Anna's Shorts: The bimbo pill - Sex Stories

Anna's Shorts: The bimbo pill

... guess it's also a dad-and-daughter-thing.

That particular Monday, I was pretty exhausted though, so I got into my pyjamas before joining dad on the couch. I fell asleep halfway into the movie, and dad must have carried me upstairs, because I woke up the next morning in my bed.

****

Tuesday.

I had a splitting headache when I woke up, and for a moment, it felt like I couldn't get out of bed. I was close to calling out to dad for help, when I managed to summon the energy to sit up in my bed.

My pyjamas felt unusually tight, and as I looked down, I realized my breasts had grown overnight, and they stretched my pyjama top, to the point where the buttons were close to being ripped off. I let out a groan, realizing I had to go to a clothing store today. I think only my female readers will understand this, but shopping for bras is a hassle in its own right, especially when your breasts are growing. Once you start to reach the sizes I was shopping for, they also become ridiculously expensive. I thought mine had settled into the double D-bras I had bought a while back, but it seemed they'd hit another growth spurt, and I was barely able to squeeze them into the shirt I pulled on for the day.

When I came downstairs, dad had left me a note saying he had an early meeting, but he'd be home in time for dinner. I smiled, thinking I'd thank him for his heavenly pasta with something extra ordinary later that day. Thankfully I had the day off, so I put on a pair of jeans, and ...

... as I was about to leave, I noticed the bottle of pills on the kitchen table. I knew dad had talked about them yesterday, but for the life of me I couldn't remember more than him telling me it was some form of vitamins.

Oh, well. I guess I'd better take two. I guess you can never have too many vitamins, right?

When I drove to a mall I couldn't help but notice that people seemed extra friendly that day, and a part of me wondered if there was something in the air outside. Whatever it was, my clothes shopping went without a hitch. The older man in the lingerie store even offered to help me try out a bra. At first it felt weird, and wrong somehow, to let a man watch me undress in a changing room, but he said he understood the plight of busty women, and the need for comfort. He looked harmless enough, so I let him help me.

When I came home, I put one of my new bras on, smiling to myself as I looked at my reflection in the mirror. For some reason, my reflection made me realize that I really didn't have anything to be embarrassed about body-wise. I had an inviting butt, a reasonably flat stomach, and who among hot-blooded males would object to a huge pair of tits? When I realized I should be proud of my body, I also realized that I probably had been pretty sad lately. Well, enough of that. Hereby, I solemnly vow to stop moping around.

I giggled to myself, realizing how silly I was, talking to myself in the mirror. Well, if coming off as silly was the price for happiness, ...