Jocelyn 2

Jocelyn woke to find three faces staring down at her from above.  Though she was disoriented, tired, thirsty, and had a nasty headache, she had no problem recognizing them—it was the senior counselor, the camp director, and the camp nurse, all with extremely concerned expressions.  When she opened her eyes, they looked instantly glad, but continued to give her the occasional worried look.  They said a few words to her, but they only seemed like gibberish.  Finally, she had the presence of mind to say, "Water…"

Her normally high voice was surprisingly scratchy and low due to the lack of moisture.  Someone hurried off and returned with a paper cup of water as the nurse slowly sat her up.  Jocelyn eagerly downed the contents of the cup in several gulps.  It was quite some time before she completely came to and felt able to carry on a conversation with anyone.  She had a sandwich to eat, which seemed to bring her to her senses.  After her sandwich, however, the only thing that she could truly remember next was being driven to the ER by her mom.  Her dad followed behind, driving Jocelyn's car.

After a surprisingly short wait, the ER doctor was apprised of the situation, and began to run some simple tests on Jocelyn, which would be the first of many to come.  The first tests were inconclusive, except that Jocelyn was hypoglycemic, so she and her parents were instructed to be sure that Jocelyn got something with sugar to eat if she ever felt faint.

The advice of the ER doctor was confirmed time and again by the specialist that Jocelyn was referred to as she was bombarded with tests.  For almost a week straight, her days were full of all kinds of appointments at different facilities around town that her specialist had ordered.  She sat one day in his office, as the doctor had an uncertain look on his face.  This can't be good, she thought as she sat with her mom.

"I have to be honest with you," the specialist began, "I've never seen a case like this in all of my years of practice.  By all accounts, you and your whole family have assured me that you're eating normally, and I trust that this is indeed the case.  But these symptoms aren't going away, even with a normal diet.  You don't have any form of diabetes.  You don't have any pancreatic tumors.  You are truly a mystery, Jocelyn."

"Heh, I could use a little less mystery in my life right now," she responded.

"I'm sure you could," said the doctor as he seemed to be reflecting on something.  "You know, I'm not sure if you are aware of this option or not, but there are several experimental treatments for these types of symptoms.  I know the word 'experimental' is kind of scary, but I've prescribed this medication to some of my other patients with unspecified hypoglycemia, and they've had good results.  The only other option I see is to let you continue as you are, but I'll be honest—that could be dangerous with a blood sugar as low as yours," said the doctor as he noticed Jocelyn's mother's eyebrow rise.  "Please rest assured that I would never recommend any experimental treatment to any of my patients unless they were safe enough that I would give them to my own children."

"At this point, I think I'm willing to try anything, especially if it's safe and has good results.  I just don't want to feel like this anymore," said Jocelyn, "but I wouldn't mind becoming as educated as I can about whatever I'm going to be put through."

The doctor was happy to oblige, as he and Jocelyn had an interesting conversation about the human digestive system.  In a few minutes, Jocelyn had a good grasp on this experimental treatment she would receive.  It was a pill to be taken three times a day that would help ensure the breakdown of glycogen into glucose, so that her body would have a regular supply of energy.  In addition to this medication, her specialist recommended spreading out her meals throughout the day to the point of eating seven to nine small meals, rather than three larger ones.  "It might be a bit of an adjustment to have a constant stream of small well-balanced meals ready at any given time, but with discipline, you can take great preventative measures against these episodes of fatigue."

"Oh, believe me," Jocelyn's mom said, "If all it will take to make this go away is a few pills and keeping a constant supply of food in the fridge, then that's what'll happen!"

***

So that's exactly what the family did.  It was a team effort: Jocelyn made a list of all of her favorite foods, her mother Janice reviewed the list to make sure there was at least some protein in all of her selections, and her dad Ben promised not to eat all of it as long as it was properly labeled.

"If the name 'Jocelyn' isn't written on it, it's fair game!" he insisted with a laugh.

