice to wind down with some some really good chocolate."
Horace nodded with understanding. "Well, either way, pick your poison and fork over the money!" he laughed with his friend.
Sunday, October 16, 2016 - Early Morning
Whitman Cottage, Whateley Academy
Lori Sims rolled over heavily, somehow ignoring the somewhat annoying noise her alarm clock made. Her roommate, however, Alison Poole, was not able to ignore the sound which seemed like a cross between a kazoo, a tuba playing a part of a Sousa march, a badly-tuned organ hammering out some stereotypical horror movie villain chords, and a big tomcat being neutered without anesthesia. Wincing as the tones burrowed into her brain, she did what any self-respecting human would do - she screamed and hurled her pillow at her roommate.
"Wake up, Lori!" she called out.
Somehow, the raccoon-girl managed to stay asleep. Based on past experience, however, it seemed that Alison was prepared; she leaped out of bed, snatched open the door of their small dorm fridge, and in one practiced fluid motion, yanked up the edge of Lori's covers while she scooped a bag of some chilled stuff under the covers, which impacted squarely on Lori's back. The girl screeched as she leapt practically to the ceiling.
"Stop doing that!" Lori hissed as she shook off the chills from the 'wake-up bag' Ali kept in the fridge.
"Only when you start waking up when that stupid alarm goes off!" Ali countered, sliding back into her bed and pulling up her covers. "Where on earth did you get that hideous sound?"
"One of the guys in the lab synthesized what his studies show is the sound combination most likely to wake up anyone," Lori replied.
"You're obviously not 'anyone'," Ali shot back, "since it doesn't wake you up!" She pulled a pillow over her head, then, with eyes wide open, pulled it back and gawked at her roommate. "Um ...." she stammered, not quite knowing what to say.
"What?" Lori, still a bit sleepy, was pulling on her robe to go shower.
"Am I hallucinating, or, um, are you ... you know," Ali stammered uncertainly, "bigger?"
The sleep fog enveloping Lori's brain was quickly dissipating, and she started at her roommate's comment. She stopped pulling the robe over herself and looked down studiously. "Maybe. Do you think so?" she asked hesitantly after a moment, not quite trusting her still-sleepy mind and eyes. "Do they look bigger to you?"
"Yeah," Ali shot right back.
"I hope so," Lori said, sounding a little eager. "I know I'm not as big as some girls, and ... well ...."
Ali shook her head, sighing. "You want bigger boobs so Horace will notice you, right?" she smirked.
Lori blushed; her roommate had hit the nail on the head. "Not ... not really," she lied unconvincingly.
"One way you can find out," Ali observed. "Try on your bra. If you grew, you'll know immediately."
With a shrug, unable to hide her hope that she was indeed finally 'filling out', Lori dropped her robe and picked up a bra. In seconds, both girls realized that while the band of her bra still fit her torso properly, the A-cups of the garment were clearly too small for her larger boobs which were trying to spill out of their confinement - much to the raccoon-girl's delight.
"First thing first," Ali observed, "you need to get to the campus store and get a proper-fitting bra."
A moment later, Lori's forehead wrinkled in worry. "Um, what if, um, what if Horace, you know, doesn't ... doesn't, um ...."
Ali shook her head, smiling, which interrupted Lori's doubt-filled monologuing, or at least what promised to be a bout of doubt-filled monologuing. "Horace is a boy, right?"
"Yeah," Lori asked, perplexed by the question.
"He's not gay, is he?"
Lori shook her head emphatically. "Definitely not gay."
"How do you know?" Ali continued her line of questioning. "Did he hit a home run?"
"No," Lori admitted sheepishly, "second base."
"And what happened?" Ali wanted to hear more juicy details.
"Third base was uncovered, but ... he ... he wouldn't steal third. He was stuck playing on second base!" Lori said with a scowl, indicating that she'd hoped Horace would have moved further along.
Ali chuckled at her roommate's confusion. "Not surprising. Boys' brains are hardwired that when they see or touch a bare breast, they can't focus on anything else. Maybe latent memories of nursing that permanently warped their brains into a breast fixation?" She paused. "You're sure he was lusting after your boobs?"
Lori nodded her head, still blushing a bit. "He couldn't keep his hands off them! And ... once in a while he'd slide a free hand toward my waist."
Ali nodded, a smug smile on her face. "Definitely not gay, then."
"So how do I let him know the playground is open without sounding like a slut?" Lori asked.
"Work with him. Make sure you're behind him when he wants to show you something, and lean into his back so he can feel the pressure of your boobs. Ask him to go with you to the campus store because you need a new bra, and because there are so many styles and colors, you'd like his opinion." Ali chuckled. "If that doesn't get him, nothing will."
"It's worth a try." Lori sounded hopeful that she'd gotten a strategy to get things with Horace moving faster than the glacial pace the boy seemed to be acting at.
Sunday, October 16, 2016 - Mid-Morning
Flying Club, Whateley Academy
"Ready to lose?" Rose Little Deer taunted her boyfriend Owl in the large flight cavern, where they often got in some early flying time before breakfast and the daily rush to use the facility.
"You wish. Same bet as usual?" Mark Simmons, Owl, retorted smartly.
"Dinner in Le Bistro? Sure. I think lobster would be a nice change," Rose shot back over her shoulder as she walked into the girls' locker room so she could change into her ultra-lightweight flying suit.
A few moments later, she was back, looking uncomfortable and unhappy. Her flight suit pinched across her chest significantly and she wasn't able to completely zip the front shut. "This isn't fitting right!" she grumbled to Mark.
The boy grimaced. "Yours, too?" His outfit was also a bit tight across the chest.
"Um," Rose's eyes widened, "you ...." She winced, then turned him slightly to one side.
"What?" he asked, surprised.
She winced visibly. "Um, you see this ... puckering ... here?" she asked hesitantly, pointing to his side below his armpit. "That's, um ... men's chest musculature doesn't have this ... bulging."
"What are you talking about?" the older boy asked, confused.
"Um, that bulging is called ... side boobs," Rose explained softly, biting her lower lip uneasily. "Get your regular clothes on. We're going to Doyle."
"We?" Mark asked, eyes wide at what she'd said.
Rose nodded with a worried expression. "My suit is tight across the chest, too. I ... hope it's not ... something catching!"
Sunday, October 16, 2016 - Lunchtime
Crystal Hall, Whateley Academy
Tia strode happily to the M3 table and set her tray down, glancing around. After a moment, her expression turned slightly sour. "Laura missing again?" she asked.
Tanya nodded, while Bianca merely shrugged. "Chocolate."
"Pankupinkupengin," Koichi chimed in, smiling broadly at understanding and being able to contribute to the conversation, even if it was only a trivial and obvious detail.
"Too bad you're late. Laura is so happy about the sales and how much she's earning that she gifted us some chocolate bars this morning," Bailey said.
"Mmmmmm, chocolate...." Erica added in a vain attempt to sound like Homer Simpson drooling over donuts.
Tia shook her head sadly. "I guess I'll have to be like the other plebes and pay for my candy," she grumbled. She glanced down to the lower level where Laura and Horace were hawking their sweet wares, and her nose wrinkled a bit as she peered. "Is it my imagination, or is our little blue girl a little curvier?"
Bianca shook her head. "I don't think it's your imagination. She bought new bras yesterday."
Erica suddenly started snickering, trying not to laugh out loud. "You know what'd be really funny?" she asked.
"What?" Vic asked naively, looking around the girls, confused.
"That her growth spurt is somehow related to her chocolate project," Erica deadpanned an answer. Jimmy had just taken a bite of one of the Punk Pink Penguin candy bars, and he spat it out as his eyes widened in alarm, gawking at Tanya and Bianca.
"She said they passed all the safety tests," Bailey rebutted, giggling at Jimmy's reaction. "Three times over."
Tanya nodded. "Besides, she's been giving us samples, so it would have affected us, too." She shook her head. "It's just normal growth, and her new bra probably pushes up and out a bit, making her look bigger."
"It'd be funny if the chocolate was causing her ... growth, though," Bailey snickered. "The way she's been eating samples, she'd probably end up a J cup, or bigger!"
Erica laughed. "If anything would cause weird side effects, it'd be that vile, toxic sludge that she drinks called devisor coffee that no-one can tell if it ever passed any kind of tests! Did you ever taste that stuff? It's .... ugh!" Her face wrinkled in an involuntary reaction to the memory of tasting the vile brew.
Vic nodded. "It should be marked biohazard, I think." He, too, shuddered at the memory, only in his case, it wasn't from a taste, but rather only a whiff of the black brew.
"Morgana drinks it, too - a lot more than Laura!" Bianca commented acerbically. "If it is some side effect of coffee, Morgana would have had even more severe side effects!"
"Speaking of, how is she doing?" Vic asked, changing the subject abruptly.
