They came in the mail with Louis Taylor's name on the package. Were they some alien lifeform? If so, why did they look like breasts?
Louis Taylor gets a surprise package, just as his life is about to change forever.
M.A.T.D.A.M.B.
by Lainie Lee
I walked into our old house in Appaloosa at the end of the last day of school carrying my backpack, my gymbag, a canvas tote of stuff from my locker that had not fit into either other bag and the package that had been leaning against the door when I got home. "Hey!" I yelled. No one answered.
The house looked more deserted than usual, Dad and my sisters had already moved out; for the last two weeks Mom and I had lived alone in the old house while I finished up my sophomore year of high school. Deirdre's community college classes and Suzanne's sixth grade had gotten out earlier and they had gone ahead. I missed my sisters a little and my Dad a lot more but now that my school was out, Mom and I would be moving too.
Dad's new job in Greenfields meant we could afford to live on the coast now. The move to the new house excited me a little, but leaving the home I'd grown up in depressed me. I hadn't let anyone see me cry about it, at fifteen I was much too old to get all snuffly about the old neighborhood, my friends or the old house.
But if I were alone where no one could see me, I could get a little choked up and no one else had to know. Mom might not be home for another two or three hours depending on how the party they were throwing for her at work went. Dropping my stuff in the middle of the nearly empty living room, I put the oddly heavy package down on the dining room table, got myself a drink of cold water from the fridge and wandered out back.
The golden light of afternoon made bright pools between the tall, cool, fruit trees lining the back yard and I could see the peaks of the Marathon Range west of town. Day after tomorrow, I'd be looking at them from the other side. I held the glass up and looked at Old Sandy, the nearest mountain, through the lens of water. I'd said goodbye a hundred times already since I'd learned the family would be moving but I said it again with every bit as much feeling as before.
"Goodbye," I whispered. Then I walked slowly around the yard, poking my toe into various heaps of grass and dirt where I and my sisters and friends had played "King of the Woodpile" and "Last Train from Appaloosa" and "Taylors on the Moon." I drank the water, wiped my face and went back inside.
Mom's last day at work would be over soon, she'd come home then we would pack a few things, go have dinner somewhere nice and sleep the last night in the old house. Dad would fly in tomorrow morning, Mom and I would run a few last errands and we'd all be on the road in the van for the trip down Interstate 7 before noon. With luck, we'd get to see the sun set over the Pacific Ocean.
The new house actually was in Pacifico, on the coast northwest of Greenfields, but an easy commute for Dad. It would be kinda cool to live near a big city, I could go see the Shamrocks and Davids play when they were in town, big name rock bands performed in the Richmond Bowl, and there were tons of interesting things to do in the city. Not to mention a whole ocean next door, but I would miss my friends.
I didn't want to cry again so I went back inside and picked up the package on the dining table. It seemed to be addressed to me, though they had misspelled my name. Honestly, how hard can it be to spell Louis Taylor? I didn't remember ordering anything and especially not something so big, a nearly cubical box ten or twelve inches on a side. And heavy, it must weigh fifteen pounds or so.
Some company I'd never heard of on the return address, maybe Mom or Dad had bought me a present? "Huh?" I said out loud. my parents weren't big on surprises, though; if it were a present from one of them, they would have told me to expect something. I ripped off the outer paper and discovered that the package actually consisted of two plain white boxes taped together.
A dinner knife cut the tape holding the boxes together and also separated the flaps holding the lid on one of the boxes. I flipped open the box, expecting--maybe books or walkie-talkies or--well, I wasn't sure exactly what I did expect. Certainly not a five or six pound lump of silly putty, for that was exactly what it looked like.
I laughed. The inside of the box was made of hard white plastic and shaped like a sink. A lump of plastic jelly lay in the depression, pinkish beige, looking like nothing so much as a giant blob of plastic clay. I opened the other box, just to check and sure enough, it contained an identical lump of rubber-looking, flesh-colored whatever-it-was.
Shaking my head, I looked for some kind of instructions or identifying papers. Nothing had any writing on it except the original outer wrapping addressed to 'Lewis Tyler.'
"Makes no sense at all," I muttered. Experimentally, I poked one of the blobs, "Sticky," I noted. So sticky, in fact, that it still clung to my finger, stretching amazingly as I drew my hand back. The sticky tendril seemed to get thicker as I watched, the plastic blob oozing out of its container. I tried to scrape it off against the table, then grabbed the dinner knife in my other hand and tried to remove it that way but the gelatinous clay clung and oozed like some amoebic refugee from a late night movie.
