A Cup Angst

Jamie Jacobs was sitting at his computer and putting the finishing touches to his latest mission design. He and his friends spent a lot of time using the game editor to make missions they then exchanged between themselves. This particular mission was going to be a blast and Jamie had but to finish recording the briefing voices, knowing full well that his imitation of Yoda's voice will bring much laughter to his friends. He glanced at his bedside clock, he had ten minutes until the start of his favorite TV show. He took a deep breath and depressed the microphone button.

Jamie found himself coming to from losing his train of thought. He frequently daydreamed. Last two weeks, however, he found himself snapping to from a sort of stupor from which he couldn't remember not only the original distracting thought, but also the entirety of his daydreaming. On top of that, he was tired all the time.

He yawned and scratched his beard, reminding himself that he needed to shave tomorrow morning, before going to school, and then he remembered he was going to record a funny voice briefing. Jamie glanced at the clock, seeing that the episode he wanted to watch had begun some fifteen minutes ago. He cursed softly, pressed the button to disconnect the microphone, turned off the monitor and desk lamp, and rushed to the den to watch the remainder of the episode.

When Jamie came back to his room, he was a little miffed that he missed out on the resolution of last episode's cliffhanger. All the characters were just there and Jamie hated not knowing how the episode began. He would have to look it up online. His brow furrowed.

He was alternating between being angry with himself for sitting idly for twenty minutes and being worried that he might have had some sort of seizure which caused him to lose those twenty minutes of his life. He was standing there completely baffled as to why he couldn't remember anything. He pressed his memory and kept coming up with pressing the mic button and then coming to, nothing in between. Jamie let out a mighty groan of frustration and sat down in front of his computer. Then he realized that he turned the mic off before rushing to the den, but after the lost time. Jamie's eyes bugged out when he saw that his hard drive housed a twenty minute audio file, which his sound editor software clearly showed was not twenty minutes of flat line silence.

He connected his earphones and played the file.

The first sound was that of his room door opening, followed quickly by Jamie's own voice exclaiming, "Helena! What are you doing here!?" Jamie paused the playback and took his earphones off like they were burning him. He jumped out of his seat and went to the window, looking across his parents' backyard at the backyard of Helena Worth's house, just sixty feet away.

There was a light on in her room, which was upstairs and facing their backyards, just like Jamie's. Jamie peered across the dusky distance and saw that Helena was changing into her bedclothes. Helena had been his neighbor for his whole life and they were originally friendly to each other, despite their parents' big differences in income. When you're a kid, all that matters is that there is another kid your age on the next street over, and thus a friendship is often born.

One summer, before they entered middle school, Helena realized that her family was several income brackets above Jamie's and publicly terminated their friendship with little regard for her playmate's feelings. After they started high school, Helena joined the bitch squad, frequently known as the cheerleaders, and all the interactions the two of them had were those of her mocking him and pointing out his utter lack of fashionable, label clothing before the whole class. Possibly she was so zealous in her mocking of Jamie because she felt some sort of fear that Jamie would tell on the fact that she used to be a little girl that wore overalls and pigtails a la Pippi Longstocking and hung out with him.

Jamie avoided Helena at all times, except when he was home in the evenings, when he would turn off all the lights in his room and gaze across at the statuesque blonde changing clothes with her lights on and the drapes open. Jamie frequently thought she did that on purpose. She was almost six feet tall and athletic. When she tanned over the summer, her skin stayed noticeably bronzed all the way until Christmas.

She had a narrow face with high cheekbones and the only fault Jamie could find with her was the fact that her breasts were, by and large, nonexistent. Jamie's mouth fell open when he now saw that his favorite inspiration for masturbation was sporting a discernible "rack" right across the yard. He sat on the floor of his room with his back to the window and wondered how that could be. He distinctly remembered masturbating furiously (twice!) to the sight of a topless, flatchested Helena just last week.

Jamie fought back a rising sense of panic and let out a deep breath he didn't even realize he was holding. He knew breasts didn't grow overnight. Every girl in his school that "grew a rack overnight", did so over a period of months and was only noticed one spring school day when the weather denied any opportunity for concealing clothing, but here, either Helena literally grew overnight, or Jamie was seriously losing his marbles. Considering the fact that he had a recording of a conversation with her in his room, a conversation that he could not remember at all, he was leaning towards the latter explanation.

