My Uncle free porn video

My Uncle Synopsis: A young boy's life takes an unpleasant turn when his parents are killed and he is placed in an abusive foster home. Things improve markedly when he is able to go and live with his father's wealthy younger brother. But as time passes, he begins to notice ..... some changes. Childhood I tried my best to please my father, I really did, but it's just that I wasn't that good at sports. My dad played football and basketball in high school, and basketball in college and he was hoping that I'd have the same interests. It wasn't that I didn't like sports, I'd watch the games if I didn't have anything better to do. But play sports? I was so uncoordinated that I was awful. Whenever we had to choose teams at school, guess who was the last kid chosen - me. And when my dad did sign me up for Little League, guess who spent most of the time on the bench - me. I guess that Dad figured that if I practiced more that I'd improve so he put up a basketball hoop in the back yard and was always after me to shoot baskets with him. And he'd grab a baseball and a couple of gloves and a bat and take me out into the backyard for some batting practice. But no matter how hard I worked at it, I just couldn't improve, and that really frustrated my Dad. At one point he convinced himself that I couldn't hit a baseball or sink a hoop shot because I needed glasses. So he took me to an eye doctor and even though the doctor said that my vision was fine, he insisted on getting a prescription for glasses. So then, instead of the other kids merely picking on me for being bad at sports, they could now call me "four eyes" in addition. Eventually, about the time I was in the sixth grade I think Dad finally realized that I was never going to improve in sports and we became more and more distant over the course of that year as he turned his attention to my sister who, even though she was a year younger than me and in the 5th grade, was a natural athlete and excelled at any sport she played. At first that bothered me a little but I eventually took refuge in my books and drawings and music and let my sister assume the role of the junior athlete in the family. As I drew apart from Dad, I gradually grew closer to Mom. Now, it's not like I was suddenly spending all my time with her or anything, but sometimes we'd just take a few minutes and talk about whatever was on our minds. And sometimes when I didn't have anything to do she'd take me shopping with her - which was kind of neat because she was now letting me pick out my own clothes - although she did gently tell me a couple of times that I'd picked out the wrong size, or a fabric that would lose color in the washer, or that you shouldn't pick out a bright green shirt to wear with blue slacks - that kind of stuff. At least I learned never to repeat that one time I threw a new bright red shirt into the washer with my underwear and ended up with bright pink briefs - man, did the boys at school kid me when they saw me wearing those pink briefs in Phys. Ed. Class! And in the science classes at school I'd always been interested in Chemistry so it was kind of natural that I'd take an interest in cooking at home and Mom was letting me help her out in the kitchen. Of course there was that time that I really messed up a recipe for chili and used, like, maybe 10 or 30 times the right amount of chili powder. That was the day Dad came home from work, walked into the kitchen, asked what was for supper, and tasted a big spoonful of the chili simmering on the stove. Man, his face got so read I almost expected to see steam shoot out from his ears like in those Road Runner cartoons and both Mom and I were laughing our heads off at him. Other than being uncoordinated, my poor showing at sports probably had something to do with the fact that I was one of the smallest kids in my class. I was a good 6" shorter than any of the other kids and at least 20 pounds lighter. In those "Know Your Body" classes that we had to take, they said that boys usually start puberty about age 11 and since I'm 11 and in the 6th grade, I'm ready! While most of the other boys were beginning to develop more muscular builds I still retained my slim, childish build. And my voice still has its higher girlish note - which I guess is still better than the guys whose voices are changing and they keep bouncing back and forth between their new lower voice and their previous higher sounding voice. A couple of the guys in my class are funny - one of them has these, like, 7 or 8 straggly hairs on his chin now and he carefully arranges them all the time and tries to act like he has this goatee. But it's still kind of tough when some of the other kids are beginning their growth spurt and you haven't. There were times when I almost wished that I had been born a girl instead of a boy but I didn't fit in with the girls in my class as they were all developing this middle-school interest in boys and I didn't fit the image of the boys they were developing crushes on. So all this left me pretty much a loner, and to tell the truth it didn't really bother me all that much. My Life Changes But my world changed the night of that high school championship basketball game. Dad wanted to take the whole family to watch the high school team play their longstanding rivals from the other side of town for the district championship. I begged off going to the game, claiming that I had a headache and an upset stomach. Actually, I felt fine but just wanted to be able to curl up with a book in my bedroom and listen to some music. About 10pm that night the front doorbell rang and I assumed that my folks had forgotten their keys - that is, until I opened the door and found two large policemen standing there. They tried to break the news to me as gently as possible that on their way home, my parents car had been broadsided by a drunk running a red light at high speed, and that my parents and sister were now in the hospital emergency room with serious injuries. There was no point in taking me to the hospital as I wouldn't be able to see any of them for at least several hours, and since they couldn't leave me home alone overnight, they would take me to a temporary home run by the Department of Social Services. I think that was the worst night of my life. Ever! The cops were nice and tried to help me as I grabbed a few items of clothing and tossed them into my backpack, fighting off tears as I did so. Then they put me in the back seat of the patrol car which smelled of cigars and vomit for a half hour drive to the "home" - which actually turned out to be a large ranch-style home in the suburbs. I was welcomed at the door by a plump grandmotherly lady who smiled at me, asked me to call her Ms. Kate, and asked if I would like some hot chocolate and a snack before going to bed - I gratefully accepted and began to feel a little more relaxed as I ate and chatted with Ms. Kate. Finally she showed me to a small private bedroom and I quickly climbed into bed, and exhausted by the events of the past few hours, immediately fell asleep. I slept through the night and was awakened in mid-morning by Ms. Kate gently shaking me. "Madison, wake up. There's someone here to see you." "Me?" I asked sleepily, "Someone here to see me? Who?" "A nice lady from Social Services. Now get dressed and come out to the kitchen while I fix you some breakfast." Why is it that when someone from the government smiles at you, you just know that it's bad news. And it was worse than I had expected. Both my parents were dead and my sister was in critical condition. I held on to the kitchen counter to steady myself as I burst into sobs. Ms. Kate gathered me in her arms and pressed me against her ample bosom as she scowled at The Lady from Social Services. The Social Services lady told me that I would be staying with Ms. Kate for a few more days while they "sorted things out," and asked me if my parents had any relatives that lived nearby. "Relatives? Nearby?" I managed to get out