Growing Pains

June's Perspective

I try to focus on copying the organic reactions the professor is drawing on the board, but I keep catching Jason staring at me from the corner of my eye. Eventually, I follow his gaze and realize exactly where it’s landing: my chest. The lecture hall is drafty, and through the thin fabric of my top, my newly developed nipples are making themselves painfully obvious.

I notice Jason keeps shifting and adjusting himself in his seat; his notebook is completely blank. That’s when it dawns on me, he’s genuinely distracted and getting aroused by my new curves. I flush a deep, mortified scarlet and smack him lightly on the shoulder.

"Knock it off," I hiss under my breath.

"Sorry," he mumbles, his ears turning bright red as he buries his face in his hands. "It’s just... strange seeing you not flat-chested all of a sudden." He abruptly starts shoving his blank notes into his backpack. "I can’t concentrate, and I know I’m making you uncomfortable. I’ll see you later."

He practically bolts from his seat, excusing himself from the lecture hall. I slump in my chair and sigh, dragging my pen across the paper. 

Great, June. Way to go, I think to myself. As class finally ends, I make a mental note to apologize to Jason later, but only  after I go buy a bra.

Leaving the chemistry building, I pull out my phone to search for directions to the nearest boutique. I’m so focused on the screen that I don't look up until I walk face-first into a surprisingly soft chest.

The impact sends me stumbling backward. My feet tangle, and I land hard on my ass, my hands slapping against the concrete to break my fall. Before I can even apologize, a sharp, excruciating pain flares in my right hand.

I gasp, looking up. Belladonna is standing over me, the sharp stiletto heel of her shoe intentionally digging into my hand

"Watch where you’re going, Omega nerd. Know your place," she sneers, her voice dripping with venom.

I wince, trying to pull my hand back, but she presses harder. 

Omega nerd? What is she talking about? I wonder, utterly baffled by the bizarre insult. Satisfied with my pained expression, she spits on the ground near my shoes, lifts her heel, and struts away.

I scramble to my feet, cradling my aching hand. As I watch her leave, I notice the way the male students actively clear a path for her, staring at her with stars in their eyes. She is wearing a tiny cheerleading skirt and a deep V-neck shirt. 

Her breasts are five times bigger than yours, and she’s not embarrassed to walk around without a bra, I think bitterly.

My mind immediately flashes to Fenris. I berate myself, shaking my head. 

Quit thinking about him. You’re not attractive enough for a guy like Fen, especially with girls like Belladonna around.

Pushing the humiliating encounter down, I follow my phone's directions and finally step into a chic clothing store. A woman in her mid-twenties is sitting behind the counter, sketching intently in a leather-bound book.

"Hello! Welcome to Rising Star Boutique," she greets me warmly, looking up. "My name is Leila...Leila Vesper. I’m one of the co-owners, and most of what you see here are my personal designs, so don’t hesitate to request any customizations."

I stand there, awestruck by the beautiful garments hanging on the racks. She designed all of this? She’s so young and clearly talented.

"Hello, I’m June. That’s incredible... everything looks amazing," I say shyly, warmth creeping back into my cheeks. "I’m actually only looking for a bra. I don't really know what size I am. They just sort of... appeared overnight."

Leila offers a kind, understanding smile. "No worries at all. I can measure you in the changing room, and we can pick out a few styles for you to try on. Follow me."

I nod and follow Leila, and her clicking heels, toward the back. 

God, I think, she’s gorgeous, too.

She has a lithe, perfect hourglass figure, beautiful curly red hair, and striking amber-brown eyes. Why is every woman in this town so flawless? How is a regular girl supposed to compete?

When we reach the fitting room, she gently instructs me to take off my shirt for an accurate measurement. I look at her in horror, freezing in place.

She looks at me sympathetically. "Don’t worry, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before. If you aren’t comfortable, that’s okay. It just helps me give a much better recommendation if I can see your natural shape."

I blush furiously but nod, pulling my T-shirt over my head. Leila steps in close, lifting a soft measuring tape. As she leans in, she suddenly pauses, her nose twitching slightly. A look of sheer surprise flashes across her face. She stares at me for a split second, seemingly startled by something, before quickly composing herself and taking the measurements.

"32 and 34 inches," she says, though her voice sounds a bit more breathless than a moment ago. "That makes you a 32B. I’ll go out and grab some styles I think will work for you." She pauses in the doorway, looking at me with intense, newly sparked curiosity. "Also, if you don’t mind me asking, June... how old are you?"

I look at her quizzically. "I’m nineteen. Why do you ask?"

"Oh! Sorry," Leila says, her eyes widening in realization. "You just look so much younger. Since this is your first bra, I honestly thought you were thirteen and skipping school." She offers an apologetic smile. "Give me a few minutes to grab those styles. You can put your shirt back on while you wait if it makes you more comfortable."