Personal Growth 1

The characters in the story are OVER THE AGE OF 18. No creepery.

Synopsis: The flat-as-a-board girl-next-door returns to school looking like a woman after hormone treatments. And her hormones aren't the only ones going wild...

JASON

~~~

Being next-door neighbors kind of made us best friends by default, but we fit so well together, I think it would've happened no matter what. Dylan was definitely a tomboy and was always down to play video games and have burping contests with the rest of the guys, but she maintained her feminine side, too. For every Nerf war, we'd also have a tea party—I even let her paint my nails a few times. But that's beside the point.

She'd spent the summer before senior year with her dad, who lived in California. When she told me why she was going, she seemed embarrassed, hesitant—and I began to understand why. Her dad, a dermatologist prominent in the medical community out there, had connections with all the top doctors in each of their fields. He'd found someone who would be able to treat Dylan.

See, Dylan had grown up a serious gymnast. Nearly every day for the first fourteen or so years of her life, she'd been in the gym, flipping and leaping and doing whatever else it was gymnasts do. Aside from the time she spent at school and with friends, her whole life was gymnastics. Though her Olympic dreams had been crushed by a torn ACL, her body hadn't quite gotten the message.

Though everyone in her family was at least 5'7", Dylan remained a stubborn 5'2". She'd maybe gotten a tiny bit curvier, but she was still flat as a board. At eighteen, her body still had more in common with skinny, thin-hipped boys than the cultural stereotypes of "womanhood" that boys lusted after and girls tried to meet.

It had been a sore subject growing up, and she'd been the subject of teasing for years because of it. Guys she liked had rejected her by implying they were looking for girls who were a little more "womanly." Luckily, she had me to kick their asses, but it remained a deep wound. She'd begged her mom to see a doctor about it, but her mom was super hippy-dippy and had a distrust of doctors that definitely didn't have anything to do with her dad and didn't let her.

Everyone obviously always joked that we were going to end up together, which we had a good sense of humor about. I did have a crush on her when we were little—she had a knockout face with big blue eyes, a pixyish nose smattered with freckles, and naturally wavy blonde hair that she'd kept long since she was a kid. She was gorgeous, and funny—there were few reasons not to be attracted to her.

But to be honest, I'm pretty shallow. Dylan's slim body made it easy for her to seem like a kid to me. Though she was my best friend, and I cared about her more than anyone, her flat, board-like figure made it easy for me to keep our friendship platonic and avoid drama.

I'd missed her this summer, though. I was busy too, going to Europe with my family, so it was no big whoop that we hadn't connected much. I was really looking forward to seeing her again. I hoped everything had gone well with her dad, and her treatment—whatever it was.

She was scheduled to get back a few days before school started. I waited for her to drive up, and when she turned the corner, I came outside and waved. From the window, I could see her make an excited face and hold up a finger to let me know she'd be out in just a sec.

I began greeting her as she opened the car door, but my breath caught before I could finish. I had no idea what treatment she had undergone, but one thing was certain—it was working.

Her sweet, impish face was intact and her height hadn't changed—but that aside, she had definitely undergone a change. If her body used to be a board, it was looking more now like a violin. The once straight line of her body was now interrupted by swells and curves. Maybe it wouldn't have been a huge difference to someone who didn't know her as well as I did, but it blew me away. Dylan had

hips.

And an

ass.

And

BOOBS.

"Dude!"

"What?"

"Jason! Stop looking at my tits!" she laughed, tossing her head back.

I relaxed. "No offense, Dylan, but like... I have to look, I'm a dude, and you have

tits.

"

"I have tits," she grinned. "I have

tits!"

"You have tits!"

She laughed again. "I know! Sorry, I don't mean to be a dork about it. I'm just excited. But judging by your reaction, the treatment is working?"

"Um, yeah," I said. "It would appear the treatment is working."

"Don't pop a boner, you horny little goblin," she joked, though that is exactly what I was trying furiously not to do.

"I won't, I won't. But what was the treatment, Dyl? Implants?"

"No!" The pink flush in her cheeks deepened. "Oh my god, people are going to say that, aren't they?"

"No, no, no," I hastily tried to backtrack. "It looks natural, whatever it is."

She sighed. "I hope it does. It is. I've just been doing hormonal treatments, that's all. Apparently some of my hormones didn't fire when they were supposed to, so it's just activating those. It'll wear off once they're all used, so it's not like I'll have double Ds. Just enough to look like a little older and more, um. Womanly."

She definitely looked womanly. It was doing very confusing things to my hormones; I'd never let myself see her this way, and now I couldn't stop.

She cracked a smile. "Now come on! I want to hear all about Europe—and I've missed beating your ass in Call of Duty. Your place or mine?"

DYLAN