"I'm dreaming?" I wondered. But slamming my hand against the table edge convinced me that my experience was real enough. "Ow!" I yelped.
Somehow, the glob had anchored me to the table too, even while it engulfed my hand and oozed up my arm. And now the second sluginaceous nightmare crawled out of its box and advanced on me. I screamed, thrashing around hard enough to pull the table and both boxes over on top of me banging my head painfully on the floor as I went down.
Dazed, I stared as the two blobs, moving rather more quickly than such sluglike apparitions had any right to do, crawled up my arms and into my shirt.
* * *
I must have passed out for a moment, I decided, 'cause when I came to, I found myself lying on the daybed in the den. I'd been sleeping there for the last week, ever since my own bedroom stuff had been packed and shipped to the coast. My head hurt and my brain felt sort of oatmealy. I sat up suddenly and immediately regretted it.
First, my head started pounding and my eyes almost fell out and rolled around on the floor. Second, something on my chest wobbled and jiggled as I moved. "What the fuck?" I yelped, bringing both hands up to my chest and looking down to see--two enormous pink lumps under my t-shirt.
I almost sighed in relief when I realized they must be the horror-movie plastic monster amoebas from the planet Postal--for a moment there, I thought I had grown breasts. They stretched my black t-shirt all out of shape. I groped the right one, then the left. They felt--like me.
I mean, I could feel them, not just with my hand but with them. "I'm still dreaming," I said out loud. I pulled out the neck of the t-shirt and looked inside at my own private cleavage. "Christ in a pick-up truck," I said.
I don't remember how I got there but next I was standing in front of the bathroom mirror with my t-shirt on the floor. They looked real. Realer than real. Enormously real, and I mean enormous--the two of them together were actually wider than my chest and I could see they went under my arms and partway around to my back. Nice big titties in the world's worst place for nice titties.
I tried to get my fingers under an edge but there were no edges. There was sort of a crease under them in front 'cause they were so big and heavy, they hung there kinda droopy but only a little. I tried to pull on them but that didn't work. In fact, rubbing and pulling on them was having a very strange effect. I watched while two enormous nipples--my nipples!--got big and hard, popping out on my chest from the middle of two dark areas that tipped each impossible breast.
Rubbing them felt good--too good. So I stopped. I felt like I was getting a hard-on and that made me wonder, had anything changed further down? I got my pants down quickly and took a look--though lookingbetween the big mounds was a strange experience. All present and accounted for, sir. Right hand on my male genitalia and left hand on a breast, I recited the old Sesame Street mantra, "One of these things is not like the other, one of these things does not belong." Then I giggled, probably insanely.
Without really thinking about why I would do such a thing, I began rubbing my new parts with both hands. It felt so good, I didn't want to stop. My nipples were hard little pebbles and it occurred to me that my breasts were so big, I could probably get them in my mouth. I tried it, it worked.
That felt so good that pretty soon, I couldn't stand it, so I switched to the other nipple. It kept feeling better and better, and I sank slowly to the bathroom floor. I could hear someone moaning, probably me. My thighs opened, then clenched on my penis and I came so hard I passed out again.
Okay.
I woke up on the bathroom floor feeling enormously satisfied with myself for no good reason. Idly, I played with my nipples before realization sank in. I sat up suddenly, banging my head on the u-shaped pipe trap under the sink. My boobies bounced pleasantly on my chest, too. The conflicting signals of pain, pleasure and just plain weirdness almost caused another blackout.
I hadn't hit my head that hard, so I carefully extricated myself from under the sink. The throbbing in my new breasts bothered me a lot more than the pain in my head. I looked down at them, they didn't seem so outlandishly big as they had before--were they shrinking or was I just getting used to them being there?
I tried very hard not to do what would come naturally to any fifteen-year-old boy--play with an available pair of beautiful tits. I poked, pushed and prodded them a bit more; it felt too good to be good for my sanity. "Dammit, this just isn't happening," I muttered.
Real or not, it felt too good to stop and pretty soon I'd worked myself into a frenzy of rubbing and squeezing and sucking when I thought of it. I couldn't spare a hand for my crotch so, again, I squeezed my thighs together. I squealed like a cheerleader in heat as I came but I didn't pass out again at first. Nor after the second or third crescendo of renewed self-lust--but I lost track around five or nine and finally lost consciousness shortly after.
Okay, this could be habit forming.