between sobs, "I think my parents were only children and their parents are dead." I thought for a moment and continued, "I think Dad had an older brother. But I don't know where he lives and never met him. I think maybe his name is 'Robert' or something like that." The Social Services lady looked unhappy at that - like, it was my fault that my parents didn't have any other brothers or sisters? And Ms. Kate kind of shooed her out of the kitchen and told her to call before coming back again. After that the next couple of days were sort of a blur. I slept, and woke up and ate something, not bothering to get dressed and still in my pajamas, and watched TV, and took a nap, and ate something else, and then went to bed, and then started the whole cycle over. I wasn't really thinking about anything - I was sort of in shock - and every so often I'd think about my parents and realize that they were dead, and I'd start crying again. Just when I was starting to feel that my world hadn't come to an end, DSS sent word that my sister would survive but due to the severity of her injuries, she was going to have a long convalescence and might never be able to live independently in the future. And that was another shock! I guess that it was about a week later that Ms. Kate told me to dress up in my better clothes because there was going to be a "hearing" at DSS. Yeah? Well what took place when we got there was everyone else in the room getting a chance to talk - except me. And when I tried to say something the judge or whatever gently asked me not to interrupt. So, I couldn't stay with Ms. Kate anymore and while they were trying to locate my father's brother who seemed to be out of the country they would put me in a "nice foster home," just "temporarily" of course. Well, the "nice foster home" was run by this skinny lady with her hair pulled back in a bun and who never smiled and who always seemed to be mad. And there were two girls and three other boys in her "nice foster home" and there were only three bedrooms so I had to sleep with the three other boys in a small bedroom that just barely accommodated two bunk beds. And The Lady had 4 cats in her "nice foster home" and didn't change the litter box very often so everything smelled like cat piss. And the three other boys were older and bigger than I was and clearly weren't happy about me taking up the last free bunk. They spent most of their time playing cards and figuring out ways to skip school, and sneaking out of the house to smoke cigarettes. And one of them showed me this knife he carried with him all the time and told me that if, "You ever fuck with me that I'll cut your balls off." I rapidly learned that if the other boys told me to do something that I'd better do it, and that I'd better keep as far away from them as possible to minimize the number of times I got punched or slapped or kicked every day. And if they wanted to grab food from my plate whenever The Lady wasn't looking, I'd better not complain. Just a "nice foster home," sure! I turned 12 the second week I was in the foster home. Birthday Party? Are you kidding - not even a cupcake. While I had never been that enthusiastic about going to school before, I now looked forward to going to school every weekday morning as it gave me a chance to get out of the "nice foster home" for at least six or seven hours. A Problem About the fifth month I was at the "nice foster home," I woke up to find that ..... I had wet the bed during the night! Oh man, how embarrassing, I couldn't even remember wetting the bed before so I just made it up with my wet pajamas inside like nothing had happened and went to school. I was wondering whether anyone noticed but they seemed not to have and when I got ready for bed that night everything had pretty much dried out during the day - leaving only a slight odor of pee - so I climbed into bed that night, hoping that what had happened before was an accident that wouldn't happen again. Well, it did happen again and the next morning I awoke to another wet bed. So the next couple of days I tried everything from not drinking any liquids after supper to getting up in the middle of the night to take a leak - nothing worked - and I continued to wet the bed every night. After about a week of this my bed was getting to smell pretty bad and I overheard one of the other boys comment, "Man, if that cat smell gets any worse I'm going to slit their throats." It all came to a head when The Lady ordered us to strip our beds and give the sheets and blankets their monthly washing. As I stripped my bed the smell of urine was overwhelming and it was obvious to everyone in the room what I had been doing every night while I slept. I was so embarrassed. And The Lady made it worse by describing to everyone exactly what my problem was, and beginning to call me "the baby" and ordering me to "solve my problem - or else." Well, I even tried not having anything to drink after lunch but even that didn't work as I continued to wet my bed every night. And finally The Lady solved the problem - by loudly announcing to everyone that I would have to wear a diaper to bed. So, every night before I went to bed I would have to put on a thick cotton diaper and a pair of plastic panties, and then remove both in the morning and wash out the sodden diaper before breakfast - all while the other boys were watching me and making fun of me and referring to me as "the pee-boy." I guess about the only good thing, if you could call it that, was that after a month or so of this the novelty of my problem wore off and The Lady and the other boys stopped picking on me as much - except that everyone in the house was now referring to me as "pee-boy" instead of "Madison." Other than my beginning to wear diapers, life at the "nice foster home" had settled into a routine - five days a week I got to get out of the house and go to school. But after school and on weekends I was the skinny youngest kid with the high pitched voice that the other kids picked on. And while all the foster kids in the house were expected to pitch in and help out with the chores, they made it clear to me that if I didn't want to be treated any worse than I was already being treated, that I'd better do their share of the chores for them. So while they were out going to a movie or playing with their friends, I was the one stuck in the house - doing laundry, washing dishes, cleaning bathrooms (I think the boys missed the bowl on purpose and peed all over the floor just so I would have more of a mess to clean up), and tidying up the bedrooms after them while The Lady smoked cigarettes and watched TV - you get the idea - I was now the maid. Occasionally one of the other foster kids would be adopted, or shifted to another home, or leave for whatever reason, but their "replacement" was quickly instructed that I was the "low kid on the totem pole" and was "free game" for abuse. Some life. Almost Molested So while life in the "nice foster home" was unpleasant, I wouldn't say that I felt, like, really "threatened" or anything - except for that one time with Louis. When I got home from school one day, one of the girls - the one who was usually less mean to me - drew me aside and whispered in my ear, "Watch out for the new kid. He's supposed to be really mean - and strange." "Strange?" I asked, "Like, what does that mean?" "Don't know," she whispered back, "Just that you shouldn't turn your back on him." At supper that night I saw "Louis" for the first time. I don't know how old he was but he was a big kid - maybe 5' 8" and over 200 pounds. And he had greasy black hair and a scraggly beard, and a really bad case of acne. And he just looked, well ..... mean. It was a week or so after that when I was in the boy's bedroom, I'd just taken off my diaper and was getting dressed for school when I heard someone else enter the room and then the click of the door being locked from the inside. Before I could turn around someone grabbed my right arm and twisted it up behind my back in a hammerlock. I