"Her burnout is under control and she's stable," Bianca, Morgana's roommate, reported, not even trying to mask the concern in her voice. "Apart from that - the best guess any doc could give me is maybe Wednesday or Thursday. Too many unknowns."
"I suppose we should remind Laura to save some chocolate for Morgana," Erica commented. "Especially the coffee-chocolate. Morgana would probably kill us if we don't save some for her."
Sunday, October 16, 2016 - Afternoon
Doyle Medical Center, Whateley Academy
Barely looking up from the tablet in her hand, Dr. Carmelita Gutierrez strode into one of the examining rooms in the 'clinic' wing of Doyle. Right behind the petite Mexican doctor was a darker-skinned and slightly shorter Filipina woman in a nurse's scrub uniform.
Dr. Gutierrez looked up from her tablet at the male patient. "Mr. Davies, why did you refuse to describe your problem to Nurse Tanuyan?
Brett Davies, a sophomore from Emerson, sat hunched over, wearing a loose sweater and sat hunched over. "I ... want a male doctor," he stammered, cheeks flushing red.
Dr. Gutierrez frowned deeply. "I assure you I am a fully trained doctor, there's nothing that I haven't seen, and everything here is protected by medical records laws."
"But ...," the boy stammered. If anything, his cheeks were even redder.
"But nothing," Dr. Gutierrez interrupted. "As you go through life, you are going to deal with many medical staff of both genders, so you might as well get over your embarrassment now." She looked at the boy, trying to seem less than hostile, despite her annoyance at his obvious chauvinistic attitude.
The boy looked at her, then at the tiny Filipino nurse, then back down at his hands in his lap. "Um, there's something ... wrong," he stammered softly.
"I'm not a mind-reader," Dr. Gutierrez prompted the reluctant boy.
He looked at her, then at the nurse, his cheeks burning. Finally, he looked down and lifted his shirt.
One of the doctor's eyebrows rose. "Okay," she said calmly to reassure the boy as she stared at the twin swellings on his chest. "This is a relatively common condition called gynecomastia. May I examine your chest more closely?"
The boy nodded glumly, and the doctor examined him, both visually and physically. "When did you notice this?"
"This morning," the boy replied. "Last night it wasn't ... this swollen."
"Okay, Nurse Tanuyan will draw some blood samples so we can see if you have any hormone imbalances." She pasted on a smile. "That's likely; you're a boy in the middle of puberty. This condition is quite common in your situation."
"But ... boys aren't supposed to grow ... boobs!" he complained, looking down at his hands.
"And the condition is almost always quite temporary. After the blood draw, Nurse Tanuyan will take you to Imaging so we can get a ... mammogram ... to make sure there's no other cause."
The boy's jaw dropped at hearing that he was going to have a 'female' examination of his chest, but then he glumly nodded and let his sweater fall back over his torso, hiding his embarrassing condition.
"I wouldn't worry if I were you," Dr. Gutierrez reassured him.
Monday, October 17, 2016 - Early
Poe Cottage, Whateley Academy
Eyes half-closed because she was still half asleep, Laura crawled out of bed, wrapped a robe around herself, and stumbled to the bathroom. She wasn't really aware that other girls were eyeing her with raised eyebrows. She slipped off her robe to get into an open shower stall.
"Morning, Laura," Catherine Brooks said in a sultry, seductive voice.
Laura turned wearily toward Catherine. "Morning," she replied. Something seemed wrong as she turned, but her mind wasn't quite awake enough to put together the clues that her body and other girls were signaling to her.
"A little bit of a growth spurt?" Gayle Barker asked, gawking appreciatively at Laura. "I like the upgrades!"
"I supposed Antonia likes them even more," Misty Rangel chuckled.
Catherine laughed. "I can tell you like her new curves, too!" she said to Misty, which evoked a huge blush on the Hispanic girl with her complex sexuality and visible erection.
Laura was finally awake enough to recognize a few things. First, her chest was sending unusual signals to her brain. Second, the girls' comments were overtly sexual in nature. She paused, and for the first time in her near-dozing morning routine, she looked down, and when she saw that she had very large blue breasts capped by huge purplish areolae, she gasped and then softly screamed.
In moments, Krystal Barrett - Flower - ran into the bathroom, finding Laura sitting in a chair beside one of the makeup / dressing counters, eyes wide with panic and gawking at her very large bosom. "What ... happened?" the older RA asked as she squatted beside the blue freshman girl.
"I don't know," Laura whimpered.
"You wanted the titty-fairy to visit," Bailey commented dryly. "Looks like you got what you wished for - big time. Like C or even D time!"
"I don't want them this big!" Laura shot back, slight tears seeping from the corners of her eyes.
"Well," Flower said, pausing to think, "Get cleaned up, get dressed, and then get over to Doyle so they can find out what's going on."
Monday, October 17, 2016 - Early
Dickinson Cottage, Whateley Academy
Sumika Miura eagerly answered the knock on her door. <Come in, Kiyoko!> she said excitedly in Japanese.
The other Japanese girl came into the room and closed the door. <Why are you so excited?> she asked her good friend.
<Tell me if you notice anything different!> Sumika replied cryptically, while at the same time, she couldn't help throwing her chest out a bit and pulling her shoulders back.
Kiyoko noticed the move, and noticed how Sumika was kind of turning side to side. Her jaw dropped at her friend's profile. <You, too?> she squealed with delight, pushing her own chest forward to show her own significantly-increased bust line.
Sumika grinned. <Maybe now, Americajin boys will pay attention to us more!>
<And every Nihonjin boy and man will do practically anything for us, now, too!> Kiyoko added, waggling her eyebrows at the thought of boys tripping all over themselves to try to gain favor with the two 'enhanced' girls.
Monday, October 17, 2016 - Early
Doyle Medical Center Whateley Academy
Jenny Sterling, one of the Doyle nurses, followed Dr. Raul Tenent into the exam room, where an obviously despondent boy in a loose, baggy sweater sat on an exam table, looking at the floor and not even acknowledging the doctor's presence.
"Well, Mister Vaughn, I see that you told the nurse that you'd rather tell me what brings you here today," Dr. Tenent began somewhat impatiently after quickly scanning the notes from the nurse's initial screening.
The dejected boy glared at the nurse, upset by her presence, but since the doctor had given no sign that he was going to dismiss her, he broke off his angry gaze and looked toward the floor once more, his anger almost instantly fading to merely miserable. Without looking up, he pulled his sweater and the shirt underneath it in one quick motion, revealing a pair of perky and quite feminine-looking breasts.
"I see," Dr. Tenent said nonchalantly as an eyebrow rose. "When did this start?"
"Saturday night," the boy replied unhappily. "It felt ... itchy. And kind of tender. Then yesterday they ... grew some more. By this morning, they were like this!" He sounded like he was about to burst into tears at what had happened to his chest.
"Okay. It appears that what you have is a condition called gynecomastia, or male breast growth," Dr. Tenent explained. "It's not uncommon in boys during puberty, and it's common in up to thirty-percent of men over the age of fifty-five or so. Usually in boys, it clears up as hormone levels stabilize." He stepped closer to the boy. "I'm going to need to touch them to ensure there are no abnormal lumps or growths. Is that okay?"
When the boy nodded, Dr. Tenent did his exam. "Evidence of some duct growth," he dictated to the nurse. "No obvious abnormal lumps." He finished and indicated that the boy could cover his chest again.
"I'm going to send you down for some blood work to check your hormone levels, and then to radiology for a ...," he paused, knowing that the next words were going to be quite embarrassing to the boy, "for a mammogram."
As expected, the boy's eyes opened in alarm.
"This is done routinely in these cases. There's no need to feel embarrassed."
After the boy got his instructions and departed with a thoroughly glum expression, Dr. Tenent walked with the nurse from the exam room. "Second case today," he observed. "And highly embarrassing for the boys who have the condition."
"I know girls who'd kill to have perky breasts that big," the nurse chuckled softly. "My guess if he was measured, he'd have C-cups."
Dr. Tenent nodded. "Yes, his ... condition ... is larger than the one earlier this morning."
The nurse paused. "Two in one day? Do you suppose this is more than a coincidence?"
The doctor thought a moment. "I doubt it. Not with two cases. We have hundreds of pubescent boys, and the condition occurs in an estimated fifteen to twenty percent of boys."
"But growing that fast?" the nurse continued her questions.
"That is a bit unusual," the doctor agreed. "More like gestational macromastia than typical gynecomastia. But not unheard of." He shrugged. "Between the blood work and the mammogram, we'll find out if there's something unusual with Mr. Vaughn."
Monday, October 17, 2016 - Morning
Twain Cottage, Whateley Academy
For once, Black Hole was glad that he absorbed all light, leaving him a featureless void to most observers. If he were more visible, he knew he'd have a hard time disguising the lumps on his chest that he knew were present. With a frown that was likewise visible to none, he stalked angrily down the stairs of Twain Cottage, getting angrier with each tug and bounce he felt pulling on his chest.