~~~

It was now a few weeks into the school year, and things were starting to reach a new normal. There had been a weird period of adjustment when I got back. My fellow cheerleaders had been gossipy about my new figure and only backed off when I let them see my tits—no scars, no silicone. Boys were still weird around me, but for the first time I got the feeling that it was due to attraction rather than seeing me as a little sister. Some girls that had never paid attention to me had started shooting me mean looks.

But all of that had seemed to settle down. Even Jason seemed to be looking at my tits less. I still wasn't sure how I felt about that... He was my best friend, but I'd always had a small crush on him. I wasn't his type, so I never considered it being a possibility. But now that my body had changed, who knew. Or I should say—was still changing...

Although I figured the bulk of the treatment had already happened, still my body was continuing to change. In the span of a few weeks, I'd gone from a B to a C-cup, and twice I'd had to get my cheerleading uniform altered to account for growth in my bust, my hips, and my ass.

Most of my clothes didn't fit me anymore, which was a blessing and a curse. There were a few items, though, that I had to hang onto—even if they didn't fit quite right anymore. One of them was a super cute button up—light green, sleeveless, summery. It went nicely with my new high-waisted denim shorts, and was perfect for this day's weather. I had to wear it!

I pulled on my bra, but as I adjusted the straps, I noticed that I was filling out the cups more—in fact, it seemed like I was filling them out a little bit too much. That was strange... I was a 32C now, which was what my older sister had stopped at. The chances of my boobs getting much bigger seemed pretty slim. Maybe I'd just tightened the straps too much last time I wore the bra? I loosened them up and that helped some. Still weird.

But I didn't have time to think about it too much—I tossed on the rest of my outfit, grabbed a protein bar on my way out, and hopped into Jason's car. We were almost to school when I looked down and realized there was some gapping between the buttons of my shirt—I'd never thought about that. This was, after all, my first time wearing a button-down with boobs. I hoped it didn't look too bad. I knew I couldn't count on Jason's advice if I asked him—I caught him staring at my chest all the time now, and I could tell he got nervous when I brought it up. Secretly, I liked his newfound power I had over him.

We parted ways going to homeroom, and the day began to pass without significant event. Classes were mostly lectures today, and I'd studied most of the material ahead of time and could just sit back and listen. Lunch was fine—a hummus wrap and a bottle of kombucha—and then the only hard class I had left was Chemistry, which Jason had too.

This was the one class that I really had to take notes in. Jason usually had my back when it came to reviewing material, but even so I had to really focus. We sat near the front of the lecture hall so I wouldn't get distracted.

But as I began to take notes, I felt an uncomfortable strain on my chest. I looked down and—somehow, it seemed like the buttons on my top were straining even more than they were this morning! I tried slouching to alleviate some of the pressure, but it didn't do much. The strain remained.

I had just begun jotting down notes on Punnett squares when it happened—

pop!

I felt the blood rush to my cheeks as I looked down, where, sure enough, a button had popped off my shirt, leaving a small gap where you could see a hint of my cleavage. Though it hadn't been loud, the look on Jason's face when I turned to him told me he'd noticed it.

"Did that actually just happen," he deadpanned.

"Shut up! Oh my god!" I hissed, jabbing him.

"Miss Sawyer!" my chemistry teacher, Mr. Overman, boomed, beginning to turn around from his station at the board. "Do you have something to share? A question?"

The heat spread across my cheeks and into my neck. "I, uh..." I watched, mortified, as his eyes found me, darted down to my chest, and widened. "Um... Yes, I just don't understand the concept too well."

He coughed and turned back hurriedly, sparing me his usual admonishment. "I'd advise paying closer attention."

I breathed a sigh of relief. I'm sure this would seem funny to me later. I only had a few more class periods, and I could probably find a safety pin—

Pop!