was forced to turn around and drop to my knees in front of Louis. He had his pants and underwear down and was holding his dick in his free hand. "Okay sweetie," he said with sort of a giggle, "I know how much you girls like to suck on men's cocks so here's a present for you," and thrust his dick toward my face. I just shook my head "no." "You don't understand girlie," he said, "You suck on this or I'll break your fucking arm off," twisting my arm up more forcefully behind my back and causing me to cry out in pain. I didn't care what Louis did to me, there was no way I was going to let him put his dick in my mouth, so I just shook my head "no" again. Louis' face got really red and I wasn't sure what he was going to do next, but I was half expecting him to break my arm - or worse - when there was a knock on the door and The Lady called through it, "You boys. Get out here right away. I don't want you to be late to school again or the DSS will get on my case again," and she banged on the door with her fist. Louis momentarily looked as though he wasn't sure what to do - break my arm or open the door but after a few seconds he released my arm, shoved me away from him, unlocked the door and left the room. The Lady looked in and saw me kneeling on the floor naked, crying and rubbing my right arm and just shrugged and turned away. The funny thing was that a day after that Louis was no more. Don't know where DSS took him. Don't care. But at least he wasn't a threat to me anymore. The strange thing was that after that attack, I started wondering about how it would feel to have someone suck on your dick. Like, would it feel better than when I played with myself in the shower? And then I remembered what his dick had looked like when it was only inches from my face, and that led me to wonder what it would feel like to have it in my mouth and be sucking on it. That was too weird and I quickly put that thought out of my mind! It was a couple of weeks before my 13th birthday when The Lady told me not to go to school that day as someone from DSS was going to stop by that morning to talk to me. When the lady from DSS arrived, she sat down with me and The Lady and explained that it had taken them some time to locate my father's brother. Yeah - tell me about it - like a year, and I'm the one stuck in this "nice foster home" you dumped me in. But anyway, it was like he'd been out of the country and moving around, or something like that but they had finally gotten in touch with him a month or so ago, and he'd agreed to be responsible for me, and they'd checked him out and felt that he would be a "good parent," and everything was set up, and a car would pick me up tomorrow and take me to the airport for an early morning flight to Miami to meet my uncle. "Miami? Like in Florida?" I asked. "You got it," she replied. A New Family I hardly slept that night, tossing and turning in anticipation of getting out of this "nice foster home" and meeting my uncle. And you know what? I hadn't put on my diaper the night before and had drunk 3 large glasses of water before going to bed so the next morning when I got out of bed, it almost gurgled it was so saturated with piss. Let the next kid deal with that! So around 7:30 the next morning The Lady called out to me that my ride was here, and man I couldn't wait to get out of that house, and all of a sudden she's like trying to make nice and telling me how much she'll miss me and all that stuff. "Fuck you!" I said as I walked out the door, wondering how long it would take them to find that both of the toilets in the house were completely clogged with rolls of toilet paper. Actually, the ride to the Detroit airport was kind of fun. The driver was nice and the car was actually a mini limousine so I got to sit back in a comfortable seat and watch the scenery flow past during the 45- minute ride to the airport. I was kind of nervous about the trip ahead of me, my uncle, where we'd be living and all that and I hadn't slept well the night before and my stomach had been a little upset so I'd skipped breakfast and I had the beginning of a headache so after awhile I just leaned back in the seat, closed my eyes and listened to the music the driver had on the radio and tried to relax. Once we got to the airport the driver escorted me into the terminal and got me checked in at the airline for my direct flight to Miami and handed me a packet with my boarding pass and some contact information on my uncle, and instructions on what to do when I got off the plane in Miami, and an airline ticket agent walked me past security and to the departure gate and sat with me till it was time to board the plane. The flight to Miami wasn't too bad, about three hours, which was good because my upset stomach and headache were getting a little worse. Man, did that feel different to get off the plane and realize that the outside temperature was 83F compared to the 28F when we left Detroit! As I walked into the terminal I saw a man holding up a sign "MADISON BLAIR" and I walked over and introduced myself. He was a nice older guy with a bit of a Scottish (or British?) accent and when I asked if he was my Uncle Robert he just said, "Oh no, Laddie, your Uncle's waiting for you on the boat." On the boat? What was this? I had visions of a guy sitting in a rowboat waiting for me? But Marvin, that was his name, asked me if I had any luggage (I didn't. Most of my clothes were several years old and pretty shabby so I had picked out the best of the lot when I got dressed that morning, so I was wearing everything I owned in the world) and then we headed to the valet parking lot, got his car (almost as nice as the small limo I had rode to the airport in Detroit) and headed off into traffic. Man, these folks down here drive crazy! And half the cars are blaring this loud Cuban music and most of the radio stations are in Spanish. Way different than Detroit! After about a half hour of dodging maniac drivers, Marvin pulled into some place called the Coral Beach Yacht Club, parked, and led me past a lot of boat slips (and by this time I was feeling a little lightheaded and beginning to wonder whether I was about to puke up whatever was left in my stomach. Finally, just as I was about to ask him if I could sit down and rest a minute he stopped and said, "Here's the boat." Boat? Holy Shit! This thing was huge, must have been 200' long (I later found out it was only 177'), and had the name "Database" on its bow. We walked up the long gangplank, with me a more and more unsteady on my feet, and as we stepped onto the deck a young guy, maybe in his early 30's stepped forward and said, "Welcome aboard Madison, I'm your Uncle Bob." I started to shake his hand, then vomited on the deck and fainted. Illness Things were pretty hazy after that. I sort of remember someone picking me up and carrying me, and then I was in a bed, and then some people were near the bed and talking. All I could remember was their saying something like, "..... waiting for the doctor .....," and then I went to sleep, or passed out, or whatever. The next days (hours? weeks?) were pretty much a blur. I think I slept most of the time. But I occasionally remember hearing fragments of nearby conversations. And several times I felt people touching me and moving my body (on my bed?), and one time I felt a momentary stick as something was put into my arm (a needle?). But as time went on I was more and more fully awake and able to take in my surroundings. One morning I woke up (How do I know it was morning? It just felt like morning.) and I was lying in a bed in a nice room (Not a hospital? Too nice.) and there was a nurse by my bedside (Nurse? Nametag that said "RN" on it.) and she said, "Well, we're glad that you're back with us again (Again? Where had I been?)" and I managed to say, "What ..... what ..... happened," before falling asleep again. Finally I awoke one time and tried to sit up in bed but found that I was too weak and then Uncle Bob came into the room and pulled up a