Local notions cap the day.

You zip your pants back up and close the door of the bathroom, having finished giving your happy man an aromatic, proper wipe. Talk about surreal. Your step mother was a quick, but pleasurable 'fuck', to writ. Not a woman you'd ever thought you would stick such an organ in at any point of life, in general.

No denying she's always been a looker. It takes an eye one-thirds open to check that off the Captian Obvious list authored by Corporal Holy Shit. Perhaps it was just your acceptance of reality, of how things unwaveringly, practically were, that bottled such inclinations before. But then again, isn't that what all standards are derived from? What was necessary? Maybe one came first before the other. Damned if you know.

In any case, it is good to know bumping into your step mom was as swell as the fantasies you never had prior promised. When you first met her as a grade schooler on the way to adolescence, she organized a flowery introduction of her sweater-laden breasts with your face, something you hadn't thought much of then, but now can recall in fond irony.

"I'm Cassandra!"

She had disclosed before asking you to do the same. The young, at the time short-haired brunette probably never would have guessed her step son would end up owning the existence of most if not all things. And, consequently, her just as well.

What a galactic coincidence.

Carpet fleece under your feet, you ruminate aimlessly for a while, in a reflective mood. Then, you notice, through the window in your bedroom, a minivan pulling up in the neighbors' driveway.

The Diggler's had relocated a few months ago. So who is this?

With a brush, you step closer, leaning on your doorway with folded arms, neck slightly stretched forward. New faces you don't recognize take point in front of the vacated residence. They're an Asian assemblage, and you notice who you presume to be the father bringing in a series of boxes into the house as a woman about equal in age tends to a baby wrapped in her arms. She's a neat looking one, with a hair in a bun. You get a decent look at her face when she suddenly looks up. Just as you gallivant to the window to appreciate her comely face further, you notice a smaller figure approach her -- a girl, one that looked very alluring from behind, no thanks to a pair of tight, lithe jeans, with hair that reached the midsection of her back. When she turns, you notice a cute porcelain face on her as well, albeit maybe being a little wanting in the chest region. Upon stepping away from the mother to tend to her phone, you receive a full clothed frontal, and look on in appraisal.

So they had an older daughter. And one just around your age bracket.

Your face is promptly shadowed as you turn and trod away.

Saya rubbed her arm after a mild tickle. Only for her to withdraw it, look down, and find nothing was there. "That's weird."

Overhearing her mumble, her mother looked up, stealing her eyes away from the smallest member of the family, the wrapped babe serenely sucking on a pacifier with each gentle rock. The woman's bridge crinkled at her oldest daughter's puzzled expression. "Saya? Something wrong?"

"No, nothing."

"Are you sure?"

Saya responded with a brisk pair of nods, hand gripping an elbow. Though her mom lingered over her a while, she knowingly relented with a sigh. That was how the girl was, after all. As tight-lipped as she may be, she was still a good kid, reliable daughter, and she and her long wed husband loved her for all it was worth.

Even when she sometimes stared out windows for a minute longer than necessary.

Saya's mom gestured to the house. "Help your father bring some of the stuff inside, Saya." If she wished to add something, she didn't have the chance.

"Whhaaww!" the baby squirmed, pacifier falling out from its lips. The woman quickly grabbed it before it fell to the pavement.

"Shh," she pursed, "it's ok, it's ok..."

As Saya went to an open car door and picked out one of the lighter boxes, she noticed it was of a different type of cardboard than the others, and sealed shut with black duct tape. It didn't have anything written on it specifying the contents, either, which wasn't too odd. They could have missed one while piling them into the van.

Carrying it into the house, she found her father just rising. With a wipe of his brow, he turned to see his daughter, box in hand. The older Asian man pointed it to the counter. The kitchen was directly connected to the living room, with a bar-like seating area in between. "Go ahead and put it there."

"Sure Dad."

Saya did as she was told, tucking the box against the wall. Returning upright, she felt a strong hand grip her shoulder.

"Just think," her dad's steady, even voice mulled aloud, "in a week, this'll all be ours."

The girl smiled at her father as his arm embraced her neck awkwardly.

"It feels good to get a spacious home of our own, right?"

"Yeah, it does."

"It's a nice neighborhood, too. Maybe we should set up a lemonade stand, call it 'Saya's Specials.' It will be our way to get to know the locals."

Saya quickly turned down the idea as her father chuckled at her expense. He wasn't the best at cracking jokes. By default, he was a stolid, business-oriented man.

He was right, though. The place did look nice. Freshly mowed lawns and all that.

"Where's the bathroom again?"

"Just go all the way down and take a right, should be at the end of that part of the hall."

She departed with a terse thanks and walked past an office room and guest room or two. When she finally arrived at the bathroom, she closed the door and stood back, taking in the "new" smell. It wasn't too big, too small. The bathtub came furbished with a floral patterned curtain, which still looked to be in good condition. The toilet seemed like it was built after 2010 this time, too.

Upon reaching the sink, however, she paused. Before her, in the mirror, stared back her reflection.

Huh...

Shucking a lock of hair over her ear, Saya studied her face for a few seconds before tilting it questionably.

Was that... her chest?

It seemed, well... it seemed a little bigger. Or at least more protruding.

The two previously humble orbs now displayed outlines through her shirt in subtle fashion, but nevertheless more noticeably than she'd remembered when putting this thing on earlier that morning. Even moreso from the side.

My... shirt feels a little tighter around that area too, she looked down, eyes darting from left to right. But there's no--

"Saya?"

The black-haired teen drew herself away from the mirror. "Coming, Dad!"

Quickly doing her business, she shook her head. Whatever she was thinking, there was no way something like impromptu body changes were possible. Maybe it was just the angle, or the material. Something to look at later. If she cared to.

When the girl finally made it back through the empty living room and then out into the porch, she spotted her mother, who waved at her. Saya waved back and strolled over, careful not to trip over the minuscule set of steps. As she did, her eyes incidentally dropped down, and widened. She noticed her breasts again -- or rather, their under-the-radar, B-cup status quo, like they usually adopted, back to what she'd always known them to be. Like normal. It was strange, though. Almost as if someone had removed a cushion from under her shirt, and she barely caught it mid-act.

Her brow furrowed.

Was the light just playing tricks on her? It is not like she changed into anything after leaving the bathroom, or even got it any wet. So why did she keep thinking something about her was physically different?

I was probably just... seeing things back there, Saya shook herself out of it.

"Let's go, dear," her mom spurred. "We are going back to your cousin's before seeing downtown."

"Uh-huh." Saya settled down and clambered into the car. Her dad locked the house up, then took the car out of the driveway. As the engine quietly whirred, the girl pointed her gaze out the window. Her gaze briefly passed over an upper story window of the next door home, left partially open and where a set of blinds gently billowed on a crease of the breeze. She too would be calling such a compartment home, soon. Best to get used to the scenery.

She just had one week to go.