Big Tits Theory Pt. 01

Monday:

"Geez," my brother said to me one morning, over a milkshake. "You sure are lucky..."

"Why's that?"

My brother Marty and I had never been super close, but lately we'd been hanging out pretty much every morning. I think it's the milkshakes - a couple of weeks ago, Marty got this machine that makes milkshakes. You wouldn't think that making a good milkshake would be hard, but the first few he made were somehow revolting. It's milk and flavor, right? How badly can you screw that up?

After a while though, something clicked, and he he really got the hang of it. I'm not kidding when I say that Marty's Milkshakes are the single best milkshakes that I've ever tasted. They're delicious, and each morning we both get up before school and he makes me a milkshake.

We've been using that time to hang out and shoot the shit. He's a good guy, Marty - two years older than me (I'm eighteen, he's twenty), but he's never been the dickhead older brother. We'd always just sort of lived our own lives, up until he got his magnificent milkshake machine.

Now? I guess we're friends. I've been telling him more and more stuff about my life, and he's been advising me...not in an over-the-top or patronising way, but just brotherly older advice. It's been super nice: I really trust him.

"Well," he said, strangely hesitant. "It's just..."

"What is it, Marty?"

"You're lucky that your tits aren't bigger."

I scoffed at that, but then saw that he wasn't joking.

"...why?"

Now it was his turn to scoff.

"Are you telling me...you haven't heard of the Big Tits Theory?"

The Big Tits Theory, according to my brother, was simple. In fact, more than simple - it was fundamental. He said it was a basic human fact: the bigger a girl's tits, the more slutty she is.

Of course I thought he was kidding, but as he went on, he managed to convince me more and more...he'd really thought this one through.

Girls with A-cups, like me, were...well, prudes. Not sexually charged, rarely sexually active, and if we did get with a guy, it would be for a reason other than sex. Like a lot of the women in Game of Thrones - they'd sleep with men so that they could have children, or power, or for protection...but they never just did it because they were horny.

And though I'd obviously never discuss this with my brother, his theory was pretty solid so far. I'd never fooled around with anyone - I was a capital-V virgin. And, honestly, I've never really felt the urge to. I mean, it would be nice to find a guy who liked you, and maybe hold hands and kiss and all that, but sex? That was grown-up stuff.

I'd heard my friends talking about masturbation and boys going down on them, and it had all...well, it had all sounded pretty gross, to be honest.

B-cup was a "normal girl" he said, not even realizing the insult in his word-choice. They got urges, they masturbated, and maybe if they were in a long-term relationship, they'd fool around. C-cup was (again, his words) like "girl PLUS". They were often horny, and it wasn't super hard to get to second or third base.

D-cups, though...according to my brother, they were the motherlode. D-cups were the kind of girls who go out on the town, looking for one-night stands. If you make eye-contact the right way, they instinctively fall to their knees and their mouths pop open...you know the girls who hang around bands all the time, groupies? They're almost exclusively made-up of D-cup girls.

"And so," he'd said, finishing the last of his milkshake, "little sis - you are extremely lucky that you're...well."

He'd gestured to my chest, and I'd glared at him while slowly sipping the milkshake that he'd made me.

"I mean, if you were any other girl, I'd want you to be a C or higher. But my little sister...believe me, I wouldn't have you any other way. You're what, a B?"

"An A," I'd replied quietly, almost embarrassed to admit it. Let's face it, no girl likes being flat-chested.

"Oh," he said sympathetically. "Well...don't worry about it. You're only 18...maybe you're just a late bloomer?"

Yeah right, I'd thought, and gone upstairs to change for school. Looking in the mirror, I'd sighed. An A-cup. Doomed to a life of never wanting sex. The "A" could just as easily have stood for "asexual".

I shook my head - what was I worrying about? Marty probably didn't even know what he was talking about. "Big Tits Theory"...utter bunk.

But on the way to school, I started thinking about it, and I couldn't think of a single example to prove him wrong...all of the sluts in my grade: Cindy, Stella, Ruth...they were also the girls with the biggest tits.

