Journal Entry 78: I was scatterbrained this morning while getting ready for school. Normally I'd treat such an incident as a fluke, but I worry it could be a sign of things to come. As always, progress at the school continues to evolve. Every day I return there's a smattering more cleavage getting shown off. The floors grow ever stickier. Even the boys begin to look more muscular, firm, fit. But I find myself equally drawn to the masses of breast-enhanced girls that litter the halls. I'm not sure when the last time was I saw a bra size under a d-cup.

There were many things I could have forgotten to bring to school that would have made for a less embarrassing day. But of all the things to neglect, I didn't even try and wear a bra. Not that bras had become useful or fitting as of late. Not since my breasts had grown to a size where each one surpassed the size of my head thrice over. Even my nipples alone have become so swollen and puffy that they wouldn't have fit in my largest, roomiest bra.

The uniform perils I face on a daily basis might have been at their worst today because of this! Every motion I took made them wobble incessantly. Even without a bra, typically I wear an undershirt at the very least. Something to keep them bound down and stop the jiggling. But today I just… didn't. I'm not sure if it was forgetfulness, or if my subconscious told me to simply forgo it. I could see that happening with the overflow of hormones frequently invading my head.

'Let them hang free, Twilight! Let them dangle and flop around like, big, meaty pillows. Everyone is staring at you anyway. You know it's useless, and your nipples are so erect most of the time that tops become pointless. Make it easier for people to grab them, tug those puffy nubs of yours, pull a tit into their mouth and suckle until their mouth goes dry!'

Darnit… such thoughts have been plaguing me recently and I can't help myself. But it's true, my clothing has become so pathetically small that even the rational part of me wonders why I bother with it.

At least I remembered panties. Well, a thong to be more precise, and with my skirt so short as it is, again the question of purpose comes up. My mouth waters just thinking about how much curvature I had on display today. I've received excessively more leers in one day than I used to receive in a year. I heard one boy mutter how much he wished to bounce coins off of my 'bubbly, bootylicious butt'. His words, not mine, though I can't disagree.

I have to wonder if my decision to wear a garterbelt was a good choice. It does provide more coverage, yes, but is the exotic nature of the garment more appealing than just going completely bottomless? I suppose I could experiment, but that would require going to school without any undergarment at all. As much as my hand dares to drop this pen and venture to rip it off of me, I know doing so would be a bad decision. With the minds and lustful natures of my fellow peers growing by the day, such an experiment would be useless regardless. Such is the issue with proper science.

Besides, I suppose for my own sake it's better to keep them covered up. I caught myself staring at my own backside for ten solid minutes today. Not even needing the mirror. My cheeks have grown so rotund and thick that I can see them with a slight turn of my head. My entire lower body is thick to the point one should call it fat, but everything is distributed in such a soft, enticing fashion. Even thinking back on it now, my eyes feel like glazing over at how shiny and perfectly perky my ass is. I know that boy said he wanted to bounce coins off of it, but maybe he wanted to use his penis instead. But, no, he wouldn't just tap it, would he?

He'd likely want to thrust it between the cheeks, enveloping his shaft in their softness while I lay on a bed, my nipples brushed up against the comforter. Maybe he'd tug on my pigtails like handlebars when he finally decided to dive straight into my anus, and pound away like it was his last chance to do such a thing. What a perverted, disgusting man he'd be, but he took the initiative, that's something to be proud of I suppose. Even if it meant I'd be a quivering, hopeless wreck in his wake, perhaps even addicted to such a sensation, my butt yearning for such attention, my hair longing to be pulled again…

Oh dear. I'm trying to write more, but it's getting so hard. I want to tell more. How I struggled with the sensations of my nipples rubbing against my top as I ran to class. The string of insults that made me feel pitiful yet warmed my womanhood. The indecent announcement the principal made after lunch. But I can't resist anymore! I need to pleasure myself again. Oh, if my rear weren't so appealing, this would be considered highly narcissistic...