There is just enough heat in the spring sun to make it worth going to the local pool. The water was heated anyway. Emily had made a little pouch on a cord around her neck for The Stone, so she didn’t have to leave him anywhere. She’d tell anyone who asked it’s a good luck crystal or something. That kind of New Age voodoo stuff usually shut people up.
I can understand your specie’s fascination with submerging yourself in water. It is a primordial desire to return to the sea that you emerged from.
[What’s ‘primordial’? It sounds yucky.]
It means prehistoric.
Oh, even before that. All life on this planet began in the sea.
[I dunno. It just feels good.]
Emily came out of the change room with her towel draped around her neck. The Letter Girls were nearby, resplendent in their designer swimwear that had probably never touched the water and covered in copious amounts of tanning lotion. They were surrounded by ogling boys, all eager volunteers to apply another coat of Banana Boat.
Why do these females bother you?
Emily placed her towel down on a bench beside the pool just before the Letter Girls let fly, “Emily, you idiot. Why do you even bother with a bikini?”
“You’ve got nothing up there to fill it with!”
“Why don’t you just borrow some Speedos off a boy?”
I am sorry for your embarrassment.
[That’s OK. They’re right. I’m flat as a board. My boobs go in, not out.]
Does the size of a woman’s external mammary glands matter to their function?
[Ewww! You don’t have to be nasty!]
I have noticed a lot of focus on these glands in art and literature. Large breasts seem to attract the opposite sex and increase a female’s esteem. I would have thought if they were too large, they would hamper movement.
[Can we not talk about it, please? I can’t wait to get back into the dinosaur water, remember?]
Having spent many millions of years under water myself, I am in no hurry to return.
That evening, Emily lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling. She hadn’t said much at dinner and didn’t even feel like watching the usual Saturday night TV shows with her mom and dad.
[I want boobs.]
[I want you to grant me a wish. I want to grow boobs. Can you make me grow boobs?]
Mammary glands? Yes, I can cause them to develop, though they will not be functional, as you are pre-pubescent.
You will not be able to produce secretions and feed a human offspring.
[Oh, that is so foul!]
May I ask why you wish me to do this, Emily?
[I am tired of getting teased at school for not having any boobs. I know boys who have bigger boobs than me!]
You must be careful what you wish for, Emily. Not because it is within my powers to do this, but I do not wish you to be sorry.
[Can you do it?]
I can use fat and protein from elsewhere …
[I’m not fat!]
No, just small deposits.
[How long will it take?]
Is tomorrow morning soon enough? I will cause it to happen while you sleep.
[Perfect! It’s Sunday and I can take them to the pool.]
You did not eat much for your evening meal. Please return to the kitchen and consume more food, preferably protein and fat.
Emily was already on her feet and bellowed as she ran downstairs, “Mom! Dad! I’m hungry again! Can you make me a steak? Two steaks?”
Emily once again walked out of the change room at the pool, her towel draped around her neck. The scene was almost identical to the day before: The Letter Girls, The Designer Swimwear, The Tanning Lotion and The Ogling Boys.
Just as The Letter Girls were about to amuse themselves at Emily’s expense, she removed her towel and placed it on the bench beside the pool.
Her new breasts pushed her bikini top to the very limits. All of the ogling boys around The Letter Girls seemed to turn their heads at once as a new target came into their sights. If they were ogling before, they are about to lose their eyes from their heads now. Even The Letter Girls couldn’t help but to stare.
Emily sat on the poolside, legs dangling in the water and her head thrown back, eyes closed, letting the sun hit her in the face and no doubt show off her new boobs.
Just as a couple of the boys got up and seemed to be making their way over, Emily’s friend Genevieve swam to the side of the pool and climbed out beside her, “Cripes, Emmie, where the hell did you get those tits? They weren’t there yesterday, were they? Are they real? They look real.”
Emily tried to appear blasé, “Oh, I guess I must have just blossomed overnight, as they say.”
Genevieve was immediately onto something, “So, you’ve got you’re period, too, right? That always comes when you get tits.”