chair by my bed and told me what had happened. When I fainted and they couldn't revive me they were getting ready to call 9-1-1 when Bob remembered that there was a doctor on the yacht in the next slip and he ran over, found that the Doc was aboard, and brought him back to look at me. After some simple tests the Doc drew some blood for lab work and thought that I was stable enough to remain on Bob's yacht and started an IV to hydrate me before he left. He came back several hours later and said that the tests revealed that I was badly dehydrated, severely anemic, malnourished, and had a raging upper respiratory infection. The best treatment was simply bed rest, antibiotics and hydration by IV - and that's what they did - although I had been semi-conscious for over a week before I began to be fully aware of my surroundings. Over the next week they began feeding me soft food and then solid food, encouraging me to drink lots of liquids, and first sit up in bed, and then sit on the edge of the bed, and then stand up and take several steps - with Bob on one side and the nurse on the other side as my legs were still pretty wobbly. And a day after that they helped me up on deck where I could sit on a lounge chair, swaddled in blankets and enjoy the warmth of the sun. After that I was feeling so much better and was so eager to resume my normal activities that I pushed myself hard to get out of bed, eat large meals to regain the 9 pounds I had lost during my illness, and exercise by walking around and around the deck to regain my strength. I found that 13 turns around the deck equaled one mile and was pushing myself to walk at least one more mile every week than I had the previous week. Usually by about 4pm I was so tired that I could just barely drag myself to the galley, eat the large meal they had prepared for me, and drag myself of to my room, immediately to fall soundly asleep. It was one of those nights when the thought flashed through my mind just before I went to sleep, "Hey, I haven't wet the bed since I've been on the yacht," and I smiled. First Crush It was while I was eating a snack in the galley between meals that I met Stav for the first time. Well, actually his name is Stavros, he's Greek and 17 years old, and signed on as a temporary galley helper to get away from the small fishing community he had grown up in and see a little of the world before deciding what to do with his life. I noticed Stav because he was always happy and grinning as if there was some joke that only he understood. He had the olive Mediterranean complexion, dark brown eyes, and hair that was a tightly curled mass of black ringlets. Because of the heat in the galley he usually wore just a pair of shorts (tight and short), a tight sleeveless t-shirt that showed off his muscular torso, and sandals. Since I had turned 13 when I was sick (darn, missed the party), Stav and I were only about 4 years apart in age and he soon adopted me as a younger brother. As I recovered most of my strength Stav and I became inseparable - spending most of our waking hours together, which meant that I had to spend many hours helping him in the galley. But in his free hours we'd roam the yacht and he showed me all the different areas aboard - from the engine room, to the master stateroom that Uncle Bob occupied to the public areas, communications room, small sick bay, library, gymnasium, theatre and finally the bridge. He also showed me all the sleeping areas - from Bob's master stateroom on the upper deck, to the cramped crew's quarters below decks, to the individual cabins in between. There was my cabin - certainly not a stateroom but way larger than the crew's quarters and with my name, "Madison," on a small brass plate on the door. Next to me was a cabin with "Chantal" on the brass plate and in response to a question, Stav said that he'd never seen that room occupied in the 4 months he had been aboard. Farther down the passageway was Rosa's cabin - she was the only woman in the crew and was a cute looking, late 20's, friendly woman with a strong Caribbean accent that, along with her caf?-au-lait complexion revealed her origin. Rosa was sort of an all-around female presence - maid, confidant, and problem solver for the crew and passengers - you name it, she could take care of it. I wasn't sure what the relationship was between Rosa and my Uncle Bob. She wasn't as deferent to him as the crew members were, and he was always very polite to her and they seemed to spend a fair amount of time together, and Stav told me that he had occasionally seen her going into Bob's stateroom in the evenings. So I kind of assumed that my uncle and Rosa had a "thing" going. Anyway, also on the passageway were the quarters for the Captain and Chief Engineer. Bob's yacht was almost a small city in itself. As I was walking along with Stav, or helping him in the galley, or just hanging out with him on the deck I could not help but notice the contrast between us. Stav had an olive complexion that had become a darker reddish color from the sun, and the muscles in his arms, torso and legs rippled as he walked along with the grace of a young animal. On the other hand my skin was a pasty white color and while I had gained back the weight I had lost during my illness, and probably an additional 10 pounds as well, I wasn't muscular in build - just sort of, well ..... "soft" and almost bordering on being "chubby." It might have been due to these physical contrasts, as well as Stav's cheerful and outgoing disposition that made me feel ..... well ..... sort of attracted to him and I occasionally dreamed of him at night. Whew! Pills! I'm feeling better these days but Bob's doctor friend has me taking all these different kinds of pills every day - small pills, large pills, pink pills, white pills - even four big gel caps every day that smell awful. I asked the Doc what they were and he said that they were multi-vitamins and fish oil. "Fish oil?" I asked, "Mostly sardine and anchovy," he answered. Oh well, I just kind of hold my nose when I take them. He said the other pills are dietary supplements and some medications to help my body recover from a year's worth of malnourishment. Since I'm not especially good at remembering which pills to take, and when, Rosa's got this plastic box that has compartments for every day of the week, and smaller compartments for "morning," "noon" and "evening." She fills up the box once a week and all I have to do is remember to take the pills from it three times a day. I'm not sure of what might have happened between us but Bob had become aware of the "chemistry" between Stav and myself. One time he had come upon Stav and I standing at the railing on the upper deck after dark and looking at the stars with Stav's arm around my shoulders as I snuggled up against him. And then there had been that meal in the main dining room where he caught Stav and I winking at each other over some private joke. It was shortly after that when the word was passed through the yacht that our time in Miami had come to an end and that the yacht would be sailing for the Bahamas the following day. Shortly after we sailed I went to the Galley to talk to Stav to plan out our activities for the day - only to find he was not there. I asked the Chef where Stav was and was brusquely told that Stav had let the yacht the night before without any advance warning and now the chef was one hand short in the galley. I wouldn't say that I exactly burst into tears but I sorely missed Stav's presence for several days, and only began to brighten up when we anchored in the Bahamas and I had the chance to spend more time with my uncle. Bob Bob's yacht had anchored offshore of a small uninhabited island and I guess the plan was to spend three or four months just enjoying the Bahamas before the yacht had to head for Greece where it would remain for about six months - something to do with Bob's businesses. When I came up on deck in the morning, Bob was sitting at a table topside having breakfast and