The Family Garden

February 4, 2008

12th Grade Home Room - 8:00 am

A cacophony of thirty-two teenage voices annoyed Heather as she sat waiting for the bell to ring. It was the start of the week. The start of the day. Homeroom in the morning. Everyone seemed to be filled with energy, talking and smiling, laughing at crude jokes and gossiping, while she felt like she had grit in her eyes. She had a few friends she liked to hangout with at school but none of them were in her homeroom. Still, even if they had been, it wouldn't have changed the fact that she would rather be home in bed. Thank God this was her last year!

Being born September fifteenth, she was eighteen and a year behind all the kids her age that were Spring babies. If only she had applied herself then she would at least only have half days. She regretted that now!

Looking out the window at the cold, windy, rainy weather, it was just another typical Seattle winter. Colder than a fucking witches' tits, but in the classroom she was sweltering!

Bundled up until she was a formless mannish shape. She unzipped her coat and tied it around her waist to combat the problem of her ass always being cold while her massive thirty-six J-cup breasts were always hot. Tying the arms of her coat around her waist had the side effect of hiding her much smaller thirty-two inch waist and relatively flat belly. She was happy that she wasn't fat at all, but when compared to her breasts her waist emphasized just how huge their unsupported weight was as they swung and bounced when she sat down!

If tying her coat sleeves around her waist masked how small her waist was and how large her breasts were, then her coat covering her ass exaggerated just how wide and thick her hips and booty was, making her gravure model...ass'ets...extremely apparent to any boys that cared to pay attention. However, she never thought of it that way, rather almost all school year she used her coat and sweatshirts to try and cover up her embarrassing body parts. Her humongous forty-five inch hips and thick bubble butt, and her thick curvy thighs!

The bell rang throughout the school signaling for students to get to their homeroom classes and be seated. The noise hurt her ears, as it did everyone's by the way they grimaced at the sound. The absurd noise went on for entirely way too long! When the assault on her eardrums was finally over, Mrs. Crichton stood up and started taking attendance. As she droned on monotonously, Heather fought her boredom while listening for her name among the other students.

A stealthy hand snuck under Heather's left arm and Mrs. Crichton's roll call was interrupted by her squawking in pain as the hand grabbed a handful of her overly ample watermelon sized breast and squeezed painfully. Jumping in surprise, hissing in outrage at being violated, she batted the hand away, and while still half in her seat swung her elbow back at her assailant catching him in the jaw!

With a grunt the hand retreated as she jumped the rest of the way out of her chair. It was Michael! It was always Michael! He was such an ass!

Raising her fist to follow up what her elbow had started, Michael looked up at her with a menacing grin. His eyes glinted dangerously and she knew he was prepared to retaliate. So, instead she leaned in close, knowing a fight with him would only be humiliating for her and whispered through gritted teeth, "If you ever touch me again, I will yank off those jelly beans you call testicles and that turtle you call a dick. Got it!"

Undaunted, he purred, "It was worth it Holstein!"

Trembling with outrage, she blushed profusely before turning to sit down. It was then that she realized that everyone in the classroom was staring at her.

"Michael! Go to the office now," The teacher yelled, "Sexual harassment is not allowed in school!"

"But," Michael protested.

"Get out now!" Mrs. Crichton screamed, as she nearly pulled him out of his seat and pushed him towards the door. When she turned back to Heather, she too visibly shook with outrage.

"Are you alright," Mrs. Crichton asked as she knelt down beside her, "Do you need to go to the bathroom and collect yourself?"

Oddly, she felt almost as embarrassed by the attention from Mrs. Crichton as by being groped by Michael. She was also surprised to feel tears on her cheeks, and hid her face as she silently wiped them away before answering in a humiliated trembling whisper, "No, I am fine."

Michael wasn't the first boy to grope her breasts, though he might have been the hardest to squeeze. This is how it was in school for her since the seventh grade. In one year, from the fifth grade to the sixth, she went from ninety-seven pounds to one-hundred and sixty. She had looked like a little brown 'Pillsbury Doughboy'. That was a rough year...

The next year, and the second half of the sixth grade, she was still fat but just before school ended she started growing. When her seventh grade year began, she had grown from four feet ten inches tall to five feet eleven inches. Her face, hell, her whole body changed. Maturing from childish to womanly seemingly overnight. She went from a one-hundred and sixty pounds fat little girl to a long lithe one-hundred and thirty-five pound young woman with 32 D-cup breasts, a 24 inch waist, and 32 inch hips. However, by the end of the school year she gained five pounds as her breasts grew to G-cups!

When she started high school, she wanted to die when the physical education teacher weighed her at one-hundred and fifty pounds, and no matter how hard she worked she couldn't lose it. She blamed her weight on her grotesquely fat breasts that finally stopped growing at thirty-six J-cups, her waist had thickened to thirty inches, and her hips were a thick forty inches!