I woke up slowly this time, wary of bumping my head again. I looked at my chest and saw with some surprise that the false breasts had almost disappeared. The big nipples and dark-colored skin around them were still there and a definite puffiness under them. I imagined that they looked about the size my twelve year old sister might have. My brain sort of froze up, considering that idea.
But before I could really do much thinking about my situation, nature called and I had to sit down quick or leave a major dump in my pants. Not to get gross about it but I did both number one and number two in a big way and ended up flushing the bowl three times. The odor got pretty intense, too, and I turned on the fan.
I had stood up, contemplating my discarded clothing and realizing that despite the fan the room smelled like dirty gym socks. The sudden urge to toss my cookies made me fill the bowl a fourth time. I didn't actually feel sick, I just had to throw up and quickly. Things kept happening to me, I felt like a character in a really bizarre video game.
When I straightened up, I decided that part of the smell must be me. My skin seemed covered in a wet substance, slimier than sweat. I needed a bath but the downstairs bathroom had no shower. Naked and feeling more than just a little dazed, I wandered into the den looking for some clothes I could take upstairs with me. I grabbed some, practically at random, from the semi-packed suitcase on the floor and went up to my old bathroom, feeling unaccountably eager.
Hot water and soap felt wonderful but I kept getting distracted by--differences. Besides the mini-boobs--and where did the mega-boobs go?--I noticed that my skin felt softer and more sensitive all over. The small amounts of body hair I had been sprouting for the last year or so, including groin and underarms, seemed to have disappeared, too.
I checked. Nothing else had gone missing that I could tell. Relieved, I finished my shower, even washing my hair. I felt very--sensual I guess is the word--but I had no trouble resisting the any urge to play with booblets or other parts. I felt good which was weird, considering.
Drying off, my eyes kept being drawn to the mirror. I'd never before felt so much interest in how I looked. I knew I didn't look the same as I had the day before but I ignored the differences and just enjoyed looking.
I put on the clothes I'd grabbed, briefs, a yellow t-shirt, and a pair of denim baggies. The clothes felt strange as if they belonged to someone else. I combed water out of my hair and continued looking in the mirror.
My image in the mirror looked strange, though I couldn't put my finger on just what the strangeness might be. I tried to feel alarmed about everything that had happened but my reflection kept smiling back at me. Until I noticed the two bumps made by my nipples.
I looked inside the t-shirt. They were still there, as big around as dimes almost; while I watched, they stiffened a bit and got bigger. Uh-oh. I started noticing other things. All of my zits were gone and my face looked softer and less angular somehow. Same for my arms and legs which were also unusually smooth, even my hands and feet.
Other people might not notice some things but chest ornaments on a boy tended to stick out. Stand out. I suppressed a giggle. Why was I concerned about people noticing but not worried about all the changes? I didn't know and even that didn't bother me much.
Feeling a bit dreamy and unreal, I cleaned up the bathroom then wandered downstairs where I found a pair of sandals to wear and a short sleeve, white cotton shirt to wear over the t-shirt. Hanging open, it still covered my nipple bumps. I looked in the mirror downstairs and decided that the resemblance to my sisters was alarming. So--why didn't I feel alarmed?
In fact, I felt a weird sort of satisfaction with myself, as if I had accomplished something I had planned on for some time. "So this is what it's like to be a pod person," I murmured. Then I giggled.
I'd like to say I laughed but it was definitely a giggle. "Oh well," I said aloud and smiled, noticing that I had a really cute smile. Still smiling, I cleaned up the downstairs bathroom and put the dirty clothes in the wash. Mom and I intended to do a load tonight before leaving for Greenfields and the house in Pacifico in the morning.
I found the wrapper and boxes from the package containing the Mutant Alien Titties Done Ate My Brain. I threw all of it away, going so far as to carry the trash out to the big cans beside the garage. But I saved the return address, tearing it off the paper and putting it in my wallet which I put into my backpack instead of my pocket. I wasn't sure why I did that but it might be useful.
The phone rang and it took me a moment to realize it had to be my cell phone since the house phone had already been disconnected. I dug that out of my backpack, knowing from the "Brady Bunch" ring that it was Mom calling. "Hi, Mom," I answered.
"Louis?" she said.
"Who else?" I rolled my eyes; what, she didn't recognize my voice?
"Um. Well, the office manager and the women in the office want to take me out to dinner..." she trailed off.
"Sounds good, Mom. Should I get my own dinner? I've got money," I offered.
"Would you mind, honey?"
"No. It'll give me time to see some of my friends before we go. I can take Deirdre's old bike we're leaving behind down to the Spot."
