DR. HOOTERS - Part VII
by Servax
The Juice Get Loose

Brenda woke up about noon the next day with an  unpleasant   sen-
sation   in   her  breasts,   like   they  were  being stretched.
They felt full, and even more, the felt  like  they   were   fil-
ling  even  more.   She stripped  off her nightshirt and examined
her ample breasts.  The first thing she noticed was that her nip-
ples  were  erect,  fat   and  about  four  inches long, and they
ached.  Brenda had only gotten  about  three  hours  sleep  since
leaving the club, so she went  back to sleep.


About an hour and a half later, she woke up again, and found that
the  front  of her nightshirt, and half of her mattress, was sop-
ping wet, and her huge breasts ached like a bladder after a night
of heavy beer-drinking.


She took off her nightshirt, wadded it  up  and  threw  it  in  a
corner.   She  then  saw  the reason for the flooding of her mat-
tress.  From the tip of each nipple was dripping a  watery  white
fluid.  She was milking!!!  Brenda sat up in bed and grabbed each
plump nipple to cut off the flow.  Then, she ran to the john.


Releasing her nipples over the sink, she saw the  milk  begin  to
drip,  drip,  drip again.  She squeezed one huge tit, thinking to
express the milk, but it merely cut off the flow,  and  made  her
whole  breast  ache.  Subconsciously, she relaxed some muscle she
didn't even know she had down at the tip  of  her  right  breast,
like  the  relaxing  of  the muscles to take a piss, and her milk
shot out and sprayed the mirror and tile.  She turned to face the
bathtub  and released the other breast, and suddenly she had twin
fountains spouting she-milk, arcing about four feet through   the
air into the bathtub.


Although she was very tired, Brenda was  very  excited.   It  was
another  proof  of  her basic femininity.  Although she had lived
her first twenty-six years as a man, she was now fully  a  woman,
with  large  firm  breasts, a tight and active pussy, and a pert,
round ass.  Now, on top of everything else, she was  even  giving
milk.


It dawned on her that Jill might want to know about this develop-
ment,  so  she  went  into  the kitchen, found an empty gallon of
milk, and emptied one huge tit into it.  Then she  found  another
empty  gallon  for  the  other tit.  She sealed them and put them
into the refrigerator.  Later that night, expecting to  see  Jill
at  the  club,  she put the two gallons of her milk into the back
seat of her Jaguar convertible.


She didn't see Jill that night, nor the night  after.   When  the
club closed down on the night following, she brought Jill over to
her car to give her the two gallon bottles  of  Brenda-milk,  and
she found that she had forgotten to lock her passenger-side door,
and that the milk was gone.


***************


Blair and Tommy were  waking  past  the  garish  club  on  Apopka
Street.   Tommy  pointed  to  the  front door.  "Your mama dances
there.", he announced.


"Yeah.  So what?", replied Blair, "Your mama's in prison."


"Well, your mama's a whore."


"She is not", replied Blair with some good grace, "she's a  danc-
er."


"She lets the men touch her titties and her boo-tay.  That  makes
her  a whore." Tommy had a very certain standard of judgement for
these things.


"A whore is when she brings men home, an' they fuck her, and give
her  money",  said Blair calmly, "So, my mama's not a whore.  Be-
sides, she makes good money there."


Tommy appeared to give this some thought.  His thirteen-year  old
forehead  wrinkled  under  the burden of the unaccustomed thought
that a woman would let a man touch her titties and her "boo-tay",
and still not be a whore.  "She still gonna whup yo' little white
ass when you get home without any milk", he added triumphantly.


Tommy was right.  But what was Blair supposed  to  do?   Somehow,
Abuelita  had  found  a  bottle, and she got drunk again.  By the
time she and Amanda had gotten her to  bed,  the  Winn-Dixie  was
closed,  and  she  wasn't able to buy any milk Blair wrinkled her
nose in anticipation of the whipping she would get from her tired
mother later that night, and the coffee her grandmother would put
on her cornflakes in the morning.


Just then, a white Jaguar convertible came roaring into the park-
ing  lot,  and  a blonde-haired white lady in a short white skirt
jumped out of the car and ran into the club.


"That's the big-titty lady", said Blair, "She works with my mama.
Lots  of  men  come  to see her.  My mom's been to her house, but
she's never come to ours."


Tommy  whistled  in  appreciation.   "She  bigger'n   my   Awntie
Marshie."  Tommy's Awntie Marshie was a substantial woman, weigh-
ing well over three hundred pounds.


