Chapter 1
Maxine Lester sat among all the other young teen-aged girls waiting to read for parts in the junior high school play. As one girl after the other rose to give her version of the way the lines should be read, Maxine grew more and more excited. Each girl's attempt made Maxine more certain that she had a very good chance to win the lead role. But when there were only two more girls ahead of her, she saw the teacher glance in her direction and make a little frown to herself. Then she tiptoed over to where Maxine was waiting so eagerly and whispered to her.
"Maxine, aren't you in the wrong line?" she asked. "These are the girls trying out for the lead role-for Mary, the daughter in the play. Don't you want to read for the part of-"
Maxine was so anxious she couldn't wait for the teacher to finish. "No, that's the part I want!" she broke in. In her innocence, she had no idea why the teacher thought she was making a mistake.
"But the role of Mary needs to be played as a seventh grader. Remember? Mary's supposed to be just thirteen, her little brother is nine, and her big sister is eighteen. Her uncle and aunt:-" the teacher began, only to be interrupted a second time by the puzzled youngster.
"But I am a seventh grader," she reminded, "and I am thirteen. So that's exactly the right age, isn't it?"
As Maxine spoke, leaning forward eagerly in the chair, her incredibly full young breasts poked even tighter against the thin material of her white cotton school blouse. It was exactly the wrong thing to do, even though she was entirely unconscious of how the slight forward motion called even more attention than usual to her bulging chest.
The display of her ripe young womanhood made the teacher a little nervous. After all, the oversized swellings on the kid's chest were precisely the reason she wasn't right for the part. How could she tell Maxine the truth without embarrassing her?
"Yes," she finally answered, "thirteen is the right age. But you-your appearance is a little more mature than that of the average thirteen-year-old girl, Maxine. You know what I mean. You'd do much better in the role of an older girl. The mother, maybe."
"The mother," exclaimed Maxine. "But that's a dumb part. She hardly gets to say anything the whole time. What do you mean about my appearance? I don't understand."
"Honey," the teacher told her consolingly, "if you played the part of Mary, we'd have to have gown women playing the other parts. Don't you see? You'd look so much older than the other girls that it wouldn't come off right at all." .
Maxine knew very well that her pretty little face was as youthful appearing as the faces of any of her classmates. That couldn't be it. And she wasn't exceptionally tall for her age at all. True, her young figure tended toward the vertical rather than the horizontal. But there were at least three girls she could think of in her class who were two or three inches taller than she Was. It couldn't be that, either. Then with a hot flush of embarrassment, it suddenly began to dawn on her what the teacher was talking about.
"You ... you mean my ..." she began haltingly, waving her hand timidly toward the protruding mounds beneath her blouse. She was too shy to finish her words.
"Yes, dear," answered the teacher, glad to at last have the subject out in the open. "You're a girl who has rather . . . rather an unusual development for her age. It's your breasts I'm speaking of. Look around the room at the other girls in your class that are trying out for the play. There isn't a one of them that has the ... uh ... maturity that you have. See why we can't have you playing the part of Mary?"
Maxine didn't answer but she was thinking hard. Her face was getting red as a beet. And a few of the other girls were beginning to look in her direction to see what was going on between her and the teacher.
"Look here, honey," suggested the teacher, flipping Maxine's pages forward and pointing to a certain section. "Right here would be a good place for you to read for the mother's part. I'm sure you could it well. Want to try out for that role, now?"
By now the eyes of almost all the other girls were on her. She was more than just embarrassed. She was getting angry.
She hopped up from her seat and, on the verge of tears, she cried, "No! I don't want that dumb old part. If you won't even let me try out for the part I want, then I .. I ... I just don't want to be in this stupid play at all!"
She pushed past the teacher and ran down the hall to the girls' rest room. All the way there she was fighting back tears. She knew that although her outburst had been intense and furious, she had kept her voice down. She hoped none of the girls heard what she had said to the teacher. She'd die if they found out what their conversation was about.