"Well, okay. I should be home by eight," she said.
"No worries, it doesn't get dark till after nine, Mom. And I'll call you if I need to be picked up."
"All right, dear. Oh, your father called. He's coming in tonight instead of tomorrow. Got a ride with one of the corporate types heading to Boise, they'll be dropping him off at Appaloosa Muni around ten."
"Cool," I said. I had to grin. Dad had hated being separated from Mom for most of the last two weeks and had twice already pulled this trick of getting a plane ride for an overnight visit.
"You be careful," Mom warned before we hung up. "You sound like you might be coming down with something."
"I'm not and I will," I promised. "Wait, stop, reverse that."
Mom laughed and disconnected.
It would be cool to see my friends one last time. I used my cell phone to send a broadcast text to my buddies list, "C U spot 6 2 9 YF lu". I checked the house to be sure nothing was left undone or unlocked then I went out to the sideyard to get Deirdre's old bike.
It would be so cool to see my friends. It didn't even occur to me to wonder if they would recognize me.
Next: Horsefeathers
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Why did I go anywhere with two alien parasites that sometimes looked like big tits stuck to my chest? Okay, I'm dumb, but I think I had help.
by Lainie Lee
Riding Deirdre's old two-speed bike wasn't so odd, even if it was a girl's bike. For some reason, that fact made me want to smile. It had big balloon tires, had been spray-painted powder blue about ten years ago and was older than our parents. You couldn't even buy a new two-speed but it wasn't the only such old machine in town.
I saddled up and pumped my way south on Clark Boulevard toward the Burger Spot on the north edge of downtown. The gears were shifted by twisting the right handlebar and the bike had both a rear coaster brake and a front caliper brake operated with the left hand. When going downhill, you had to remember not to use the front brake without using the coaster brake first or you might do a header over the handlebars.
Dee had cried at the decision to leave the bike behind for the nine-year-old daughter of the tenants who would soon be renting our house even though she hadn't ridden the thing since her tomboy days ended in junior high. Suzanne, our younger sister, had never ridden it. Zuzu'd never been a tomboy, going straight from baby in lacy bonnets to fashion-conscious teeny-bopper all at once, it seemed.
Mom had probably gotten the most use out of the old bike, she's the one who kept the tires inflated and the chain oiled. I had ridden it before, after I discovered its perfection for navigating the sandy trails in the foothills west of town. My friends on their narrow-tired ten and twelve-speed machines struggled to keep up while I floated above the loose gravel. Only Ken Tarrant on his fifteen-speed mountain bike, which also had balloon tires, could consistently outrace me in the hills. Of course, the planetary gears inside the rear hub of Dee's old Higgins didn't get clogged or misaligned like the derailleurs of Ken's newer bike.
I felt good and I blamed it on the air. Appaloosa is in a wide flat valley between the Marathon Range to the west and the Mustang Peaks of the Rocky Mountain Range to the east. The Jefferson River flows sort of down the middle and a lot of farming is done near it because the area doesn't get much rain. Away from the crops and pastures near the river, the valley is pretty much desert or scrub. The air is clear and sweet and I didn't want to think about any other reasons for feeling good.
Like the mutant alien tits under my shirt. What were they, where had they come from and why me? It's hard to believe that I hadn't told anyone, hadn't really done anything about them and didn't spend much time thinking about them,
Even when I tried to think about what had happened, it just seemed so unreal--even unimportant. Since I could think of no reasonable explanation for my own behavior--let alone the existence of whatever the mutant tits really were--I just ignored the incident and happily pedaled my ass toward the Burger Spot.
In a town named for a kind of spotted horse, it wasn't surprising that lots of local stores had references to horses or spots in their names. Our high school team name was even the Spots. School officials had put it up to a vote when the decision had been made to axe the old team name of the Braves. Most of the girls had voted for Spots over the other popular choice, the Stallions because they didn't want the girls' teams to be called the Mares.
Of course, the joke around school was that the girls' teams were now the Menstrual Spots. For my whole freshman year, I thought they were saying Minstrel Spots and I would laugh with everyone else but I didn't get it. And me with an older sister, but I'd never heard the word. Painful to be so young and so ignorant, isn't it?
Anyway, the Burger Spot looked like a typical one-off fast food place, big glass windows, plastic booths, menus above the counter. The back room full of video games attracted a lot of teeny-boppers and young teens who probably spent more for entertainment than they did for food. The burgers tasted better than the ones at the chain places--I think they were cooked instead of manufactured--and drink refills were free. The building sat in the middle of the huge parking lot for a strip mall, right on the edge of downtown with its old buildings, mostly offices these days.