Ever since the incident at camp, Janice had been worried sick over Jocelyn's health, so she was more than happy to put in the extra time cooking and grocery shopping to make this nightmare go away.  Even Ben volunteered to put in some time cooking for Jocelyn when he was able.  Jocelyn pitched in too, of course, but this health incident had put Jocelyn's mom and dad into hyper-parenting mode, so they almost insisted on doing all of the cooking and food prep.  Of course, not all of the items on her list required cooking—like Jocelyn's old favorite, peanut butter and jelly—but her parents made sure that she had a nice variety so that she didn't come to hate food altogether.

They all soon found that their concern was not really worth worrying about.  Jocelyn quickly got used to having food on hand all of the time.  And she felt great!  She could hardly remember ever having so much energy in her entire life.  The adjustment wasn't without its inconveniences.  It was somewhat embarrassing to have to take food with her wherever she went, and sometimes she would be hit with a spell of fatigue in the most inconvenient places.  At first the idea of standing in a checkout line and having to chow down on some peanut butter celery sticks was a little embarrassing, but it soon became a routine that she practiced unapologetically.

After a few days had gone by since the camp incident, Jocelyn noticed a slow change beginning to creep over her body.  Sure, actually having energy was a new sensation in itself, and it was weird to eat all the time because it made her feel constantly full, but those changes were pretty much expected.  This wasn't.

One morning, she ate the first of her small meals—a high protein health bar—and began to get dressed in front of her mirror.  After lifting her pajama shirt over her head, she noticed it felt a bit different as the fabric brushed over the skin of her torso.  "Wow, those are new," she said to herself out loud in surprise.

Jocelyn fully expected to see her usual angular upper body, with her sharp-looking ribs and a chest so flat that her breasts were only identifiable because of her rosy nipples.  Instead, as she looked in the mirror, the harsh angles seemed to have disappeared.  Two mounds of flesh were beginning to grow around the perimeter of each teat.  Sure, there was barely a crease in the flesh underneath her new growths, but hell, she was getting boobs!  She smiled as a small celebration in the shallow corner of her mind took place.  Of course, her inner jubilation was accompanied by the more sensible scientific part of her, which gave herself a proverbial pat on the back because she was actually beginning to look healthy.

Now a thin sheet of fat covered her ribs, and even disguised a bit of her protruding hip bones.  She ran a hand down her stomach from the top of her abdomen, down past her navel.  Just beneath her belly button, she pinched some skin.  Her smile began to show her teeth as she discovered that it was somewhat soft and pliable, in contrast to its previously drawn and empty state.  

She turned around to examine her rear end and discovered another surprise.  The fabric of her panties was taut, and the elastic felt tighter.  She poked her fingers underneath the band and gave the elastic an experimental snap.  A jiggle!  Could a girl get so lucky as to finally get an ass and a pair of boobs in one day?  Well, of course not, she answered herself in her mind.  I was just so distracted with my health that I didn't notice the gradual change.  After all, I've been eating pretty much nonstop for two weeks.  The results are highly fascinating, though.  I wonder when this weight gain will plateau? she thought to herself.  The last thought was posed more out of curiosity rather than concern.  She had probably gained about five or seven pounds, maybe.  What would she look like after gaining twenty?  

Images of a busty, hourglass-figured seductress wearing a red dress popped into her mind.  Of course, if she were to assume this new role as the busty seductress, she would have a significant evolutionary advantage over aspiring beauties due to the fact that she actually had an IQ.  "Seductress?" she said as she looked in the mirror and laughed.  "I think I'll have to settle for a new haircut first."  Her cherry-blond locks were pressed onto one side of her head, with a few stray strands pointing up to the ceiling.  Jocelyn's bangs hung limply on one side of her forehead, while the other side was splayed in all directions like peacock feathers.  "And maybe a shower before the haircut."

She removed her panties, put on her bathrobe and walked of her room and into the hall to the bathroom.  Before she could even open the door, the phone rang.  Walking hurriedly to the phone, she reached it within the space of a couple rings and answered, "Hello?"

"Jocelyn?" said a familiar voice.

"Hi, Dave!  It's me." she said.

"Hi," he said with a brusque tone of voice.

"Um, hi," she replied.  "What's up?"