To her delight, the rest room was entirely empty. It was between classes and the usual pack of young female combers and primpers was absent. Maxine washed her face with cold water and dried her tears. That made her feel much better. She looked at herself in the mirror. Looking back at her was a healthy, pink-cheeked girl with perfect white teeth and a thick mass of bright blonde hair that flowed off her head like molten gold, smooth and shiny as a young television shampoo model. By now the rims of her eyes were just the least bit red, and the clear blueness of the irises was quite evident.
Today she had her hair fixed in a long ponytail that reached halfway down her back. It ought to look like the hair those girls have on television commercials, she thought to herself. I spend enough time on it. She stepped back from the wall mirror and shook her head, making the long blonde ponytail fly like a streamer. She grinned to herself. She knew how far down it would in go front as well as behind. Sometimes in the privacy of her bedroom she divided her long tresses into two equal bunches and let them flow over her shoulders and onto the smooth, resilient flesh of her growing young torso. They were long enough to reach three or four inches past her nipples whenever she did that.
She made a mock-angry face at herself. Maybe that's what she should do all the time-keep her long blonde hair in front so no one could see how big her tits were. She relaxed her face again, putting an end to the clowning. She felt a pang of guilt from thinking, about her tits. She knew very well her mom would thrash her till she cried if she ever heard her use that word out loud. Mom was death on any nasty stuff like that. Maxine thought she would probably punish her for even thinking about her tits if there was any way for her to find out.
Now she smiled at herself, slow and sexy, the way she'd seen women do on television and in the movies. She lifted her hands to the swollen front of her blouse and cupped a palm under each tender mound. She massaged them lightly through the material and felt the firm, smooth skin become damp under her blouse. How could it be that these were responsible for denying her a role in the play? She knew it was terribly naughty to be handling herself like that and looking at herself in the mirror so much, but the new difficulty brought on by her possession of the two hard mounds of flesh forced her to assess them in a new light.
It had been bad enough when they started growing before any of her little friends had even the slightest sign of growth there. But now her precocious physique was actually causing her trouble in school. She was crazy about acting, and now her dumb tits were keeping her from getting the role she wanted. Ever since she had been six or seven, she had wanted to be an actress when she grew up. In grade school she had done great in school plays, but now that she was growing up it was apparently going to be harder for her-just the opposite of what she had thought. It had always seemed to her that she would get to act more and more as she grew up. What a bummer!
She heard the door open and quickly dropped her hands from her breasts. She busied herself with combing her hair as a girl came in and went to one of the commode stalls. Time had gotten away from her. Apparently the last bell had rung and school was dismissed. She heard the girl's clothes rustle as she pulled down her panties and soon heard a tinkle into the water as she relieved herself. In a few seconds the rest room was crammed with junior high girls chattering to each other and combing their hair. Some were kidding others about boys and one little brunette was stuffing her blouse into her miniskirt as far down as it would go.
Maxine knew why she was doing it, too. She was making the blouse fit as tightly as possible so her tits would stick out. And heck, her darned little things weren't any bigger than acorns! Lots of luck, Maxine thought to herself. The brunette would need lots of luck if she wanted a boy to think she had much under there. Then Maxine spotted a couple of girls who had been at the tryout. She was certainly in no mood to talk to any of them at the moment. It would be bad enough having to see them the next day in class and having them ask why she'd dropped out of the tryouts. She headed for the door fast.
On the way home from school she kept to herself and tried to remain as inconspicuous as possible. Sometimes she walked home with a few of her girl friends, but she didn't feel like it today. As she walked past a parking lot a few blocks from her school, one of the cars suddenly wheeled out, burning rubber. It executed a squealing turn out of the driveway and jolted to a halt beside her.
"Hey, baby," called the driver, "hop in and we'll drop you off at home. A chick as groovy-looking as you shouldn't have to walk!"
She turned in her tracks and looked at the car for a few seconds, too shy to answer. The occupants were all obviously high school boys, and she was only in the seventh grade. In a way she was thrilled, but she was also a little scared. Before she could open her mouth one of the other boys spoke up.
"Hey, man, have you flipped out?" he asked the driver. He didn't mean for Maxine to hear, but she did. "That little chick's still in junior high school. You got rocks in your head or somethin'?"