Sure, that could have been coincidence, or it could have been self-selecting (girls with big tits get more attention, and so they just have more opportunity to fool around)...but my brother's theory held up across the whole spectrum. One of my friends I knew for a fact was a B-cup, and she'd only slept with her boyfriend after they'd been together for more than a year. Or Margaret - she was a large C, and she'd only been with Tom for a few weeks when they'd "done the deed".

Staring out across the cafeteria at lunch, I wondered if my brother was right. Had he cracked the female code? In terms of evolution it certainly made sense...it would totally explain why guys always went for the girls with the biggest boobs - because they're the easiest lays.

That night, I wanted to ask Marty a few more questions about it, but he was out on a date. I only saw her briefly, but his wink told me everything I needed to know...

He was going out with a D-cup.

Big Tits Theory

by Pan

Tuesday:

"Oh my god!" I said, for the second time that morning. "This milkshake is amazing!"

"Thanks," Marty replied with a grin. "I'm trying some new stuff. Can you taste the cinnamon?"

I nodded, even though I couldn't. It all blended together in a perfect combination of tastes - there could have been cinnamon in there, but I'd never have picked it out from the blend of everything else.

My nod caused an unfamiliar sensation on my chest, but I tried not to focus on it as I sipped Marty's latest amazing concoction.

That morning, when I'd woken up, my nipples had been strangely sensitive. They weren't sore, exactly, but there was something strange. It wasn't until I looked in the mirror that my eyes had boggled, and I'd sworn in shock.

Somehow, overnight...my boobs had grown.

I reached up and pinched them - not only had they grown, but for the first time, I understood why women let men suck on them! I wasn't rolling around on the floor with pleasure or anything like that, but the right sensations, the right touch...I could totally see myself getting off on this.

Getting off...my eyes widened as it dawned on me what this meant. I was...well, I couldn't tell, not without measuring, but...I was pretty sure that I was a B-cup! And according to my brother's theory, that meant...

I looked around to make sure that no one was watching - a strange thing for a teenage girl to do, alone in her room, but I was exploring new territory. The door was closed, and so I lay down in my bed, shut my eyes, and imagined one of the singers from my favourite boy-band standing over me, smiling, taking his top off for me...

To my delight, my vagina glistened, and my fingers naturally began stroking up and down my sensitive pussy-lips, instinctively discovering what I liked, what felt good...

I was - I was masturbating.

And I loved it!!

But before I could get too far into my fantasy, there was a knock on my door, and my eyes opened in shock as I was instantly teleported from the land of sexy male musicians touching my private areas...

"Sis?"

It was Marty.

"Sis, are you up? I've got a milkshake waiting for you!"

Reluctantly, I got up, put a top on, and joined Marty in the kitchen. Self-exploration would have to wait until later.

After the most delicious milkshake I'd ever had in my life, I went back upstairs. I found myself just staring at my tits in the mirror - they were no more than a handful, at most, but I'd heard boys saying that anything larger was just a waste...and I certainly wasn't complaining. I couldn't believe I had tits!

I was even tempted to skip school, just to spend the day exploring the new sexual feelings coursing through my body, but I knew it wasn't worth it, and so quickly got dressed and left for school.

When I arrived, something else hit me - I was a B-cup girl, which meant that if I found someone I liked, and we dated for a while...we could have sex. And it would be good!

Suddenly, all the men around me weren't just men, they were potential boyfriends, potential partners. Gary, who had always been extremely friendly - perhaps he'd been flirting this whole time, and I just hadn't noticed. Paul, who was in my home economics class...Timothy, from physical education...after a while I got so into it, I even started looking at some of the younger teachers differently.

The day passed in a blur - I barely focussed on my schoolwork. Where yesterday I'd been looking out over the cafeteria, examining and analysing the girls based on bra-size, now I was doing the same for the boys...today, I decided, I'd rank them, and tomorrow I'd start my way down the list. Perhaps I'd even learn to flirt, something that had always escaped me in the past...

After school, I raced upstairs and slammed the door. Finally, I knew what it was to be a woman - looking at all those boys today had actually managed to get me all hot and bothered, and now, alone in my room, I was going to do it.

I was going to have my first orgasm.

One hand reached up and grabbed my left tit - it actually felt larger than it had that morning, but perhaps that was just a side-effect of being turned on - and started drawing small circles around my nipple. My other hand reached down, and just like earlier in the day, started stroking up and down my pussy-lips. I hadn't taken my panties off, not yet, and when I glanced down, I was far too delighted to see that my wetness was visible through the thin fabric.