"Look…" Dave said.  He paused for several seconds before continuing, "I don't know what's going on.  Maybe you're mad at me or something and that's the reason you haven't called, or even bothered to write me while you were gone at camp, but this is just… unacceptable."

"Dave, hold on.  Geez, I don't even know where to start.  First of all,"

"No, let me finish please.  What really pushes it over the edge for me is that all this time I've been really worried about you.  And for all that, you'd think that you could at least call and give me an update on your life, or your health, or how camp went.  We haven't hung out forever.  It's almost like we're not even dating anymo— "

Jocelyn cut him off, "Dave, would you just let me get in a word or two here?  I haven't been able to call or write because things went crazy at camp.  For the first four days, there was NO spare time when I could have even dreamed of sitting down and writing you.  There's no cell phone coverage up there either.  And on Friday—"

"Busyness happens though, Jocelyn.  That's just life.  I found the time to call you even though I'm doing 70 hours a week of work, didn't I?" Dave interjected.

"And on Friday," Jocelyn continued as though Dave didn't even speak, "I passed out and had to be rushed to the emergency room."  She proceeded to relate the whole story to Dave, outlining all of the tests and doctor's appointments she was put through.  Dave was silent through the whole explanation.

When Jocelyn finished, he said, "I honestly don't know what to say.  I'm really sorry.  I guess I've just missed you lately and hoped you would call."

"No, don't feel bad," Jocelyn said with mock sincerity.  "I really need to be going now."

"Wait," said Dave.  "Are we still going to have that barbecue at your place on the Fourth of July?"

"Yeah, sure," said Jocelyn in her state of being shell-shocked from the tone of the conversation.

"Okay, see you then," said Dave.

"Bye."

Jocelyn hung up, wishing that Dave would have just continued to distance himself from her instead of putting her through such torment.  As much as she wanted closure, she couldn't bear to have a serious discussion about their relationship on the phone.  Otherwise, she might have just broken up with Dave on the spot.  No, no.  As tempting as it is, we have to sort through this in person.  That's the healthiest way.

After considering all of his behavior to this point, however, she thought that it was almost like he was trying to get her to break up with him then and there on purpose.  As soon as the thought entered her mind, she decided she would have to do it.  Jocelyn would break up with Dave on the Fourth.  She had enough worries in her life already to have to put up with this nonsense.  Walking into the bathroom, she began to put together tactful sentences like, "It's not me, it's you," and, "So long, douchebag," in preparation for Dave's official termination from the office of boyfriend.

As she removed her bathrobe and once again looked into a mirror, she thought, "Oh well.  At least I have two new friends to keep me company.  Right girls?"  She stroked her small, but round, bosoms playfully, making them bounce as well as could be expected for their modest size.

***

After Jocelyn resolutely made up her mind to break up with Dave, her mood became much lighter, as if a burden had been lifted from her shoulders.  Something about that whole situation was wrong, and she was glad to finally be able to put it behind her.  Though she had decided to do so a good two weeks before the Fourth, when Dave and Jocelyn had planned on seeing each other next, she was so sure that it was the right thing to do that she hardly gave it a second thought.  When the relationship did come to her mind, she never really reconsidered her decision.  After all, any relationship where both parties could go weeks without seeing or speaking to each other was one hardly worth maintaining.  Multiple times she thought about telling Dave not to come, and never officially ending the relationship, but she was concerned that Dave's loudmouth personality would put her reputation at risk if she decided to date someone else, or even hang out with another guy.  Plus, she preferred to do things honorably.  It was how she was raised.

One thing she had difficulty making up her mind about, however, was her hair.  She knew something needed to change.  Those bangs were just ridiculous, and a change in hairstyle would suit the other changes she was experiencing in her life rather well.  Jocelyn looked through dozens of catalogues, and consulted her mother and a few of her friends for what seemed like a whole week before she finally settled on a decision.  The cut was short, yet tastefully feminine, with just a dash of darker coloring to make the shape of the style more dynamic.  Much to her own surprise, the style she chose had straight cut bangs, but the shape of the rest of the cut gave it a more modern look.  Her friend Beth described it as halfway between hipster and something you'd see in Japanese fashion.