"The hell if she is," retorted the driver. "Look at that nice pair she's got. No junior high kid's built like that."
He turned his attention back to Maxine. "C'mon, love," he invited. "We'll have you at your door in a flash."
Maxine was already miffed and embarrassed by what she'd heard, and was starting on down the sidewalk. Then the other boy spoke up to the boy driving and finished things off royally for her.
"No lie, man," he laughed, poking the driver in the ribs. "Bob's not fooling. I got a cousin her age that lives over by her house. I've seen her around before. I'm telling you, she's just thirteen, same age as my cousin." Then he laughed. "Shit, my little cousin ain't even raised a damned thing on her chest. But that kid's got knockers like a senior in high school already!"
"Would you believe college?" she heard the second boy chortle as the car screeched away in a cloud of exhaust smoke.
Maxine was so embarrassed she wanted to cry.
They'd acted like she was a . .. was some kind of a freak or something! She looked down at her tightly filled blouse. Oh, there was no doubt at all about what she had under there. It wasn't that the little white blouse was especially revealing. If it had been, her mom would have never let her own it, much less wear it to school. It was just that her burgeoning young tits were so fully packed and sat on her chest so high it was impossible to conceal them.
Darn it, she thought to herself, at least I wear a bra. If Mom would just let me go without one like most of the other girls in my class, there'd really be something to see!
She switched her books into her other hand and frowned. No, that wasn't what she wanted. She wanted to become less noticeable, not more so. Then she thought of the full-breasted girls on television, the ones that the guys always fell in love with. They were her idolsand they sure didn't have to be ashamed of how they were built. And the girls in her class .. . She'd caught them sneaking looks at her tits more than once. They tried to conceal it, but it was obvious to Maxine that they were dying to have their bras as full as hers. They never let on, of course, but she knew very well lots of them were jealous.
As she went up the hill toward home she passed by Mr. Jackson's house. He'd been a neighbor to her and her mother for a long time and was more or less a friend of the family. Mom even said he had known her husband-Maxine's daddy-before he died when she was five years old. Mom sure was weird, she reflected. Every year Mr. Jackson gave them some small present at Christmas. When she was younger, her mom used to always say, "Now tell Mr. Jackson 'thank you,' Maxine, and give him a big hug around the neck."
And she had always been delighted to do it. Mr. Jackson was a nice old man, and sort of like a father to her. She enjoyed throwing her arms around his neck and giving him a big hug for the present he'd brought her. But on a Christmas a couple of years before, her mom had discouraged her from doing it. And last Christmas, she was positively angry about it. Maxine gave him the usual hug, and after he was gone her mom said, "That's for little girls to do. You're getting too old for that kind of stuff now. I won't have you falling all over Mr. Jackson like that."
Maxine had been genuinely puzzled by her mother's attitude. Like her mother, she still thought of herself as a "little girl." Maybe she was getting to be a big girl, she decided then, and propositioned her mother.
"Then can I go to the movie by myself?" she innocently asked. "And can I buy my own clothes when we go shopping? Can I-"
But her mother had cut her short with, "Hold on a minute, young lady. You might not be a little girl any more, but you lack a hell of a lot being grown, too. You certainly may not go to movies by yourself or buy your own clothes!"
And Maxine had shrugged her shoulders and given up trying to understand. If she wasn't a little girl any more and wasn't a big girl yet either, then what was she, she wondered? But she knew better than to pose such a question to her mom.
As she dawdled past Mr. Jackson's house, she was deep in thought and barely noticed he had his sprinkler going. The sudden cascade of water droplets over his fence woke her up fast. Some got on her hair and a little even peppered across the front of her blouse and skirt.
"Yikes!" she exclaimed, hopping aside.
Mr. Jackson came walking out from his garage. "Looks like some little miss wasn't looking where she was going," he chided. "Bet you had your mind on one of those boys in your class down at school, didn't you?"
Boys were a subject she never like to discuss with grownups. She was too shy to talk about things like that with anyone except once in a while with some girl her own age.