"Hey, dude!" one of the freshmen called out to him in passing, a kid who seemed part stoner, part surfer. "How's it hanging?"
Black Hole gawked and almost missed a step at the words. "What do you mean by that?" he growled angrily even as one of his arms shot across his chest to hide the bulges that he didn't think anyone else could see?
The freshman was a little taken aback. "Um, nothing, Shadow-Lord, dude!" he answered hesitantly. "Just ... you doing okay?"
"Oh," Black Hole replied, relieved that his new 'curves' hadn't been noticed by the freshman. "Oh, yeah. Okay, I guess." He stepped smartly down the rest of the stairs and out into the crisp October morning, regretting immediately that he hadn't grabbed a jacket because he could feel a strange tension on his chest, which his hand immediately recognized as a large nipple made erect by the chilly October air.
Monday, October 17, 2016 - Lunch
Crystal Hall, Whateley Academy
Despite the fact that the cafeteria was a bit less crowded than normal for lunch, there was a long line at the Punk Pink Penguin chocolate table. Laura, behind the table, wore a loose fitting sweater and sat with her shoulders hunched forward a bit in a futile attempt to disguise her significantly-enhanced bust line. Beside her, Horace was tending the sales table, while Lori probably worked in the lab supervising the chocolate-making machinery. Unlike Laura, he wore a standard uniform, but the lapels of his uniform jacket weren't lying flat in a neatly-tailored look, but instead were oddly crooked, as if his chest measurement was a size or two off even though it buttoned neatly around his belly.
Many of the boys in line likewise had baggy jackets or sweaters, and their demeanor seemed rather subdued, although that mood clearly didn't affect their appetite for the tasty confection - candy bars were selling even better than they had on Sunday or the morning's breakfast.
"Looking good today, Laura," said Peter Ruoho, one of the freshmen gadgeteers greeted her. He had an odd grin, and when Laura looked up, she saw that his eyes were focused on her chest.
"Hey, Peter," Laura replied, feeling her cheeks burning as she blushed in a deep lilac color. Peter wasn't the first guy to focus on her bust, and she knew he wouldn't be the last. "Want some chocolate?"
"Sure," Peter replied. "And maybe I should get some for my date tonight," he added.
"You? Have a date?" Laura gawked at the geeky, socially awkward boy who nevertheless thought he was a Romeo.
"Well, I will when you say you'll go to a movie with me," Peter replied, his confidence wavering as social anxiety pushed aside the confidence he'd put so much effort into building for the moment.
"Not gonna happen," Laura replied, her voice firm. "I've got to work on a couple of projects."
"I ... I could help," Peter's self-confidence was pretty much gone, but he was still valiantly struggling to get a date with Laura.
"Hmphhhh," Laura chuckled. "I'm not working on a motorcycle, so you wouldn't be interested ... or ... helpful." She saw him visibly deflate at her rejection. "Sorry, but I'm not really interested. Now, do you want to buy some chocolate?"
"Sure," Peter replied glumly.
As Laura gave him change for his selection of eight candy-bars, she noticed that even though his shirt was hanging loosely, as if it was a couple of sizes too big, just under his armpits the fabric was bunched, like the shirt was trying to accommodate a bulged chest by gathering into unintentional darts. Just like a girl's shirt.
Monday, October 17, 2016 - Lunch
Doyle Medical Center, Whateley Academy
Allison Pierce looked up from her computer terminal in the medical center's radiology department. "Hey, Sam, we're going to have to put off our break for a bit," she called out to the other Doyle radiologist sharing the small office space next to the various medical scanning machines.
"What? Why?" was the simple response from Samantha Quinn.
"Got another patient coming for a scan."
"Busy morning. What's the procedure?"
"Another one?" Samantha asked, surprised.
"And it looks like a male patient," Allison added.
"Can you handle it? This morning I had a lifetime's worth of doing them on boys who were either trying to act macho, whining and complaining like they were being tortured to death, or who were cracking sexist jokes!" Sam groused.
Allison nodded. "I had a couple of the whiny-type guys, too. The worst was one asshole who kept insisting that I compare breast size and sensitivity with him!" She shook her head with a disgusted look. "What a creep!"
"How'd you handle that?"
"I told him I prefer real, polite men, not sassy boys with boobs!" Allison chuckled. "He wilted. If he could have, he'd have slipped into a crack in the tiles to get away!"
"I don't remember any day before where we've done so many mammograms! Today feels like we're working in a breast diagnosis center!" Sam laughed.
"How many do you think we've done?"
Samantha shrugged. "While we're waiting for our next victim, let's count 'em up and see."
Monday, October 17, 2016 - Early Afternoon
Campus Store, Whateley Academy
The campus store had always been a surprise to new students; while there was a modest building above ground, such as one would expect for a normal school bookstore, the main part of the store was in subterranean levels that were in fact quite enormous, with as much shelf space as a typical American big box store. This included departments for boys' and girls' clothing, since students were not often allowed into Berlin to shop.
In the girls' department, a clerk named Carwyn Llywelyn who was a Welsh transplant looked at a line of girls, all of whom seemed to have experienced significant growth spurts and who were milling about impatiently and with visible frustration. "I'm sorry, girls," she explained, "but we've sold out of brassieres with larger cup sizes."
"What am I supposed to do?" one girl in the mob complained loudly. "My bra is way too small!"
"Yeah! What do you expect us to do, run around without bras?"
"How long until you get more?"
Ms. Llywelyn held up her hands to try to try to calm down the increasingly restless group. At that moment, her supervisor, a gray-haired older woman named Mrs. Jennings, came to her rescue. "What seems to be the problem?" the Mrs. Jennings asked.
Ms. Llywelyn started to speak, but the girls were louder and more insistent. "We need new bras!" "Bigger bras!" "She said there aren't any larger cup sizes!"
At that, Ms. Llywelyn managed to be heard. "I told them that we're all out of bras with larger cup sizes, at least bras with smaller band sizes," she explained. "For some reason, there's a huge demand for them today."
"So what are we going to do?"
"We get in our shipments on Saturdays," Mrs. Jennings explained. "We'll get more brassieres ordered."
"What good does that do for us now?"
Ms. Llywelyn had an idea. "If the administration allows, perhaps we can measure the girls and then I can drive into Berlin to see if I can find some. That should hold the girls off for a while until we get in our regular shipment."
Mrs. Jennings frowned as she looked at the girls, scanning their enhanced bust lines. "We'll have to alter the shipment, though." She looked at the miserable crowd in their too-tight bras. "Go ahead. I'll sign off the vouchers." The girls seemed mollified - a bit. "Better get as many as you can find. I have a feeling we're going to need them."
Monday, October 17, 2016 - Afternoon
Emerson Cottage, Whateley Academy
Mrs. Tolliver and Mrs. Dunne watched solemnly as the cottage's Resident Assistants filed into Mrs. Tolliver's apartment. They couldn't help but notice that one of the RAs, Harold Easton, was wearing a baggy sweater, unlike the others wearing their smart school jackets and ties. Harold was usually quite gregarious, but that day, he was unusually subdued and wasn't even making eye contact with anyone else.
"Where's Joseph?" Mrs. Dunne asked the group as they all took seats around Mrs. Tolliver's large dining table.
"Haven't seen him all day," Allen Lee, one of the RAs for the freshmen wings, replied.
Mrs. Tolliver got right to the point. "What's going on?" she asked in frustration. "I had reports that Elijah Vaughn and Tyson Decker were checked in Doyle, and that Warren, Joseph, Greg, and Rodrigo haven't been in classes."
"Greg locked himself is his room," Ralph Andrews, RA for Greg Lambert, replied. "He's somehow blocking the door, too - I can't even get it open with my override."
"I don't know where Rodrigo is," Alex Corey added. "He's not in his room, he hasn't been at breakfast or lunch, and no-one has seen him in classes."
"Hiding in his lab?" Mrs. Dunne queried.
"What about all the non-standard sweaters?"
Ralph scowled. "A couple of the guys said that it looked like Warren had ...," he grimaced, "some swelling in his chest."
"You mean boobs," Jerome Greene smirked, "just like Tyson."
"Okay, yeah," Ralph admitted. "They said it looked like he had boobs. Big ones, too."
Mrs. Dunne's frown deepened as the RAs ran down their list of 'missing' or 'ill' students from the cottage. "Dr. Tenant said it appears to be macromastia, or extreme breast growth, which in males is called gynecomastia."
"Some of the girls are bigger, too," Allen commented, cupping his hands well in front of his chest for emphasis.
"So it's not just the guys." Mrs. Tolliver grimaced. "But ... why? What's going on?"