working on his laptop. He waved me over and one thing led to another and we spent most of the morning just talking. I learned how at 32 he was 6 years younger than my father, had dropped out of college after one semester and started a small software business. His small business had developed some unique applications and then been sold to a much larger company for a major sum of money. Bob then started another small company and repeated the process. He said that after 8 or so years of this life, he had more money that he could ever spend in a lifetime, so he bought this yacht and began aimlessly sailing around the world. This had caused a falling-out with my father who called Bob, ..... a lazy, rich, bum .....," and cut off all contact with him. But after a year Bob became bored and started doing a little software consulting - nothing fulltime - just several months here and there - and he always picked jobs where he could live on his yacht in a pleasant part of the world - that's why we were going to be heading to Greece in several months. "So," he finally asked, "You ever do any snorkeling?" I admitted that I hadn't and he said that there was no time like the present. So he had Rosa scare up some swim trunks for me and he had the crew lower the dinghy and take us in to the shallow water near the island where I could practice. I was a little embarrassed at the swim trunks that Rosa gave me because they consisted of this tiny little pink spandex thing that just barely covered me up - and I mean barely - Rosa said that all she could find that would fit me was the bottom of a girl's bikini. The embarrassing part was that when I put it on my dick kept trying to stick out the top and so I had to shove my dick back down between my legs so that it wouldn't do that. But nobody seemed to pay attention to what I was wearing and I soon forgot my embarrassment. Other than breathing at the wrong moment a couple of times and choking on a mouthful of salt water, I found that snorkeling wasn't all that hard and Bob and I spent hours just paddling through the warm shallow waters, enthralled by the tropical fish that would actually swim right up to us as if begging for a snack. Finally we had to call a halt to our fun and have the dinghy take us back to the yacht - with Bob promising that he'd take me snorkeling again the next day in some deeper waters. Well, that was not to be as when I jumped into the shower in my cabin to wash off the salt, I almost screamed in pain as the needles of water hit my back. I jumped out of the shower and examined myself in the mirror, looking at my shoulders, back and legs that were turning brighter red by the moment from a massive case of sunburn. The next week was mostly spent wearing only the tiny bikini bottom as I could not stand the touch of any other clothing on my sunburned body, and with Rosa gently applying soothing lotion to my burned areas every several hours. "Stop fidgeting," she once said to me as she was applying the lotion to my rear end. "But that tickles," I said, "You big boy, can take," she responded. What I hadn't said was that the feeling of her hands massaging the lotion onto my buttocks felt more than just "tickling" and I was getting kind of turned on and was developing an erection. Oh well, at least the sunburn was on the back of my body and not the front .......... Clothing Optional After about a week I was feeling much better and was ready for more snorkeling - but with massive amounts of sun block this time - and I headed up to the deck to interrupt Bob's breakfast where he was sitting at the same table with his laptop, wearing a robe and typing away and reading e-mail as he ate. He glanced up at me and asked, "Feeling up to more snorkeling?" "You bet," I enthusiastically answered, and Bob responded, "Well, I'm done here. Let's go," and stood up from the table. As Bob stood up his robe fell back on his chair and I saw that he was ..... TOTALLY NAKED! He saw me staring at him and just laughed and said, "Don't worry, there's no one else within miles except for the crew, and here in the out islands the rule is 'clothing optional', so everyone is pretty casual". If by "casual" he meant, like, totally naked, I guess he was right but I didn't want to let Bob know that I was embarrassed by my body - or by his for that matter - so when we got into the dinghy neither Bob nor I were wearing anything. And after a half hour or so of snorkeling I ignored the fact that I was naked and just really enjoyed the feeling of swimming through the warm tropical waters totally naked. Back on the yacht later in the day I dressed in a pair of shorts but noted that Bob remained "au naturel," and after several days I gradually lost my shyness and joined Bob as pretty much "au naturel" except maybe in the chilly evenings when I might throw on a pair of shorts or a big baggy sweatshirt when I'd be up on deck for longer than just a few moments. I really enjoyed the snorkeling - I'd finally found a sport that I was good at - my lack of coordination wasn't a drawback and as a result of my slightly chubby and soft build I was pretty buoyant in the warm waters of the Caribbean. And to be truthful it was kind of a turn-on to be swimming along naked with my dick being caressed by the warm waters and occasionally I'd swim single-handed as I reached down with my other hand and masturbated. I was getting increasingly annoyed by my hair. It had been pretty long and shaggy before my parents died and that was coming up on two years ago now. My hair kept falling in my face and getting in my eyes and was so long it hung an inch or so below my shoulders. I wanted to just hack it off and asked Rosa if she had a pair of scissors that I could borrow to cut it. "Oh no Madison," she said in her lilting accent, "Your hair look so nice. I fix for you." Well, that was the better part of a morning shot as she took almost three hours to trim my hair and wash it and put a bunch of stuff on it and comb and style it. When she was done I had to admit that it looked really nice - if you were a girl, that is. She'd lightened it a little from its dirty blonde and combed it so that it swept over my forehead over my eyes and fell to my shoulders with a slight curl at the bottom. I was afraid that Bob or the crew might kid me about how nice it looked but no one said anything and after a week or so the new style just seemed natural to me. About the worst thing about it was that whenever I came in from swimming and just took a quick shower to wash off the salt water, Rosa now had me shampooing and applying conditioner to my hair and combing it back into the style she had chosen. Geez - another 45 minutes out of every day. So for the next four or five months Bob's crew just skippered his yacht around the small islands in the Bahamas and he and I spent most days swimming, snorkeling and spear fishing - that was one of the happiest periods in my life. With all the sun, my pasty white body had slowly tanned to a dark reddish brown and the sun and salt water had bleached my hair to a very light blonde shade - almost white. I was pleased to note that I had gained almost three inches in height but my body still had that "soft" look and my voice still had its high girlish pitch. But it kind of looked like my dick might be just a little larger and I just reasoned that some things might take longer to catch up than others. Guess some progress is better than none. It was shortly after that when Bob passed the word that we'd be sailing for the Mediterranean in about a week, and once there would be cruising among the Greek isles while he did some consulting for the Greek government. The actual cruise was pretty boring - noting but open sea for almost two weeks. The Atlantic wasn't rough but the yacht was rocking a little as it plowed through the swells and I didn't enjoy being on deck with a constant 20 knot wind blowing across it. I spent most of the crossing in my cabin reading some books that Rosa lent me. At first I didn't like the books