The first day lectures were disappointingly mundane. Though, to be fair, orientation always is.

As soon as class was dismissed I rushed back to the dorms and the small lab that I shared with three suite mates. Some college dorms had mini-kitchens- GeneTech had mini-labs. Fortunately, no one else was around when I arrived. I took it all in for the second time and felt just as thrilled as I had the first. The lab contained the typical assortment of beakers, jars, vials, and a computer station. However, unlike my lab at home all of the equipment here had built in blue-tooth that automatically reported everything from temperature to chemical analysis back to the PC. Some of the equipment even updated in real-time. Very cool stuff. 

I started running tests immediately, perversely eager to check out coffee girl’s DNA. I cursed myself for not getting her name, but there would be opportunity for that later. The data fed straight into an app I had finished my senior year. Refinements and tweaks had been made all through high school, but it wasn’t until senior year that I had perfected it. Essentially it condensed an enormous amount of genetic data into easily readable statistics. I called it “Vital-Stat”. Not a very creative name, I know, but it worked.

The screen refreshed and I leaned forward eagerly to read coffee girl’s report.

Name: None
Nationality: Swedish/Dutch
Skin: White, unblemished
Height: 5’2”
Weight: 124 lbs
Bust: 34-D
Waist: 25
Hips: 32
Shoe Size: 7

There was a bunch of other information but I skimmed over it to get to the good part, her genetic potential. When I saw it my jaw dropped.

Name: None
Max Height: 6’4”
Max Weight: 188 lbs
Max Bust: 36-G
Max Waist: 28
Max Hips: 36
Max Shoe Size: 12

The max stats assumed she didn’t put on weight through more conventional means like eating a ton of chocolate or something. The problem was, in all likelihood, puberty was over for coffee girl. All those max stats were nothing more than a genetic fantasy. I thought back to the countless girls I’d run through Vital-Stat in high school. It had been fun watching them grow over the years, some barely hitting their minimum stats while others nearly fulfilled their full genetic potential. I’d had more than a few fantasies of girls in the latter category.

One girl in particular, Melissa Bonds, had substantially driven up the demand for kleenex in my household. I’ll never forget the day I first got my hands on her stats, she was a 4’11” shrimp and the only noteworthy thing about her shiny blond hair. It was a strand of that hair that revealed an astonishing potential: 6’6”, F-cup, 200 lbs, size 14 shoe. Throughout freshman year and beyond she grew like a weed. Between constantly sneaking glances at her in the hallway and trying to get as many elective credits with her as possible it would be fair to say I was a little obsessed. Driven to unlock the secrets of genetic perfection how could I resist such a specimen? 

Melissa hit 5’5” by the start of Sophmore year. I think she wore a B-cup then. By the beginning of Junior year she was 5’10” and had gained at least one cup size. When the start of senior year came around she had reached a whopping 6’1”, gone up another cup size and sported a size 11 shoe. That was the year she made all-state in girl’s basketball. Unfortunately, her growth slowed over senior year and she only gained another inch, leveling out 6’2”. On the other hand her bust reached its full potential and her F-cups eventually caused her to give up sports. 

“Whatcha looking at?”

My vocal chords reflexively struck a note usually reserved for dog whistles as I whirled around to face the intruder. I ended up face-to-bust with a set of tits that could have given Melissa a run for her money, and the girl they were attached to was huge. She was easily six feet tall but it wasn’t just height, she was big all over. Some kind of sci-fi monster t-shirt was stretched over her corpulent bust and little potbelly. Below that she sported a set of hips so wide they probably could have hid two of me. Overcoming my shock I looked up at her face and saw she had one of those rare, slender-ish faces some big girls have that belie their actual weight. Smiling, she brushed back a strand of blond hair and said, “Easy there karate kid, I haven’t come to challenge your dojo.”

It took me a second to notice my arms were raised in an awkward fighting stance. Embarrassed, I quickly lowered them and said, “Sorry, you startled me.”

“I noticed. But its no big. I probably shouldn’t have snuck up on you. By the way, the name’s Britta.”

“Britta? Like the w-”

“Yes, like the water filter,” she said, sighing.

“Get that a lot huh?”

“Always.”

“Well, its nice to meet you Britta,” I said reaching out my hand. “I’m Dylan.” 

Her hand swallowed mine in a handshake and she replied, “Nice to meet you Dylan, it looks like we’re suite mates this year.”

“Huh?” I said, confused. “That can’t be right. They split up the suites by sex.”

“That’s not what the list says.”

“What list?”

“The one posted in the main hall with everyone’s room numbers and names on it.”

“Maybe there was just a mix-up?” I said, suddenly uncertain.