“My what?” Emily had heard the word before, but couldn’t remember where.
“Your period, silly,” teased Genevieve. “If you got your boobs, you must have got your period. My mother has been telling me about it for years, since I was like five or six. Are the cramps really bad, and the blood?
“What is a period?” Emily was genuinely frightened now. Blood? Cramps?
“You really don’t know?” puzzled Genevieve, “You mean you got your boobs and not your period? Hey, I want that!”
Emily immediately stood up, stumbled and nearly fell flat on her face with the unaccustomed weight. She grabbed her towel, wrapped it around herself and charged into the change room. The Ogling Boys looked longingly after Emily, then turned their focus back on The Letter Girls.
Emily sat facing the corner, arms clasped across her chest, hunching over and quivering with shame.
[Make them go away!]
Are you sure? You seemed confident the enlargement of these glands would lead to happiness.
[I don’t want them! People don’t look at me any more, even girls! Just my boobs. And what is this period thing?!?]
Emily immediately put on all of her clothes, including a very baggy sweatshirt, and rushed out of the exit on her way home.
Emily shot in through the kitchen door and straight up to her room.
“How was the pool?” her mother asked the passing girl, not really expecting an answer when she saw the look on Emily’s face.
Emily plunked down on her bed.
[How soon can you make them go away?]
If you’re sure about this ...
When you wake tomorrow, they will be absorbed.
[Will I get fat?]
Emily. Please. You must not be so fixated on your appearance and what others think of you.
[What’s a period? Genevieve kept talking about my period. Blood and cramps and things.]
Your menstrual cycle.
[Oh! Will you stop being Mr. Science Professor and tell me what it is!]
I think you should ask you mother. I believe that is a traditional means of passing on this information, as Genevieve said.
[You’re crazy! I can’t ask my mother about this! You tell me. My wish is your command, right?]
If you insist. Close your eyes.
Emily closed her eyes. Suddenly, she took a deep breath and opened them wide.
[Oh! Oh ... I see. Thank you. I guess I asked for it.]
I’m afraid my explanation may have been a bit clinical ...
[No, it was fine.]
Emily was calm now. All of the anxiety and stress had vanished, as if she had discovered some enormous truth.
[I think I will have a talk with my mom after all.]
Emily came down into the kitchen, wearing the too big sweatshirt to hide her too big boobs. Her mom was cooking dinner.
“Mom. Will you tell me about periods and things?”
Her mother froze and had a look of horror on her face as if Emily had just declared she was an axe murderer. Then she covered her face and burst into tears.
Emily was a bit worried, “What the matter?”
Her mother sniffed and dried her eyes on her tea towel, “Oh, Emily. I promised myself the day you were born that I would tell you all about it long before anything happened ... but I just haven’t been able to get up the courage.”
Emily tried to be reassuring, “That’s OK, Mom. It hasn’t happened yet. Why are you so upset?”
“Oh, thank God,” said her mum, coming around the counter and sitting on a stool next to Emily. “My mother ... Grandma ... didn’t tell me a thing, ever. One morning I woke up with horrible cramps in my tummy and blood all over my pajamas. I thought I was dying of some horrible disease. I secretly washed everything myself and stuffed my panties full of toilet paper. I bled for days. My best friend at school suspected what was happening and told me everything. She was so kind. She gave me some of her pads and explained what to do.”
“Oh, Mom,” said Emily as her mother started to weep again. “It’s alright. I understand now. I guess it’s just about becoming a woman not a girl.”
That grown-up comment made her mother smile and cry even more. Emily was afraid of giving her a hug for fear she might discover her not-so-treasured chest, but promised herself she would give her mom a good hug tomorrow.
The next morning, Emily sat up, looked down her pajama top and shouted, “Yes!”
Be careful what you wish for, Emily.
[Oh, believe me ... I will!]
You do not have that long to wait for natural development. It will come soon enough.
[I think I can wait, that’s for sure.]
She sprang out of bed and started to get things ready for school.