Too Many Drinks: Prologue

Thursday

7:00 AM

A cold red colon pulsed with each painful digital chirp of the alarm clock.  Light began to infiltrate the slowly opening brown eyes of a young woman as she awoke from violent sleep.  A petite and feminine hand emerged from underneath the comforter, falling abruptly on the snooze button of the clock radio as the alarm was quelled.  Long white-tipped finger nails decorated the hand as it submerged below the bed sheets.

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7:11 AM

The alarm clock’s agonizing binary tone returned, pulsing in sync with the clock’s red colon heart.

“You’re late! Get up!” said the female voice from outside the room.

The young woman rolled onto her side and silenced the alarm.  Sweeping the quilt and sheets away from her body, she twisted to sit upright on the edge of the bed, her feet hovering just above the floor.  She stood up and stretched her arms above her head, her petite and perky bosom teasing the fabric of her baggy light blue t-shirt as she yawned.

Her hands returned to her body, attempting to relieve aches from the night’s sleep.  Her left hand fell upon her chest and her right fell to the meeting of her thigh and pelvis as she commanded her fingers to alleviate the annoyance.  Her fingers clumsily caressed her feminine features as if discovering them for the first time.

“Hurry up!  I don’t want to be late for our meeting with the principal!” shouted the older woman from the other side of the closed door.  

“Settle down, Mo ... ” the girl retorted, cut short as she was startled by the odd timbre of her voice.  “... om ...I’m ... I’m up,” she stammered.  She heard the sound of her mother’s footsteps fade down the hallway towards the kitchen.

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7:14 AM

The girl quietly opened the door and tiptoed into the bathroom, locking the door behind her.  She twisted the hot and cold water handles in the shower, finely tuning them to the proper positions.  Waiting for the water to reach the perfect temperature, she turned towards the large mirror over the sink.  

She removed her white panties and t-shirt as she surveyed her reflection in the mirror.  Cupping her small breasts, she looked down at her slim waist, wide hips, and thickish thighs.  She questioned why only her hips had lead the charge towards womanhood, leaving the rest of her body behind.  She turned to view her silhouette only to find disappointment in the size of her breasts and the flatness of her bum.  A strange conglomeration of lustful and wishful desires for larger breasts and a fuller butt plagued her mind.  

Steam drifted from the shower, signaling the water had reached the girl’s preferred temperature.  She clumsily entered the shower and began her normal cleansing routine, caressing her wet body.  She washed her hair first, finding difficulty cleansing the long follicles.  Each soapy stroke of her loofa had an alien feeling as the girl scrubbed her body clean.  Strange surges of pleasure pulsed through her body as the loofa traversed her erect nipples.  She could feel warmth growing within her body near her womanhood.  The feelings quickly subsided as her shower session was interrupted with a hard rap on the bathroom door.

“That’s long enough, you’re not paying the water bill!” her mother shouted.

The girl finished her shower session and quickly turned the water off.  She toweled herself dry, again lustfully wishing for more volume in her chest and rear quarters as she massaged away the remaining drops of water.  She dried her hair and completed the rest of her morning bathroom routine.  The young woman tied her hair in a loose ponytail while neglecting to put on any make-up; she was far from adept at styling hair and her soft, silky complexion would only be burdened with cosmetics.

With the towel wrapped around her midsection, she left the steamy bathroom for her bedroom where she found undergarments and clothes laid out on her bed.  Her mother had hastily purchased the garments for her the previous day.

The girl let the towel fall to floor as she picked up royal blue colored cotton boy short panties.  She pulled the panties to her waist, looking back in the mirror at her flat bum.  She sighed and turned to pick up a padded white bra, the “A” cup size on the label was an annoying reminder of her inadequate chest.  After feeding her arms through the straps and placing them on her shoulders with the cups hanging loosely over her breasts, she struggled to connect the hooks and loops behind her back.

“Here, let me help you with that,” said her mother while standing in the doorway.

“I can do it myself, I don’t want your help,” said the girl as she finally coaxed the hooks properly around the loops.  Her mother exited the room, leaving the girl to finish dressing.  The girl adjusted the bra’s cups and straps to snuggly fit her small perky bosom.