Tommy peaked inside the car.  "Look, its open!", he whispered  to
Blair,  open-  ing  the passenger door.  Tommy was not strictly a
thief, as he never went out particularly to steal, but he  wasn't
the  type  to  pass  up  an  opportunity.   He pulled two plastic
gallon-bottles of milk out of the back seat.   "Ain't  no  money,
Blair,  but  at  leas'  now your mama's not gonna beat yo' little
cracker ass."  He passed one of the milk bottles to Blair.


"You're a thievin' little nigger, Tommy", laughed Blair,  as  she
reached  for  one of the milk gallons.  Tommy, whose ancestry was
composed of equal parts of African, Puerto-Rican, Seminole  Indi-
an,  and  Korean,  took offense at this epiphet, and shot back at
Blair.


"You a little cracker bitch, and won' even do yo' own  stealin'",
which was just as unfair to Blair, who was a mix of Irish, Colom-
bian, Lebanese Arab, and Cuban, and who was definitely capable of
making   off  with  any  useful  item  that  seemed  unwanted  or
unwatched.  "But I'm still gonna fuck ya when you git  older,  'n
grow some titties."  To Tommy, this was high praise indeed.


At this, Tommy ran over the railroad trestle crossing  the  river
into  the  Gardens,  a rather grim housing project that lined the
river, and left Blair to walk the last few blocks to  her  apart-
ment alone.


Opening the door to the apartment,  Blair  saw  that  Amanda  was
still  awake.  She was watching "Hunter" on the TV.  Amanda was a
dark, dreamy little girl who was the product of Blair's  mother's
abortive  second  marriage to a handsome, melancholy Spaniard who
abandoned her when she was  five  weeks  pregnant.  Amanda  loved
"Hunter",  and  had  worked  out a complex fantasy concerning Lt.
Hunter, the six-foot-plus police detective who was the main focus
of  the  show,  and  his  partner, Sgt. McCall, a beautiful dark-
haired policewoman who bore a more than  superficial  resemblance
to Blair and Amanda's mother.


"Hey, Mandy," she whispered, "How's Grandma doin'?"


Amanda turned around when the commercials  came  on.   "She's  on
Mom's bed, sleeping it off."  She stood up and stretched.  "Good.
you got the milk.  I want a bowl  of  cereal."   Amanda  shuffled
into  the  kitchen,  found  the Corn Flakes, and poured herself a
bowl.  "Hey, Blair, this  milk  tastes  kind  of  funny!   Sweet,
like,"   Blair heard her crunching.  "Tastes kinda good.  I can't
tell what kind it is, though.  Where'd'ya buy it?"


"I dunno, Mandy", Blair answered,"Someplace I went with Tommy."


Mandy snorted her disapproval.  "Tommy, huh?  Prob'ly  swiped  it
off  someone's  back  porch.   Blair, when you gonna get a decent
boyfriend?"


"Tommy's decent enough.", replied Blair.  Amanda finished her ce-
real,  poured  herself a glass of milk, and plopped down in front
of the TV to finish "Hunter" Blair poured herself another  glass,
and  sat down on the sofa.  She stared at her sister's dark hair,
bundled into two pigtails running parallel down her back.  Amanda
was so pretty, Blair thought, she could have a hundred boyfriends
a week, if she wasn't so weird.


Blair, on the other hand, resembled her  father's  father,  Lucky
Jack  Reilly,  the  smuggler,  soldier of fortune, and breaker of
hearts on five continents.  Her  father  passed  on  to  her  the
creamy  complexion,  fiery red hair, blue eyes, and love of risk.
Amanda resembled *her* father, quiet, dreamy,  dark,  and  beaut-
iful,  almost too beautiful for the world.  Amanda had coal-black
hair, skin of porcelain, deep brown almond-shaped  eyes,  a  long
swan  neck,  and  a  slender torso with long slim legs and ankles
that contrasted with Blair's more  stocky  build.   Blair  wasn't
jealous  of her sister, though.  They were so different that com-
petition and comparison seemed foolish.  Blair loved  her  little
sister  fiercely.   Amanda, for her part, adored her ten-year old
sister, who occupied place of affection reserved for their  moth-
er,  whom  they  seldom  saw, and who was usually in a cross mood
anyway.  Amanda finished the glass of milk  and  fell  asleep  in
front of the TV.  Blair nodded out on the sofa.




****************************


When  Mary  Quinteros  snapped  the  lights  on,  she  found  her
daughters  sprawled across the living room.  She whispered to the
man following her.  "Sorry, John, looks like Mom got drunk  again
and  left  the  girls  to fend for themselves. I, I gotta get 'em
into bed."  John muttered something about frustration and left in
a  lather.   Mary  stepped over Blair and bent to pick up Amanda.
She lifted Amanda off the rug in front of the TV, which was blar-
ing a repeat of the eleven o'clock news, and carried her into the
bedroom.