"Biodevisors again? Or some chemical devisor?" Mrs. Dunne speculated. "Okay, I'm going to talk to administration. You guys check with your charges and let's get a very accurate list of who's all affected."
Monday, October 17, 2016 - Afternoon
Schuster Hall, Whateley Academy
Moments after some of the Doyle staff seated themselves, the Headmaster strode into the administrative conference room and marched to the head of the table. Robert Turner was seated to his right, and Elaine Claire, the acting Dean of Students, sat on his left. Technical staff from the labs and powers departments were at the table, as were several of the house parents, which made the room a bit crowded.
"What have we got?" Geoffrey Mazarin wasted no time; he already knew something was out of sorts.
Dr. Rascomb, head of research in Doyle, spoke up. "One of our radiologists noted something unusual in today's cases. None of the staff noticed anything out of the ordinary because the cases were too spread out among us." He looked at the lead radiology technician.
"Um, yes," Samantha Quinn cleared her throat uneasily. She wasn't used to speaking with anyone outside of Doyle, and certainly not the top administrative staff of the entire school. She nodded to someone, and a projected image appeared on a high-tech wall that had instantly turned into a reflective screen. "Allison and I noticed that of all the various scans we did today, there were an unusually large number of mammograms." The table showed a list of mammograms that had been ordered by the doctors in Doyle, with the patient names properly redacted. It was a long list.
Mazarin's jaw dropped. "Mammograms?"
Dr. Rascomb nodded. "So far, our staff has diagnosed twenty-six cases of macromastia, or abnormal breast growth. In males, it's called gynecomastia, and yes, we have both male and female students affected. And we have no reason to believe we won't have more cases."
The radiologist nodded, then flipped to another chart. "Here's the same data, organized by which doctor ordered the test. As you can see, no doctor or physician's assistant saw more than three or four cases."
"If the radiologists hadn't noticed and brought it to my attention," Dr. Rascomb admitted rather sheepishly, "we probably wouldn't have put two and two together until perhaps tomorrow morning's staff meeting."
Robert nodded; obviously he knew what to expect. "This lines up with reports from the cottages cases; the house-parents have reported girls with sudden ... development, and boys with this ... gynecomastia?" He hesitated with the unfamiliar word, but when Dr. Rascomb nodded, he continued without having to look at his notes on his tablet. "According to faculty, there are several students who did not check in with their home rooms, their house parents, or the medical center."
Elaine Claire piped up. "Just like with Doyle, my office staff hadn't noticed the pattern because the reports were taken at different times by different staff."
Mrs. Nelson, houseparent in Dickinson Cottage, nodded. "If someone else hadn't put the data together, we probably wouldn't have noticed that a pattern until our Wednesday afternoon house-parent meeting." She looked upset with herself at the inadvertent oversight; no doubt the houseparents' collaboration and reporting was going to get a thorough overhaul. "I checked with other house-parents. Over a dozen male students haven't checked in with either their homerooms or with their house-parent as ill or otherwise requiring an absence from classes."
Mr. Filbert from Emerson piped up. "From reading your list, I can tell that I have at least eight boys who haven't checked in and who haven't been counted in your patient numbers."
The furrow on Mazarin's brow deepened.
"The campus store has sold out of brassieres with larger cup sizes," Elaine continued, sparing Robert having to report that detail. "The athletic staff reports several obviously-enlarged students in the various gym activities."
Dr. Rascomb nodded his agreement. "The numbers are very strongly suggestive that this is not typical gynecomastia or macromastia," he stated the obvious. "It is very possible that we are dealing with an outbreak situation."
"Any idea what's causing this?" Mazarin asked, while several staff members winced visibly at the thought that this could be some kind of outbreak.
Dr. Rascomb shook his head. "Gynecomastia has many causes. Hormone imbalance - not atypical during puberty in both males and females. Medications, auto-immune conditions. Some studies suggest a genetic factor. In many cases, though, no causal agent is ever identified."
"Chemicals? Micro-organisms?" Mazarin snapped out very focused questions. "A possible devisor chemical or bio-agent?"
"Chemicals - possibly, especially if they interact with hormones or hormone receptors." Dr. Rascomb reported. "A devisor biological agent?" He shrugged. "With devisors, anything is possible."
"And the rapid growth?" Ms. Claire asked. "Does that indicate it's an ... unusual cause?"
"Not necessarily. There are documented macromastia cases with rapid growth of multiple cup sizes in days. Usually though, that's associated with pregnancy."
"I presume your highest priority is identifying a causative agent, if there is one?" Mazarin asked Dr. Rascomb.
The doctor spoke again. "Until we identify the cause, we don't know how it affects students, or how it spreads. Some students may have been exposed but have no symptoms. Some may have minor symptoms. Some may self-resolve, some may stop growing, some may continue to grow." Wearing a grim expression, he shook his head. "We just don't know."
Dr. Mazarin turned to the advanced technology representatives. "You have two tasks. First, assist Doyle staff in trying to find a cause. Second, check every biodevisor and chemical devisor project for anything unusual. If they've been tested for safety, test them again."
Robert turned to Ms. Claire. "I'll work with your office to coordinate a search for a common factor. Powers, genetics, medical - anything."
"Now, assuming we find a causative agent," Mazarin continued, "is it safe to say that when we remove that, the condition will resolve in the affected students?"
Dr. Rascomb winced visibly, which made the others very nervous. "I can't say. In normal macromastia, it's not usually self-resolving. Surgical correction is required, although that's typically not done until the growth stops." He saw the reaction he expected. "If growth stops. In some cases, medication may be required to stop breast growth. In other cases, it's ineffective." He shook his head, clearly unhappy at the situation they were facing. "And if the cause is something from a devisor ...." He had spoken everyone's unspoken fears. With devisors, the rulebooks were all out the window.
"Why can't we ever have a boring day around here?" Robert asked rhetorically. He saw the looks he was getting. "I know, I know - this is Whateley," he added with a sigh. "Well, I guess we knew it would be interesting when we signed on."
Monday, October 17, 2016 - Afternoon
Holbrook Arena Annex, Whateley Academy
Reading from his waterproof tablet as he walked, Dr. Alex Janosic walked quickly into the main swimming pool of the Holbrook Annex. Coming from the power labs, the site of his primary job, he was a few minutes late - as usual - to the swimming class. He reasoned there was no harm - the class knew to change and start swimming laps.
The sounds in the pool area were more subdued and with far less splashing than normal, catching his attention and causing him to halt mid-stride. When he looked up from his tablet, he noticed that less than half the students were in the water, and most of those were the girls in the class. "You guys know the routine," he snapped in his best coach-like voice. "Get in the water and start your laps!"
On bleachers on one side of the pool, nearest the boys' locker room, a huddled group of boys sat, looking glum and being unusually quiet, and more interestingly, all wore very loose-fitting T-shirts. There were some uncertain glances among the boys, a few hissed words, and finally one of the boys in front was pushed off the bleachers. He hesitantly walked over to Coach Janosic, his arms carefully crossed over his chest. In the water, some of the girls and a couple of the few boys swimming halted to watch, some snickering audibly.
"Um, Coach ... uh ... we're ... um ... we're not ... uh ...."
"Spit it out!" the coach snapped at the meek boy.
"Um, we're ... not feeling well," the designated representative of the group squeaked nervously. "Should we ... go to Doyle?"
The coach looked over the boy head to toe, then looked over at the huddled group. All had their swim trunks on, as expected, but apart from looking nervous, he didn't see anything obviously wrong with them. "You guys don't look sick! Get those shirts off and get in the water!" he sternly commanded the group on the bleachers.
Thirteen boys of various grades from freshmen to seniors slowly climbed to their feet, and after glancing around nervously at the swimmers already in the water, they hesitantly began to peel off their shirts as ordered.
He started to look back down to his clipboard to take roll, but then his brain caught up to the images his eyes had sent, some thing - or things - that were very definitely out of place. He looked up again at the group, and his jaw dropped and eyes bulged at the twin mounds of flesh - of varying sizes - on each of the reluctant swimmers.
"Stop!" he managed to order as he gawked at the sight he beheld. "Just ... stop!"
The boys immediately dropped their shirts, covering the breasts each of them sported. Their audible sigh of relief was drowned out by the outright laughter from the swimmers in the pool, most especially some of the girls.
"Um, should we go to Doyle, Coach?" asked the junior exemplar with some very exemplar-sized additions to his chest causing his T-shirt to bulge in two unfamiliar areas. He wasn't even trying to hide them now that they'd been exposed.
Coach stood staring, still slack-jawed. "Um, I think ... no, wait here!" he finally got his brain wrapped around the pairs of oddities he'd witnessed. "I think I need to make a call." He pressed his tablet into the boy's hands. "Take roll while I'm gone," he directed. Running a hand over his short-clipped graying hair, he turned and stormed from the pool, muttering to himself. "Only at this school ...." The door banged shut behind him, cutting off his mumbled words.