When it came to deciding which stylist to go to, the decision wasn't a difficult one.  Jocelyn chose a renowned salon called "Vibrant," which was a favorite of almost every young woman she knew.  She arrived early after setting up her appointment, but she found she was getting her hair washed by her stylist before she knew it.  The woman, whose name was Amber, was clearly a confident professional who put Jocelyn at ease with pleasant conversation, and was very complimentary of the 19-year-old's appearance.  "You have the rare gift of being the perfect size, you know?" said Amber.  "You're just small enough to fit in cute designer clothes, but not too skinny.  Oh, the things I could wear if I was your size."

"Thank you," Jocelyn replied as her cheeks turned pink.  

In truth, Jocelyn didn't think Amber was that big.  In fact, in the back of her mind—the shallower part—she had always been somewhat envious of girls like Amber.  The stylist was very busty and wore a white blouse with silver floral stitching that showed a generous, but tasteful amount of cleavage that quivered with each step she took.  In spite of their size, the round bosoms retained their shape, even when Amber leaned forward as she worked.  Her hair was just past shoulder length, black with a pink streak down the right side that started all the way up in the roots to one side of her part.  Her hair perfectly framed her soft face, and a gentle crease below her chin mostly indicated a soft neck, rather than a ponderous double chin.  Jocelyn couldn't see Amber's clavicles, which she thought was definitely a point in Amber's favor.  Jocelyn was, after all, tired of having to look at her own skeleton, protruding in harsh angles from beneath her skin, and would have been glad to have an even thicker layer of fat to give her body a look as soft as Amber's.  Below the stylist's breasts was a healthy belly, which hung slightly over her belt line, accentuating her curvy, but not overly wide, hips.  Amber didn't have a huge rear, but it looked good in her dark corduroy pants.

"Actually, I think you look quite nice," was all Jocelyn said.  She thought it would be a little weird to mention that she actually wouldn't mind being as chubby as Amber.  But the fact that it would be rather inappropriate to say made Jocelyn a little disgusted in principle.  After all, was it fair for larger women to be forced to conform to contrived industry standard beauty?  No.  Not at all.

But why is it not fair? Jocelyn thought.  I guess the answer to that is pretty obvious, she answered herself in her inner monologue.  Because sometimes bigger women are just as beautiful—if not more so—than the tall, sinuous women lauded for their good looks.  I mean, look at Marilyn Monroe.

Amber beamed when Jocelyn complimented her.  "Thank, you sweetie!  I wish all my clients were as nice as you are."

It was really Amber's compliment that had stuck with Jocelyn, though.  She had never really been complimented on her looks by anyone but her mother, whose comments she a little guiltily dismissed as being somewhat obligatory.  Mom means the best I'm sure, but… she's just trying to be a good mom.  Getting complimented by a stranger?  Wow.  That's a first, she thought.

She looked at her reflection in the mirror on the wall in front of her chair, and after close examination, she couldn't help but acknowledge that Amber's compliment hadn't been far off in some ways.  Jocelyn's jaw still retained its slender shape, but her cheeks were not hollow in the least anymore.  Her face had definitely become fuller.  She had moved from being alarmingly skinny to a healthy, but still somewhat slender weight.  A smile spread across her face as she accepted her new face with a warm welcome.  

When Amber finished up, Jocelyn looked stunning.  The haircut was perfect.  All she could do was sit there in wonder, speechless.  She barely managed to thank Amber as she paid, left a healthy tip, and walked out the door to her car.

Her newly smooth and fuller face paired with a new haircut gave her a look that was almost like a celebrity in comparison to her former appearance. What kind of a person was she becoming anyhow?  A blond Kim Kardashian?  Oh God, no!  Her reaction to the thought was so visceral that she promised herself never to become that shallow, if there was anything she could do to help it.  Picturing herself as a self-absorbed idiot wearing clothes from the Dash Boutique, with nothing better to talk about but how she became famous by sleeping with a pro basketball player caused her to grimace in disgust—she almost threw up a little in her mouth.

