D-Cup Blues

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YDB95
YDB95
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"That's a joke, right?" Rick demanded, trying to step in front of Caryn as they approached her physics classroom. "Miss Amazon Woman here, going with a wimp like that?"

Caryn stepped deftly around him and turned into her classroom. "Nope," she said over her shoulder with a triumphant grin.

"That little pecker's dead!" Rick growled. "You hear me, Caryn? Unless you dump him for me, then I'll leave him alone. You got that?"

"Dump who, Rick?" asked Cindy Lemear, who'd also just arrived in class.

"I'm going to the Valentine's dance with Dave McCarter," Caryn told her. "And Rick isn't taking the news very well."

"Rick!" Cindy said, fearlessly touching his cheek. "Don't you know there are plenty of us in the sea for you? Besides, if you beat Caryn's friends up, she'll beat you up, you know."

"Dude, she will!" added Rick's pal Chip Kramer.

Rick looked about to let fly with a comeback when Ms. Dyer stepped into the classroom. "This isn't remedial science, Rick," she advised him. "Get out."

For once, Rick did as he was told. Caryn got her notebook out of her backpack and didn't give Rick another thought -- she'd already been fighting him off for ages -- but Chip's comment hung in her mind. "Dude, she will."

Caryn hadn't sought out her reputation at all. It was just a fact of life in a town big enough that the kids didn't all know each other, and small enough that some of them had known each other since kindergarten at least. It was the kind of place where an incident on the playground in the fourth grade could follow you around until you graduated from high school, no matter how much you changed along the way.

"Who's Jon picking on now?" Audrey asked toward the end of recess that day. "A girl?"

Caryn, already a foot taller and better able to see, stood up and craned her neck. "No, it's a boy. A little boy! It looks like Jane Hermann's little brother."

"Matthew?!" Audrey said. "He's only in third grade! Jon wouldn't -"

"Of course he would!" And with one thought only in her mind - Jon wouldn't hit her back because all the boys would never want anything to do with a boy who it a girl - she was off like a shot.

"Caryn! What are you doing?!" She heard Audrey's panicked exclamation, but all she saw was Jon about to beat little Matthew to a pulp and run off with his money.

Jon saw her coming, but that didn't faze him. "Caryn, get lost," he snapped, not looking away from Matthew's terrified face as he kept his fist at the ready. "This is MY five dollars!"

"Let him go, McClegg!"

"Fuck you, you cunt."

"I said let him go!" She gave Jon a shove hard enough to knock him down and lose his grip on Matthew, although not before he pulled Matthew over with him. Still crying in terror, the little boy got up and tore off, managing a feeble "Thanks, Caryn" through his blubbering.

"You bitch!" Jon started to get up, but Caryn straddled him and punched him in the temple, hard enough to knock his head against the grassy ground.

When Jon responded only by wrapping both arms around his head and curling up, Caryn stood up to go. For good measure she gave him a swift kick in the balls, and added, "Pick on someone your own size next time, huh?"

One detention and a thank-you from Matthew and Jane's mother later, Caryn forgot the whole thing. Until late that spring when she and Audrey were out riding their bikes around Blodgett Street. As she dipped in and out of the cul-de-sacs, a boy's voice in one of the side yards caught her ear. "Mike, hide! It's Caryn!"

Hide?! Caryn slammed on her coaster brakes and listened. "Caryn! Haven't you heard of her? She hates boys! She broke a kid's balls once! Stay away from her!"

Caryn looked down at her tall, gangling self, swathed in jeans and sneakers and the windbreaker she'd gotten for her birthday, and wondered what on earth there was to be terrified of. She did hate boys, true, but it wasn't as though she went around looking for trouble with them.

The accusation stung at first. But by the time she got back to her house for dinner that day, the hurt had turned to pleasure. Boys were scared of her?! She couldn't help but like the sound of that.

Caryn had come to like it. She had gotten over her dislike of boys, but she'd still enjoyed knowing the nasty ones were afraid of her. When she'd started blossoming a couple of years later, she'd figured that would be that as far as her terror-of-the-playground reputation was concerned. Which was just one of many reasons why she'd disliked her then-new breasts. The unwelcome monthly guest was even worse, but at least no one had to know about that, and she had come to like the way her curvy hips looked in tight jeans. But from day one, her breasts were nothing but a nuisance even back when she'd been able to fool herself about their size.