He pulled down the shade on his window and returned to his computer, forsaking the opportunity to ogle Helena, and continued the playback.

Helena's voice spoke a few strange syllables then said "Be silent!" and Jamie's voice suddenly cut out mid-question. "Sit back down." commanded the haughty blonde and Jamie could hear the chair creak to confirm that he did. "Get hard and take out your cock." was her next command, followed by the rustling of Jamie's jeans. Jamie looked down at his jeans, seeing no trace of anything untoward that had happened, but feeling a distinct tightness developing in his boxers. "Good. Stroke it. Okay, stop panicking and enjoy this. I still hate it when your eyes go wild like that."

Jamie was utterly stunned. How could this have happened in his room, with his parents just ten feet away, and him having no memory of it at all less than an hour later? How could he be getting hard listening to a recording of apparently being raped by his neighbor? Why did she say "still hate it"? Did this happen more than once? Why did she do this to him? The questions piled on, but Jamie patiently listened to himself masturbating at her direction and climaxing all over her bosom as she directed him to do.

Afterwards, he couldn't make out the sounds she spat out before she commanded him to clean up, get dressed, count to a hundred slowly, calming himself with each number and then forgetting everything that happened since just before she entered his room.

He replayed the recording several times, gradually coming to terms with a few facts. Helena was a witch that could command him. She used him to apparently make her breasts grow and wiped his memory of it. She was probably doing it for two weeks now. He went to the kitchen and idly chatted with his mother, who always liked Helena. After he turned the chat to the subject of the newly discovered witch, he realized his mother had no memory of Helena being there that night either.

Jamie retreated to his room, but he did not feel safe anymore, not in his room, not anywhere. He peaked through the shades at the window of her room. There was no light, no activity. He didn't have a lock on his door and began fearing she might come back to do something to him again. Who could he turn to for help without getting locked up and medicated? Even his mother was bewitched, and he feared Helena could do that to anyone, a cop, a doctor, anyone.

He spent a sleepless night in a state of almost panic, jumping at every sound a house makes in the dark. By the morning, he was exhausted, both physically and emotionally. School was a nightmare. He barely stayed awake during his classes and ditched math to avoid being in the same room with Helena. Later, he regretted that, thinking his absence might be a red flag to her. His head was swimming with scenarios, each more terrible than the last, until he collapsed behind the gym, out of breath with panic.

As his sight grew dim, and the weight pressed down on his chest, Jamie remembered that Helena's breasts grew, and that he was commanded to cum all over them. His gut told him that the growth was the witch's doing, but what if it wasn't? Why was he even involved? What if it was a matter of him having magical sperm? The thoughts of a porn career, or a super successful and enjoyable breast enlargement clinic brought him back to life. Women could be lining up to give him money and a blowjob and have him cum all over their boobs. The crazy images those thoughts conjured up in his mind broke Jamie's cycle of panic. He took a deep breath, got up and dusted himself off. He strode away from the school with a newfound sense of purpose. He wasn't going to be scared and used by anyone. Not even for breast growth.

"What ate you up and shat you out, man," asked Cyrus as he was greeted by the sight of a wobbling, unshaven and disheveled Jamie at his doorstep.

"Don't even ask," mumbled Jamie.

Cyrus let Jamie in and held him up when he stumbled. "You alright there, J.J.," he asked with genuine concern.

"Yeah, I'm fine," lied Jamie and collapsed onto Cyrus' living room sofa. "Just didn't get enough sleep last night."

"Ah, yes," said Cyrus sagely, "you must have had an all-nighter of imaginary sex with insert name of porn star here. Note that I didn't specify the gender of your porn star," Cyrus jabbed. Jamie raised his head and growled. Cyrus snorted in reply and fetched a pair of beers from his fridge. He opened them and gave one to Jamie. "Here you go, young master Jacobs," intoned Cyrus with a bad British accent, "something to finish you off." Jamie took a long sip. Cyrus sat down in the armchair opposite the sofa, cleared his throat and said, "Seriously J.J., what the fuck are you doing here on a school day? Princeton accepted you already?"