all that much but it was either read them or watch videos that I'd already seen and the satellite internet connection was out most of the time. So I started working through the books which all had the plot of a beautiful teenage girl being saved from some horrible fate by a very handsome young man and falling in love with him and the two of them getting married. Most of the books had a number of illustrations and the beautiful teenage girl always had large breasts and long beautiful hair and was wearing very little clothing and the handsome young man was very muscular and also wearing very little clothing. After reading several I got caught up in the stories and began to daydream about what it would be like to be a beautiful teenage girl and fall in love with a handsome young man. And I found myself looking forward to the next book to learn what horrible peril I would be saved from, and how long it would take the handsome young man to fall in love with me, and what our first kiss would be like, and what our wedding would be like, and how many children we would have. The Mediterranean Shortly after we arrived in the Mediterranean and docked at the Greek Port of Thessaloniki for several days to replenish our supplies, Bob mentioned that it had been months since I had been examined by a doctor and he wanted to make sure that my past problems were behind us so he had arranged for a local doctor to come on board and give me a physical exam and run some tests. Well, the "come on board" thing was a doctor, a nurse, a technician to draw blood samples and an X-Ray technician. That part of it took about three hours and left me with several cotton pads taped over the places on my arms where blood samples had been drawn. A day later the doctor returned, by himself this time, and went into Bob's stateroom before the two of them came out to talk to me. I don't know what they talked about in private but it took almost an hour and when they emerged from Bob's stateroom both were smiling and the doctor shook Bob's hand before he talked to me. But anyway he basically told me that I was in good shape and most of the medications that I had been taking could be discontinued. "Even the fish oil gel caps," I asked, "Even the fish oil gel caps" he responded which brought a smile to my face. He did say that there was still one area where my blood chemistry needed to be adjusted and he was going to continue me on a medication for that. When I learned that instead of taking multiple pills three times a day, I now only had to take one large pill before bed that made me even happier. And since my medications were so much simpler now, Rosa didn't have to help me by filling the pill box weekly. The only problem was that it took me several weeks to get used to the new medication that I was taking daily. At first I'd wake up in the middle of the night after taking a pill and I'd feel that I was running a high fever and my bedclothes would be soaked with sweat and I'd toss and turn for an hour or so before falling back to sleep. I remembered that I had the same problem soon after I arrived on the yacht when I began taking those different pills that Rosa had been putting out for me but the fevers were stronger this time. But as they had the first time, over a couple of weeks the severity of the hot flashes or whatever they were gradually subsided and eventually disappeared as my body adjusted to the new medication. One of the crates that we took aboard in Thessaloniki was delivered to my cabin and when I opened it I found that it contained - books. As I unpacked the crate it contained a complete set of high school textbooks - from 9th grade all the way through 12th grade. And at the bottom of the crate were a number of fictional novels - there were more of those teenage girls love stories that I had so enjoyed reading during the crossing, and it looked as though there was a complete set of "The Hunger Games" which I had seen one of the girls at the "nice foster home reading, and "His Dark Materials" series which I hadn't heard of. "Interesting assortment of literature," I thought as I arranged the books on the shelves by the desk in my cabin. Several days after we left Thessaloniki I was lying on the bed in my cabin without any clothes on as usual, and re-reading one of the romantic novels and crying just a little because it was at a really, really sad part. Now I had read that book before and knew that the sad part was going to make me cry but I kept reading it over and over because in the next chapter the beautiful teenage girl got her first kiss from the handsome teenage boy and I liked that part so well that I always cried again a little - but in happiness this time. My skin had gotten a little dry during the Atlantic crossing and while we were in Thessaloniki I had gone ashore and picked up several bottles of moisturizing lotion and I had applied a thick coat from one of the bottles to my body before I settled down to re-read the romantic novel and my cabin was filled with the floral scent of the lotion. I heard a knock on my cabin door and loudly said, "Come in," and the door opened and Bob stepped into my cabin. He paused a moment as he entered my cabin, smelled the floral aroma and caught sight of my soft, tanned, naked, glistening body on the bed, and he stared at me with a funny look on his face for several seconds before composing himself and saying, "Oh good, I'm glad that you found the books," and I was, like, thinking, "Like, how could I miss a 3' crate in the middle of my cabin?" He explained that I needed to continue my education and that he thought that he'd let me study at my own pace for awhile to see how it went, and if he needed to bring in some tutors aboard later, he could. As he was leaving my cabin he again paused a moment, looked me over again, winked and said, "Smells nice in here, doesn't it?" I just smiled and giggled a little. Actually, after looking through the 9th grade books for several days I enjoyed studying them - remembering how my 8th grade classes had been my only respite from the "nice foster home," and began to spend several hours every day studying. Well, the weather was sure nice after we left Thessaloniki and cruised to one of the smaller nearby islands, but it was also cooler than it had been in the Bahamas. It turns out that "clothing optional" was not as accepted in this area and whenever I went ashore I was going to have to wear some clothes. I had browsed through the clothes that Rosa had in her "stash" and couldn't find anything that I liked - they were all the wrong size or obviously girl's styles. So a couple of days after we anchored off a larger island, Bob asked Rosa to go into town and buy some new clothes for me. Well, Rosa's taste in clothes isn't the same as mine. She got me some shirts that were more like girl's peasant blouses than boy's shirts. The blouses were white and very frilly with lace decorations, in both short and long sleeved styles. And the denim shorts that she brought back were really short and tight, and made of a stretchy fabric so that they molded themselves to my body. And a couple of the shorts were ..... well ..... they weren't shorts but miniskirts. The funny thing was that while I really didn't like the idea of wearing a miniskirt, after I put one on at Rosa's urging I found that I actually liked it. It kind of felt like I wasn't wearing anything "down there" which I really liked, but at the same time I wasn't "exposing" myself if you get what I mean, and I could put a miniskirt on and walk through one of the small villages on the island with the breeze blowing on my (you know what) as it swung back and forth, hidden beneath my miniskirt. So when I was aboard the yacht, naked was still the plan, but when I had to go ashore I always put on a miniskirt and a short- sleeved peasant blouse and after several weeks I decided that I did like the way I looked when wearing the blouses and prevailed on Rosa to buy some more for me - in colors such as light tan