The boys sat back down in their morose little huddle; for some reason, having all had to expose their common problem - or more properly, problems, as they came in pairs - seemed to have loosened their tongues, at least among themselves.They wondered aloud who Coach was going to call to the pool - which students variously called Aquaman Hall, the Aquarium, the Swimming Hole, among others - to look at their problem. The consensus was that Dr. Gutierrez or Dr. Ophelia Tenant would know more about the problem, but being examined by a female doctor was too humiliating a thought. Of the male doctors, Dr. Cody was popular and likeable, but he was also extremely masculine, and thus also too embarrassing to discuss the situation.
When the Coach returned twenty minutes later, to the boys' surprise, he had no-one with him but was instead carrying two bulging shopping bags from the campus store. He tossed one bag to either side of him. "Small and medium to my left, large and extra-large to my right." His scowl and deep commanding voice spurred the seated boys into sorting themselves into some semblance of lines.
The junior exemplar was the first in line on the bag designated large and extra-large; his jaw dropped as he pulled out a woman's sports bra. Holding it like it was a snake, he looked plaintively at the coach.
"Put 'em on, get your T-shirts over them, and get in the water! Don't forget to tuck in your shirts!" He hadn't stopped shaking his head in disbelief at the strange situation. "I know it isn't the best solution, but it was all that the Dean and Mrs. Nelson could think of for now!"
"But Coach - I thought we weren't supposed to wear T-shirts in the pool!" one of the boys, a known stickler for following rules, pointed out. "I don't wanna get in trouble!"
Coach shook his head. "Would you rather just wear the sports bra?" he asked sarcastically.
"Yeah!" several of the girls shouted together.
"If we have to, they should too!" "It's no different than our tops!" "It's the pool rules!"
Coach glared at the girls who had re-congregated to watch what was, to them, an amusing spectacle. "Get swimming on your laps!" "T-shirts today!" he repeated. "But she's got a valid point." Shaking his head with a loud sigh, he continued, "Unless I get a waiver from the administration, I expect to see you in proper swim attire!" The boys goggled at his pronouncement, which meant more humiliation for them. "It's in the handbook, under sports attire," he added looking intently at the rules-lawyer. "Starting tomorrow! Now move it! We've still got forty minutes of class, and you have laps to swim!"
"But coach ...!" the junior complained.
"Should I get the girls up here to help fit you guys for size or instruct you on how to put them on?" the coach asked sarcastically. He stared down the once-more-embarrassed boys.
Wincing, the boy took the top, and moving away from the others, he faced the wall to hide his assets, pulled off his T-shirt, and began to squirm into the bra. Many of the girls had swum to the side of the pool and were watching the boys struggling to put on the confining bras with great amusement and many snarky comments. The girls were particularly amused whenever a boy picked a bra that was either way too large or way too small. Eventually, the boys managed to get into the confining tops, a few even managing to get the top on under their T-shirts without exposing themselves.
"And quit ogling each other!" the coach snapped. Hearing the outright mocking from in the pool, he spun toward the girls. "Get back to swimming!" he barked. "Unless you want to swim extra laps?"
One of the upperclassmen, known to be extremely self-confident and totally unflappable by anything, paused as he started pulling on his T-shirt. "Aw, fuck it," he muttered and then he tossed his T-shirt to the side. "If they can, I can." Wearing only the sports bra and his normal swim trunks, he walked to the edge of the pool to dive in, then noticed that some of the girls were gawking at him. "What's the matter?" he asked with a grin. "Jealous that I'm bigger'n you?" Still with his smug smile, he dove into the water.
It didn't take too long before the rest of the 'endowed' boys were in the water swimming; Coach saw the girls occasionally glancing at the endowed boys. Though he couldn't hear, he was certain from the demeanors of the swimmers that the girls were taking opportunity at the far end of the pool to harass the boys. While he wasn't certain, he strongly suspected that a few 'accidental' collisions were anything but, and that some of the girls were taking an opportunity for a bit of 'revenge' by copping feels on the affected boys.
Coach shook his head as he put the kids through their exercises; he couldn't help but wonder about the instructions from Doyle. 'Do your best to continue class', they'd said. 'Keep their minds off it.' As if swimming in a mixed class with girls eagerly adding to the boys' humiliation would keep their minds off things. 'The problem is widespread,' he'd been told. 'We can't handle any more students now. Keep them busy and wear them out,' implying that there was more to the issue than they were revealing, and that fatigued students might help avoid other complications.
Dr. Janosic knew that he would find out more after he finished his aquatic classes for the afternoon. Something like this was bound to get the powers labs and experts involved. He glanced at the boys, his eyes fixed momentarily the self-assured boy wearing only the sports bra and who had to have at least D-cups. Hopefully, he thought as he couldn't help but uneasily glance down at his own chest, this wasn't something that was wildly contagious or would affect him, too.
Then again, he thought with a sigh, this was Whateley. Anything was possible.
Monday, October 11, 2016 – Late Afternoon
Venus Inc. Clubhouse, Whateley Academy
Tina Richardson practically slammed the door of the Venus, Inc. clubhouse behind herself. Even her Sidhe features couldn't mask the frustration and anger on display. She stormed to the club vice-president, Cynthia Kincaid, who was sitting at a desk on the phone.
"No, we'll work something out. We'll get the shoot, but we may have to use a different model," she explained patiently. Given the volume of the response, the response was audible to Tina even though the phone's earpiece was against Cynthia's ear. "I know we have a contractual deadline," she explained, far more patiently than Tina figured she would, given the anger of whoever was on the other end of the line, "but we have a clause for illness. Some of our models, including Alvery, are ill and can't do our shoot."
Cynthia endured still more frustration that the person was heaping on whoever happened to be listening - in this case, herself. "You've got our catalog of models. If there's someone else you want for this shoot, we'll try to work it. But again, no guarantees; a lot of our models and staff are affected."
She waited a bit more until the person's angry rant died off. "Something flu-like," she lied. "Okay, think about it, and let me know your top three, no, better make it four, choices, and we'll try to make it work." She paused again. "Okay, talk to your people, and let me know tomorrow or Thursday." With a heavy sigh, she hung up the phone, then wearily looked up at Tina.
"What's this about canceling my shoot today?" Tina demanded angrily.
Cynthia let out another huge sigh, then stood and walked into the dressing room, to a specific rack. Tina followed. Cynthia searched, then pulled down a cocktail dress and held it up. "Do you think there's any way this is going to fit over ... those?" she asked, looking pointedly at Tina's quite-large bust.
"Materielle can adjust its size," Tina countered. "I need the money from this shoot!"
"Yeah, I know," Cynthia was trying to calm Tina. "We all need the money. But look at you! What are you, D? Double-D?"
Tina scowled. "F. They look a bit smaller because I'm wearing a minimizer bra."
'Tina, you know that the 'big boob bimbo' model is out of fashion! Especially for this customer!"
"It won't show that much!" Tina protested.
Cynthia sighed. "With this dress and those boobs, the top third will be nothing but cleavage. And that's not what the customer wants." She saw the frustration in Tina's expression. "Look, it's not just you! I've been on the phone all morning - I even skipped classes - because several girls are affected and we've had to cancel a lot of shoots."
"Look, this is a setback - maybe. Let's get a couple of shots to update your resume pictures, and we'll shop it around." She shrugged. "There's work. We just have to find it."
"For big boobs? You just said they're out!" Tina griped.
"Elsa just landed a big contract, and she's up to a J-cup," Cynthia countered. "Not as much exposure - wait, that's a bad choice of words. Um, not as much notoriety in the high-end fashion modeling circles, but there's still a niche market for big boobs." She read the uncertainty in Tina's expression. "And with your Sidhe looks - it's a fantasy gamer makers dream! Exotic elf, big boobs, skimpy outfits! Character models, publicity modeling - I think we can find something for you!"
Tina hesitated, then took and released a very deep breath. "Okay, see if you can find something like that." She sighed again. "It's just a creepy thought that a lot of teenage nerd gamer boys are going to spend their nights whacking off to my picture!"
"But if it pays well ...?" Cynthia shot back, hitting Tina right in her most vulnerable spot - money.
Tuesday, October 18, 2016 - Morning
Crystal Hall, Whateley Academy
When the cafeteria's loudspeaker crackled, indicating that an announcement was imminent, Laura and Lori reflexively looked up in the direction of the speakers, as did everyone in the long line to buy chocolate. There were so many students queued up, in fact, that both girls feared they were going to run out. Even working late into the night, they hadn't made up for the production interruption the previous morning, and if anything, demand had grown.
Despite the line, the cafeteria was decidedly less crowded, and there seemed to be a lot of boys getting 'to go' meal bags and then quickly scurrying out of the building.