I gasped as I watched another button fly off my top—my cleavage was now truly exposed. I turned to Jason, who pulled his eyes from my breasts to see me gesture in silent panic. He responded with a silent "I don't know what to do!" Turning back, I took the sides of my shirt and tried to hold them together, saving myself from total exposure. But when Mr. Overman began jotting down a new formula, I habitually reached for my pen, letting go of my top.

Pop! Pop!

Two buttons popped off—one shooting to the front of the room to hit Mr. Overman's back! He turned around swiftly with narrowed eyes that landed on me. That is, they landed

briefly

on me and then were drawn to my tits, which had now officially busted out of my shirt. He swallowed, face blotchy, shaking his head a little.

"Miss Sawyer," he hissed. "This is entirely inappropriate, and I demand that you march yourself to the principal's office. Now

."

"I swear, I didn't mean- "

"

Now."

Utterly mortified, I got up out of my seat. With a deep breath, I turned around. I heard gasps. I even got a few low whistles. I heard one guy near me whisper a "Holy shit." Even though I felt humiliated, I had to admit that it turned me on.

"What are you waiting for?" Mr. Overman demanded. "An escort?"

"I-"

"Joel?" Mr. Overman seethed. "Please escort Miss Sawyer to the principal's office. And make sure she behaves herself."

Joel was a tall, lanky honors student with brown hair and glasses—and a total chemistry whiz, which made him Overman's favorite. He might've been considered nerdy if he didn't project striking, sexy confidence. I'd always found him pretty hot. We met eyes, and quietly walked toward the door. He closed it behind him on the way out and we started down the hall.

"Listen, Joel, I did not mean for that to happen-"

I could tell he was trying to be a gentleman by looking away from me and my exposed cleavage. He shook his head in disbelief. "I'm not even sure

what

happened—did you just rip open your shirt in the middle of class?"

I cringed. "No! No, my... My buttons popped open."

"On their own?"

I bit my lip and groaned. "Yes, ok? I don't know if—God! I don't know if you've

noticed,

but I've been exhibiting a lot of growth at an astonishingly accelerated rate lately in certain regions of my body and-"

"I've noticed."

My breath caught and I stopped. I turned wide-eyed to look at him, where a fog of lust seemed to be clouding his eyes. His eyes darted to my breasts and I felt my breath quicken.

"I think everyone's noticed, Dylan," he said quietly. "I certainly have. I notice every day."

"What do you mean?" I breathed.

He grinned nervously. "I mean that no dude with an ounce of heterosexuality has been able to draw his eyes from your chest since the year started."

"Seriously?"

He nodded, biting his lip. "The jocks are a little more crude about it in the locker room, but even

my

friends can't resist fantasizing about you."

I was taken aback. Nobody had ever talked to me like this. Here I was, soaking my panties in the middle of the school hallway. This was not a scenario I was prepared for.

But it seemed that he was. "Listen," he said. "Since I help Overman out after school, I have the keys to the labs. One of them doesn't have windows. Would you like to continue this conversation there?"

My mind was racing. "What about Overman?"

He grinned. "Overman won't care that I'm gone. He knows I mastered this stuff ages ago. And something tells me he isn't going to be visiting the principal asking about the girl who he sent to the office for having a huge rack."

I laughed, taken aback by his frankness. This boy wanted to hook up with me, in the middle of a school day, in the school. "Ok. Ok, lead the way."

Another jolt shot through me as his hand gently pressed my lower back and guided me to the room. In a swift motion, he pulled out the keys, unlocked the door, swept me in, and locked it again. The florescent lights were flicked on only for the moment before he'd turned on two lamps that were in the space for some reason. There was also, oddly, a couch... He noticed me looking around.

"Overman lets me use this as a study space. It isn't used as a lab much anymore, anyways."

I hadn't even time to nod before his lips pressed against mine. A soft moan opened mine, and he kissed me deeply. I put my arms around his neck, and he drew our bodies together. He was certainly one of the better kissers I'd encountered. His hands brushed lightly over my body, through my hair, along my neck, down to my breasts...

My momentary confusion as he pulled away quickly abated as he reached down and hooked my legs over his hips. He was stronger than I thought— then again, I was still pretty tiny. I felt him pressing into me through our jeans. His lips trailed down my neck as he moved us over to spill me onto the couch.