and yellow and pink this time. Since Bob was spending a lot of time off the yacht on his consulting job and the water was a little cool and rough for snorkeling, I spent several hours most every day going ashore and hiking around whatever small island we happened to be anchored near at the time. Most of the islands were fairly hilly and I really enjoyed making a long and hard climb to a vantage point and then being able to see the beautiful Mediterranean and small islands spread out in front of me. Sometimes I'd get up early in the morning, have breakfast and have the galley pack a lunch for me, and then spend the whole day hiking around an island - returning exhausted only when it was time for dinner. I think all the hiking must have been toning up my lower body as after about 4 months of being in the Mediterranean I had gained about fifteen pounds and when I examined myself in the mirror in my cabin it seemed that all of the additional weight had gone to my upper thighs, hips and rear end and my lower body now had a very curvy appearance. Eventually the shorts and miniskirts that Rosa had bought for me months before were uncomfortably tight and I had to ask her to get me a few more in a larger size - but at least my blouses still fit! It turned out that the consulting work that Bob was doing for the Greek government that he initially thought would be a couple of months dragged on for four months, and then six months, and then to my 15th BIRTHDAY. I had kind of lost track of the date, and after not having any parties for my previous two birthdays I wasn't really expecting much. So I wasn't surprised when there were no apparent plans on the morning of my birthday and Bob told me that he had arranged for Rosa to take me into town that afternoon to a dentist to have my teeth cleaned and checked. Except that the dentist's office was crowded and he was way behind schedule and then Rosa had to run several errands so that by the time the dinghy returned us to the yacht it was beginning to get dark and I was, like, really, really hungry. As I stepped onto the deck there was a series of loud explosions and all of a sudden the sky above the yacht lit up with fireworks. Oh my god! It went on for like, fifteen minutes and it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen and at the end the crew gathered around and sang "Happy Birthday" to me and I burst into tears of happiness. Bob had the chef set up a cookout on the upper deck and Bob, Rosa, me, the Captain and Chief Engineer sat under the stars and had barbecued steaks and lobster. During the dinner Bob handed me several small gift-wrapped packages which I immediately tore open and found that they contained necklaces and bracelets which were so pretty that I had to put them on immediately, and then the chef brought out a big cake with fifteen burning sparklers on it and I burst into tears again. Actually, I'm not sure how coherent I was at that point as Bob introduced me to champagne that night. I hated the first glass, and then the second glass wasn't too bad, and by the third glass I was, like, "Hey, this stuff isn't too bad after all." And then at one point I remember trying to see if I could pick up a half full bottle and drink it all at once without stopping to breathe and Bob was suggesting that I should, "slow down a little." I don't remember too much after that except that I had to throw up over the railing and then Bob helped me to my cabin and I threw up again - but it was still the best birthday ever! Bob noticed how much I liked the jewelry he gave me on my birthday and since then whenever he has to be off the yacht for several days on a business trip he'll bring me a piece or two of jewelry as a present when he returns. Over a period of several months my jewelry collection grew to include several ankle bracelets, rings and earrings as well as more necklaces and bracelets. Several pairs of earrings were for pierced ears and I wasn't all sure about the whole piercing thing but Rosa insisted on doing it for me so I eventually wound up with six piercings in each ear and put my smaller studs and earrings in the upper piercings and my large gold hoops in the lower piercings. I liked the way that looked so much that I arranged my hair on the left side to that my ear jewelry was visible. I like my pretty jewelry so much that in addition to my ear jewelry I'll usually be wearing numerous bracelets, rings and necklaces all at the same time. Bob was kidding me that if I ever have to fly that, "..... you'll set off the metal director a mile away." I just giggled. Chantal Bob's work in Greece eventually ended and he wanted to get back to the Bahamas but he had to make a stop at Thessaloniki to pick up fuel and provisions before the Atlantic crossing. After everything was loaded aboard I assumed that we'd sail immediately but Bob delayed the sailing for two more days. I was wondering why but he was noncommittal so I didn't push the subject with him. The afternoon of the second day, I was on the upper deck, soaking up some sun and idly toying with one of my necklaces while Bob was working on his laptop. There were no other large yachts nearby so I was, as usual, wearing nothing except my jewelry and a thick layer of tanning lotion, and Bob for some reason had decided to wear a skimpy bikini. Then I heard a girl's voice ask, "So Bob, who's the new addition to the passenger list?" Surprised, I jumped up and turned to face ..... a beautiful girl! She was older than I was and a good 6 inches taller but she had a beautiful face and dark brown hair that fell in waves nearly to her waist. "I'm Chantal," she said, speaking with a slight French accent, and you are ....." I was about to tell her that my name was Madison when I suddenly realized that I'm standing there in front of this beautiful girl and I'm, like, totally naked, and blushing bright red as I tried to cover myself up with my hands. "Oh don't worry," she said, "I've seen it all before," and then continued, "But I've got to go to my cabin and change. That SwissAir flight is a killer and these clothes work better in Zurich than Athens." And she turned and left. It must have been about an hour when Chantal returned to the upper deck, now wearing a white bikini and having traded her traveling sandals for a pair with 4" spike heels so that she now towered over me by nearly a foot. While she was in her cabin I had made a quick trip to my cabin to put on a pair of shorts, noticing the fragrance of her perfume in the air in the passageway outside our cabins, before returning to the upper deck. She glanced at me as she returned to the upper deck and said, "Oh, I liked the view better before," which made me blush even more, before she continued, "And you do have a name, don't you? Or are you 'generic brand' or something like that?" I was having trouble pulling my thoughts together for she was even more beautiful in a bikini than in her heavy traveling clothes - long slim legs, generous hips, narrow waist, small but beautiful breasts, radiant slightly tanned skin and the green eyes that I had missed the first time. "I'm ..... uh ..... um ..... Muh ..... Mah ..... Madison," I finally managed to blurt out. "Well Bob, he's certainly cute enough, but it's too bad that he's mentally deficient," she said and Bob roared in laughter before responding, "Oh Chantal, I suspect that he's intelligent enough - you just have that effect on boys." Chantal paused and looked at me for a moment before saying, "Well, he is pretty .....," and I smiled at that, but then she continued, "..... in a girlish sort of way," and I wasn't sure that I liked the "girlish" part so I pouted at that. Dinner that evening was a little awkward - instead of Bob, me and a couple of the yacht's senior staff it was just Bob and Chantal and me - and for all it mattered it might as well have been just Bob and Chantal for it was obvious that they just wanted to talk to each other. I had trouble following their conversation as they skipped from one subject