Moving on, she clutched a pair of jeans from the bed.  Slipping them over her feet, it was clear that the jeans would do well to tightly hug her form and exploit the curves she did have.   She buttoned the waistband and zipped the fly as the jeans snugged tightly around her waist.  She twirled in front of her mirror, admiring the curvature of her hips.  Lastly, she pulled a cotton t-shirt over head.  The fitted t-shirt gently hugged her figure, following the small curve of her chest; the v neckline would have shown a tease of cleavage if she had any.  After tying on a pair of sneakers, the girl’s hands traced the curves of her body from just above her waist to the top of her thighs; she felt a lustful satisfaction and an apprehensive sense of anticipation in her mother’s choice of attire.

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7:47 AM

“Are you finally ready?” her mother asked, observing her daughter was fully dressed.

“Can we do this another day?  I really don’t want to be seen like this,” said the girl.

“No, you’ve been out of high school long enough.  If we don’t get you back in now, you’ll have to repeat your senior year.  We’re going and that’s final,” the girl’s mother sternly replied.  “There’s a bagel with cream cheese and an orange juice on the counter.  You can have breakfast in the car on the way to your appointment.  Let’s go.”

The girl sauntered towards the kitchen, her mother in tow.  Just as she was about to exit the hallway, a sharp pain erupted in her pelvis and spread to her chest.  Her thighs clamped together as she braced against the wall with her arm, cringing in terrible pain.

“Stop faking it! We’re going whether you like it or not,” said the girl’s mother.  She grabbed her daughter’s arm, attempting to pull her from the wall’s support.  The taught mussels in her daughter’s arms quickly lead the mother to realize her assumptions were false; her daughter was in serious torment.

The pain subsided slightly, allowing the young girl to stumble into the kitchen. The torture returned as she braced against the kitchen counter.  The sound of tearing cotton erupted within the room. The button holding the waist band of the girl’s tight jeans submitted to the expanding pressure as it tore from its hold.  The rear seam of the now fragile denim split has her ass blossomed into voluptuous proportions, exposing her stressed blue boy shorts.  Her curvaceous wishes were coming to frightful fruition.

“Mom ... what’s happening to me?” the girl fearfully questioned.

Before her mother could conjure a response, a new sensation grew within the girl’s chest.  The girl’s t-shirt began to stretch, her bra compressing her growing bosom.  The tight brassiere forced her growing cleavage to appear through the v neckline of the t-shirt, enlarging at an immense pace.  The t-shirt began to rip, causing the v-neckline to plunge and expose a bountiful amount of cleavage as her tiny bra constricted her blossoming breasts.  She clenched her chest in pain as the bra admitted defeat, bursting apart beneath her torn t-shirt.  Her erect nipples were half exposed from beneath the torn fabric.  

The pain subsided again as the girl’s mother assisted her towards the living room sofa.  She descended upon the couch like a felled redwood as she clenched her tender chest.  Her mother pondered how many cup sizes her daughter’s breast had grown.  She was shallow a-cup, but now her breasts were positively massive.  She recited the alphabet in her mind, attempting put a letter to her daughters abundant bosom.  “A, B, C, D, E, F, G... H?” she thought, wondering what cup size may come after ‘H’.

Her daughter laid in agony on the sofa, grasping her tender buttocks and swollen breasts.  She was in no condition to leave the house, nor did she have the wardrobe to encompass her new voluptuous curves.  

“You’re not going to school today.  I’m calling the principal to postpone your meeting,” said the girl’s mother.  “We’ll reschedule after I’ve picked up some new clothes for you. Your boobs are too big for anything I bought yesterday and your jeans are ruined.  I’m going to have to start from scratch.  When you’re feeling better, go to my closet and see if you can anything that might fit you.”  

She pulled her cellphone from her purse and dialed the school’s principal.  “Mrs. Cooper please,” said the girl’s mother into the microphone.  A short pause occurred as the young girl tensely awaited her mother’s next statement.

“Hi, Mrs. Cooper.  This is Rachel McAdams.  I’m dreadfully sorry, but I won’t be able to make our appointment today,” said the girl’s mother.

“Autumn is seriously ill, we’ll have to reschedule.”

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