I wheeled up close to the building, intending to put the bike into the rack where I could see it from inside. A tall boy I didn't know standing near the door said, "Here, let me help you."
I didn't think I needed any help but he took the bike from me and lifted it into the rack, instead of rolling it in like I would have done. "Thank you," I said, trying to be polite.
"No problem," he said. "That ancient piece of metal must have come west with the wagon trains. It's three times heavier than a modern bike."
I grinned. "It's built to last," I agreed.
Nodding and smiling, he opened the door to the Spot for me. "Meeting someone?" he asked.
"Some friends," I said.
"Have fun," he said. "And if you're not having fun, come see me." His grin got wider.
I went in, wondering what that was all about. Sure I was dumb but I had an excuse.
At the counter, I looked up at the menu, deciding if I really wanted a burger. Jerry Aronstedt, a high school boy from my neighborhood, was behind the counter. He grinned at me. "Lots of choices," he said.
"Uh huh," I said. The Spot's menu covered four panels and included Greek gyros, Mexican burritos and pizza as well as seven kinds of hamburgers, if you count vegetarian burgers as burgers. "I guess I'll have a strawberry milkshake," I decided.
"Excellent choice!" Jerry beamed at me. I couldn't remember him ever having been so friendly before. As a senior, classes had ended for him yesterday and he would be graduating at the ceremony tomorrow, maybe that's why he was in such a good mood. Normally, we seldom spoke since he ran with an entirely different--older--crowd. "Large or small?" he asked.
Large or small--what? I had to remember what the question was about before I could answer. "Large," I said.
Jerry grinned at me again as if that had been a funny answer. I almost laughed, he seemed to be clowning around. He made the shake quickly but with exaggerated movements, glancing at me to see if I were watching him.
Should I clap, I wondered, as he delivered the shake to me with a flourish. "Looks good," I said, not clapping because that would have been just too weird.
"I made it extra good, just for you," said Jerry, still grinning.
I had to smile which made the grin get wider. I handed him a five and when he gave me my change, he actually took my hand in his left and put the one and coins in my palm with his right. I blinked and so did he, his eyes seeming to widen and sparkle as they opened. "Enjoy," he said.
I nodded and turned away. What had just happened? When Jerry touched me, I felt very peculiar.
"Miss?" said a voice.
I glanced back in reflex since the comment clearly wasn't meant for me.
Jerry still smiled. "You forgot your shake."
Embarrassed, I took it from his hand, feeling another peculiar tingle. "Thank you," I murmured and fled the counter area. I glanced down, suspicious.
Okay, I'm dumb and unobservant but I wasn't blind.
The tits were back. Jerry hadn't recognized me, he'd thought I was some girl! Thank God they weren't as big as they had been but they were definitely there, pushing out the front of my shirt and jiggling a bit when I walked. It felt so peculiar I wondered how I had failed to notice. How long had they been there?
And through the big internal window into the back room, I could see two of my friends, Ken Tarrant and Bud Loomis, already playing Ultimate Deathmatch on one of the video games. "Crap," I whispered and quickly sat in a booth with my back to them before they saw me.
Unbelievably, the next thing that happened was I got distracted by that damn strawberry milkshake. I couldn't believe how good it tasted. If I'd never had a strawberry milkshake before it couldn't have been more fascinating. I sat there sucking sweet nirvana through a wide straw and didn't even notice Jennifer Sorenson until she had done a double take at seeing me. "Louis?" she said.
I looked up. "Huh?" I said, still blissing over the strawberry goodness Jerry had filled my cup with. Had he really made it extra good just for me,I wondered.
"Oh sorry," Jenny said, glancing at my chest. "Thought you were someone else." She walked away, frowning.
I almost called after her then my brain unfroze and I realized that explaining why I had tits to my friends would take too long and they would still not believe me. And if they did believe me, well, what then? I glanced down again, shit, they had gotten bigger again. I didn't believe much of it, either, come to think of it. The whole thing was unbelievable, especially the part about growing tits at inconvenient times.
I poked one of them and it jiggled. Still not the monster tits of the afternoon but way bigger than any fifteen year old had any right to, especially if he was a boy. These were Pam Anderson class tits. I poked one again and giggled.
Then I shrugged it off and went back to finishing my strawberry shake.