Jamie briefly considered confiding in his older friend, but opted against it. He leaned forward in his seat and adopted a conspiratory tone, "I need some help. No questions asked. Have you got something like that crap you see in the movies, where you turn someone's cell phone into a listening device?" Cyrus raised an eyebrow. "Without them knowing about it," added Jamie. Cyrus had a way with computers and electronics, and Jamie always imagined the older boy had ties to organized crime or something.

Cyrus leaned forward. "What type of cell phone are we talking about," he asked businesslike. Jamie felt blessed relief.

Less than an hour later, Jamie was tipsy and dragging his tired feet home. Cyrus gave him everything he would need to spy on his witch neighbor. In lieu of instructions, Cyrus gave him a hastily typed up document with lots of diagrams, as Jamie was too fatigued and drunk to commit anything to memory. Still, the closer Jamie got to his house, the more hopeful he felt. "Know your enemy," thought Jamie. "And knowing is half the battle," he shouted out loud and belched. He stumbled into his house after a long fumbling with the keys and went straight to bed, thankful for once his parents were both working double shifts that day.

Jamie's rest was undisturbed that night and he woke up in time to peruse the instructions and set up the software on his own cell phone before heading off to school. At school, he sat close to Helena's table during lunch and typed her cell phone number into the program. Ten tense seconds later, the deed was done, the control software transferred.

He had a spring in his step for the rest of the day. When he got home, he booted up his computer and checked the results of his wiretap. He now had complete access to Helena's phone. He saw she made three phone calls, and sent and received a dozen text messages since lunch, and there was almost a hundred stored messages and several voicemails he could access. He downloaded it all and began perusing them in chronological order.

There was very little that could be interpreted as incriminating evidence of witchcraft. Jamie rubbed his temples in frustration, it seemed his hopes of not being a helpless witch's puppet were entirely unfounded, when a beep and a blinking icon on his screen alerted him to the fact Helena's phone was ringing. He put his earphones on and clicked the icon just as Helena answered her phone. The voice on the other end was that of Sonya Mitchell, a tall brunette from the cheerleading squad that had the same ideas on "proper behavior" as Helena.

"Ohmahgawd, I can not beeeeeelieeeeve it's working," shrieked Sonya, and Jamie's heart leaped into his throat. This must be it. "Damn, your tits are fine! How big they gonna grow," inquired Sonya. Oh, yes, this was it.

"I cast the spell to be a C cup, so two more shots and I'm there," giggled Helena.

"Well," said Sonya, "Sandra and Rose are beside themselves! They can't wait 'till Saturday to get their own shots!" As the girls giggled over the phone, Jamie panicked at the thought of stroking himself in front of four girls. His reverie was broken by Sonya's voice. "So, which one of us goes first," she inquired.

"Well, you'll all come over on Saturday to cast the spell," said Helena "I know he'll be home and in range, 'cause I've spelled his mom to keep tabs on him for me." A sense of dread came over Jamie as he heard those words. "Remember what I said, it doesn't matter who casts her spell first, or in which order you get him to spray you, the girl that has the most inner power will grow fastest. I suspect Sandra will be a D cup in five or six spurts."

"Yeah, the lucky bitch," drawled Sonya "Anyhoooo, what time on Saturday?"

"Be here at four, but we won't start 'till six, six thirty. You still got a lotta learnin' to do," said Helena.

"Okay, I'll tell the bitches," said Sonya, and the girls exchanged goodbyes.

If Jamie's head had been spinning before, it was a freaking propeller by now. He was going to be used by an entire coven of witches starting the day after tomorrow, and his mother, that had recently seemed a bit smothering, was an enemy spy, unknowingly working to subjugate her son. Jamie was replaying what he heard in his head, particularly the part about him "being in range", whatever that meant, when he heard Helena's voice sigh over the wiretap, "Time for another spurt from the little freak."

Jamie panicked and turned to the window. He could just see Helena exiting her room. She was going to come to his house, his room and spell him again. He considered running, but decided against it. Not only did he fear tipping her off to his only advantage, but a big part of him wanted to see her naked. Jamie's mind raced with the estimate of how long would it take Helena to come to the end of her street and walk up his street. "No climbing a fence for little miss Worth," he muttered angrily to himself.

