Cafeteria Conversation

The lecture hall emptied slowly, students trickling out like ants disturbed from their nest. I stretched my legs under the table, trying to shake off two-hours spent laser focused on multivariable calculus. My fingers fidgeted with the end of my ponytail, a habit I'd developed when I was nervous or bored that I was trying to break.

"Hey John, you want to grab lunch together?" I asked. He had been a bit zoned out during the lecture, and I was worried about him. When he didn't respond, I nudged him gently with my elbow. "John?"

"Oh, yeah. Sure," he replied, startling a bit, then falling into step beside me as we headed toward the cafeteria. The hallway bustled with students, but I navigated it effortlessly, my loose sweatshirt and baggy sweatpants providing the the added bulk to get people to notice my presence while obscuring my body and hiding the fact that I had no real breasts to speak of. My Japanese heritage made me short enough as it was; I didn’t need to advertise that I was as flat as a board.

John followed me without a word, his usual banter absent today. "I think I'll have a sandwich," John finally said when we reached the cafeteria. It was crowded and noisy, as usual.

"I'm feeling like noodles today," I replied after pretending to think for a second. Really, I just liked noodles, and anyway the noodle stand had practically no line, unlike the busy sandwich station.

"Really, the Japanese girl wants noodles? Again?" John shot back jovially, perking up.

"Says the white Midwesterner getting wonder bread," I retorted over my shoulder with a smirk.

As i got my ramen, I saw John jump the line at the sandwich station. I could see an argument about to start, but then John said something and everyone calmed down. Weird, but at least I wouldn't have to wait for him.

I set my tray in front of the cashier and handed over my card. "Both of ours should be free," John told them, gesturing to the both of us. The cashier nodded, hit a few buttons, and the register showed $0.00 as they ran my card. John didn't even wait, just grabbing his food and walked away without even paying. The cashier looked annoyed for a second but shrugged it off; they must not have thought chasing him down for 0 dollars was worth it. We found an empty table and sat across from each other, digging into our meals. I had a class coming up, so I ate quickly, my slurping and the noise of the cafeteria filling the silence between us.

"So, John," I said as I finished my noodles, giving him a concerned look. "What did you do for the holiday? You seemed kinda distracted in class. Did something happen yesterday?"

John froze, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, his usual confidence faltering just slightly. He hesitated before speaking, as if choosing his words carefully.

"My mom is better now," he told me.

"Oh? That's great news!" I replied, relieved, leaning in slightly. "How's she doing?"

"She's doing great. Better than great, actually. She's completely cured," he answered.

"What?" I asked in confusion. I had thought he just meant she was having a good day. "How?"

"I made her a milf," he said with a slight stutter. I blinked at him, unsure if I had heard him correctly. What did that... and then it hit me.

"Oh my god, that's brilliant!" I replied. "Whoever heard of a sick Milf, right?"

"Yeah, no, she's completely fine now. She even insisted on making dinner last night for the first time in years. It's great seeing her active and happy again after all this time," he said, enthusiastically. "She's young, fit, stacked, and she's an awesome fuck," he added with a sly grin, nervousness gone.

"Mmm, I bet," I said, nodding sagely. "I mean, you said she's a milf now, so that's kinda implied. What about your dad, though?" I asked, curious despite myself. "How's he dealing with it?"

"I made him a Dilf. I figured they should match," he replied with a laugh. "Just because I'm using my mom doesn't mean I want to fuck with their marriage."

"Yeah, I guess that would do it," I said, laughing. "I still don't get why you won't just declare for engineering. Using your parents like that is just the kind of creative problem solving my professors are always going on about," I began. John had to pick a major soon, and I wanted him to pick mine, so we would have similar classes.

"Enough about me," John said quickly, before I could get my sales pitch going. "You know, you've never once worn anything that wasn't baggy since I've known you. I'd love to see you show some skin," he said conversationally.

"What the hell, John?" I yelled in shock, glaring at him. I crossed my arms over my chest, suddenly feeling exposed in a way that had nothing to do with my clothes. We'd been friends for two years; how could he talk to me like that?

"I just meant I want to know what your body looks like!" John belted out, looking suddenly panicked. "You know, so I can decide how to use you," he added in a rush.

"Oh. I always figured you weren't interested," I muttered awkwardly, embarrassed, lowering my arms. Some friend I was. I couldn't believe I had freaked out and almost stormed off when he just wanted use me. "If you wanted a look, you just had to ask."

"That's what I'm trying to do," John countered, his voice steadying. He gestured vaguely at my loose clothing. "Like I was saying, I've always kinda wondered what you are hiding under all that, but I didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

"Oh, shit! I'm so sorry," I replied. "I never meant to make you nervous about using me," I added. "Just let me know what you want me to do."

"Well, take off your sweatshirt," he said, gesturing vaguely with half a sandwich.

I quickly unzipped the sweatshirt and pulled it off, revealing the crop tee I had underneath. It clung snugly to my slim frame, the flat fabric across my chest making it obvious that I didn't even need to bother with a bra. I blushed in embarrassment, regretting my clothing choice. Then again, I had no way of knowing I would be used this way when I picked it out.

"I obviously meant I want to see your naked body," John commented, facepalming.