“I don’t think so. The dorm is full-up, it looks like you were the odd man out.”

“Wait,” I said, as gears began turning. ”That means-”

“Yeah, you got the suite with three other girls.”

“Get the fuck out.”

“Down boy. Remember this is GeneTech, not Chica State.” she said, referencing the well-known party college.

“Of course, I was just…” I couldn’t think of anything to say.

“Just really excited by the idea of sleeping ten feet away from a bunch of college girls?”

“Yeah- I mean thats... Ugh.” I hung my head. After today I desperately needed to work on my intersex communication skills.

“Haha!” Britta had a deep infectious laugh that jiggled her heavy bust. “You’re a trip, Dylan. I think you and I are going to get along just fine.” She reached down and mussed my hair. I’d never had a big sister, but I imagined that having one might have felt a bit like this. “So are you gonna tell me what you were so focused on that I startled the kung-fu out of you?”

I had almost completely forgotten about the Vital-Stat data on the screen behind me. Britta was already looking over my shoulder squinting at the screen so there was no chance of hiding it now. “It’s an app I made in high school,” I said neutrally.

“What does it do?”

“It takes your genome and identifies a series of key genetic markers that affect everything from eye-color to shoe-size. Then it condenses and displays that data into two sections, one for the current condition of the target, and a second for the genetic boundaries of the target.”

“Interesting. So you dif the RNA from its DNA base to calculate the minimum and maximum potential of each cell type?" she asked. Holy shit, I thought, this girl knew her stuff.

“Yeah. I mean, the algorithms are obviously a bit more complex than that but you got the gist of it.” I replied.

“Cool,” she said, smiling earnestly. “Can I see?”

“Absolutely,” I said; happy to show off my genius to someone who could actually appreciate it.

Britta pulled up a chair and sat down. The wood creaked under her weight and I noticed that even sitting down I was still eye-level with her bust. She listened intently as I chattered away about gene-sequencing and RNA replication matrixes. At some point I started scrolling through the Vital-Stat report data and she said “Ooooh, what’s this?” I had been so excited to have someone around who actually knew what the hell I was talking about I forgot how incriminating the data might have looked. “Height. weight, bust size.” Britta said, grabbing the mouse and scrolling. “This looks like data porn.”

“Hey!” I said, trying ineffectually to take the mouse back. Her arm might as well have been the boom to a crane, I couldn’t budge it. Finally I gave up and said, “Look, that isn’t the only data I collect. I check for predispositions to all of the major genetic diseases. They get sent as separate alerts rather than as part of the main report.”

“So you’re not perv’ing out over bra-sizes?” Britta asked smiling with one eyebrow raised.

I wasn’t sure why but I felt somehow comfortable in her presence. Was it because she was being so good-natured about teasing me? “Maybe a little,” I admitted, smiling sheepishly.

She punched me in the shoulder and grinned wider. “Yeah I bet. Well, lets fire this thing up.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t you want to know what I’m packing?” She shimmied her shoulders back and forth, wobbling her big boobs in my face. Normally I wouldn’t have given a girl as big as Britta a second look, but I had to admit her cavalier confidence was alluring. Her jugs sloshed back and forth, straining against her bra like two whales preparing to breach. I guess having a huge set of knockers didn’t hurt either. Suddenly, they stopped shaking. “Are you gonna stare all day or are we doing this?”

I must have blushed fifty shades of red because she gave another deep belly laugh. After taking a moment to compose myself I pointed across the lab table and said, “Put a sample of your DNA into that thing there.” 

She stood up, making me feel uncomfortably tiny with her massive body. She clomped over to the sequencing dish and dropped a strand of hair in saying, “Here goes!” Britta walked back over and stood behind me as we waited impatiently for the results. With a *BA-BEEP* the screen refreshed and Britta’s hand engulfed mine as she once again took control of the mouse. Simultaneously a heavy warmth engulfed my shoulder and to my chagrin I started to sprout wood. With her body pressed intimately against mine I didn’t even notice she had reached the main stats section until I heard her exclaim, “Oh my god, I do not weigh that much.” I looked at the screen.

Name: Britta
Nationality: English, Ukrainian, African
Skin: White, occaisional pimples potentially resulting from poor diet
Height: 6’
Weight: 264 lbs
Bust: 40-FF
Waist: 35
Hips: 62
Shoe Size: 12

“Uhh,” I said uncertainly, “It’s usually pretty accurate.”

“Are you calling me fat?” A vice-like pressure descended on the shoulder not already engulfed by Britta. 

“I didn’t mean- Its just that usually- You see there are a lot-” The pressure eased and Britta’s laughter vibrated through my body.