He quickly decided to stay put and film the whole thing with his web cam. He put it in a hidden spot on the shelf and framed his shot carefully. He wanted to have a nice view of this rack he was helping to make. Then he panicked thinking about the memory wipes. What if she told him to forget anything about her and the spells? He quickly turned on his microphone and dictated for himself a hurried narrative of what had happened and saved the audio file in a system directory. He wrote a note to himself to listen to that file and stuffed it into his wallet compartment where he kept his lunch money hidden.

He decided to leave the mic open to get a second recording of things and went over his room one more time to make sure there wasn't anything that might tip her off. After that, Jamie sat in the camera frame and tried to clear his mind to be able to act convincingly.

Jamie stretched his tired muscles and looked at the clock. He had nearly fallen asleep waiting for Helena to cross the short distance around one street corner. His whole body was feeling exhausted. Jamie took a look out his window and saw a light coming on in Helena's room. He startled and fell off his chair.

A thousand questions popped in his head. What time was it when she left home? Was it as dark outside as it was now? Seeing Helena take off her sweater across the way, Jamie felt he had been had yet again. He double checked the time stamp of the phone call he listened to on her phone and saw that it was almost a half an hour ago, not ten minutes. Sure enough, there were two files being recorded on his hard drive, an audio and a video. He stopped them both and rubbed his tired eyes. He was exhausted and he saved everything on his computer and went to sleep.

After Jamie came home from school the next day, he immediately turned on his computer and checked where Helena was. Her phone's GPS coordinates put her at the mall. Jamie loaded the video of his rape last night and broke out the wanking paraphernalia. There he was, sitting in his chair, breathing deeply, when Helena crept silently into the room and uttered those weird words.

Before tape Jamie could even stammer out a protest, she ordered him to shut up and relax and enjoy himself, right off the bat. On her order, he opened his zipper, and real life Jamie mimicked his actions. Both their cocks were hardening even before Helena took off her sweater to reveal a flimsy white undershirt with long sleeves. Jamie kept mimicking his tape self, wanting to pretend Helena was right there with him. Despite the fact that she was using him in a magic ritual and wiping his mind, both of which probably had unknown, but serious, long term consequences for his health, Jamie still wanted to feel her smooth skin under his fingers.

Helena was disappointingly uninterested in the sight of Jamie stroking himself and only knelt before him when he indicated that he was close. Helena looked at him expectantly, and when he nodded, she quickly pulled up the hem of her undershirt and Jamie's cum splattered all over her breasts in four mighty spurts. Seeing this on tape, Jamie came all over his desk.

Helena smeared his cum all over her breasts with two fingers, and the cum seemed to be absorbed into them. She lowered her undershirt and put on her sweater before wiping her fingers with a wet wipe she produced from her jeans' pocket. Jamie caught his breath faster than his tape counterpart and let the recording play itself out before he rewound it to the few seconds her breasts were on display and froze it. They were a sight to see, perky, big and creamy with ruby areolas the size of silver dollars. He was disappointed not to see the nipples erect, but he hoped to rectify that in the future.

As Jamie played the whole video for the second time, he realized he gave Helena the signals that he was about to cum, without her ordering him to do so. Only after checking the sound from the much closer mic did he pick out her quietly whispered orders to do so. It sounded almost as if she was embarrassed by the whole situation. Jamie didn't feel like dwelling on the idea of an embarrassed rapist witch, so he cleaned up everything and spent a few hours making up for the lost schoolwork of the week, even though his mind kept turning towards tomorrow afternoon when the foursome would cast spells on him.

Jamie's Saturday was spent, as usual, at the electronics retail store where he worked the morning shift that, coupled with the employee discount, kept him in video games and equipment. If he didn't work there, he would find himself without cash for clothes, school trips, etc. during the school year. At three thirty, he was home, and wiping his sweaty palms on his pants repeatedly. There was no lack of a sense of panic in the young boy at what was about to happen, but he did his best to keep his cool. At four o'clock, he turned on the microphone on Helena's phone, having Sonya's number ready as backup, and began to listen in.