Dr Hooters - Pt XLVIII 
by the Road Dog
EXPANDING HORIZONS 


The  next  morning,  as  usual,  Tarah was the first one up.  The
morning sun was just peeking over  the  ocean  horizon  when  she
shook  herself awake, showered, shaved, made herself up, strapped
herself in to her new 36D brassiere, and put on her uniform.

The Corona Real resort was only a fifteen minute walk away up the
beach, and Tarah enjoyed the quiet, the waves beating against the
shore, the sea birds calling out, the soltitude.  It  seemed  she
could  never  get  alone  enough at the cottage, what with ten of
them running madly about.

She saw a solitary figure sitting in the sand a bit farther  down
the   beach.  It  was  Jack  Cassels,  the  drummer  for  Karen's
boyfriend's band.  He was flailing away madly at a collection  of
bottles  and  cans  he  had arranged in a semi-circle around him,
creating a cacophony of tinks! and tonks! that obeyed a  rhythmic
law that only Jack could interpret.

"Tarah!   Girl!   You lookin' so GOOD!", he greeted her, his long
blonde dreadlocks shaking as he clattered away.

"Hello, Jack", she responded, sitting down beside him in the firm
sand.  "what're doing?"

"Its  morning,  girl",  he  replied, "meditation time.  Spiritual
survival in de Babylon system."

Tarah blinked.  She was fascinated by this  tall,  blonde-haired,
blue-eyed  boy who had such an admirable appreciation for African
culture.  In talking to Jack, one got the impression that he  had
born  to  the wrong parents.  Yet, despite all his efforts, Tarah
thought she detected an air of insincerity in  his  kinta-clothed
act.

"Jack", she said to herself as much as to him.  "Sometimes I won-
der if this white black-man act of yours is just a front to  help
you pick up black women."

"And  what  wrong  wid dat, my sistah", he continued in his faux-
patois. "De African woman, she d' fountain of life, de source."

Suddenly it dawned on her that perhaps Jack wasn't trying to  im-
press black women as a class, but instead, had targeted one black
woman in particular.

A note of tenderness entered her voice.  "Jack", she said.  "If I
was  interested  in  a fellow, I wouldn't pretend to be something
I'm not just to attract his attention."

Jack dropped his sticks in the sand and looked over at her, crys-
tal  blue  eyes  sparkling  with  surprise.   "You wouldn't?", he
replied in a clear, unaccented Midwestern English.

"No", Tarah continued, a bright smile playing across the lines of
her mouth.  "I wouldn't."

"What would you do?", he asked.

"I'd  just  be..."  Tarah's remark was cut off in mid sentence as
she grabbed the front of her uniform blouse and began rubbing  it
furiously.  "Ee-yah!", she wailed.  "What the hell's going on?"

Jack  put  his arm around Tarah's shoulder.  "Why, what's happen-
ing?"

"I feel like my chest's on fire", the black girl replied.  "Actu-
ally, not my chest itself, but my boobs, if you'll excuse me."

"Can I get you some water?", Jack asked, moving as if to stand.

"No",  Tarah  pleaded.  "Just, hold me.  Please."  Jack complied.
putting his arm around her  shoulders.   Tarah  leaned  into  his
chest.   "It  hurts, Jack.  It hurts badly.  I don't know what it
is."

Looking down at Tarah's uniform blouse, Jack saw the fabric begin
to rise off her chest slightly.  "Uh, Tarah", he said.  "Is some-
thing moving under your shirt?"

Tarah put her hand on her left breast, and felt it rise  slightly
under  her  touch.   Her bra, a 36D, was beginning to feel uncom-
fortably tight, restricting her breathing.  She opened  a  button
on  her uniform blouse and saw two cinnamon half-moons protruding
up from the tops of her black lace bra.

"It looks like my breasts are growing, Jack", she remarked.

"Does this happen frequently?", he asked.  "And if it does,  when
is the next scheduled performance?"

She  laughed.  "No, no.", she shook her head, and the loose curls
with their white ribbons were caught by the  early  morning  sea-
breeze.   "It happened once before, but I didn't grow much.  Just
a couple inches."