"Your attention please," the loudspeaker blared, amplifying Robert Turner's strong, commanding, and yet calming voice. He paused a couple of seconds for students around the campus, all of whom should be within earshot of a speaker if they were within a building or a tunnel. To ensure every student got the word, a message was simultaneously being sent to every laptop and mobile device connected to the Whateley campus network.
"You have probably noticed that there are some odd ... developments among some students." The listeners could practically hear him cringing at his unfortunate choice of words. "The administration, Doyle medical staff, the advanced technology faculty and staff, and the powers experts have their full attention on resolving this ... temporary ... situation. Something is triggering a condition called macromastia, which is unusual ... breast development."
Eyes in the cafeteria shifted from the loudspeakers around the room, gazing in particular at boys wearing baggy sweaters or loose jackets; these students hunched over a little more, looked toward the floor to avoid looking at anyone, and universally felt their cheeks burning.
"The doctors assure that this condition, called gynecomastia in males, is actually common among adolescent teens - even boys - and is usually self-resolving. However, the incidence rate on campus is much higher than normal, and the experts are working to identify the cause. In the meantime, we expect everyone to go about their day-to-day routines as normally as possible."
"As normal as a guy can when he's got big hooters!" some unknown wise-guy in the cafeteria bellowed, causing quite a bit of nervous laughter and even more hunched, embarrassed boys. There were also a lot of appreciative stares toward girls who had 'miraculously' grown in the past few days, some of whom were grinning and flaunting their enhanced 'assets'.
"We will keep you apprised of the situation as new information becomes available." The speaker clicked off, leaving a hushed silence.
A lot more nervous glances were exchanged as the same thought was on every boy's mind - "What if this is contagious? Am I going to grow a pair, too?" None too discretely, boys shuffled away from those who were obviously afflicted.
In the line at the chocolate table, the hush was only momentary, replaced quickly by more orders for the Punk Pink Penguin chocolate, which despite a mysterious 'boob plague' going around, was still in very high demand. Students actually seemed to increase their purchases, perhaps stockpiling in case there was some type of quarantine or isolation.
Tuesday, October 11, 2016 – Morning
Melville Cottage, Whateley Academy
"Aren't you getting up?" Eddy Walters practically demanded of his roommate Caleb Andrews. His expression turned to a leering grin. "You heard the announcement?"
"No," Caleb - Decoy - protested from under his blankets, which were pulled up over his head so that his face was barely even visible. He was a rather short and slender boy, not an exemplar by any means, and his energizer power enabled him to project illusions that were incredibly lifelike. "I mean, what announcement?" he quickly corrected himself.
"Man, whatever is going around, some of the girls have got some truly awesome development!" Eddy enthused like a typical hormone-ridden teenage boy. "You gotta get out and get some pictures, man!"
"What development?" Caleb feigned ignorance. He was well-known as a pervy-type of guy, and he used his illusion power to fake some truly 'stimulating' pictures of the more beautiful or more endowed girls on campus. Nobody knew how he did that trick, fortunately, but he sold the pictures for quite a tidy sum. And pissed off a lot of girls in the process.
Eddy strode over and tried to yank the covers off Caleb, only to discover that the boy in bed was tightly clutching them, firmly anchoring the blankets down under and around himself.
"Assistant Headmaster said everyone's gotta go about their normal business, in spite of whatever's going around, and that they're working to cure whatever it is! Which means some truly stupendous hooters need to be photographed before they go away!" Eddy tried to encourage or prod his roommate out of bed.
"I'm feeling really sick," Caleb protested, trying his best to sound piteously weak and stricken by something. "I think it's the flu or something."
"Then get your ass over to Doyle before I catch whatever it is you've got!" Eddy protested. "Anyway, I've got to get to class. And you better, too. Class or Doyle - those are the options Mrs. Boyce said we've all got!"
"Go away and let me die in peace!" Caleb moaned.
Eddy shook his head. "If you're that sick, I'm gonna ask Micah if I can camp out with Clay in Chillout's wing! I really don't wanna get the flu! I've heard it's really nasty this year!" As he talked, he edged away from the bed. Picking up his book backpack, he strode quickly from the room, pausing in the doorway to look back nervously at his 'sick' roommate.
After the door locked, Caleb pulled his blanket down off his head, revealing a thoroughly dejected expression. In fact, he looked near tears. As he sat up, the reason for his anguish became clear - he wore a T-shirt that was stretched way beyond its design, and the V-neck was pulled down far enough to reveal a truly impressive valley of cleavage between a pair of soft fleshy mounds that had to measure at least an F-cup on the bra-size scale.
Pulling himself up from his bed, wincing at the very alien swaying and tugging and jiggling sensations as his boobs reacted to his sudden motion, he stumbled to the door. He opened it a crack and peeked out - the hallway sounded deathly silent, which indicated that all of his wing-mates were in class.
Caleb slipped on a robe that did nothing to disguise the fact that he had big boobs, then slipped quietly to the bathroom. Fortunately for him, his guess was right and no-one else was present on the wing, so he managed to take care of his bladder without anyone spotting him.
As soon as Caleb got back to his room, he sat on his bed leaning against the wall. He pulled his blanket up over himself to hide his 'deformities', then opened his laptop. Before he started doing anything, he reached into one of his desk drawers and extracted a chocolate bar to eat. They were expensive, he grumbled to himself, but damned good. So good, in fact, that they were really eating into his profits from picture sales. Somehow, he was going to have to get another batch; the stash of two-dozen bars he'd eaten since Friday morning was almost gone. Maybe his partner in photographic crime and girlfriend Becky would get him another dozen or so.
Awkwardly because his unwanted big boobs were interfering with how he normally held and used his laptop, Caleb began to type a message to her. Then he had a sudden inspired thought - he could have her pick up a 'to go' lunch for him at the same time she picked up the candy bars.
Tuesday, October 18, 2016 - Morning
Schuster Hall, Whateley Academy
The moment Elaine Claire stepped into the conference room; she felt all eyes riveted on her. "Sorry I'm late," she began as she quickly took a seat. "I was over in security. I had them do student ID traces for all the affected students ...."
"You mean the students we know about," Dr. Rascomb interrupted.
"Yes, that." Elaine pulled out her tablet. "Based on those traces," she continued as she linked her device to the room's high-tech projection wall, "we have five possible sources."
"Five?" Robert Turner's face fell. They'd all been hoping that Elaine's efforts would be more fruitful.
Elaine nodded. "For all the analyses we've done, the correlations are pretty weak." She glanced at the wall where her data was projected. "The strongest candidate we have has only a forty-five percent correlation. We really have more than five right now - a lot more - but I cut off anything under thirty percent."
"That's a really weak correlation," Mazarin observed critically.
"We can't identify a 'patient zero'," Elaine retorted, frowning and shaking her head. "Some girls are likely not reporting the effects."
Mazarin's eyebrows shot up, which Mrs. Hollingsberry, the white-haired grandmotherly representative houseparent from Whitman Cottage, noticed. "Dr. Mazarin," she said in her plain, blunt, down-home way, "if you were a young lady of average or slight ... proportions on a campus full of exemplars, would you complain about or report an unexpected bonus?"
"Ah," Mazarin nodded. "I see your point."
"Add in that there could be unexpected transfer vectors," Dr. Rascomb added. "If it's a pathogen, it could be airborne or spread by touch. There are many possible transmission paths into the body. We don't have sufficient information on when things started, so it's tough to track a spread, and without knowing what it is, we really can't get a handle on how it's spread. It could be a chemical agent that's been intentionally introduced somehow - like in food."
"I've also got my team trying to run down any correlations between the cafeteria meal logs," Elaine added.
"Let me complicate things," Dr. Hewley, one of Whateley's top powers experts, with a grim expression. "If the cause is a biological or chemical agent, its effects on different students could vary wildly. Regeneration might hide exposure. Exemplars might be immune." He shook his head. "You see where I'm going with this? Powers and BITs introduce a whole new level of variables."
"It could be some devise, like a ... well, this is going to sound cliché or trite," Mr. Bumsfeld represented the devisor technology labs, "like a 'boob ray'." He saw the looks of disbelief and heard a few soft snickers. "I'm serious," he added sternly. "Every few years, some devisor decides to make one, and unfortunately occasionally with some degree of success."
"Have you found anything?" Turner asked Mr. Bumsfeld. He wasn't hopeful, because if he had, Bumsfeld would have immediately spoken up.
"We've had probably thirty candidate devises and devisor products through the labs since school started. We're retesting them all," Bumsfeld noted. "So far, nothing."
Mazarin sat contemplatively, his fingers steepled in front of his mouth. After digesting what he'd heard so far, he turned to Dr. Rascomb. "Have you got anything positive?"
Dr. Rascomb nodded. "A little. We've taken scans and tissue biopsies from some of the affected students. In the early stages of what we're calling the Rapid Onset Breast Enlargement Syndrome, or ROBES, the increase in size appears to be primarily extreme expansion of existing fatty tissues, with corresponding stretching of the skin. If we can isolate the mechanism that causes the fat cells to expand, we should be able to 'drain' them by reversing the process."