Steady, large hands tore apart the rest of my buttons as he lowered himself onto me. Shrugging off the shell of the shirt, I watched him carefully, basking in the hunger with which he drank in the sight of me. He shook his head, mesmerized.

"Why are you wearing such a small bra?" he chuckled, hands reaching behind my back to find the clasp.

"I'm not, I measured for this size a couple weeks ago," I insisted.

He shook his head and pulled the clasp apart. My breasts jiggled into place as the bra released them and he drew in a heavy breath before going in. I gasped and moaned and he licked and sucked at my breasts, hands pleasing one while his mouth pleased the other. No one had done this before to me. I'd had multiple guys get to second base, sure, but none of them had treated it as anything but a stop on the way to something more pleasurable for them.

Taking a momentary pause to look up at me, still rolling my nipples between his fingers, he grinned. "These are even bigger than they looked, Dylan. Fuck, you're so sexy."

I drew my fingers through his hair as he resumed his ministrations. I let out a loud gasp when one of his hands travelled down my body, stroking and teasing me over my shorts.

"Is this ok?" he whispered.

"Yes," I gasped.

He paused for a moment, eyes searching, then tore off his own shirt. He wasn't ripped, but he was not bad at all—he had what my friends called "skinny-boy abs." Straddling me, he once again pressed his lips to mine and moved his hand between my legs. He slipped the other into mine and moved it to cup him. I whimpered into his mouth as his hardness filled my palm. I swore I felt him smile through the kiss at my reaction.

Gingerly pulling away, he flicked open the button on my shorts and tugged down the zipper. With my assistance, he pulled my shorts off, leaving me only in my pale pink panties—which were soaking wet. He hungrily stroked me once again before attending to his own disrobing, unbuckling his belt and shrugging his jeans off.

I tried to keep my breath steady as I saw the outline of his bulge emerge in his boxer briefs. He looked sizeable for sure. He was watching me watch him, a twitch of pride apparent on his face. I couldn't help but grin. He grinned back, sliding back on top of me.

"Wait. This is crazy," I said.

"Hell yeah it's crazy." His hand traced the curve of my body.

"Do you do this with all the girls?" I teased, though I secretly felt a pang of anxiety at being some kind of conquest.

"A couple," he admitted. "But I've never done this with anyone nearly as hot as you."

His fingers moved aside my soaked panties to gain access to my shaved pussy, which he stroked with quiet intensity. I whimpered again and ground my hips into his hand. Gauging my reaction, deepening the pressure, he finally slid one digit into me, and I moaned.

"Really? With only one finger?" he smirked.

"I'm just really tight," I shot back.

He bit his lip. "I can tell." He pushed another finger in and my back arched as I felt it curl to brush my g-spot.

"Joel," I gasped, one of my hands curling around his neck. Panting, I reached down with my other hand and cupped him again.

He pulled down his boxer briefs and his hard, pulsing member unfurled into my palm. It was long, and definitely thick. I began to stroke it up and down, spreading the pre-cum welled up at the head around to lubricate the shaft. He groaned, thrusting a little into my hand. Biting my lip, I released him. His confusion provided me the window of opportunity I needed to push him down and pull myself on top of him.

Hand returning to fondle him, I kissed down his neck, his chest, his belly, and finally reached my destination. Not being desired growing up had always made me hungry and eager when it came to the people who showed interest—so I really enjoyed giving blowjobs. My eyes flicked up to once more meet his anticipative gaze before I began my task.

I held the shaft in one hand as I alternated kissing and licking it up and down, getting it nice and wet. My other hand cupped and brushed his balls before I took each of them gently in my mouth, my hand stroking up his cock as I did so. I licked the shaft from the root to the tip before sucking the head between my lips.

"Fuck, Dylan," he groaned, which I took as encouragement to continue.

I bobbed up and down, slowly taking in more and more of him, adapting to his moans as I applied more suction. I began to gag when I was near the base of his cock, but I kept going. His hand fixed itself in my hair, encouraging me as I took him deeper.

"Where the fuck did you learn to suck dick like this," he gasped as I found my rhythm, pumping up and down.

I pulled off for a moment. "I just... really like doing it," I admitted.

"That's so fucking sexy," he whispered. As I started returning to the task at hand, he cupped my face in his palm and drew it to his, kissing me deeply. He grinned with hooded eyes. "I don't want to cum before I get to fuck you."