A tingle

Sitting by the open window as the teacher tried to explain geometry to a disinterested class, Megan itched herself through her bra. The tissue she'd used to stuff her bra was irritating her, and she wished that she had folded it better, or ideally, her parents would have let her buy a bra with padding. She thought about how disappointed her mom looked in her when she asked.

She tried to focus on the lesson but it was noticeably uncomfortable. She did her best to discretely rearrange her bra on her but couldn't satisfy the itching. Eventually it got to a point where she had to give up. She put her hand up as high as she could raise it without causing even more discomfort and got permission to leave. As soon as she got to the vacant hallway, she reached into her top, pulled out the tissue from her bra and sighed in relief. She tossed the tissue in the trash and went back into the room.

The teacher watched Megan skeptically as she took her seat again. "That was fast," she remarked.

As she sat, Megan started to realise that her bra still felt full. She wondered if she'd missed some of the padding, but was grateful that it wasn't uncomfortable.

Half an hour later, her bra called her attention again, this time feeling a little tight. She looked around and felt herself through her top. To her surprise, she was definitely filling out the B-cup bra in a way she was not used to. She frowned, looking through her top at the word 'grow' still unsmudged on her chest. 'Surely not..' She felt butterflies in her chest as she wondered if the marker could possibly be real, and the opportunities this presented her.

She raised her hand again, excitedly, only to be shot down by the teacher.

"No. I just let you go and you definitely didn't go to the bathroom last time. You can wait."

Eager to inspect her new chest, she begged. "Please?!"

"Absolutely not. And stop disrupting the class, else I'll have to hold you back at lunch."