"So it is reversible," Ms. Claire said hopefully.
"Well, there's the problem. In some cases, the biopsies show significantly higher numbers of normal-sized fat cells, which might indicate some degree of permanence," Dr. Ophelia Tenant, also from Doyle, reported. "We've also seen a couple of cases where the permanent breast tissue is showing development, although we don't know if this is from normal maturation or an effect of this ... condition."
"Translated?" Turner asked.
"We don't know if those affected by this syndrome are going to develop true mature breasts, and quite rapidly. If that happens, it will happen on male patients, too, since they have undeveloped lobes and milk ducts. We do know that if the fat cells multiply, it could lead to permanent enlargement. Our best guess is that if gets that far, it may take surgical correction."
"So if I understand this," Mazarin spoke slowly and deliberately, "the longer it takes to find the cause and cure, the more likely it is that the breast enlargement will be permanent?"
Rascomb nodded. "That's a possible outcome. It could self-resolve. It could simply stop at swollen fatty tissue, or it could lead to mature enlarged breast tissue. It could continue growing without bound. It could even lead to lactation. We just don't know."
"How about ... size?" Robert Turner asked hesitantly. "Are all the patients experiencing ... substantial growth?"
Dr. Ophelia Tenant shook her head. "So far, no. The amount of growth seems to be variable. Of course, that could simply be a matter of the received dose or of time from exposure to whatever is causing this."
"So finding a cure is very urgent, correct?"
Rascomb nodded again. "Absolutely. Oh, and one more thing - the affected students have to minimize undue trauma to their chests. Additional stress could cause long-lasting skin damage, including baggy, loose skin, stretch marks, and even permanent enlargement of the areolas. Skin is elastic, but it can only stand so much strain before it's deformed."
"And that means what?" Turner asked.
"It means," Mrs. Hollingsberry interrupted Rascomb, "that if the affected students let their boobs bounce all over creation too much, they will have the long-lasting effects Dr. Rascomb is talking about."
"And we prevent that damage how?" one of the male house-parents asked quizzically.
"The girls know enough to take appropriate measures. But the boys don't. All affected boys, without exception," Mrs. Hollingsberry said bluntly, speaking as if the answer was obvious, "need to be fitted for and start wearing bras - immediately."
Tuesday, October 18, 2016 – Morning
Campus Store, Whateley Academy
Kay Clark tugged on the arm of Gabriel Medina, her boyfriend, who was holding back, plainly hesitant to follow her into the forbidden den of feminine undergarments. There were only two girls shopping there, and the clerk, but as far as he was concerned, that was three too many females to see him with Kay in the lingerie department. And it wasn't like anyone was going to wonder who he was; not many boys had a long red nose with bluish-grey patches on the side like a mandrill monkey. With arms slightly longer than normal human proportions, it was easy to see why some called him 'monkey man'. What was suspected, but known only to a few, was that his bottom also resembled that of a mandrill monkey - large, bright red buttocks. In fact, his butt was large enough that he had more of a 'bubble butt' than many of the shapelier girls on campus, which also caused him a good amount of teasing. It also necessitated that he wear woman's pants, because men's pants simply couldn't accommodate his large derriere.
"You promised," Kay insisted sternly. Like Gabe, she had GSD, but far less than he did. Her fast-growing, virtually uncuttable light greenish hair hung down to her rear, and it luminesced bright yellowish-green at night - bright enough to read by, bright enough that she wore a shower cap in order for her and her roommate to sleep at night. The positive thing about her hair, though, was that it covered her floppy hound-dog ears covered in fur that matched her hair.
"But ...," Gabe protested, looking at the girls with a distressed look, "they'll see!"
"You promised!" Kay repeated. She insistently pulled him deeper into the den of estrogen.
The clerk, Ms. Llywelyn, saw them coming, and she couldn't help but stare at the bulges on his chest which showed even despite his loose sweater. "How can I help you?" she asked politely, speaking to the boy because she guessed - accurately - that Kay's bra seemed to be properly fitted already.
"Um," Gabe mumbled, avoiding answering as his cheeks flushed as red as his mandrill nose.
"Yes," Kay said firmly. "He's got the ... growth, and he needs to get a bra so he doesn't end up looking like a tribal African woman in a National Geographic magazine." This was, for any girl, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to teach a boy what it was like to have boobs and wear a bra, and like most girls, she was going to make the most of this chance.
"I don't need one!" he protested unhappily.
Kay shot him a quick glare. "Yes, he does." She turned to him. "Unless you want stretched skin, really saggy boobs, and bouncing all over when you walk around campus!"
The boy winced, but it was clear he still wasn't convinced, until Kay leaned close to his ear. "Remember how much you like me playing with them?" His eyebrows cocked up. "And what you said? That now you understand why girls put up with having big boobs? If you want more of that, you'll keep your promise."
Reluctantly, avoiding the knowing smiles from the girls in the department, Gabe nodded, then followed Kay and Ms. Llywelyn through the racks of bras. After a humiliating fitting, Gabe, knowing nothing about bras, allowed Kay to pick out one. Perhaps on the theory that such a bra made her feel sexy and confident, she picked out an ultra-lacy, pink, push-up bra.
"Look what this does!" he objected when he tried it on. "It makes 'em look bigger!"
"No, it doesn't!" Kay lied. To be honest, sometimes Gabe was a little bit of a macho asshole, especially about breasts, and she just couldn't pass up a chance to sneakily give him a bit of his own medicine. "Now, look how your uniform shirt fits!" she declared. She wasn't kidding on this; because of the push-up bra, his already-enhanced bust line was even bigger, and it tugged at the buttons sufficiently that his shirt threatened to break open.
"So?" Gabe asked, knowing in his heart that his confidence had been so battered that he had little fight left in him.
"So we need to get you a proper fitting blouse." The boy's eyes threatened to pop out of his eye sockets, and his jaw dropped. "Yes, a blouse."
When his ordeal was over, Gabe walked out of the store with Kay, looking down to avoid anyone's gaze. The push-up bra really did enhance his bust, and the blouse under his sweater was unmistakable feminine. While embarrassed, he was hopeful that his acquiescence and new garments would be greatly arousing to Kay. At the same time, her fascination with his boobs left a bit of doubt as to whether she was taking advantage of this opportunity to embarrass him, or if she might have some hidden lesbian tendencies.
But if she confined them to playing with his boobs ....
Tuesday, October 18, 2016 – Late Morning
Schuster Assembly Hall, Whateley Academy
Even if the announcement from the administration office hadn't specified that the special gathering was for all students who were suffering from macromastia, it would have taken even the dimmest of them only moments to realize that such was the case. Every boy but one was either hunched over or wearing baggy clothes, or both. The one exception was the same junior who never seemed to have any fucks to give about anything; he sat back in the seat like he always did, which resulted in the mounds on his chest showing quite prominently.
Not surprisingly, a number of girls who were suspected of having the condition were conspicuously absent, no doubt because they liked their sudden increase in stature and did not want to lose their newfound curves. The girls who were in the assembly were those who'd been a little too generously 'gifted', starting mostly with double-D cups and extended in a couple of cases into the middle-range of the alphabet.
Having decided that female adults from Doyle, the administration, and the house-parents would be less embarrassing to the girls but more intimidating to the boys, but that male adults would very likely be far more humiliating to the boys, the staff decided to send three top administrators, and one male and one female house-parent, doctor, and lab researcher. They hoped that the presence of the senior echelons of staff would reassure those affected that the situation was being taken very seriously.
After a brief introduction by the Headmaster, Dr. Rascomb and Dr. Gutierrez from Doyle explained macromastia to the students, emphasizing the commonality of the condition among teenagers. While the girls were bored, most of the boys sat in disbelief that something so humiliating and which they'd never heard of could be relatively common. There were assurances that counseling would be provided for anyone distressed by the condition and that if it became necessary, surgical correction would be provided.
Finally, Ms. Claire joined Dr. Rascomb at the podium in front of the assembly. "Because this condition is widespread and is non-life-threatening," she explained, "the school is not canceling any activities or classes. All affected students and staff will go about their normal routines under normal rules."
Several students goggled at her statement; faculty and staff had been affected as well.
Dr. Rascomb nodded. "At this point, if the cause is a pathogen or a contaminant in the air, water, or food, everyone has been exposed, so canceling classes is pointless," he explained, heading off dozens of questions.
"Now for the tricky bit," Ms. Claire said, wincing at the direction she had to give to the male students because she knew the embarrassment it was likely to cause. "Until we the doctors understand more about the cause and remedy, the medical staff feels that it is necessary to avoid any excess stress to tissues in the chest area."