To her surprise, though, that had only made the boys more afraid of her for some silly reason. So she'd learned to live with them then. Now, knowing "Dude, she will" still held sway with the guys, it was a perverse relief to know being a 38-D wouldn't stop her from striking fear into the bullies' hearts, she conceded.

And they had felt so right pressed up against Dave's chest!

Newspaper was Dave and Maureen's last class of the day ("Yes, Newspaper is a class at our school," Dave could still recall explaining more than once to the kids he'd met at honors camp last summer), and Mrs. Cutchins, the faculty advisor and also Dave and Maureen's English teacher freshman year, mostly kept to herself and let the seniors run the show. This Dave did most capably and confidently, and the memory of their conversation at lunch had Maureen once again amazed at the change in her old friend.

But he did appear to forget the last item on the agenda on the whiteboard. So as he went over the final layout plans for the current issue, Maureen spoke up. "Dave, what about the elections?"

"Oh, right," Dave said. "How could I forget that, now that we've drafted Tom?"

Maureen noticed that when he looked back up at the whiteboard, Dave leaned in and squinted to read the final item. "Can you see okay, Dave?" she asked.

"Of course!" he answered a bit too firmly. "Anyway, yeah, the election. Anyone know who's running besides Tom and Kelly?"

"Tom Ciseros is running?" piped up Meredith, the sports editor. "That's hilarious!"

"Rick and Kelly'll kick his ass," said Chris, Dave's second in command along with Maureen. "What's he thinking?"

"He's thinking of an anti-bullying platform," Maureen said. "What's wrong with that?"

"What's wrong is he's the wrong kid do it," Meredith said. "Kelly could get away with that. But he won't, especially against Rick."

"I don't know," Chris said. "You know Doug is running too?"

"Doug Corman?!" Maureen exclaimed.

"He and Rick hate each other anymore, ever since homecoming," Chris said. "Did you hear about the bungled play?"

"We were there," Dave and Maureen said in unison, exchanging knowing looks as they recalled what else had happened that night involving Rick.

"He and Doug blame each other for losing the game, still," Meredith said. "I think Doug just jumped in to spoil it for Rick. But if the vote is split enough ways..."

"Yeah, probably," Dave said. Privately he was already thinking how the bitter rivalry could help Tom, but it wouldn't do for the editor in chief to take sides.

It took about ten minutes to draft a brief rundown of who was running, and then Dave gave the freshmen staff their orders for typesetting, an unglamorous job the youngest on staff always got stuck with. Most of the others had cleared out of the room by the time he'd finished, but he looked up to see Maureen still in the doorway. "So what do you think about Tom's chances now?" he asked her.

"I think he's still going to come in last," she said as they both stepped out into the hallway. "But good for him for trying, huh?"

"I'm not so sure he will," Dave said. "If Doug and Rick and Kelly all split the jock vote, who knows what'll happen?"

"Kelly's got the troublemakers' vote locked down, though, with that slogan," Maureen said. Kelly's first posters had a slogan -- "What the hell, vote for Kel" -- that had gotten them torn down by the teachers almost immediately and earned a warning from the principal, but they'd been a hit with the students all the same.

"I wonder if they'll even vote, though?" Dave asked.

"McCotter!" came an angry growl from the boys' locker room doorway.

Instinctively, Dave and Maureen both turned at the mispronunciation of Dave's last name that he'd had to live with ever since a clueless substitute teacher back at Northside had insisted upon it. Neither of them was surprised to see Rick standing in the doorway. "Get lost, bitch," he said to Maureen as he stepped towards them.

Maureen hooked her arm through Dave's. "Come on, Dave," she said. Dave swallowed hard, a memory of Rick kicking him in the back in the Northside boys' room roaring through his mind, and he followed her lead and ignored him.

But Rick wasn't having any of that. "Talkin' to you, asswipe!" he said, grabbing Dave's shoulder and spinning him around. "I'm giving you one chance and one chance only, tell Caryn you changed your mind about takin' her to the dance. You got that?"

"What?!" Maureen let go of Dave's arm, unable to hide her dismay at the news.

"You mean the two of you didn't even tell the rest of your friends?" Rick said. "Ain't no way to treat a lady, McCotter. Now you tell Caryn she ought to go with me instead, or you're goin' to graduation in a wheelchair. You got that?"