With some consideration, however, she formed a more moderate outlook on her appearance.  It wasn't wrong to look good.  Being attractive didn't mean she suddenly wasn't smart, or that she would become suddenly self-absorbed.  Whatever would be, would be, and that's all there was to it.  If she could feel good about how she looked, then it was just one of the many small blessings life had to offer.

By the time Jocelyn got home, she was beginning to feel a little faint, so she opened the fridge to peruse her options for her fourth small meal that day.  There was some leftover curry that her mom had only just made yesterday that would be the perfect amount.  She popped it in the microwave and set the timer for two minutes.  It seemed to take forever.  As the seconds dragged on, she couldn't help but hover over the microwave in anticipation of the delicious spicy goodness that her stomach longed for audibly.  The rumble that her tummy produced seemed to echo through the kitchen.  Ding!  Finally it was done.

She pulled out the food, grabbed a fork, and nearly inhaled the curry without sitting down.  Despite being reheated, it retained most of the flavor that was skillfully built into the dish by Jocelyn's mom the day before.  In no time at all, her fork scraped the bottom of the container, and her heart sank a little when she realized there wasn't any more.  Still hungry, she opened the fridge again, but nothing caught her eye that didn't need to go into the microwave—and frankly, she didn't really have the patience for that right now.  Even though she had probably eaten enough to stabilize her blood sugar, she felt as if she needed something immediately.  She shut the fridge and began to peruse the pantry, where she found a jar of peanut butter and some saltines.  She hungrily munched on tiny open-faced cracker sandwiches of peanut butter, and they were surprisingly satisfying.  One after another went down her throat until she had gone through half a package of saltines and a sizeable fraction of the large jar of peanut butter.  She was pretty full, but now her throat was annoyingly dry.  Thankfully, there was a gallon of milk in the fridge, so she poured herself a tall glass, and downed it eagerly.

After she did so, she stifled a rather large belch as she rubbed her stomach a bit.  "Oh man.  I'm really stuffed.  I can't even keep my shirt down," she thought as she pulled the bottom of her shirt repeatedly over her beltline.  No matter how many times she did so, it crept back up so that a small sliver of tummy flesh appeared.  At the salon, she was able to keep her stomach sucked in a bit to keep her shirt from riding up, but now it was futile.  She gave up in frustration and went downstairs to her room to change into something more comfortable.  There were no further obligations for the day that required her to be fully clothed, so why not?

Out of her drawer, she retrieved a loose, comfortable pajama shirt and struggled out of the tight T-shirt that she was currently wearing.  Man, it was clinging to her skin something fierce.  Once it was off, she felt slightly more comfortable, but there was still a rather annoying constriction around her chest.  Of course!  She had been wearing a bra.  When she was smaller, she could almost forget that she was wearing a bra entirely, but it seemed like almost as soon as she actually needed one to support her growing mounds of flesh, she had outgrown it.  Her modest boobs had definitely been expanding, so much so that they were bulging out of the top of her bra cups.  The diaphragm was tight and cutting slightly into the flesh around her ribs.  As she reached behind her back to unfasten the constricting brassiere, her back arched, thrusting her growing bosoms higher into the air.  They trembled a bit with the motion, as if the breasts themselves were excited to be let out of their restraints.  One hook.  Two hooks.  Three hooks.  Whew.  Finally, it was off, and the growing tissue hung slightly on her chest, now creating a clearly defined crease on the underside of her breasts.

If you girls keep on misbehaving, Jocelyn thought, I'm going to have to name the both of you so that I can properly scold you.  She poked her right breast, her index finger sinking slightly into the soft fat.

She removed her pants in exchange for some sweats, but as she did, she noticed that fabric was beginning to look a bit worn on her underwear.  The elastic was nearly destroyed, and the panties looked as if they might tear apart at the apex of her widening rear end.

It was not as if Jocelyn had become fat—at least not yet.  Her clothing was simply suited for her formerly skeletal self.  Now that she was adding some healthy bulk to her frame, the clothing of last month barely fit her.  For now, she managed to struggle into her overly tight shirts and jeans, but her selection of loose fitting clothing was becoming increasingly slim.  

