“God, I can’t believe how big I’ve gotten since I got to camp this year!
“I figured it’d be a pretty easy summer job, you know, between freshman and sophomore year of college, go and be a camp councilor for two months. A couple of the upperclassmen I know recommended Camp Florescence, which seemed pretty awesome. An all-ages, all-girls summer camp on a lake upstate, I figured there’d be plenty of time to do some mentoring, work on my tan, and get paid. Plus, meals and lodging were covered, so if nothing else it was a place to stay that wasn’t back in my boring old hometown.
“The most intimidating thing when I first arrived was just how busty everyone was. All the full-time employees were these absolute knock-out babes! I’ve never exactly felt uncomfortable on the beach – I had a nice body, not to brag or anything – but some of the adults on staff wouldn’t have looked out of place on Pornhub or something.
“It was at the end of my second week, after the first round of campers went home, that I noticed my bras were getting tight. I didn’t think too much of it, just that maybe I’d been hitting the absolutely delicious camp buffet a little too hard, and borrowed a bra from one of the returning part-time councilors from the previous year, whose boobs were a little bigger than mine. It fit perfectly, and I didn’t think much more about it.
“Then that bra stopped fitting. And the one I borrowed after that. Soon, I was raiding the closets of the returning full-time staffers, borrowing bras that I would have been absolutely swimming in just weeks previously. Still, I didn’t really put it together until the sixth weekend there, when we had a big day off in the lake to celebrate the halfway point of summer.
“The bikini I had packed didn’t fit at all.
“Well, that’s not entirely true; the bottoms fit just fine, if a little snug around the waist. The top, however, was completely hopeless – my mountains of tit absolutely overflowed the cups. I looked like I was trying to transport a gallon of Jello in a shot glass.
“After a day of jiggling around on the lakeshore, I borrowed a tape measure and sized myself. Where there’d previously been a mere C-cup difference between my underbust and overbust measurement, now the difference was closer to 12 inches, putting me somewhere in the neighborhood of an L-cup!
“I stood in front of the mirror and examined them. How had I not noticed? They were huge, big jiggly mountains rising off my chest and dominating my torso. Cautiously, I palmed and hefted them – they felt like boobs alright, soft and heavy. My fingertips brushed over my nipples, which looked like they’d also swollen bigger along with my tits, and the spasm of pleasure just that little exploration shot through me left me weak in the knees.
“I was hyper-aware of my tits for the next few weeks. They didn’t stop growing, either, and soon I was swapping bras with some of the bustiest full-time camp councilors, the ones whom I’d thought looked like porn stars when I’d first arrived. All I could do was watch as my body grew into an absolute paragon (or even a parody?) of femininity, my huge boobs being the only thing that most of the hormone-ravaged campers would remember about me at the end of their week-long stays.
“The end of summer arrived, and with it, my time at Camp Florescence drew to a close as well. I was well and truly enourmous, my tits easily overflowing every bra I tried on, including an abandoned N-cup monstrosity we’d found stuffed into the back of the closet in the councilors’ quarters.
“They aren’t even going to recognize me back on campus when I got back for the fall semester. And who knows, maybe next summer, I’ll come volunteer again…”