"I'm not afraid of you, Rick," Dave lied, and he turned around and walked off with Maureen. All those years with the girls had at least taught him to feign confidence. None of the girls knew about Rick's attack on him in the bathroom all those years before, and he liked it that way. No need for his best friends to know he'd been an even bigger peon than they thought before he'd gotten to know them.

"You think Caryn would ever go out with you again after homecoming?!" Maureen said over her shoulder.

Rick was still hissing threats at him as they strolled down the hall, but Dave didn't hear just what they were because usually-taciturn Maureen was now talking a mile a minute. "When did you ask Caryn to the dance? Was it because she wore nice clothes for once today, is that it? Or did she ask you?!"

"Yes, she asked me," Dave said. "It was right after lunch today, and I was as surprised as you. Do you know, did she have a crush on me?"

"Years ago, Dave," Maureen said. "Maybe freshman year. She never mentioned it again after you and Michelle started going out." She chuckled at the memory. "We were all a little jealous of her, to tell you the truth."

"She knew," Dave admitted. "I think she was jealous of you, too. It was always, 'do you really need all those girlfriends?'" He shook his head. "Just as well my dad told me to stop seeing her, I guess."

"Is that what happened?" Maureen asked. "We never knew."

"I didn't want to admit that was why," Dave said. "But now, I mean, ancient history, right? Anyway, the dance -- I figured we could all go as friends, and really, we still can. If you're going?"

"Probably not." Maureen smiled through her hurt. "I have to get to choir practice."

She didn't look back at her old friend as she parted ways with him by the lockers and shuffled off to the music department. Her own damn fault, she told herself. All these years he'd never made a move, and she hadn't either. She'd had that year or so he was on and off with Michelle to learn her lesson and not miss another opportunity, and here it was two years since that had finally ended. But it just hadn't seemed right to bring romance into their little gang.

She was right, she saw now. It wasn't right at all.

Maureen wasn't the type to cry in public. And when she arrived in the practice room, her eyes were still mostly dry. Mostly, but not quite entirely. As she took a seat near the risers and waited for the others to trickle in, she set about getting control of herself. Not wanting to answer questions from any of her girlfriends right now, she made a point of sitting near the end where the baritones stood. Too late, she realized that made her ripe for any guy who wanted to show off his sensitive side.

Nothing could have prepared her for just which guy would take the bait. Scott Bransky of all people -- Dave's former friend -- was the first to approach her. "Hi, Maureen," he said in a gentle tone no friend of Dave heard him use very often. "Everything okay?"

"Fine, Scott," she said, taking a deep breath. "Thanks. Just -- just stressed out with the new semester, you know? And the cold."

"Oh, I know!" Scott said. "I've got some Day-Quil here somewhere, if you'd like." Before Maureen could open her mouth to say no thanks, he was already sifting through the backpack he'd been carrying around since probably the fifth grade or so. "They say it's the worst flu season in years, and I believe it! Ah, here." He pulled out a box and presented it to her as enticingly as a box of chocolates.

"Thanks, Scott," she said. "That's really nice of you."

"I can imagine Dave might have told you otherwise, you know," Scott said. "But look..."

"Forget about Dave," Maureen said, managing to sound almost cheerful as she did, for a wonderful idea had just come to her. "Listen, Scott, have you got a date for the Valentine's dance yet?"

Of course Caryn's mother was delighted at the news, and of course she just had to share with Gordon, who grilled Caryn endlessly about Dave over dinner. "Newspaper? French club? Sounds like a nerd to me, Caryn. You could do better than a drip like that!"

"Gordon, stop!" Mom protested. "David is a wonderful young man. You'll love him, I promise."

"I doubt it," Gordon said. "Sounds like the kind of kid we used to love to corner in the locker room."

"Gordon, that's a terrible thing to say!" But Mom laughed as she said it. "Caryn, he doesn't mean that, you know that."

No, Caryn thought to herself. No, she didn't. Caryn had never been so happy to have homework in her life.

She'd been lucky enough to avoid Gordon for the rest of the evening. But as she lay awake in bed the next morning and watched the winter dawn in the trees outside her window, Gordon's last comment hung pleasantly heavy in her mind. Not that this was anything more than one date for the time being, and either way they'd be parting ways in August for college. And yet...

She couldn't help but think of all it implied.