She protested and said she was just daydreaming, she guessed, about nothing in particular. The feel of the cool water on her skin was actually quite pleasing. It was a hot, sunny day and it felt good to get cooled off a little. Mr. Jackson stood with arms on the picket fence and kept talking to her, but she noticed that he wasn't looking at her as he spoke. Not at her face, anyway, as a person usually does.
"Daydreaming, huh?" he said. "Well it must have been about something awfully important to let you walk into the water like that. Or something awfully secret, one or the other."
She realized his eyes were on her legs and blouse. She glanced down and saw that rivulets of water were running down the smooth bare skin of her shins and knees. She stopped to wipe it off and as she straightened again she felt her breasts stick wetly against the inside of her bra. She pulled her chin in and looked at the front of her blouse. It was so damp it was half transparent! Mr. Jackson could easily see the cups of her bra pushing out from underneath, and maybe even the skin of her naked tummy.
"Wow!" she exclaimed, as much from trying to hide her embarrassment as from surprise. "That thing got me awfully wet. Jeez, I was only under it for a few seconds!"
"Come on into my house," Mr. Jackson offered casually. "You can get dry before you go home, so your mom won't be mad at you. And you can tell me what that 'daydream' of yours was all about."
Maxine almost started to accept. But there was something about the way he was looking at her damp legs and the wet front of her blouse that made her decline his offer. Also, she didn't like the way he kept talking about her daydream. She didn't know what he was driving at, exactly, but somehow it sounded a little dirty. It was dumb, she thought. He sure was getting to be a dumb old man.
She jerked the books she was carrying into her arms so they would cover her wet blouse front and said, "Oh, that's okay, Mr. Jackson. Mom won't be mad. I'll go on home and dry off there." She felt unaccountably nervous and was afraid it was all too obvious in her voice. "I ... I don't even think Mom's home. But thanks. Thanks, anyway! I better dash on home now."
She waved to Mr. Jackson over her shoulder and ran on. She was lying about her mom being gone, but the way he kept wanting her to stay made her think she'd better give a very good reason for wanting to go home. It seemed he was so interested in having her dry off at his house that he might get mad because she wouldn't accept his invitation.
She tossed her books on the couch as she ran in and went to her room. Since her dad had died, things had been a little rough for Maxine and her mom, but at least she had her own room. There are a few girls in her class who didn't even have that. Two or three had to share their rooms with older or younger sisters and one even had to share her bedroom with her nine-year-old brother.
As she stripped off her wet blouse and sat down on her bed to remove her shoes, she noticed that her mom really wasn't home. She hadn't been lying after all. She kicked off the shoes and rubbed the soles of her damp feet together, then headed for the bathroom in her skirt and bra. The water hadn't really done much damage after all, she found. She was far from drenched. The way her blouse had suddenly become almost completely transparent in front of Mr. Jackson had just gotten her a little shook about things.
She undid the hook on the waistband of her skirt and wiggled some until it fell below her hips and dropped to the floor. As she picked it up and tossed it through the open door into her bedroom, she saw a note taped to the bathroom mirror. It was from her mom, and said she had to work late at the department store. Maxine was to tidy up the house and fix her own dinner. There was a short list of things for her to pick up at the neighborhood market.
Maxine was pleased. Being home alone allowed her to do certain things that her mom would have never stood for if she'd been home. She snatched the list from the mirror and jammed it into the pocket of a dress hanging in her closet. The store could wait. She pranced into the living room in her bra and panties, feeling very free now that she had the house to herself for a few hours.
She saw her half-naked body reflected from the mirror in the hall and stopped. She looked at herself closely, as though she were looking at a girl she didn't even know. She was brown as a bear from head to foot, and now that her skirt was off, her long legs could be seen in all their slender beauty.
I got a real good tan last summer, she thought to herself. School had been going on for a couple of months but the glossy tan had stayed with her. She grinned at herself in the mirror.
"Except for right here," she whispered aloud, tugging down the top of her panties a couple of inches. "And right here," she went on, lowering the top of her bra till pink flesh appeared below a straight line of tanned skin. She looked at the way her bra cups pushed out from her chest with the firm pressure of their bountiful contents, then jerked her fingers away from her bra and frowned harshly. Having her attention on her breasts made her recall the trouble at the school tryouts.
