It was Friday night and chestnut haired Amanda lay back on her bed and teased her pink nipples. Her sensitive breasts sent a wave of desire down the center of her body--a direct line, as it were, from nipple to clitoris. Her cotton panties were already starting to moisten. She looked at herself in the mirror opposite her bed and wondered, "Why can't I be like other girls?"
But Amanda was a typical teenager in most ways, still maturing physically and emotionally. She was of medium height, with arms and legs slender and toned from years of tennis and dance lessons. She had a flat stomach, narrow waist and the sweetest little round butt. Her skin was quite fair, almost pale, and without the least blemish of any kind--a complexion still in the full bloom of youth. Green eyes in a gorgeous, cover model face completed the package.
Of course, Amanda was not the only pretty girl at her high school. But if you'd asked the boys they would have told you that what made Amanda different from the other girls was a certain indefinable quality, it was simply...perfection. If Helen had a face that launched a thousand ships, Amanda Peterson was the girl that produced a thousand wet dreams.
And if you'd asked those same horny teenaged boys what made Amanda so enticing, they would have agreed that on top of all her other assets, her lovely face, her abundant long dark hair, her great ass and legs, there was one feature that nobody could match: her spectacular tits. Although she tried to hide them with loose fitting tops and baggy sweaters, Amanda had breasts that could not be concealed. There was plenty of speculation about her bra size, but it was only speculation. None of the boys at school had come close to laying a hand on those beauties. And everyone, even her own mother, was amazed that those huge jugs were supported with grace and apparent ease on such a slender frame.
They hadn't begun to grow until quite late in her adolescence, but she quickly became the envy of every girl in school--and the lust object of every boy. Now at age eighteen, though still not fully developed, they were even bigger. In spite of their size and heft, the pull of gravity was almost imperceptible. The nipples and aureoles were a pale pink no darker than the color of her skin, and both stuck out slightly from the exquisite line of her breasts. A girl in Amanda's gym class called them 'puffy nipples.' Amanda just thought they looked weird.
Now, as she pinched those pink puffies hard and felt the juices run in her snatch, Amanda continued to look at her reflection. There was a small furrow between her eyebrows as she pondered her misfortune. "I'm such a freak," she thought. "Why did I get stuck with these huge boobs?" She was so ashamed of her jugs that she rarely dated and never went to school dances for fear her dance partner might brush against them accidentally.
She tried to think about other things. Earlier that day Amanda and the other seniors at her high school were told they would be required to do a service learning project. It meant doing volunteer work in the community, and would involve many hours beyond the regular school day. When the project was announced she didn't groan and complain like the other students. Amanda had always felt the need to be helpful, and service learning seemed like just another extension of that impulse. She also thought of the project as an early step on the path to her career goal, becoming a registered nurse.
Her thoughts soon returned to her breasts, though. In the gym locker room that day she was extremely self-conscious about her huge titties, as usual. Amanda never felt comfortable being naked with the girls. For reasons she didn't at all understand, exposing herself in the locker room made her nipples stiffen. When this happened she was careful to hide her hard nips. "My, it's cold in here!" she was ready to explain to anyone who noticed. It was just one more thing that made Amanda believe she was a freak.
In the showers she had turned just as a cute blonde cheerleader bent over to pick up her shower gel, and Amanda felt a kind of jolt as she caught a glimpse of the girl's pink pussy lips. She didn't know why. Amanda never considered for a moment that she might be sexually attracted to other girls--that was disgusting. Only nasty dyke girls felt like that, and she was certainly not one of them!
That night alone in her bedroom, Amanda looked away from her image in the mirror and glanced around the room. It was a little girl's room in many ways. The furniture was chosen by her parents years ago. Her bed was a four poster, with frilly ruffles at the canopy and pillows, and there were stuffed animals scattered around. Her gaze returned to her reflection in the mirror. "What am I doing?" she asked herself. "How weird am I?" She was twisting both her nipples and there was now a dark wet spot on the gusset of her panties.
"Oh, fuck it," she sighed, feeling a little naughty. Amanda reached down with one hand and caressed the lips of her sex through her moist knickers. She had never had an orgasm, at least she didn't think so, but touching herself this way felt awfully good. After a few minutes she slipped her hand inside her panties and trailed a finger up her wet slit. Finding her clit she tickled it gently with the tip of her forefinger. With the other hand she squeezed her massive tits together, trying to pull on both nipples at once.
Focusing on a large poster of Justin Timberlake, Amanda rubbed her finger faster and faster over her engorged clit. She shivered with pleasure, but the release never came. Sometime later the lovely Amanda drifted off to sleep with her hand between her thighs, still feeling unsatisfied. Exactly what she was missing though, she couldn't have explained if she tried.