Caryn hadn't had sex with anyone but Rick. But she had been with him enough times to realize even with a brute like him, she liked it. A lot. All the more so for the fact that she hadn't yet been with a gentleman like Dave -- what might the fun of the sex be like if it also came with true love from a wonderful guy?

Caryn looked at her alarm clock. Plenty of time for a bit of fun before she got up. She bent down over the edge of her bed and pulled out the old shoebox whose contents even Mom knew nothing about, courtesy of a cooperative older cousin and a summer's worth of chore money. Lying back on the bed with the toy clutched in one hand, she pulled her pajama bottoms off with the other hand. She turned on her clock radio and turned the volume up as loud as she dared, and flicked the switch on the toy.

With the first tentative teasing around her vulva, Caryn closed her eyes and saw Dave coming to her bed. It wasn't her real bed; it was a big one in a hotel room somewhere from the looks of it. Were they on their honeymoon? She sensed they were. He was naked, and as he peeled back the sheets she found she was as well. Naked, yet utterly comfortable in his presence, and exulting in the glory of his bare body. She saw herself wrapping one hand gently around his hardness and loving the plump firmness, and the sweet vulnerability as he reacted to her touch. It wasn't a weapon the way Darren had always used his. More like a sign of love itself, prominent and proud and just for her, and she was dying to take it inside her -- but not before they had a few more minutes to admire one another's full glory. She even welcomed his hands on her despised breasts -- and with his loving caresses all over them, suddenly she didn't hate them anymore. She didn't exactly love them, but she loved that he loved them.

Caryn was rubbing harder and more directly now as she saw herself guiding Dave between her spread legs, and she felt the first delicious contact as she guided him inside. Her old friend's face close up against hers, eyes and lips meeting, as he pushed gently but firmly all the way in -- a feeling she'd been missing lately, but it was worth the wait -- and the thrill of him safe in her warm, wet embrace...

Caryn came so hard she forgot herself and let out a yelp loud enough to be heard out in the hallway.

She caught herself a second too late, and listened for some response. Nothing but the buzzing of the vibrator, now lying harmlessly beside her on the bed. Caryn sighed with a chuckle of relief, and switched it off. She set it back in its hiding place and pulled her pajama bottoms back on, and gathered up her clothes for the day to get dressed after her shower, feeling exhilarated about the first full day in which she and Dave had the prom to look forward to.

"Good morning, Caryn. Are you okay?" Gordon was standing just outside her door in his bathrobe, a look of utterly fake concern on his face.

"Am I okay?" Disgusted but not at all surprised, Caryn felt her face redden as she realized what he must have heard.

"It sounded like you cut yourself shaving your legs in there. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Avoiding his gaze, she ducked around him and headed for the bathroom.

"You really ought to shave your legs in the bathroom, you know. It's more hygienic. And you probably shouldn't carry your clothes in there before your shower, either. They'll get damp."

"Thank you so much for your concern." Caryn shut the bathroom door and locked it, despite her mother's years of warnings not to ("What if you slip in the shower, and you're locked inside?"), and set her clothes on top of the hamper. Her earlier sense of contentment shattered, she pulled her pajamas off and stood before the mirror. Stop hating your body!, she ordered herself as she took both breasts in her hands and held them up in the mirror. Surely Dave really would adore them just as much as she admired, and after all, like Mom had said, it wasn't as though she hadn't had them for several years already. Dave will love them. He'll love you. Don't let Gordon take that away!

She was back to wearing jeans, and a slightly tighter top than yesterday. That brought the neon back to full-blast, but having survived the first day in her new bra, Caryn was a bit less fearful of anyone taking notice. It was bound to happen sooner or later, and who cared about that when "Dude, she will!" still held sway? This time she didn't even try to put her bra on the old-fashioned way first. No point in being a fool about the whole thing, she mused as she fastened the clasp in front first.

There was, in any event, much bigger news than Caryn's bra size around the lunch table that day. "Is this bizarre-world or what?!" Valerie demanded. "First the two of you," she said to Caryn and Dave, side by side and sitting a bit closer together than usual, "and Maureen, you asked Scott Bransky to the Valentine's dance?!"

"You asked anyone!" Audrey corrected. "I thought you wanted nothing to do with the whole thing! And didn't you always call Scott 'the most annoying boy in the universe'?"

"I just figured why not?" Maureen said. "Scott didn't have a date either and hey, it's better than watching TV while all our friends are at the dance." She chose to pass over in silence the names Audrey had once called Dave.

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