She returned for Blair, and saw the gallon of milk  open  in  the
kitchen.  It  was  about  a  quarter full.  Young girls sure went
through a lot of milk.  She lifted Blair up, and  tucked  her  in
next  to  Mandy, then returned to the kitchen.  She almost poured
herself a glass of milk, then decided against it, and opened  the
refrigerator  for  some orange juice.  She sat down to ponder the
changes she had heard about at the club.


The club had been sold to some outfit called Clayton Enterprises,
and  Brenda  Hill  had been named manager.  At first, most of the
girls were opposed to the changes, because they were  jealous  of
Brenda, but when they had some of the things explained to them by
a tall dark-haired woman in a professional-looking suit, they had
to admit that the changes were an improvement.


=46irst of all, they'd no longer have to rent their stalls or their
outfits  from  the club, and they'd no longer have to pay off the
bartender for and private dancing.  That meant  a  three  hundred
dollar  a  week raise for Mary in itself, although they'd have to
kick in fifteen percent for a dancer's kitty, to help  out  those
who didn't make quite as much.


Then, when they'd heard that they would be getting  full  medical
and  dental  insurance  for themselves and their dependents, they
were dumfounded.  Those gangsters that had been running the  club
must have making a real haul of the place.  Typical pimps, buying
flashy clothes and big cars off of women's  pussies.   The  busi-
nesswoman  had  said  that  the head of Clayton Enterprises was a
woman, so that explained a lot.


Still, it was getting to be more and more of a big-tit world,


Mary looked down at her own breasts.  She was  a  34B,  and  that
used  to  be  enough,  with her dark, butt -length hair, her tiny
waist, her slender and  well-formed  ass,  and  her  sultry  good
looks.  She was a popular dancer, and she had been number one al-
most since she had started at the club after Amanda's father  had
disappeared.  But she wasn't number one any more, not since Bren-
da Lee Hill had shown up.


When the striking blonde with the huge boobs first tried out  for
the  job, Mary laughed.  Brenda had performed like a guy comedian
making fun of a stripper.  But you can learn to dance.  What  you
can't  learn  is  how  to have tits the size of half-watermelons.
Before too long, Brenda had become the star attraction, drawing a
lot  of new customers.  It was good for the club, though, and the
other girls didn't mind the extra  money  Brenda's  big  knockers
brought in.


But some of the girls got boob jobs.  Angie Peterson, in particu-
lar,  went from a very respectable forty-one inches to just short
of Brenda's phonomenal sixty-three, but  hers  looked  like  twin
zeppelins  about  to drop a load on London, and were so obviously
artificial, that they actually suffered in comparison to Brenda's
homegrown marvels.


Mary had fought the pressure.  She was  making  more  money  than
ever,  and  she  didn't see the need to mutilate herself just be-
cause some other girl took the Golden Guernsey award.


Just then, she heard a frightened scream  from  the  girls'  bed-
room...




********


Mary squeezed the sponge out into the  bathtub  and  patted  more
blood off Amanda's leg.  Blair stood at the other end, and grand-
mother Consuela was sitting  on  the  toilet  seat  watching  the
proceedings.   The  bloody  sheets from both girls' beds lay in a
tight bundle on the bathroom floor.


"Am I gonna bleed to death, Momma?", pleaded Amanda.


"Shush, baby", replied Mary, "Its just your period.   It  happens
to  all us women.  I just thought I'd have a little time before I
had to explain it to you."  She turned to look at Blair.  "And  I
didn't think you both would start on the same night.


What saint have I offended, thought Mary as she finished  bathing
Blair's  legs  to  have  two adolescents in the house at the same
time?  She glanced back and forth  from  the  tuft  of  red  hair
sprouting between Blair's legs and the black one between those of
Amanda.  How could they have been so far along without her  know-
ing?   The damage was done, though, and she figured she'd have to
get on with it as best she could.  She picked the bloody  wad  of
sheets off the floor, and motioned for Consuela to follow her.


By the time she got them to the doctor's office on Tuesday, Aman-
da  had  grown four inches, and had her wrists and ankles hanging
out all her clothes. Blair, too, had grown.  Consuela  shook  her
hed,  and  reminded  Mary that she had done the same when she had
become a woman.


"But I didn't start until I was almost twelve!", protested Mary.


Consuela shrugged her bony shoulders.   "The  young  girls,  they
grow faster in these days.", she commented philosophically.

 
For a while, Mary got by by letting Amanda wear Blair's  clothes,
and sharing her own clothes with Blair.  But the girls kept grow-
ing, until they both overtopped their mother by a pair of inches.
Then they stopped.

**********************