"I'm not a mind reader, dude," I shot back, rolling my eyes. I guess he was just awkward. First he hadn't used me when he wanted to, now he couldn't properly explain how he wanted to use me. I pulled off the top, fidgeted nervously with my upper body exposed. If I bothered to wear a bra, it would have been the smallest a-cup in existence, and I thought I could feel his gaze on my chest, trying to find any sign of cleavage. "I know they're not much," I commented. "You're probably not interested in using me after all," I added quietly.

"Size isn't everything," John countered, trying to cheer me up. He made a bit of a show of looking at my body, which only made me more self-conscious since I knew there was not much to look at.

"I'd rather have actual boobs than an aphorism," I replied sardonically, crossing my arms over my chest awkwardly. That gesture worked way better when I could use my clothes to imply I had a bosom.

"What are you talking about? I don't get why you are upset, your so fucking cute, ," John said enthusiastically.

"Exactly," I countered. "'Cute,' not pretty. 'Petite,' not built like a child. I've heard all the nice versions from my parents. I'm 19 and I still look like I'm a kid," I said angrily.

"I think you are too hung up on your bobs," he replied, sighing dramatically. "You've got so much else going for you. But if it means that much to you, you can grow bigger boobs." He paused for a moment, then added quickly, "But not too much; that would ruin your look."

I wasn't sure what look he meant for me to not ruin, but I lowered my arms slightly and inhaled. There was a slight outward pressure, and as I exhaled I felt a bit more weight on my chest; nothing big, but more than nothing. I looked down and saw two small mounds sticking out of my chest where it had been flat before. I didn't have the best angle, but they seemed perky, and I could see my pink nipples standing out against the gentle curve. "What do you think?" I asked, grinning excitedly as I felt up my enhanced chest, confirming that there was something there to feel up now. I guessed they were at the top of a-cup now, maybe small b-cup, but the point was that there was something there at all. I bounced in my seat slightly, laughing as I felt my new breasts jiggle.

"Perfect," John said, his voice rough with desire. "I'm just glad you're happy now."

"I owe you one," I replied. I wasn't sure how to repay him for doing this, but before I could think about it, I noticed the time. "Crap. Can I get dressed now? I have to get going or I'll be late."

"Um, sure, I guess," John replied, looking a bit surprised. As I put my tops back on, I noticed that the tee was now a bit tight on me. I wasn't sure whether to grin or grimace as I felt my top crushing my new tits, fidgeting a bit as I zipped up my sweatshirt. I was a bit giddy, knowing that now I had something to hide instead of hiding that there was nothing.

"I swear I'd have you throw out that sweatshirt if I didn't think you'd be cold without it. You've been committing a crime all this time, hiding that body," John joked. "You know what, anything you put on should be skintight, like ridiculously form-fitting. You know how a costumes fit in comic books? Like that."

I raised an eyebrow at him as my sweatshirt vacuum-sealed to my body, cupping my new breasts individually in defiance of physics, outlining my arms and stomach and clinging to the curve of my waist. Below the table, i felt my sweatpants likewise become a second skin, hugging my legs. "Ok, sure, if that's how you want to use my clothes," I replied, noting everything fit now. Having my clothes used this way meant I wouldn't need to go buy bras after all, and this didn't make me uncomfortable like being half-naked had.

"You shouldn't zip up your sweatshirt," John said. "You wanted bigger boobs, you should show them off a bit." I unzipped my sweatshirt and let it hang open, framing the tee beneath, showing off my bare midriff and the new curve of my boobs, the slight valley between them perfectly presented by my comic-book top, nipples soft but plainly visible. John eyed me up and down again, and I made sure to pose a bit for him.

"Anything else?" I asked, trying to sound nonchalant even though my heart was racing slightly from being so exposed.

"Stand up for a sec," John said, his voice low and husky. The cloth of my sweatpants rubbed along my lower lips as I did, the skin-tight cloth hugging the subtle curve of my hips and stretching tightly over my legs, and most importantly showing off my vagina through the thin fabric.

"Look, I have to get to class," I commented, impatient to leave and a just bit nervous, shifting slightly. "I know I won't get in trouble if I'm late because you were using me, but I don't want to miss anything."

It was a strange strange feeling, having him stare at my body. I had put so much effort into hiding how I looked that I didn't know how to react to that kind of attention. I hoped he was enjoying the view. Was he going to use me more?

"Ayaka... cum. Hard," John said, grinning.

I grabbed the table for support, my back arching as a jolt of pleasure shot through me, a loud moan escaped my lips before I could stop it. My whole body shuddered violently, my nipples going instantly rock hard and pressing insistently against my skin-tight shirt. I thrust back and forth, humping the air, breath coming in ragged gasps, as I felt wave after wave of pleasure radiate outwards from my untouched core. I took a deep breath as the orgasm ended, standing back up, feeling flushed and satisfied.

"Fuck, that was good," I commented, my voice slightly hoarse. "Thanks again. But seriously, are you done using me now?" I asked, closing my sweatshirt nervously but not zipping it, my fingers trembling slightly from the aftereffects of the orgasm.

John just stared at me while giving a dumbfounded nod, and I headed to class, feeling light on my feet. As I walked away, I could feel his eyes on me, watching my perfectly outlined ass, and I made sure to make it sway with each step, showing off my tight ass.