Boobing the Bully

We had only got to the end of the block when I heard a familiar voice behind us.

"Wait up!" Alex called. We stopped so she could catch up.

"I thought you drove your car to school?" I asked, as she reached the corner.

"Well, I usually do. But I saw you guys walk by and I thought I'd walk with you. If you don't mind, that is."

I turned to Jim, "Do you mind if Alex tags along, Jim?" Jim was looking at Alex like she was the only person in the world. He was so lost that I had to prompt him again. "Earth to Jim. Earth to Jim."

"Hunh?" he said, dully. "Oh, no. I mean, yes! I mean... what was the question again?"

Alex looked at the ground and glanced at Jim every couple of seconds without lifting her head. I wanted to laugh out loud. I could see how she got a reputation for being shy, but I also saw that it was mostly just an act she used to tease boys. Seeing these two behaving like this in broad daylight after hearing them screwing like crazed weasels in Jim's bed was a riot.

Far be it from me to ruin someone else's game, though. If they wanted to act like seventh-graders around each other in public, that was their right. I took my bookbag from Jim and handed it to Bud, then I took Alex's books and gave them to Jim. I took Bud's hand and we crossed the street. When I looked back, Jim and Alex were holding hands too and still hadn't said a word to each other.

Bud and I walked on together. Neither of us said anything about what we had done for fear of rekindling a spark that might get out of hand. We just hung onto each other and didn't split up until we got to school and had to go to our separate homerooms.

I got to my locker before the bell and was unloading books I wouldn't need until later periods when I got my first comment on my new figure. Sandra Smith had elected herself to the position of Miss Pain-in-the-Ass and she thoroughly enjoyed needling anyone who dared to stand out by looking, dressing, or acting different. If she had been born a boy, she would have been called a bully.

"Well, look what we have here!" Sandra said in her usual loud obnoxious voice.

"Hi, Sandra. Have a nice weekend?" I said. Being polite to her never worked, but at least I could take the high road for the benefit of onlookers.

"Looks like someone wants us to think she got herself a boob job over the weekend! Damn, Samantha, how stooopid do you think we are?"

"I dunno, Sandra. How stupid are you?" I shouldn't have, but when they open the door like that, it's hard to say 'no'.

Repartee wasn't Sandra's strong suit. She blinked a couple of times before charging right ahead with her next asinine comment.

"Hey, Sarah! How many boxes of tissue did it take to stuff that bra, hunh?"

"None, Sandra. These are real. Would you like me to prove it?"

I think I stole her next line there. She gaped at me and got louder, but mercifully briefer.

"Uh... Yeah! Prove it!" At that moment, the bell rang and I was saved any further embarrassment, since we were in different rooms this period.

"OK, see you after first period."

"Yeah!" she shouted, in a voice loud enough to be heard all the way down the hall.

I honestly don't know why she decided to pick on me or what she thought was going to happen after the next period. If she thought about it, she might realize that it was dumb to risk humiliation over making an accusation on pure supposition and with no hard evidence. But then, thought itself was a stranger to Sandra Smith. She was a beneficiary of the policy of social advancement; a doctrine that said that for the emotional well-being of those with limited intelligence, they must not be segregated from those capable of advanced education; thereby sacrificing the education of the smart for the contentment of the dumb. It was ironic that the very people who thought of this lunacy considered themselves to be smart and well educated.

My first class was Physics, which I enjoyed except for the math. Mr. Turner wasn't a great teacher. He went by-the-book with all the lessons and demonstrations. I liked his class because he did the experiments himself, rather than relying on videos, that crutch of the unimaginative and the poor planner. Sometimes the experiments didn't go right and he would spend the rest of the period finding out why. I think I learned more from watching him go about finding out why something didn't work than I ever would have by just seeing the demonstration go off as planned. As a teacher he sucked, but as an example of how scientists found things out, he was a marvel.

After the bell ending the first period, I went down the hall to meet Sandra. She wasn't hard to find.

"Ah! There you are!" she screamed, like I had been somehow hiding by standing in the middle of the hall.

"OK Sandra. Let's do this. Come in here." I held the door to the girl's lavatory for her. She balked. Did she think I was going to expose myself in the hallway?

"No. You first." She insisted. Her train of thought ran on a very short track, indeed. I think she expected me to lead her into the restroom and then bolt off down the hall in full view of everyone.

