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 brothers, from whom I expected an honest answer or I would beat them senseless.
The only problem the whole rest of the day was Gym. I had Gym the next to last class of the day and we always dressed-out in shorts and t-shirts before participating in whatever sport or healthy activity Coach Simpson had chosen or invented for the day.
It wasn't until I opened my gym locker and pulled out my exercise togs that I remembered that I hadn't brought a new t-shirt to wear or a bra to change into. The best I could do was to pull on my old t-shirt without a bra. The effect was laughable. My old shirt was now several sizes too small for me. I could pull it on, but it compressed my breasts and made them spread out around my chest. My boobs lifted the front up so that the hem fell just below my nipples.
Fortunately, my classmates were mostly over the shock of my sudden transformation by then and were more inclined to sympathy than ridicule. Two of them offered to try to help me stretch the shirt to a better fit.
"It's not like you will ever be wearing it again," Marcie said. She and Jena took it to a sink and soaked it. Then they pulled it and twisted it and stretched it out in front as much as they could without ripping it to rags. When they finished, it was still way too tight, but at least I could get it on. The wet t-shirt had one unfortunate side effect — it clung to me like paint and you could see not only my nipples poking under it, but my puffy areola as well. The cold water did not help matters either.
It was the best that could be done, though. Coach came over to me as soon as she saw the problem and I assured her that I would be better dressed by the next day.
The rest of the period was a joke. No one could do anything for staring at my chest, and anything I tried to do brought the class to a standstill. It was a good thing that boys were not allowed in the same area.
I was very relieved when Gym was over and we hit the showers. Unfortunately, being in a room full of naked girls was not the equalizing factor I expected it to be. No one wanted to shower next to me because it would mean a side-by-side comparison of figures. It turned into another show, with me on one side of the showers trying to get clean and everyone else on the other side, dropping the shampoo and trying not to get caught watching.
I refused to let it get to me. I was going to be like this the rest of my life and I had to get used to peoples' reactions. There was no place to hide in the open shower room and I wouldn't have if I could, so I relaxed and let them watch. I deliberately faced the room instead of the wall and tried to ignore the stares. I soaped slowly and let the suds slide down my body. I let my hands linger on my body just short of a caress. I avoided anything overtly sexual or provocative, but I let everyone look as much as they wanted. In the process I got much cleaner than normal.
Despite my resolve not to let this get sexual, I was amazed at how turned-on I got with everyone watching. My nipples were hard as gems and I would have been soaked below the waist even without the shower running over me. I started out avoiding eye contact, but my curiosity got the better of me and I began looking at the other girls to see their reactions.
Some tried to hide it, but when she's naked, a girl can't hide the reaction of her erectile tissue any more than a boy can. Basically, mine were not the only stiff nipples in that shower room.
When I looked them in the eye, some girls looked away. But some just looked at me like they were in full rut. The look on their faces was so obvious that I thought I might be raped any second. Bambi was right again about my effect on the female of the species. Girls were more attracted to me than boys. At least they were more willing to be seen to be attracted. Since boys seemed to be avoiding me, I couldn't gage their reaction yet.
Even though I dawdled through my shower; I was still the first one out and the first one to be dressed. I think I was also the only one to make it to her next class before the bell.
It was during my last class that I discovered the true value of the steel balls I carried in my pussy. I had got so turned on by being the star of the show in the shower that I was very wet. The lubrication made the balls slide around in there and bang into each other with little clicks that I could faintly hear, but mostly feel through my clit.
My juice also made it harder to hang onto the balls. When I walked, they kept trying to escape and I had to really clamp down to keep them from falling out. All that vibration and motion and muscle action made me so horny that I sat right there in Miss Albert's English class and had two orgasms, one after another. If we hadn't been having a video of a Shakespeare play that day, I would have been so busted. As it was, I could hide the look on my face and stifle my moans in the darkened room without attracting attention. I think the girl in the desk behind me could tell what was happening, because after class she made some comment about Shakespeare having a strong effect on his audiences. I was so addled with afterglow that I could not think of a single good comeback to that.