I sat there a while longer, lost in strawberry nirvana before something percolated into my awareness. Two boys in a nearby booth were staring at me. I wasn't sure what to do about that. Should I make it obvious that I saw what they were doing or should I just ignore them. Without making any decision at all, I looked back at them and smiled. Why did I do that? All I can say is that smiling at them made my tits feel good.
The older looking one got up and came toward me. I recognized him vaguely as being one of the jocks in my class. A big guy who had played on the junior varsity football team last fall. What's his name? I drew a blank so I just kept smiling.
"Hi," he said, sliding into the booth opposite me. He really was big for a sophmore, he barely fit in the booth.
"Hi," I answered. How could I be so calm, I wondered. This guy is hitting on me because he thinks I'm a girl and I'm still smiling. My tits still felt good and I was enjoying it, too.
"I'm Robert deVore," he said. Oh, yeah. "What's your name?"
So help me, I don't know why I answered him. "Lulu," I said. Lulu?
He smiled and I giggled.
"That's a cute name," he said. "I don't think I've seen you in school?"
"You haven't," I agreed. Well, not looking like this. I wondered if there were more differences than just the tits. Maybe I should find a mirror. I put my hands on the table, thinking about getting up.
He put his hand over both of mine. His hand was huge, mine looked tiny under it. Tingles radiated from where his skin touched mine. I looked up into his face. His eyes were blue and he had long golden eyelashes. I felt my nipples begin to stiffen. I wondered how well the shirt I was wearing over my t-shirt would conceal them. Not very well, I suspected.
I wanted to jump up and scream, "This can't be happening!" But I didn't. Have you ever swam near the water inlet in a swimming pool and felt the hard, fast little currents all over your body? That's how I felt but it all felt so good.
"You do look familiar though," he said.
"Louie Taylor," I whispered.
"He's in my math class, I think. Is he a relative of yours?"
I nodded. Well, sort of. I was surprised he even knew who I was--or who Louie was. With over 200 kids in the sophomore class, I sure didn't know every one of them, not even all the ones in my classes.
"I thought they were moving away?"
I nodded again. I noticed his smell. He smelled good. Hard to describe but I could tell my tits liked his smell.
"So," he said. He made it sound fascinating.
Iknew that if I didn't get out of this situation soon, Bobby deVore was going to find out I was a boy--if I still was. That thought worried me a tiny bit and distracted me from admiring his dimples. "So, are you here helping them?" he asked.
I'd lost track of the conversation so I guessed. "Uh-huh?" I said.
"Louie and Lulu?" he said. "Is it really Louise?"
I giggled. "Grandpa was named Louis." True, but that was his middle name, Albert Louis Taylor.
"Ah," he said. "Well, you're not twins but I guess you do look like relatives. You're much cuter, though."
I giggled again. I couldn't think of anything to say so I giggled some more. I must have a cute giggle 'cause he couldn't stop grinning. It sounds so odd to say I giggled but I was there and I heard it.
"I've got wheels," he said suddenly. He must have turnd sixteen during the school year if he had a car. "You want to go someplace?"
The idea of being alone with this guy was both terrifying and appealing, like the parachute jump thing at Wide Country in Greenfields. "Like where?" I asked, like a goose.
"We could just go for a drive?" he suggested. Where could we go, we were already at the prime teen hangout on this side of town.
We talked a bit more about nothing in particular then he said, "Shall we go?" He stood up as he said it and smiled down at me.
I nodded and got up, realizing as I did so that my jeans had gotten tighter in the hips and butt and settled lower on my waist. The mutant alien things on my chest again, I realized. It's not just the tits, I thought, possibly the single most inane thing that has ever occured to me while I was wide awake.
He held the door open for me and put his arm around me after we were outside. Every boy in sight watched us, or maybe they were watching my tits. I tingled all over from the attention; I liked it even though I knew it was just wrong to feel that way.
Bobby held the door of a beat up old pick-up open for me, too. It had a bench seat, so I slid over into the middle. When Bobby started to climb in I said, "My bike," and pointed.
"Right," he said. He tossed it into the back of the truck then climbed in beside me. He seemed pleased to see me sitting so close and I scooched over a bit nearer so that our legs almost touched. Almost too near, his elbow touched the pointy part of my left tit when he moved the shift lever.
"It's a stick," I gushed.
He blushed and I wondered for a moment if he had thought I said something else.
"Stick shift, right," he said after a beat. He backed out carefully, shifted again, looked carefully both ways before pulling out onto Appaloosa Avenue, the main drag through town. Then he put his arm around me.
I looked up into his blue eyes and wondered if he were going to try to kiss me. I also wondered a little bit what I would do if he didn't try.
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