From then on the other girls called her fat, wide load, thunder thighs, dairy cow, Holstein, and such. The boys, well, the ones that thought as the girls did called her the same names or ignored her, which shattered her self-esteem. The gay guys were friendly, but always seemed to think she needed style and grooming advice, and as for the rest, the pervs like Michael and the more aggressive lesbians seemed to always feel entitled to grab her ass and breasts. Her worst experience though was being ambushed and forced to have sex with a lesbian named Joan who was built like an NFL line-backer and outweighed her by a hundred pounds at least, all of it muscle...

——(!)——

September 17, 2007 - Gym Class

Hot and sweaty from running the mile. Heather moaned as hot water washed over her. Self-conscious about her body, she had waited until all the other girls were done showering and left to sit on bleachers and wait for the bell signaling to go to their next class before she started to take her shower. She was finally alone, but there was still no time to relax. She had to wash fast. There wasn't much time until the end of class and the start of the next.

Soaping up her hands, she spun in a circle letting the water rinse her sweat away. Her long jet black hair, that normally fell to the bottom of her ass cheeks, was up in a clip to keep it dry while she washed her face and neck first. She didn't wear makeup, just a little clear lip gloss. She wasn't vain, but she did think it accented her plump pink mouth pretty well. They were her most attractive feature, after her eyes.

Lathering up a rag, she started washing off her body at her shoulders and down her arms, then moved to her chest and the tops of her huge watermelon sized breasts before lifting each one as she washed underneath.

"Fuck! They're so fucking heavy," She mumbled and let them fall and slap her ribs as she wash down her firm yet shapely belly. There was only a hand's width from the bottoms of her breasts to her navel. They hung down just a little further than her elbows, and they stuck out from her chest like mountains that blocked her ability to see her body unless she pulled them apart so she could look between her cleavage.

With a soapy rag in hand, she quickly ran it over belly before moving lower to wash her shaved hairless pubic mound. When she was finished, her taupe-brown skin, a gift from her Asia-Indian mother, glistened as she twisted to wash around her broad hips and thick bubblicious ass!

"Fuck! I'm a fucking caricature drawing," She growled sarcastically.

Using her right arm and hand as a bra, she arched her right foot up on its balls and turned her knee out and hunched over. With a bar of soap in her left hand she pushed between her thick thighs and washed her shaved taupe-brown pussy-lips. Pressing a finger into her vulva, she washed from her clitoris to her vagina.

She repeatedly tickled her clitoris until her belly felt hot. All the while lying to herself that she was only making sure she was clean before washing down her inner thighs to her knees. Finally, she finished by scrubbing her thighs, first the left thigh before switching arms that were holding her breasts, and then washed her right thigh before cleaning her heart-shaped bubble butt. Suddenly, she was seeing stars when her head slammed into the tile wall in front of her, rebounded and then was slammed into the tiles again. Pain shot through her knees as she collapsed, slipping down the wall as her body went limp. She hit the floor and her head smacked and rebounded off the tiles again and her vision went black though she could hear and feel everything.

"You're a pretty dairy cow aren't you," Joan sneered in her ear, "Deceptively so! You dress like a guy, with those large baggy shirts draped over those Holstein breasts of yours, and tucking your shirt into those low-rise jeans so that no one can see your perfect hourglass figure. Very sneaky!"

"You have such a perverted body," She hissed, "With these huge cow udders you call breasts, and this thick heart-shaped ghetto booty!"

'Why am I so heavy all of a sudden,' Heather wondered, 'Why isn't Joan helping me up? Why can't I move?'

Her arms wouldn't work. She struggled, but her left arm was trapped under her breasts while her right arm was trapped in the small of her back. It was so weird, and she wanted to scream for help!

'Why isn't Joan lifting whatever has fallen on me off? Why can't I scream? Why is it so hard to breathe?'

"You have such an intoxicating body," Joan whispered, "I think I will fuck you, Holstein!"

"No!" Heather rasped through laboring lungs that were on fire!

Her whole body quaked when Joan caressed her ass, and she tried to scream when she slipped her hand between her ass cheeks and plunged her thumb inside her anus. Heather's eyes shut tight against the pain and fear, and her mouth was a wide open voiceless scream that never passed by her lips.

Joan slid her two middle fingers between her pussy-lips and thrust inside her slicing through her hymen with her nails, and blinked in surprise when scarlet blood flowed out of Heather's vagina. The blood coursed down her vulva to pool between her labia as it collected in her clitoral hood. Cascading over and running between her pussy-lips to her pubic mound, her virgin blood turned the white tiles pink before the steaming hot water washed it down the drain.