to another so rapidly. But I kind of got the impression that Chantal had lived on the yacht for some time before going off to school in Switzerland for a year and had just now returned. While Bob and Chantal were friends, it didn't seem as though they had a serious romantic interest in each other, and from the way they talked they certainly weren't related. So as soon as I'd eaten all I wanted I retreated to my cabin and curled up in bed with one of my girl's romance novels for several hours before turning out the lights and falling asleep. I awakened in the middle of the night and heard the thrum of the powerful diesels driving the yacht through the water and felt the gentle roll that meant that we had left Greece and were heading out into the Mediterranean on the first part of our trip to the Bahamas. New Friend As before the crossing was boring. Once into the Atlantic the weather was cooler and sunbathing was not a popular activity. And while not rough, the Atlantic did have heavier seas and the yacht's stabilizers could only reduce the rolling of the hull, not eliminate it. The long pants and sweaters that I had worn on the crossing from the Bahamas to Greece no longer fit me and Rosa had forgotten to buy me some new ones so I was reduced to wearing whatever I could borrow from Bob or the crew. Chantal did loan me two of her big baggy sweaters. When she wore them they had fallen to mid-thigh but on me they fell down to my knees and covered me up so well that I only needed to put on a pair of sandals to be dressed. The first time I put them on and felt the soft fabric against my skin, and smelled the faint aroma of her perfume that clung to them, and then realized how the same fabric that now touched my skin had previously caressed her body it excited me and I immediately reached down and masturbated. After that I wore those two sweaters whenever possible. "Looks like I've lost a couple of sweaters," she said to me one day, "Just don't get any stains on them," and she winked at me as I just blushed and nodded. With sunbathing out and with the occasional spray over the deck as the yacht drove through the seas we spent most of our time below decks - watching DVDs or using the Yacht's satellite link to the Internet when it was working, or reading - and I loaned Chantal several of my books so that she could finish reading "The Hunger Games" series. She taught me to play cribbage and I unsuccessfully tried to teach her poker. And by the end of the crossing we were friends. I turned 16 during the crossing and Bob and Chantal threw a birthday party for me - much more subdued than my 15th birthday party, and Bob limited me to just one glass of champagne. Bob gave me a few more pieces of jewelry and four more romance novels, which I appreciated. I don't know where she got them as the yacht had left port shortly after she arrived on board but Chantal gave me a nice assortment of hair care products and - get this - some cosmetics. "Um ..... like, do I really need these?" I asked as I looked at the cosmetics. "Oh, just something to experiment with if you ever get bored," she said as she winked at me and smiled. "Whatever," I thought. Once we were anchored back in the Bahamas again it was fun to relax and just spend time lounging on the deck reading, and snorkeling near the boat. Chantal had never snorkeled before so I showed her how and I think that she enjoyed it although she wasn't quite as enthusiastic about it as I was. After that time back in Thessaloniki when she had embarrassed me by coming up behind me when I wasn't wearing any clothes, I didn't want that to happen again and was careful to put on a pair of shorts or a miniskirt whenever I was out of my cabin - and she had an assortment of bikinis that she was wearing. Several weeks after we had arrived in the Bahamas she and I had been swimming near the yacht and were relaxing on the floating raft the crew had lowered into the water, when she said, "You know, you don't have to wear those shorts all the time. It won't bother me if you want to take them off." "Uh, no, uh ..... I ..... uh ..... don't mind keeping them on," I replied. She got this look on her face that said, "Oh my god, you are being so ..... so ..... childish," and sat up and peeled off the top of her bikini. I was like, "Holy shit, I can see her breasts!" And I had to admit that though her breasts weren't, like, huge or anything, that they were really beautiful with these big puffy light brown nipples and it wasn't till she laughed and said, "Okay, you can put your eyes back in your head," that I realized that I had been staring at her with my mouth hanging open. I also realized that I had this big erection that was struggling to get out of my shorts and to cover my embarrassment I rolled off the raft and into the water. A moment later Chantal dove into the water near me and in a flash she had pulled off my shorts and climbed back onto the raft. "If you want these you'll have to come and get them," she laughed as she waved my shorts in the air. I dog paddled around the raft for several minutes while I decided what to do, and then just climbed back on the raft as if nothing had happened and lay on my back on my towel with my erection poking up in the air, "Okay, you started it, so now you can look at it," I thought. Chantal just acted like nothing had happened and relaxed on her towel. So after that, I went back to "au natural" all the time and Chantal just wore a bikini bottom. A couple of weeks after that I figured that I'd return the favor and quietly came up behind Chantal while she was leaning on the railing, idly looking out at a thunderstorm building up in the distance with the lightning beginning to flicker between the clouds. I grabbed the back of her bikini bottom and was just about to pull it down when she wheeled around and gave me a slap that left my ears ringing. "Don't you ever touch me like that," she almost shouted as she steamed off to her cabin. Gosh, I was just trying to play a joke on her - what made her react like that? As I was sitting in front of the mirror in my cabin the other day, combing my hair and admiring the way it now hung nearly halfway down my back, I noticed something else - my chest looked a little funny. Now it wasn't anything bad or anything but the areas around my nipples looked a little ..... well ..... it was hard to describe but they looked a little softer, or thicker, or puffier, or something. And my nipples themselves were a light pinkish-tan color and looked a little bigger than the sort of flat brown boy's nipples that I had remembered them as. As I stood up I noticed that the areas around my nipples just kind of bounced and jiggled a little and that kind of embarrassed me as I wasn't sure what was happening. The next couple of days I kind of tried not to let the others on the boat see my chest - lying on my stomach when I was sunning myself, or holding a book up to my chest when I was sitting on deck reading, or hunched over a little when I was sitting at the table with Bob and Chantal. But after several days it didn't seem like anything more was "happening" with my chest, and Bob or Chantal didn't seem to notice anything, so I just didn't worry about it. Second Crush I really like Chan. Oh, I forgot to mention that we're not "Chantal" and "Madison" to each other but now use "Chan" and "Mad" when we're talking to each other. Yeah, I know that Chan is (I think) about three years older than I am, and a girl, but she's just so easy and comfortable to be with, and I can talk to her about things that I'd be uncomfortable talking to anyone else about, and even if we're not talking or doing anything together, I just like to be ..... well ..... to be close to her. Now it's not like I'm an expert in girl's breasts or anything but I've looked at the usual number of pictures on the internet - and gotten a couple of really nasty pieces of "malware" in the process - but I always thought that most girl's breasts were these, like, white sacks that hung down