Seeing the confusion, Dr. Rascomb expanded upon Ms. Claire's explanation. "We cannot take the risk that it might adversely affect other tissues in the chest area. We will not risk any further complications."
There was still confusion among the students. Wincing and blushing a bit, Ms. Claire tried to explain. "We don't want you to have any excess ... movement ... caused by ... um ... your expanded breasts."
The murmurs didn't slow, at least among the boys, but from the looks they were exchanging, the girls knew exactly what Ms. Claire was trying to diplomatically imply.
Mrs. Hollingsworth, one of the two house-parents present, stood up. "What they're trying to say is that we don't want you bouncing and jiggling all over campus, because the doctors say that could cause stretch marks, saggy skin, distorted or enlarged nipples, and possibly other long-term disfigurations," she said bluntly. "So you are directed to wear proper fitting undergarments until such time as your conditions are remedied."
"Undergarments?" a couple of the boys asked uneasily.
"Bras," Mrs. Hollingsworth said what they all feared.
Ms. Claire nodded. "We have taken roll of who is present. At five pm, the campus store is receiving an emergency shipment of brassieres. Everyone in this assembly, and any affected students who have skipped this assembly, will proceed to the bookstore starting at five. The store will be closed to all other students to ease potential embarrassment or harassment.Everyone will be measured and provided with properly fitted bras - two of them, to allow for laundering one while wearing the other."
"I ain't wearing a bra!" one boy shouted aloud, causing a large stir of mumbled agreement.
Dr. Mazarin stood. "This is not optional. Under the terms of your enrollment," he said evenly, his expression and his voice reflection how serious he considered the situation, "the school is authorized to direct whatever action is deemed to be in your best interest. The medical staff has directed that the abnormal growth needs to be properly restrained to avoid further tissue damage. Therefore, it is so directed that, for all affected students, a bra is part of your school uniform." He stared down a couple of the objectors. "You will comply with this directive - be issued and wear a bra until the situation is resolved, or security will escort you to in-school detention for the duration." He looked around with a sharp, intimidating glare. "Do I make myself clear?"
It took several seconds for the gravity of the nature and the seriousness of the school's response to sink in. Eventually, most of the students nodded or muttered that they understood.
Mrs. Hollingsworth stood again. "And for those of you who think you're cleverer than the staff," she warned the boys, "your house-parents will be checking compliance. So will other staff members. At any time, at any place. Not wearing a bra as directed will result in confined detention." A few of the boys groaned; they had been thinking precisely what she'd ruled out.
Tuesday, October 18, 2016 – Afternoon
Melville Cottage, Whateley Academy
When a knock sounded on his door, startling him, Caleb grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around his shoulders. Sitting hunched over, he looked like an old woman trying to stay warm, but at least it hid his new 'assets'. "Come in," he said, remembering to sound like he was weak and ill.
Becky Merkowitz, better known as Blindspot and Caleb's girlfriend and partner in making embarrassing photos to embarrass the 'beautiful' girls, walked into Caleb's room carrying a paper bag and a plastic grocery bag. She halted when she saw how pathetic and sickly Caleb looked, and then rushed to his side. "You look terrible! Have the doctors checked you out?"
Caleb shook his head, feigning weakness. "No, I don't need to see a doc."
Becky set the bags, one containing chocolate he'd requested and the other a sack lunch from Crystal Hall, on his desk, then felt his forehead. "You feel a bit warm," she reported warily. "I'm taking you to Doyle." Before he realized what she was doing, she pulled the blanket off his shoulders as a first step to getting him up to take him to the doctors.
Becky froze, her eyes wide and jaw hanging open with shock, as she gawked at Caleb's severely stretched T-shirt, the neck of which was pulled low enough to display a vast valley of cleavage. Her mind raced at the hugely improbable scene - her 'boyfriend' had massive tits, far larger than her own meager ones. For a few moments, she doubted her own sanity as conflicting emotions of envy, shock, attraction, and anger swirled through her mind; she wondered for several moments if she was seeing things, if Caleb's apparent boobs were a hallucination symptomatic of mental illness that stemmed from her self-hatred for her own modest figure and incredibly-average looks. For several long seconds, as she debated her own sanity, she gawked at the unlikely scene.
"What the hell?" she suddenly demanded angrily of her boyfriend, her gaze transfixed at the impossible mounds on Caleb. "What happened?" she demanded, anger temporarily holding sway over her emotions, but it gave way to curiosity and envy. "How ... how ...?" she stammered. Slowly, her hidden attraction to girls got the better of her, and she hesitantly reached a hand toward them.
Caleb flinched when Becky's hand tentatively touched one of his unwelcome breasts, but he was so surprised by the impossibility of his situation and Becky's reaction. He tried to back away, but seated in a chair as he was, he couldn't move away. Her touch felt weird to him, startling, but as soon as the shock wore off, the reason behind her curiosity was obvious - she was as attracted to big boobs as he was, and the fact that they were on her boyfriend didn't matter.
As she grew more confident touching and cupping Caleb's boobs, he realized that he was involuntarily arching his back to press his boobs more into her hands, especially after she slipped her hand inside his shirt and was directly playing with his nipples.
"I take it you like this?" Becky asked, confident of the answer from his reactions. "You know, if you can help me grow like you did, we could spend some time 'exploring' each other ...."
Tuesday, October 18, 2016 – Late afternoon
Holbrook Arena Annex, Whateley Academy
Dr. Janosic cringed as he pushed open the door into the pool area. After the debacle of the previous day's class, and the announcements and directives, he expected to have more trouble on his hands, and so he'd made a point of arriving early. Minutes after his arrival, the students began to march out of the locker rooms. Seeing him present, they lined up for roll or an announcement, because if coach was early, he had something to say.
The girls were all present, although three of the girls were wearing new, larger swim tops. The boys who were in the 'unaffected' group the day before also came out of the locker room promptly, although a quick check of the class roster showed that one fewer boy was in that group.
When the 'affected' boys didn't come out immediately, Janosic sighed. No doubt this group had waited to change into their swimsuits until the unaffected boys were out of the locker room. Figuring that the situation was strange enough to warrant giving them a few extra minutes, he turned to the others. "Get in the pool and start your laps."
He waited five minutes before pushing the boys' locker room door open a crack. "That's enough time to change. Get out here!" he bellowed. As the boys filed out, he gave each a very cursory glance - just enough to check them off on the roll. Most of the boys had regular female tops, although a couple of boys had gone for the more modest one-piece woman's suit.
He did a sudden double-take, his jaw dropping as he goggled at the result. At the same time, unbeknownst to him, the girls had managed to gather at the closes edge of the pool and were hooting and hollering.
Coach thought he'd seen it all the day before. He really thought nothing could surprise him. He was wrong.
Two of the boys blushed bright red and looked at the floor; they knew they were the objects of the attention because both were wearing skimpy bikini tops.
"What the ....?" He managed to stop himself from swearing, mostly because he was so astonished that he was speechless.
One boy grimaced; of the two, he had much larger boobs that were barely covered by the smaller of the two bikinis. "My ... girlfriend ... made me wear it," he stammered, feeling enough warmth in his cheeks that he was sure he was going to set off the fire alarm.
"Your ... girlfriend ...?" Coach stammered.
The boy nodded. "She got it for me. She said that since I insisted she wear a bikini at the swim party, it was only fair that I wear one for swimming," he admitted in a soft, sheepish tone.
Coach just gawked at him, then shook his head in disbelief. "I hope she's worth it," he muttered to himself. "What about you?" he demanded of the other boy.
The other, too, flinched. "Um, the girls ... um ... they ... um ... bet me ...."
"They bet you ...?"
The boy nodded, while one of the girls in the pool piped up. "A few of us decided to bet him ... in fact, we bet several of them ... that they wouldn't dare wear a bikini swimming today," she announced, almost proud of what the girls had cajoled the boy into.
Janosic alternated his astonished gaze between the bikini-clad boy and the girls at the edge of the pool. "How much?" he finally asked the boy.
"Um, forty bucks," the boy admitted, embarrassed to admit that he'd done something so humiliating for such a small reward.
"Forty ...." Coach shook his head again. "Those aren't ...." He stopped because he was starting to feel a headache coming. "Just get in the water," he said, rolling his eyes.
The 'affected' boys nodded and began to dive into the pool, with coach just shaking his head. He couldn't take his eyes off the last two, the two in bikinis. Neither could the girls, all of whom had by then gathered in the water at pool's edge.
And of course, when the two in bikinis dove into the pool, the force of the water on their moving bodies caused the incorrectly-fastened bikini tops to come off - exactly as the girls had expected. As Coach had known would happen. He turned to one of the lifeguards stationed by the pool's edge. "Watch them. I need to get an Ibuprofin or something."
"Only at Whateley," he repeatedly muttered to himself as he walked purposefully toward the door.
(To Be Concluded)