"This looks  more  serious",  warned  Jack,  grabbing  her  hand.
"Look,  the  next  button looks like its going to come right off!
Do you want to go see a doctor?"

Opening another button on her uniform, Tarah was gratified to see
that  her  bosom  had grown substantially.  She brushed some sand
off the sides, and felt the movement of her new larger breasts as
they  trembled  under her touch.   "Why should I want to go see a
doctor, Jack?  Most girls go to  a  doctor  because  their  boobs
won't grow, not because they do!"

"Its not normal!", Jack protested.

"I'm  not  a normal girl!", she replied brightly.  "Here, help me
up, Jack.  I need to get back to the  cottage."   Another  button
went  flying across the sand as Tarah stood up, and an impressive
display of tawny cleavage resulted.

Jack put his arm around her unusually slender waist.  "Tarah,  if
this is the way you act if you want to get a guy's attention, I'm
not surprised you don't have to  put on any act."

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

Chrissy  sat  on the amplifier and watched Brian tune his guitar.
"Hwonk!  Hwaonngg!  Hwi-i-i-nngg! it sang as he fiddled with  the
strings  and the nobs on the neck.  Finally, he seemed to have it
the way he wanted and strummed a few chords to make certain.

Tall, slim, dark-haired, but unusually clean-cut for an  aspiring
musician,  Brian  wielded  his guitar like it was a chain saw.  A
succession of unearthy sounds issued  from  the  amplifier,  then
Brian picked his fingers down the neck in a long arpeggio.

"That sounds pretty good, Brian", Chrissy said.

"Ah-eh", Brian responded.  "I'm still just warming up.  Tom's the
lead guitar.  I'm just rhythm, but I got a couple solos  in  this
new set we been workin' on."

Chrissy twisted a strand of her short dark hair with her fingers.
She didn't know what to expect when she dropped in  on  Brian  in
Jeremy's garage as he was setting up.  Most of her boyfriends had
been jocks, athletes.  Real regular  All-American  types.   Musi-
cians stayed up all night, drank, slept all day, and had horrible
reputations.  But he seemed happy to see her, and he didn't throw
her out.

But then, Steve was a muscian, and Karen, whose judgement Chrissy
trusted, was nuts about him.  And even Jeremy, whom all the girls
had  once thought quite horrible indeed, was showing signs of be-
ing civilized.

So she was willing to let the friendship blossom,  finding  Brian
to  be  a  quiet,  soft-spoken  young man with a wistful air, and
quite attractive.  Brian looked up at her.

"That's a nice outfit you're  wearing,  Chris",  he  complemented
her.  "You look good in it."

Chrissy  looked  down.   "Thanks", she replied.  She had put on a
brocaded cotton vest fastened down the front with three big  but-
tons.   It  had  a  lot of fringes hanging off of it, and Chrissy
thought it might look  like  something  a  musician's  girlfriend
would  wear.   Underneath, she had on  a skin-tight pair of faded
jeans, her oldest pair, washed and rewashed to a satiny  softness
that hugged every curve.

Curves was one thing she had more of, since that day on the beach
with Susan and Ginny, and she was  grateful.   The  brocaded  top
used  to  fall  vertically from her chest to her waist without an
interruption.  Now, she hovered between a B-  and  a  C-  cup,  a
great  improvement  on  her tiny frame, and the brocaded top dis-
played two gentle rises about halfway down.

Brian's large, skillful hands  moved rapidly up and down the neck
of  the  guitar,  and  she  started to daydream, about those same
large, skillful hands ranging up and down her body; touching  her
neck,  her  shoulders,  her waist, her womanhood.  An odd sort of
tingling broke out in her pelvic region, and spread  quickly  her
her  chest.  Her breath began to come in pants, as a pressure be-
gan to build behind her nipples.

"Brian, help!", she gasped.  "Please, help me down!"

Brian unplugged his guitar and lay it  in  the  holder.   "What's
wrong, Chris?", he asked.

"I  feel  hot,  flushed", Chrissy complained, putting her hand on
his shoulder.  "Help me over to the couch."

