I heard Mrs. Reynolds quiet steps on the carpeted stairs. She came down carrying my clothes. I stood and resumed my position of submissive attention in front of her. I found myself fighting another strange compulsion to fondle her breasts as she had done mine. She must have noticed me looking at them, because she unbuttoned her blouse and opened it. She stood and allowed me to stare at her large breasts while she posed in front of me. I was hypnotized by their size and how they rode so high on her chest and how they stood out so far. Remembering how she had made me suck on them before, I licked my lips. She saw this and smiled. She moved one close to my mouth and I opened to receive it. She allowed me to nurse briefly and then switched me to the other breast. As I sucked and tongued her nipple, she told me, "It's good that you like my breasts. It will be some consolation for you to be able to admire mine while yours are being destroyed. It will also be good for you to have a standard for comparison so you understand that yours will never rival these."
She pulled her breast from my mouth and held it just out of reach of my puckered lips. I stared at the rosy-pink nipple and felt deprived.
"Don't worry. I will let you see them again. Kiss them goodbye now," She said, putting one and then the other of her magnificent breasts in front of my lips. I kissed each one tenderly and she closed her blouse.
"Your mother called. It is time for you to go home, now. Get dressed. Here, I will help you." She held my bra for me as I slipped it over my shoulders. I eased my breasts into the cups and hooked it together. It felt constricting, now that my breasts were a different shape. My swollen and stretched nipples felt especially uncomfortable when pressed into the cups. This must have showed on my face, because Mrs. Reynolds said, "We will need to get you a larger size. You will be more comfortable in a Double-D-cup now. I will take care it, don't worry."
I put on my blouse, pulled on my sweater, and picked up my books. Mrs. Reynolds walked me to the door and held it for me.
"See you tomorrow, honey." She said cheerfully as I walked down the flagstone walkway to the street.
All the way home, I kept hitching at my bra. Where before it had been a perfect fit, now it felt scratchy and tight and I could not wait to get home so I could take it off.
When I arrived, Mom was standing in the doorway, waiting for me.
"You came straight home?" she asked.
"Yes, Mom."
"Did you speak to anyone on the way?"
"No, Mom."
"How was it at Mrs. Reynolds' today?"
"Fine. She gave me a place to work and I got all my homework done."
"Wonderful! I'm glad you got on all right. Come in and put your books away now. Supper is on the table."
I wolfed down my food to be able to get to my room as soon as I could. Once the door was closed I stripped off my clothes. As my bra dropped free, the feeling of relief was incredible. I sat at my vanity to examine my breasts closely. It was obvious that they were drooping lower on my chest than before. The tops, that had been so rounded and full before, seemed flatter. My nipples were terribly stretched and had turned red where the clamps had been applied. I massaged them, hoping to restore some of their elasticity, but it was no good. They were beginning to turn into cow teats.
I leaned forward and allowed my formerly firm, D-cup breasts to lie on the table. They seemed limp and flaccid, like sacks that have only been partially filled. The nipples hung down at the ends and almost lay on the table. I leaned forward more and my elongated nipples came to rest stretched out on the vanity, as though they were dead. I began to cry, mourning the current damage to and inevitable destruction of my breasts as well as the obliteration of part of my femininity. Mrs. Reynolds was going to mutilate me and I had to cooperate in my own ruination.
Eventually, my tears ran dry. I got up and put on a robe and went to the bathroom. I ran a hot bath and climbed in to soak my poor breasts. The heat helped a lot, melting away most of the aches and soreness. When climbed out, I felt better physically and emotionally.
On the way back to my room, my mother stepped into the hall. In reflex, I snatched my robe to make sure it did not open or otherwise give away my condition. Mom thought I was being modest. She said, "It's all right, dear. It's just us girls here now."
I tried to smile, but I was terrified. If I were found out, all the suffering I had been through would have been for nothing. I pulled my robe around me and crossed my arms in front of me. I dashed past my mother and into my room, where I closed the door behind me. I fell on the bed and let my robe fall open, exposing my shame to only my own eyes.
There was a knock on the door. Mom called out, "Samantha? Are you all right?"
"I'm fine, Mom. I'm not decent. Do you mind?"
"Samantha? Open the door dear. I want to talk to you."
Panic time. I couldn't keep the door closed for long. She would get suspicious. I jumped out of bed and dropped the robe. I grabbed my bra and put it on as fast as I could. It would hide the damage to my breasts and Mom couldn't very well ask me to take it off without a really good reason. I threw the robe back on and opened the door.