School dragged by. The test was easy, thanks to all the time I had spent studying at Mrs. Reynolds' house. I wasn't even bothered by my need to masturbate every two hours, which was a nice break. It was like the hormones she'd been feeding me were taking the day off.
At lunchtime I was starving again. I had eaten the apples after my first class and I had not had anything for three hours. I ate everything on my plate and then I went through the line again and bought another lunch and ate it too. I was in front of the candy machine, cramming all my change into the slot, when the bell rang for the next class. I shoveled my pile of chocolate bars into my bag and ran like a thief. It was all I could do not to try to sneak one in class. I managed through sheer will-power to ration them out for the rest of the day.
When time came for cheerleading practice, I had no trouble begging off. I said my stomach was bothering me and I left.
The walk to Mrs. Reynolds' made me feel better. The fresh air and the exercise perked me up and my insatiable hunger started to fade. I was still having problems with my balance, though. I kept tripping on nothing and I caught myself walking bent over a few times. I had to keep reminding myself to hold my shoulders back, which was hard, because the bra straps had rubbed sore spots on my shoulders.
When I got there, I practically ran up the walk to the house. I was so anxious, I rang the bell twice. It seemed to take Mrs. Reynolds forever to come to the door. When she opened it, I almost ran her down getting inside. I dropped my bag and furiously fought my way out of my sweater. I was standing there in my bra, reaching behind me for the hooks, when she said, "Hang on. Not yet. I know you want to get that off very badly, but wait just a little while longer."
I was near the end of my rope. I must have looked at her crazy. She took a deep breath and almost yelled, "Samantha!"
My deeply ingrained training took over. I snapped to attention. I got hold of myself. I fought the fever that gripped me and slowly I won out. My breathing slowed. My pulse faded in my ears.
"Don't move," she said. I braced, my shoulders back, my chest out, my arms stiff behind my back. I twined my fingers and clenched them together.
"Answer my questions. When did you last eat?"
"Two hours ago, ma'am."
"Are you still hungry?"
"No, ma'am."
"Did you take the bra off?"
"No, ma'am."
"Good. Try to relax. Take a few deep breaths. It's almost over."
I breathed deeply. When I inhaled, the damn bra felt like it was squeezing the life out of me. Slowly, I relaxed. When I was breathing normally, she put her hand on my shoulder.
"Come with me." She led me down the hall toward the stairs. On the way we passed some of the photos of her and her husband hanging on the wall. The one of them at the beach; a couple of the studio shots; the photo of them at their wedding... I stopped in my tracks. I turned toward the wall. I looked at the wedding photo. I looked at Mrs. Reynolds. I looked back at the wedding photo. I put my head against the wall and blinked. The last piece fell into place. The one thing I needed. I almost had it all. I knew the rest would come out sooner or later, but I had the only piece of information that mattered at the moment.
The wedding photo was completely normal. Mr. Reynolds and his wife, feeding each other the wedding cake. There must be millions like this in albums and on walls everywhere. They faced each other, so the picture was mostly of them in profile. He had on his tuxedo and she had on her wedding gown. He had a hand to her mouth, smearing frosting on the face of his very flat-chested wife. It was unmistakably her and it could only have been taken a month or so before the honeymoon photo next to it. Somewhere between the two pictures, Mrs. Reynolds had gone from an A-cup to an F-cup, practically overnight. The logical assumption would have been implants, but I knew that couldn't be.
I pulled my head off the wall and looked at Mrs. Reynolds. The look on my face must have told it all. She took a step back and waved to me to follow her. We went down the hall to the storage room in the back. It was an appropriate place. She pulled the drapes on the window as far open as they would go to let in more sunlight. She motioned to me to turn around so she could get to the hooks of the bra.
"I guess this won't be quite the surprise I expected it would be, now," she said. "You are really too smart for your own good, you know. I never should have left that picture on the wall, but I couldn't bear to take it down. You're the first one to notice it in years." She pushed the hooks together and released them all at once. The relief I felt was indescribable. She pushed the shoulder straps off and I pulled my arms out, leaving the cups stuck on my breasts. I turned around to face her and she took hold of the band and pulled the bra off of me.
I stood and stared down at my chest. My breasts rose high and curved out from my body a long way before they curved away. I could not see my nipples for the swell of flesh. There was a narrow open space between them at my sternum, but my cleavage closed as the flesh curved inward. My breasts hung together like two blimps in the same hanger. My two very full, very enormous breasts.