Tomboy - Sex Stories

Tomboy

... Spike a couple of letters while I was at camp -- when I won the across-the-lake race, for instance, and when I was coming home, the week before school. I told her I'd meet her at the tree the day I got home. ~ ~ ~ ~ The tree was gone and the field was torn up. There was a sign there that said a medical center was going to be built there. I waited on the bare dirt as night fell, getting that sick abandoned feeling in my gut, but she didn't show. Finally, after dark, I left the empty field and rode my bike to her place. Her folks' car was out and her bike was still in her garage, so I locked mine to it and went around back to her room. Her curtains were drawn but there was a light on. I knocked at her window. "Hey," I hissed. "Spike!" I saw the shadow of her head behind the d****s. "Go away, Kip." "Why?" "I don't want you to see me." "Why not?" I repeated, feeling foolish. "'Cause I look stupid." "Stupider than the time you tried to become a blonde?" "Way." I whistled. "That's pretty stupid." "Thanks heaps. Go away. My life is ruined." "What is it?" She didn't say anything, but she hadn't moved away; I still saw the shadow of her head. "I promise not to laugh." I heard her sigh. "I guess you'll know sooner or later. Come on in." She reached around the d****s and unhooked the screen. It only took me a moment to shinny in and flop on the floor. Funny thing: the window seemed smaller than it used to. Spike was wearing cutoff jeans, a T-shirt...and a bra. And the bra she was ...

... wearing was not a training bra, like my s****r had worn for almost a year, but some kind of sturdy engineering marvel. It was obvious, even to me: Spike had big tits. There were other changes, too. Her hips had flared out, her waist pinched in, she had fleshed out and rounded and generally become a woman. I kept staring at her tits. "Jesus," she said miserably, "not you too." I looked at her face and it was all scrunched up like she was trying not to cry. She sat on the edge of her bed and put her face in her hands. "I'm sorry." I went to grab her and then I stopped, because, well, Spike had turned into a girl, and my hesitation made her more miserable and she actually started to cry. I had never seen her cry and that made _me_ feel miserable. So I grabbed her anyway and it turned into a hug, her clutching me and me clutching her. She even smelled different, more perfumey. "Kip, it's awful. Everybody stares at me and then the same guys who used to be afraid I'd beat them up come up to me and they look at my chest and they don't say anything except 'Duh...' and _I_ can't_even_ run_ because they _hurt_ when I run and they're still growing so fast I can't even buy a sports bra." I could feel her tits pressing against me under that canvas- like material or whatever they make those industrial strength bras from. Her tits felt hot and soft against my chest. I already had a boner. "They're still growing?" I asked. My voice squeaked. "I hope they don't explode." She leaned back and ...