Putting his arm around the tiny brunette's slender  waist,  Brian
helped  her to the floor.  Almost instantly, she doubled over and
grabbed her breasts.  "EEE-e-e-e-o-o-o-w-w-w-!", she caterwauled.
"That hurts!"

Brian got her safely to the garage couch, where she collapsed and
began rocking back and forth gently, whimpering slightly.   Then,
Chrissy felt the pressure give way as an enormous wave of delight
swept over her, and she felt the rough fabric of the  top  scrape
slightly against her naked breasts underneath.

Hovering  over  her  in  an attitude of concern, Brian fanned her
with a sheet of paper.  Looking down, he  saw  Chris's  top  rise
slightly, and a gap appeared between her second and third button.
"I don't know how to tell you this, Chris", he said, but it looks
to  me  like  you've  got  some animal crawling around under your
shirt."

"A-a-a-a-y-y-y-o-o-o-w-w-w!", screamed Chrissy, and the top  con-
tinued to rise, the gap expanding, and stress lines appearing un-
derneath, and along the sides of, her breasts.  "No!   No!  No!",
she complained.  "Not here!  Not now!"

"Not what?  Not when?", aked Brian, totally baffled.

"My breasts are growing again, silly!", she hissed.

" -?-"  Brian was struck speechless as he watched the gap between
her buttons open wide enough to allow a  small  wedge  of  breast
tissue  to protrude.  A gap had also opened between the first and
second button as well, and Brian got a  good  view  of  Chrissy's
cleavage pressing up into it.

"Breasts just don't grow", he muttered.

"**Mine**  do",  Chrissy  replied.   "I  used to be as flat as an
ironing board, remember?  Then, a week or so ago, I  was  sitting
out  on  the  beach with Ginny and Susan, and wham!  I grew tits!
Nothing big or spectacular, but decent.  Just like that!"

"Uu-uhh-h-nngg!", she  grunted,  and  one  button  went  skittle-
skattle  away  across the garage floor, and Chrissy's new breasts
heaved forward into the new gap, pressing hard  against  the  re-
maining two buttons, an almost vertical line down the middle sep-
arating them.  Brian held his breath as he waited for  the  shirt
to explode, spilling its contents out into the open air.

They  didn't.  The last two buttons held, but Chrissy's shirt was
stretched almost beyond recognition as it strained to hold in her
now-cantaloupe-sized  breasts.   "Thank  God!", sighed Chrissy as
she tried to push the avalanche of breast  flesh  back  into  the
top,  failing  miserably.   "I  think they've stopped growing for
now."

"Chris", Brian admitted.  "I can't say as I've ever gone  through
anything like this with any other girl!"

In  response,  she ripped off the brocaded top, her thick nipples
swelling as they came into contact with  the  cool  morning  air.
Reaching  behind  Brian's  neck,  she pulled his face down to her
level, and began devouring him with kisses.

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

The  wind  whipped through Susan's long hair as she bicycled down
the promenade towards town, snapping it away behind  her  like  a
jet-black  flag.   Some  of  the cars honked as they zipped past.
"Assholes!", she shouted after them.  She had never heard of  any
girl  giving up any pussy because some guy honked at her, yet the
bastards never stopped honking.

Well, let 'em look, she thought.  They probably don't  have  any-
thing  so  good waiting for 'em at home.   She pumped harder, and
the fabric of  her  Lycra  biking  shorts  rubbed  ffff-t  ffff-t
against  her  seat.   On top, she was wearing a white bikini top,
and her impressivly tanned and cut abdominals flexed  and  pushed
with her exertions.

Nice to have something to stick in this top for a change, though,
she thought.  A 32-B  looks good  on  me.   I  know  Asian  girls
aren't  supposed  to be large, but it was a pain in the ass being
flat-chested.

Another car, a green Volkswagen, honked, and Susan was  about  to
flick  him the bird when she recognized him as Tom Gallagher, the
lead guitarist for Steve's band.  She pulled the bicycle off  the
road, and walked it up to Tom's Volkswagen, which had pulled over
just slightly ahead of her.