"Damn! Why, you were a virgin dairy cow! Nice," Joan purred incredulously before she curled her nails painfully into Heather's vaginal walls and growled sadistically, "Congratulations baby, you just lost your virginity to a girl. I was the first to fuck your naughty body! How does that feel?"

Heather couldn't say anything, she couldn't hardly even breathe to protest or scream as Joan raked her nails down the walls of her vagina while pressing her thumbnail into her rectum wall savagely. Using her last two fingers, Joan slashed at Heather's clitoral hood as she kicked her legs and cried. She tried to scream, she tried to fight, but it only resulted in Joan shifting her weight further reducing her ability to breathe.

Time seemed to drag out. Every second seemed to take an eternity, leaving her feeling like it went on forever before Joan changed tactics. Letting up, allowing her to draw a deep breath of air, she started thrusting, whisking, rubbing her vagina and rectum until she felt her body responding to the constant massage.

'Why? Why do I feel this way? Why is it beginning to feel good?'

Warmth heated up her lower belly and before too long it felt like she was a balloon. Her vagina the hole to blow into, and Joan was blowing her up. Her climax burst like fourth of July fireworks as stars danced across her eyes, the rockets burst in her head, and then with a gasp she went limp.

"I hope it was as good for you as it was for me," Joan taunted just before Heather passed out.

The Gym Teacher found her an hour later when the girls in the next class came in to shower after class. She was splayed out on the tile floor, hot water raining over her prone body while blood pooled between her thighs before being washed away. Coach Busch assumed that she had slipped and hit her head, even when the girls pointed out that she was bleeding from her vagina, and excused it with the assumption that she was on her period.

She was taken to the nurses office, and then to the hospital. However, in the end she didn't dissuade them of the notion that she slipped. She couldn't bear the humiliation of the whole school knowing the truth. When she returned to school she took her showers with the class from then on, but anytime Joan came by, despite her denial of the truth, she would shake uncontrollably and wet herself on many occasions, other times she puked.

——(!)——

The bell rang and Heather sighed as the memory faded away as she went to her first class while Mrs. Crichton watched her pass by with a concerned look on her face.

"God, when will this be over," She growled.

——(!)——

Construction Site - 10:00 am

Jason looked at the architectural plans drawn up for the house before him.

He was a reserved man, given to seriousness and quiet thoughtful reflection. With strong thought out opinions and a stubbornness that gave him the strength to stand apart from soft headed conformists. However, he valued freedom of individuality and opinions when he talked to his subcontractors, and even when he disagreed he always respected them and valued their point of view. This respect, along with a strong hard working ethic made him popular and a good manager. Besides his ethics, it helped that he was a fairly attractive man, at least with the female subcontractors and women in general.

Standing just under six feet tall, he sported golden hair and green eyes. His hair was wavy and his shoulders were broad and strong from years of carpentry. He cut a good figure even if he still couldn't figure out how he had landed his goddess of a wife, Charlene! Personally he thought himself not a beautiful man, rugged maybe, all he could do was try to attain to handsome or, at least, well dressed and smells good. All in accord with his personal motto, 'Don't help ugly out.'

Using an iPad, he videoed the framing in place before him. The video was overlaid with an Auto-Cad app that rendered the house in 3D and using GPS allowed him to walk through and see what was built and where it should be according to the plans. So far, it all looked pretty good. The house was the last in a new development and was going well.

Walking out of the house as a silver Suburban pulled up, a stocky red faced man jumped out and walked up.

"Hey Jim, how's it going?" He called out as Jim crossed the yard strewn with materials and equipment.

"Hey Jason, it's not going so good man," Jim answered, tension etched on his face,

"What's going on?" He asked.

"Man, I got'ta let you go." Jim answered.

"What, why," He asked, feeling as if an iron vise was squeezing his chest.

The world felt like it was swaying just a little!

"I've got to cut costs. I ran as far as I could, but with the real-estate market crash, none of these homes are moving. I am in debt up to my ears and way beyond. This is the last house I build, I will manage it myself then I am going bankrupt. I'm sorry Jason!"

He felt his world crumbling. How were they going to pay the bills next month? They had no savings! They lived paycheck to paycheck as it is already, and yet, he felt pity for Jim and understood his situation.

Taking a deep breath to bolster himself, he put his hand out for Jim to shake, "Well Jim, this house is well on its way. Thank you for the job these past ten years and I hope the best for you."

It wasn't the reaction Jim had expected, the look of shock on his face spoke volumes. Taking his hand, Jim smiled, "Jason you're a good man. The best man I have...had...and you've shown remarkable grace, thank you. When I hire again I will give you a call."

"Thank you, Jim," He answered stoically, then after making sure he didn't have anything that belonged to Jim, he left.

As he drove away he contemplated stopping by the liquor store. He wasn't a big drinker but he certainly felt thirsty now!