"Very well." I went inside. She followed, as did three girls who considered Sandra's antics to be the height of entertainment and two whom I was surprised to see there. It only dawned on me then that they were there for the show. They were among those who were attracted to me or were fascinated by my large breasts. I smiled at them. These might be some new playmates.

"OK, smartass!" Sandra said. "Now we'll see!" She still could not forecast the weather an inch from her nose.

I unbuttoned my blouse and pulled it out of my skirt, but did not open it. Instead I backed up against a sink and put my hands on my hips.

"OK, Sandra. Go ahead. You want to see them so bad. Help yourself."

She stepped up to me and took hold on my blouse with a triumphant glare.

"Go easy, lover." I told her in a sultry voice. "I bruise easily."

She flung my blouse open, holding it wide so everyone could see my bra. The nursing bra was form-fitting and snug but not tight. It was designed to be comfortable to women with swollen, aching breasts. It provided more support than I really needed and it was wonderfully soft and stretchy.

Sandra still could not imagine being wrong. Even though the bra did nothing to hide my cleavage, she still looked at me like she was on the verge of finding a secret horde of tissue on me.

I took hold of the inside edge of both cups and pulled them aside, displaying my big boobs for everyone to see. There was no outpouring of paper, of course. I heard three sharp gasps from the audience; two from my girls and one from one of Sandra's. Sandra herself was apparently struck dumb. She just stood and stared down at my breasts as though hypnotized. I tested that theory by twisting slightly one way and then the other. Sandra's head followed my every move.

"Here," I said, taking her hands and placing them under my breasts. "Feel for yourself. No implants. No tissues. Just me."

Sandra followed instructions. She squeezed gently and hefted and stroked.

"Nice, aren't they?" I asked in a low tone. Sandra nodded. "You have a nice touch." I told her. "That feels good. You must have done this before."

Sandra actually started to smile at me before her homophobia reasserted itself and she pulled her hands away like she had touched a hot stove. She got this look of terror that told me that she actually did like girls, but was in extreme denial over it. She raced from the room, banging into the heavy door on the way. Two of her friends followed her.

The three who were left were still staring at me. I stood where I was and stared back, smiling in a friendly way. One girl edged closer, then another.

"It's OK," I said. "Look as much as you want. You can touch them too, if you like."

One brave girl actually took me at my word. Oddly enough, it was one of Sandra's hangers-on. She stroked my breast and even touched the nipple. I smiled at her and put my arm around her waist.

"I hope you are all satisfied that they are quite real?" I asked. All three nodded. "Good. Please tell your friends and anyone interested that you can vouch for their authenticity. I don't want to have to keep doing this, even though it has been fun."

The other two left to spread the word and I looked at the girl in my arm. She still had her hand on me. It felt very warm.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Jolene Maddox."

"Well Jolene, we seem to be alone. I won't tell anyone if you want to play some more."

The idea shocked her for about a quarter of a second, then it titillated and intrigued her. She bent down and kissed one breast and then the other. Not a peck, either. She pressed her lips to my flesh and kissed with no small degree of passion. When she had finished, my nipples had visibly hardened.

"Look what you did," I told her, running my fingers around my nipples. She giggled. I pulled the bra cups back into place and buttoned my blouse. "Jolene, you and I are going to be good friends." She smiled broadly at the prospect. I hugged her to me and kissed her neck, just below her ear. She giggled again. It was a pleasant sound.

Jolene and I left together and walked a ways down the hall before going to different classrooms. I remembered her being in at least one other class of mine so I would be seeing her again today. She might not be the sharpest knife in the drawer, but she was nice and that was certainly better than the alternative. Not all your friends can be really smart or really pretty or have great bodies or be great conversationalists. Sometimes 'nice' is all people have to offer. I resolved to be kind to everyone not actively looking to piss me off. As policies go, it wasn't too profound, but it was simple and would be easy enough to follow.

School went smoothly after that. No one else confronted me, although the staring and whispering got worse, rather than better. Some were curious, some envious, some amazed. I was approached by far fewer boys than I expected. Nearly none, in fact. Frankly, I thought eager suitors would mob me. That did not happen, much to my disappointment and relief.

I speculated about this, but eventually tabled it until could talk to my roommates, from whom I expected an honest answer or I would beat them senseless.