"Give you a lift into town, Susan?", he asked.  Tall, husky, with
an  unruly  mop of dark red hair, Tom had a gap between his front
teeth, which made him look boyish and ingenuous.

Never pass up offers from good-looking fellows,  Susan  reasoned.
At least he had a bike rack on the Volkswagen.  "Sure , Tom", she
agreed.  He got out and helped her mount her bike on the rack.

"Where'ya going", he asked he once they were back on the road.

"Talbot's", she answered.  "Gotta pick up my check."

"OK", he smiled.  "Talbot's it is."

It was a fifteen minute drive from the beach to  the  mall  where
Talbot's  department  store was located, and it would have been a
two-hour bike ride.  Before long, Susan was glad for the lift and
the  company.   They talked about Steve and Karen, about the band
and their upcoming dates, about a band contest  that  was  to  be
held  in  Century  Beach later next month, about Susan's work and
her prospects for college in the fall.

Then straight out  of  the  blue,  Tom  invited  Susan  out.   "I
thought,  maybe next Friday, we could have a couple of drinks, go
dancing, and check out some of our competition", he said.

Susan was stunned and delighted.  "Why, yes, Tom",  she  replied,
"I'd love..."

Her response was cut short by a sharp stabbing pain in her chest.
It came again and again  with  increasing  intensity,  until  she
could  barely  breath.   Sweat  broke  out on her brow, under her
white headband.

"Are you alright, Susan?", Tom asked her, slowing  down  to  look
over at her.

"Yeah,  yeah",  she gasped, patting him on the forearms.  "A-a-y-
eee!"

The stabbing pains resolved to a calm rush of heat that  suffused
her  whole  trunk,  starting from directly under her nipples, and
spreading to her arms and down the inside of her thighs.

"I'm turning around!", Tom said, and he did a U-turn at the  next
corner.   Susan  looked  down.   Two  little  mounds of teakwood-
colored breast flesh was just beginning to peep over the  top  of
her  bikini-bra.   She  felt a shiver run down her spine, and she
hoped Tom would make it back to her house before the  growth  be-
came noticeable.

Another warm wave washed over her, and her growing breasts forced
their way up and out of the confines of the bikini-top,  both  on
the top and on the sides now.  Susan vainly tried to pull the top
up to cover her expanding assets, but this just drew Tom's atten-
tion to that part of her body.

"If I might make a suggestion, Susan...", he started.

"I  know!   I know!  I need a bigger top", she moaned.  "I didn't
this morning.  It fit fine!"

"Say WHAT?"

"Watch!", she commanded.  "My breasts are  growing.   See?"   She
grabbed  his  shoulder,  and turned her chest towards him just as
another warm wave crested  inside  her  abdomen.   Her  insistent
breasts pushed the bikini-top away from her chest, and two little
crescents of flesh appeared under the cups.  Tom almost went  off
the  road as her breasts continued to expand, pushing the top out
and causing the shoulder straps and side bands to cut deeply into
her  shoulders and ribs.  Susan smiled broadly.  "This is decent,
Tom, don't you think?"

"I'll be damned!  I'll be damned!", Tom muttered to himself.   He
turned  left  onto  the beach road, and the ocean came into view.
"We're almost there, Susan", he said.  "Hold on!"

Susan's breasts surged against the bikini top again, almost caus-
ing  the two folds of burgeoning breast-tissue  on the top and on
the bottom to meet across the stretched  and  straining  band  of
cloth  the  top  had become.  Tom's eyes nearly fell out of their
sockets.  He pulled up into the driveway of the cottage  just  as
Susan's  bikini-top  gave  up the unequal struggle.  The hooks in
the back gave way with  a  tremendous  rip,  and  Susan's  golden
breasts heaved into the open air as she flew out of Tom's car and
up the stairs into the cottage.

"Uh, Susan", Tom called to her.  "Are we still on for Friday?"

"--Sure!!--", he heard from inside the cottage.

He started the Volkswagen and pulled slowly out of the  driveway.
"Uh, I'll call you tomorrow!"


