Shutting my eyes, I imagined one of the boys that was definitely in my top three - Patrick, one of the footballers. I imagined asking him out, him saying yes...us going on a few nice, chaste dates...and then, after we'd been together for a month or two, driving out to a make-out point, and kissing each other.

Kissing each other passionately.

As my fingers pushed my panties aside and made direct contact with my kitty, I thought about what would happen next: things would keep on escalating. Maybe after we'd been together for six months, after we'd gotten each other hot and horny time after time, we'd find ourselves wanting to go further, to second...maybe even third base.

I pictured his cock slipping into my mouth, my tongue circling his head. I wondered if he'd be interested in going down on me, feeling his lips where my hand was now. Perhaps he'd like to...finger me. I'd heard the term, but never before truly understood the appeal.

Perhaps one of his fingers would slip between my lips, as my own fingers were doing now. Would he know how to find the clit...it seemed so obvious to me, but that was because I'd accidentally brushed against it, and felt how sensitive it was.

Breathing heavily, I swallowed. I was getting close, and I knew exactly what would push me over the edge. After we'd been together for a year, maybe more, then Patrick would...take my virginity. He'd do everything right, carry me upstairs into my bedroom, on a weekend when no one was home. We'd fool around for an hour before we built up the courage, and then...

His cock (which I was already imagining in great detail) would part my pussy-lips, and he'd enter me. He'd enter me, over and over again, until we both climaxed...

I could almost hear the sound of his pleasure, and my fingers reached up and rubbed the small nub that I'd been avoiding. My hips thrust forward as I experienced my first orgasm, cumming softly at the thought of my long-term future boyfriend taking me for the first time...

As the last waves of arousal subsided, I sat up, a glow on my face that hadn't been there before. I was a woman, and tomorrow...I was going to go out and get myself a man.

Big Tits Theory

by Pan

Wednesday:

"No..." I said to myself in shock. "No, this...this can't be."

Somehow, overnight, my breasts had grown another cup-size. I was no longer the B-cup that I'd been so happy with the previous morning (and extremely happy with the previous night) - I'd somehow grown two cup-sizes in two days. I'd gone from being the nice, sexual, respectable girl...to being what Marty had called "Girl Plus". Not a compliment, not when you knew what it meant.

C-cups...were easy. Not nearly as bad as D-cups, of course, but certainly not prudes. As someone who had been as un-easy as possible just a few days ago, I was barely adjusting to having a normal, healthy sex-life...now I was going to be easy.

I stood in front of the mirror in shock, until the knock on the door pulled me out of my stupor.

"Sis?" Marty's voice said, and when I didn't reply, the door began to open.

"Coming!" I said, quickly turning and putting a shirt on.

I'd gone to school yesterday without a bra - I hadn't had a choice. Originally I'd been planning to go after school and get myself a nice, new B-cup...but it looked like my sudden growth spurt wasn't over yet. There's only a certain tit-size that you can get away with going braless, and let me tell you - it certainly isn't C.

I decided to wear three layers - surely, I thought, that would be enough to hide my nipples...but as I slipped a singlet on, I shuddered with pleasure and realized that I had another problem.

The sensitivity of my nipples had apparently doubled along with my cup-size, and as the material came into contact with them, I discovered that they were quickly becoming my most erogenous zone. Every time I moved, the thin fabric brushed across them, and try as I might, I couldn't help but pause and enjoy the feeling.

On top of the singlet I wore a tight T-shirt, and then a thick woollen jumper above that. It wasn't my most flattering ensemble (although I had to admit, having C-cups made almost anything look good) but it hid the constant-hardness of my nipples, and as long as I was careful with how I moved, I only stimulated myself every two or three steps.

If that's how good my new boobs feel, I thought to myself as I descended the stairs, pausing in pleasure sporadically, I can't wait to see what masturbating as a C-cup is like...

I tried to decline my brother's offer of a milkshake - I wanted to leave as quickly as possible, and try to buy a new bra from the mall, anything that would help keep my nipples under control - but he was so excited about some new combination of flavors that I eventually gave in, and sat down to try it.