"Darn it," she fumed, "why do I have to be such a freak? I loved it when my titties first started to grow, but now it seems like I'd be better off with little bitty ones like the other girls in my class."
She flopped into an overstuffed chair against the wall and kept looking at herself in the mirror, her legs draped sensually over the arm and her spine curved against the plush back. She reached behind her head and began taking off the rubber band that held her ponytail. The motion forced her young mammaries higher and forward, making them appear even larger than they really were.
"Cripes," she said under her breath as she struggled with the rubber band, "it's a good thing they don't look like that all the time. Then the kids at school would never let me forget it."
She tossed her rubber band away and her shoulders were suddenly covered with the thick mass of her long blonde hair. The way she was lying made her panties bunch up at the center and a few stray hairs-as gold in color as the ones on her head-stuck out from the tight leg bands. She put both hands in her hair and played with it, pulling it across her face and peeking from beneath its luxuriant growth. She toyed with the curls, making a moustache for herself and a beard. Finally she drew it down her tanned torso to its full length and looked on proudly as the ends struck her well below the nipples.
She lay back in the big chair and relaxed, letting her long legs slide farther over the arm as she ran her' fingers through the long tresses of her hair. With one hand she reached behind her back and found the clasp to her brassiere. Still watching herself in the mirror, she loosened the clasp and allowed the flimsy garment to slide off the steep slopes of her hard tits. Her nipples came into view, strawberry red in color and obviously beginning to be aroused. Normally they were soft and lower in profile against the surrounding areolas but as she looked on she saw them grow fatter and stick out farther.
"Isn't this silly," she chided herself in a whisper. "How come my things do that whenever I look at myself a lot in my undies?"
For all her precocious physical development, Maxine was a complete virgin. She knew the rudimentary "facts of life," but when it came to personal experience she was green as grass. She didn't yet have the slightest idea of the sweet thrills her lush, hot little body was capable of. But seeing her pubescent curves swell more and more every week was beginning to make her think an awful lot about things. Nasty things she knew her mother would trash her for if she ever found out.
The bra dropped into her lap and one strap settled across the smooth, golden skin of her slender thighs. She took a deep breath, partly out of exasperation about the scene at school with the teacher and partly because the very reason for that scene was staring her right in the face. Now that the bra was all the way off, her two incredibly firm tits stood out from her chest like lush twin peaks in some humid equatorial forest.
The deep breath only made them swell out farther. Alone, in the privacy of her house, she loved to look at herself naked and think dirty thoughts about what a fine, sexy little body she was getting for herself. But at school or in public things were quite different. There she was an object of lewd jokes from older boys and undisguised jealousy from girls in her class. Lately she'd even seen a few high school girls take notice of her as she walked by. They were cooler about it and weren't as open about staring at her ripe little tits, but she knew they were wondering the same thing everyone else seemed to-how could a young seventh grader have such a fine pair on her already?
An idea flashed through her brain. She hadn't measured herself for a while. Now that her mom was gone was the perfect time to do it. She hopped up from the chair, letting her bra slip off her lap to the floor, and skipped barefooted through the house to her mom's sewing machine. She took a measuring tape from the front drawer and stood in front of the full-length mirror in the hall.
It's about a month since I took my measurements, she said to herself. Wonder if I'm any bigger.
First she made a mark on the wall at the top of her head and stepped aside to measure it. Still the same, she noted-five feet, four inches. There were a couple of girls in her class a little taller, but they were both string beans with hardly any titties at all. Now for the juicy part of her little project, she thought. She drew the tape around her back and brought it together between the jutting points of her hard little nipples. Wow, now her tits were thirty-five inches! Last time she had done this they were thirty-four.
She did it again to make sure. She even let her breath out and purposefully tried to relax her torso as much as possible. There it was again-thirty-five inches. No doubt about it. Her tits had grown that much in just the last month or so. She quickly dropped the tape to her waist and drew it together at her navel. She smiled. Still just twenty-two inches-she hadn't grown any bigger at all there. Next she measured the fullness of her butt, encircling her panty-covered cheeks and touching the tape together at the widest point. Groovy! She was still just thirty-four inches there. Her tits had overtaken her ass by an inch. She beamed into the mirror and swung her torso from side to side in a saucy little dance.