* * *
On Saturday, Amanda set out to begin her school project. Within walking distance from her house was a residential institution for the mentally disturbed and handicapped. She reasoned that a place like that would probably need extra help, and the experience would look great on her college applications. She was a little apprehensive about working with mentally impaired people--what if she were attacked by some psycho?--but she told herself she was being a chicken and hurried on.
The building was a modern one story brick affair that rambled over a neatly trimmed lawn. From the outside it was impossible to tell that lunatics resided there, but it was well known in the neighborhood. Amanda took a deep breath and went inside. After a brief interview in Human Resources she was taken to meet the director of nursing, Nurse Constance.
Amanda thought Nurse Constance was pretty young to be director of nursing. She appeared to be only in her mid to late twenties. In fact she was 34, but she was very fit, and her stylish clothes, smooth skin and short hair made her look much younger. Nurse Constance looked Amanda up and down, openly appraising her, and smiled. "Yes, of course we can use some help," she said. "There are two student interns I'd like you to meet."
They found Tiffany and Faith in the employee lounge smoking cigarettes. The two girls were both sophomore nursing students at a nearby university and the internship was a requirement for their program. "Hey Nurse Constance," Tiffany drawled, as a slow smile spread across her face. "Who ya got there?" Faith blew out a cloud of smoke and introduced herself. Then Tiffany offered a hand which Amanda shook after waving away a cloud of smoke.
The coeds were both twenty years old and pretty, but there the similarity ended. Tiffany had long dirty-blonde hair, a suntan, and an appealing all-American sort of face. Her body was curvy and voluptuous, with a hint of baby fat. Faith was her opposite physically. She had a petite slender frame, very pale skin, and her hair was jet black and shoulder length. She was more punk princess than girl next door.
The girls looked sexier in their nursing uniforms than seemed quite right, and Amanda realized that their skirts were shortened to show a good bit of leg, and their tops were unbuttoned far enough to see some cleavage.
Amanda was feeling downright old-fashioned in one of her mother's business suits that had been altered to fit and a pair of sensible low heeled pumps. She was surprised by the appearance of the two interns. Nurse Constance seemed to read her mind. "Don't worry if these two appear a little unconventional," she said. "They actually do some excellent work for me." The two college students traded a look with Nurse Constance and smirked.
Nurse Constance went on, addressing her interns, "It wouldn't be a bad idea if you two at least tried to look and behave like nursing students. You know smoking is not permitted in the building."
"Aw, chill out Nurse Ratched," said Faith. "You know we do our jobs."
"Yes, you're both very, uh, reliable. Come with me, Amanda. Let's go take care of the paperwork and you can start after school on Monday." The girls exchanged another significant look with Nurse Constance. Amanda thought that something was not kosher, but couldn't imagine what it might be.
* * *
On Monday Amanda got a tour of the facility, and her fears of homicidal maniacs were quickly put to rest. The patients housed in the building seemed docile, even child-like as they were led through various therapies. Amanda did have a momentary fright when she met one of the residents. He was astonishingly huge, the biggest human being Amanda had ever seen. "He must be seven feet tall," she thought. He was also incredibly ugly with a look of pure, imbecile stupidity on his face. But his shy manner was not in the least threatening and Nurse Constance led him by the hand like a little boy to the cafeteria.
After seeing to the patients' dinner, Nurse Constance took Amanda to the staff table where Faith and Tiffany sat with a handsome African American in a white lab coat. "Amanda, this is Dr. Scott. Dr. Scott, our new volunteer, Amanda Peterson." They shook hands, she a little nervously. Amanda had recognized him immediately as the NBA star who'd retired from basketball some years earlier. He was justly famous for attending medical school during the off season and doing his residency shortly after the end of his basketball career.
At age forty or so, Derek Scott was still a very athletic specimen. About six foot six and 240 pounds, he looked like he could still hold his own on the court with just about anyone. The impressionable young teenager took in the white shirt and silk tie showing under of his lab coat, the dark wool trousers and the shiny black size-sixteen wing tips. What she didn't know was that he had been forced to resign his position at a prominent East Coast hospital because of 'certain improprieties.'
"It's very nice to meet you," she stammered, blushing. Amanda realized that she had just looked him over from head to toe. He only grinned and shook her hand politely. Her hand almost disappeared in his enormous paw and the young schoolgirl felt herself blushing again.
"Hey Derek, I think she likes you," said Faith, snickering. Tiffany and Nurse Constance also laughed as if this were a terribly witty remark, and Amanda felt even more uncomfortable.
"Don't let them bother you," Dr. Scott spoke up. "They're just picking on you because you're the new kid." He scowled at the three women. "Be nice, now," and addressing himself to Nurse Constance, "See you at ten?" He then excused himself to go back to work. Kid? Amanda thought.