"Stella loved it," he said, and I looked at him with confusion.

"Stella from my school?"

"Yeah," he said casually, avoiding my eyes. "I went out with her last night. She's really...fun."

I couldn't stop a smile from passing over my lips.

"Fun, is she?"

Marty looked at me and just grinned in response.

After a few sips of Marty's new milkshake (which somehow managed to be even more delicious than the one he'd made yesterday) I tried to casually bring up the Big Tits Theory.

"Hey yeah," Marty said, glancing at my new boobs. "I was going to ask you about that..."

"Oh, it's, uh...I thought it might be a good idea to pretend to have larger boobs than I do. You know...get the boys in. Advertising."

"False advertising," Marty said with a laugh, nodding. "Classic A-cup. What did you want to know?"

"C-cups," I said firmly. There was always a chance that my boobs hadn't finished growing yet, but I'd cross that bridge when I got to it. "What can you tell me about them?"

"Well," he said slowly. "I mean, my speciality is D-cups, but I can tell you a bit. Think of them like...like shy guys. Shy guys are always horny, and if they think someone likes them, they'll make a move, and go pretty much as far as the other party wants. They won't sleep with someone they've just met, but who's going to turn down a b-job? They're not freaks...but they don't really play hard-to-get, either."

I nodded. Everything he'd said made total sense to me - the nipple stimulation had ensured that I was horny from the minute I put some clothes on, and yeah...it definitely wouldn't take much for me to take those clothes off again!

I thanked Marty for the milkshake, looked at the time, and cursed. I'd missed my chance to go to the mall...in fact, I'd have to run if I was going to get to school on time at all.

And running with my new tits was definitely not something I was looking forward to.

###

I managed to get through the first half of the day without doing anything to embarrass myself. Although, honestly, I was finding it harder and harder to work out what would embarrass me.

Boys had noticed. Of course they'd noticed, they were boys...and remembering what Marty said, I acted the part of the shy guy. I didn't initiate anything, not even when some of the top contenders from yesterday's list came to say hi.

But it was mid-June, and way too hot for three layers. I'd been at school for less than an hour when I caved, and took the woollen jumper off - I was drowning in sweat, and knew that I wouldn't last the rest of the day buried under so many layers.

As I'd feared, without the jumper, my nipples were clearly visible. The T-shirt I'd bought back when my breasts were tiny was stretched obscenely by my new C-cups, bulging out and making it nearly impossible for any boy to keep his eyes on my face.

Worst of all, the stimulation hadn't gone down, and drawing so much male attention did nothing but accentuate it. And so as soon as the bell rang for lunch, I got up out of my seat and ran (causing a bouncing that I'd seen on other girls but never expected to experience myself) straight for the bathroom to get myself off.

How odd, I thought, that something I'd never done before yesterday was suddenly so vital to getting through the rest of the day. And vital it was - as soon as I was in the stall, my shirt and singlet were up against my neck, and my pants were down.

Pinching and groping at my new tits, I moaned loudly. It felt so...so good. Yesterday's session was like a light drizzle - this was more akin to a heavy rain. I plunged one hand down into my panties, and went straight for the clit - no foreplay was necessary. As I pinched and tugged at my left nipple, two fingers entered my virgin hole, over and over, and my thumb ran over my clit, lubricated more than enough by my freely-flowing juices.

I imagined pleasing all the boys that had spent the day staring at me - I imagined them pulling me aside, taking me into an empty classroom, forcing me to my knees, and pulling their cocks out. I wanted to suck them off, all of them - I wanted to feel their cum splashing against the back of my throats, taste their sweat. I wanted them to use me.

It was that image which made me cum - just like I had the previous night, my hips bucked forward, wanting to press and push against an imaginary cock. Some part of me wanted to be fucked, I knew that...but I was still a C-cup. Second, third base...that would satiate me.

For now.

I deliberately avoided thinking about what would happen if my tits kept growing, cleaned myself up, and left (after checking to make sure that there had been no one else in the bathroom).

As I walked down the corridor, I felt much more relaxed than I had all morning. I was okay. I was in control. There was nothing to worry about...

It was a feeling that quickly disappeared as I noticed the stares.