No wonder the teacher gave me a hard time, she thought to herself. I've gained an inch where it counts just since the time school started!
She performed a few little dance steps to some imaginary music, still gazing into the mirror at her half-naked young body, and was pleased to see that her fat little jugs were firm as nuts on her chest. They didn't even begin to wobble, much less sag-they both just kind of quivered there, the flesh as solid against her moving torso as the muscles in her thighs or upper arms.
She checked the clock and realized she had better get to the store and pick up the groceries. She jumped into a faded little minidress and replaced her bra before zipping it up the back, then plopped onto the floor and put on a pair of her old tennis shoes. As she tied one she noticed in the mirror that she could see up her thighs an awfully long way. This was the dress her mom wanted her to wear only around the house, she remembered. It was entirely too short for public wearing, she had said. The trouble was that Maxine was growing so fast. A few months ago the hem had come down far enough on her thighs for her to be able to wear the dress to school, even. But now her legs had lengthened so that the garment was much more revealing.
"Darn," she muttered to herself, "you can almost see the bottom of my panties. Oh well, I'll just remember not to bend over on the way to the store. Mom isn't home yet, so she won't bawl me out about it."
Maxine went to the store and was glad by the time she got there that it was only a few blocks away. Two different carloads of high school boys had spotted her and yelled things to her. She couldn't make out exactly what was said, but she had a good idea it was something about the way she was walking. It didn't seem to her that she walked any differently from any other girl but every once in a while some stranger would comment on it, she had noticed. The main feeling she got when guys did things like that was one of fright. It happened so often by now that she wasn't as scared as she used to be, but it still made her feel very uneasy.
In another way, deep down, it made her proud. Proud that her growing young body was sexy enough for a boy to notice it. But she was so shy she didn't admit that part to herself without a deep sense of guilt.
In the store she picked up a few things, and the last item was something from the deep freeze. They were almost out of it and she had to reach in way down in the bottom to get it. She felt a breeze across the top of her thighs and the lower part of her butt and was suddenly reminded of the dress she was wearing. When she looked around she saw the manager of the store had been staring straight at her. He coughed and started looking all around the store to keep her from knowing he'd been seeing what she was showing.
She quickly and primly smoothed the dress over her firm little ass and walked to the cash register with her nose in the air. The manager was blushing when she got there. Neither one said a word as he checked her out and she handed him the money. It was especially embarrassing to have to stand there in front of a man she knew darned well had been feasting his eyes on her naked ass, but she managed to show no sign of how she felt. Outside on the way home she almost shuddered from the thought of what had happened. The old creep was old enough to be her grandfather!
Later that night, just before her mom came home from work, one of her classmates called her on the phone. She told Maxine who had got the part in the school play that Maxine had wanted so badly. She was pretty catty about it, too. Maxine hung up the phone and looked down at her full chest. Tears welled up in her eyes If it wasn't for her fat little tits, she would have gotten the part for sure.
By the time her mom got home, Maxine had already gone to bed. She didn't feel like talking. She wasn't asleep, though, Not by a long shot. She lay under the covers, her warm pubescent curves covered by the little nightie her mom made her wear to bed even in the summer, and stroked her tits with light fingers. Thoughts she knew were nasty were flooding her brain, and she couldn't shake them.
The kids at school might think she looked funny because of her big knockers, but there were some people that got entirely different ideas when they looked at her. It made her sweat under her arms to think about just what those other people thought. She was so shy and inexperienced that it made her nervous to consider the idea. Maybe, just maybe, she was old enough to do a few things none of the dumb girls in her class had ever done. Oh, not in years, perhaps. But in certain o lei ways. She traced her fingertips over the warm, taut peaks under the bodice of her nightie and smiled at herself in the dark.
Let them have their old play, she thought. And let all her little friends who were dying to have enough titty for their first training bra just eat their hearts out-the same ones who'd never let on they were jealous of her. If she looked the part, Maxine thought, maybe it was time she started playing the part.