That weekend was the best weekend Audra had experienced yet in her mere eighteen years of life. She spent most of it locked away in her bedroom, overcome by the pleasure brought by her new budding breasts. She felt flashes of guilt when Alex knocked on her door Sunday morning and asked if she wanted to ride with him to get breakfast—he had come all the way home from college, after all, and she knew it was rude to ignore him so much—but she really couldn't help herself.
Or rather, all she could do was help herself.
It seemed that no matter how many times Audra made herself cum, her newly elongated nipples only became harder, and her cunt, wetter. And Audra made herself cum a lot. She'd discovered the magic of the pulsating shower head in adolescence, of course, but she'd never enjoyed it with the fervor that she did that weekend, never enjoyed it six times a day, each until the hot water turned cold (and even sometimes then, the icy water on her feverish pussy making her orgasms that much stronger). She'd never enjoyed it with such abandon, legs splayed over the tub, a damp washcloth shoved between her teeth to stifle her cries of ecstasy, the shower head beating a relentless rhythm on her clit, her breasts, her clit, her breasts.
And they were breasts, those once-flat patches on her chest. She wasn't in so much of a lust-fueled fog to notice how they had blossomed. The small grapefruit size had persisted through the rest of Saturday, though when Audra finally collapsed in a sweaty heap to sleep at nearly four a.m., her reddish areolas had grown from quarters to something just shy of silver dollars, and her rock-hard nipples had swollen to throbbing nubs a fair bit thicker and longer than they had been that morning.
Sunday morning, when Alex had woken her asking about breakfast and she'd called back "Too tired!" in a voice that she'd hoped concealed the fact that she already had two fingers curled inside her dripping cunt, her breasts hadn't seemed much bigger. Audra had known, though, that they weren't done. She could tell by the way they felt: heavy and over-full, like two water balloons stuffed to the point of bursting. It would have been painful if it hadn't felt so fucking good when she groped them.
"You can grow more for me, can't you?" Audra had said to them that afternoon, giggling to herself as she squeezed them in the mirror after one of her marathon shower sessions.
Sure enough, by that evening, they had. Gone were the grapefruits and in their place, much to Audra's delight, were two perfectly ripe, juicy honeydew melons. She could hardly believe it as she palmed them, feeling the soft but firm flesh jiggle in her hands. They were deliciously heavy and full, but betrayed their weight on her frame, appearing high and round with only the barest hint of a teardrop shape to indicate just how wonderfully natural they were. Her nipples, an erotic red now, were even thicker—about as thick as her thumbs—and longer. They jutted proudly upward, making her already perky tits look impossibly perkier.