This is getting ridiculous, she thought to herself as she readjusted the drawstring on her sweats to accommodate the growth of her hips.  The last time she wore these particular sweatpants the drawstring was too tight as well.  "I guess it's time to go shopping."  Unlike many girls, she wasn't particularly thrilled about the idea.  She wasn't repulsed by shopping either, though.  It might be a good excuse to call up her friend, Beth, and see if she'd like to go on a short excursion to the mall.  Of course, there wasn't really such a thing with Beth, who was the kind of girl who could easily spend the whole day bouncing from store to store, never running out of things to look at, compare in price, and try on for size and style.

After debating the risks and rewards of doing so, she finally decided to shoot Beth a text to schedule a shopping date.  Within seconds, her friend responded gleefully, and they made their date for the next day.

***

Jocelyn had a good time shopping with Beth, but she was so glad that it was over.  She plopped down on her bed with two bags that held hard-earned loot—at least in Jocelyn's mind—two new outfits, several pairs of underwear, and, of course, brassieres.  Though she had brought food along to stabilize her blood sugar just in case the trip ran extra-long, she found that it wasn't really enough.  Perhaps the extra food required was due to a combination of her overly eager friend prolonging their shopping adventure, or maybe it was just because of her strangely increasing appetite.  In any case, they luckily had the extra cash to take a couple of pit stops in the food court to get burritos in the middle of their trip, and slices of pizza before they headed home.  Beth loved food, so she gladly joined Jocelyn both to provide moral support, and to treat herself to what she called "delicious nom noms."

Beth was all around a sweet girl.  She had been Jocelyn's good friend since her sophomore year of high school, and they provided one another with much needed companionship since neither of them fit into the traditional molds—they were both much too unique.

In Beth's case, she had a very distinct sense of fashion, and had an ear for obscure and unknown indie music.  This would have placed Beth squarely within the more alternative crowd of hipsters, hardcore kids, and goths, except for one hobby that banished Beth from that circle forever: her love for volleyball.  It wasn't just that she loved it—it was her life.  She found, however, that it was almost impossible to reconcile the two circles with one another.  There were no girls on her volleyball team that cared for her music or her dress—it even became a point of criticism to them.  And in alternative circles, involvement in school sports was pretty much anathema.  Boys were out of the question for Beth, because she was much like Jocelyn in that she had higher standards than most girls at their high school—and frankly, none of the boys she knew lived up to those standards.  Volleyball didn't help much with Beth's disgust for the opposite gender, either.  The only boys that actively pursued the girls on the volleyball team were ones solely enraptured by the motion of female breasts or the profound amount of thigh that their spandex shorts so conveniently displayed.  It didn't help that Beth's love for food, along with her devotion to volleyball, had given her a huge round ass that could barely be contained by her volleyball shorts, and impressive thighs to match.  To say that she wasn't flattered by the attention she got from boys would be simply untrue—it was just that she wanted someone who actually had an interesting personality, shared or at least understood her likes and dislikes, and someone who took interest in her as a person.  Unfortunately, she didn't find a boy like that in high school.

Jocelyn, however, was uniquely antisocial.  In terms of nerdiness, she dabbled in far too many subjects to fit into any one crowd of geeks.  She didn't play video games, watch anime, or even read much fantasy or sci-fi literature.  Instead, she was only interested in actually studying, which didn't really lend itself to socializing.  That, and the fact that she was perfectly content with just a few really close friends, rather than many superficial relationships, made Jocelyn and Beth perfect companions for each other.  They both highly enjoyed their time together, despite their differences.  Beth would educate Jocelyn on the subtleties of alternative culture and fashion, while Jocelyn helped Beth keep her grades up so that she could stay on the volleyball team.  Now that the two were attending community college together, their relationship hardly changed.

As Jocelyn undressed to try on her new outfits, she reflected on her conversation points with Beth while they were out shopping.

"I can't believe you're going to break up with Dave," Beth had said as Jocelyn tried on an outfit in the fitting room.  "But it really does make sense.  He sounds like he's miserable to be with.  From what you've said, I would do exactly the same thing in your shoes.  Hell, I probably would have done it way sooner!  But why the sudden change?  It seemed like you guys were really happy together…"

"I don't know," Jocelyn had replied.  "I have a few theories.  He's met someone at University—that's one.  He doesn't like how skinny I am—that's two.  He's fed up with the long-distance relationship—that's three.  Or it could be a combination of all of them.  Either way, I think it's pretty clear that he's not interested in dating me anymore.  He just doesn't have the cojones to break it off himself.  He wants me to do it."

"So you will.  And good for you.  You deserve so much better," her friend had said.  "But one thing will surprise him on the Fourth—you're not really that skinny anymore, Joce.  I mean, you actually have some nice boobs going on there.  You're really filling out, and it suits you well!  I mean, I look at you now and you're like a new person!"

It was for that exact reason that Jocelyn was glad that she had broken down and made the purchases she did.  Her AA bras were becoming torture.  The cups were way too small, and the diaphragms were making it difficult to breathe.  Jocelyn was worried, however, that she had gotten a bit too ambitious.  Sure, she had tried on all of the bras that she bought before buying them, but even so… was it really a good idea to buy B cups?  They seemed to work okay in the fitting room, but she had purposefully bought ones that she could grow into.  A part of her hoped that her weight would continue to go up just so that her "girls" could slide into the cups like a glove, but her more pragmatic side hoped that her weight would plateau at that point, just so she wouldn't have to make another shopping trip.

In any case, now was the time to say goodbye to those nasty AA's forever.  She unbuttoned her light green top, which would have been rather cute if the buttons weren't so strained.  As she did, each button sprung apart, the threads grateful for relief.  When the shirt was off, she saw in her mirror that her breasts were mashed up against her chest even more than she remembered them being only yesterday.  She struggled for a moment to undo the hooks, and as she did, she noted red marks that outlined the diaphragm on her body.  On her breasts, the edge of each cup made red indentations that surrounded each nipple.  "Whew, what a relief, eh, girls?"  She threw the AA bra in the garbage.  "Good riddance."

The bra with B cups fit even more nicely than she remembered when trying it on at the mall.  It might have been because it was the end of the day, and her "girls" were practically begging for some relief.  She grabbed the straps and gave her boobs a jiggle to test the bra's ability to keep them contained.  The flesh wobbled from within the cups playfully.  "You girls behave, now."

Next, she exchanged her worn out panties, devoid of any elasticity, for some lime-colored ones with a cute heart pattern.  Much like her breasts, her hips bore the marks of her overly tight underwear as well—a mark of red underlined each cheek, but the indentation caused by the waistband left a fierce imprint in her hips.  She massaged her skin a little to ease the discomfort, threw away the old underwear and slipped on the new.  The fabric was soft and almost heavenly by comparison.

Before slipping into her usual evening attire of sweatpants and a pajama shirt, she took stock of her growing figure once more.  Now that she had new underwear, she felt undeniably attractive, not to mention comfortable.  She couldn't quite tell if she looked any bigger from the day before.  Given the amount of fluctuation in water retention that occurs in the female body, it'd be a bit silly to think that any change that I notice is permanent anyway.  But I do look a little… fuller?  Naw, just wishful thinking I guess.  I'm just high on the compliments that I've gotten.  More of the same would be nice, but I should probably stop looking for that busty seductress to appear in my mirror every day.  It's a little obsessive, she thought.

Jocelyn pinched her tummy underneath her navel once more.  The flesh did seem a bit meatier.  She shook it around a little, and some of the motion jiggled a bit of the growing adipose in her midsection.  A smile stretched across her face.  After slipping into her sweats and t-shirt, she went upstairs for a bite to eat.

As she studied for the rest of the night, she wondered exactly what Dave's reaction would be to her new appearance on the Fourth.  The more conceited part of her anticipated a good amount of ogling, maybe an apology or two, and definitely an explanation—or at least an excuse—for his rude behavior.  Whatever the case was, Jocelyn was looking good, and it would be highly fascinating to see how that would affect the outcome.