“I’m just fucking with you, Dylan. Chill, I know I’m a big girl. I’m not exactly shy about it.”

“Oh, heh… that’s good.”

“For future reference though, if a girl makes a comment about her weight she is looking for a compliment.”

“Oh.” I said, feeling a bit stupid. 

“Well?” she said impatiently.

“Well what?”

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Britta gave me an exasperated look, “Well, can’t you think of something nice to say about me?”

“Oh!” I said, feeling dumber by the second. Her body was so hot and heavy against mine, I couldn’t think straight.“You’re very… curvy.” I said, weakly.

Britta frowned. “Isn’t that just code for ‘fat’?”

“No!” I protested. To think that just a minute ago I had felt almost completely relaxed around her.

“Relax. I’m just teasing you again. God, you’re easy.”

“Yeah, I guess.” I muttered unhappily.

“You don’t have any siblings do you?” she asked confidently.

“No, I’m an only child.”

“Parents not around much?” 

“I was an orphan.”

She ‘mmm-hmmed’ and continued questioning, “Lots of Foster homes?”

“Half a dozen, how did you know?”

“Psych is kind of my thing.”

“Psych as in Genetic Psychology?” GenePsych was a relatively new field but it had drawn a lot of scientific attention over the last few years. The basic idea was that even though people are influenced by their environment, they are still predisposed to respond to that environment in ways that are identifiable through genetic markers. Basically, it meant we each see the world through a unique genetic lens. 

“Yup. You’ve got a classic need for attention that was denied you in childhood. And I’d have to look at your genome to be sure, but I would guess you weren’t always a science whiz.”

“I worked hard,” I admitted, feeling very uncomfortable with the direction the conversation had taken.

She must have noticed because she said, “Sorry. No one likes a pop psych-eval.”

“Its okay. Genetic Psychology is your field, I know what its like to not be able to turn that part of the brain off. But how did you know without checking my genome?”

“G-Psi courses include a lot of old school psych classes. Can’t understand the tech if you don’t know the basics,” she explained. Then, thankfully, she changed the subject “Let’s look at my wasted potential, shall we?” She scrolled down to her minimum stats.

Name: Britta
Min Skin: White, moles, ingrown hair 
Min Height: 5’4”
Min Weight: 162 lbs
Min Bust: 36-B
Min Waist: 32
Min Hips: 38
Mins Shoe Size: 5

“Wow,” she said. “Good thing I ate my wheaties huh?”

I laughed, feeling a bit more comfortable again even though her boob was still resting on my shoulder. My hand was starting to sweat underneath hers. “Keep in mind,” I said, “those measurements account for your current weight so if you lost weight your minimum measurements would decrease as well. 

“I see,” she said absently, and continued to scroll. Her max stats pulled up.


Name: Britta
Skin: White, unblemished
Height: 6’2”
Weight: 282 lbs
Bust: 40-FF
Waist: 36
Hips: 64
Shoe Size: 13

“Aww yeah, these babies grew to the max.” In the corner of my eye her hand raised up and give the tit not currently resting on my shoulder a healthy squeeze. My pants were becoming uncomfortably tight. “Good thing I didn’t get any taller though, right? It’s hard enough finding clothes as it is.”

“The height looks good on you,” I offered sincerely.

“Well, would you listen to that,” Britta said incredulously. “A real compliment. Theres hope for the boy yet.” She playfully mussed my hair again. “Speaking of which, where are your stats?”

Oh god. I groaned inwardly and spoke quickly, “This has been fun. Really, it’s been great meeting you and all but I need to study. There’s a lot-”

“Ohhhh no, I don’t think so. You’re aren’t getting off the hook that easy. I showed you mine, you show me yours.” Britta said, sounding determined.

I sighed. “I could have been taller. Happy?”

“Nope, not until I see those stats.”

The stiffness in my pants suddenly felt like a betrayal. “Fine.” I said, and pulled up file GP-0001, the first sample I’d ever tested; my own. I scrolled down to my current stats first.

Name: Dylan Anderson
Nationality: Irish, Polish
Skin: white, light freckles on back and shoulders.
Height: 5’3”
Weight: 122 lbs
Chest: 29
Waist: 28
Hips: 28
Shoe Size: 7

“There, now you’ve seen my stats.”

“Hey that’s not so bad. It could have been worse, right?”

“No,” I said glumly.

“Oh come on, show me your min stats.”

“You’re looking at them.”

“But those are your current- oh.” Gentleness crept into her voice. “I’m sorry. That’s rough.”

“Shit happens,” I shrugged.

“Well, let us see what might-have-been! OoooOooOoooo” Britta said, imitating the ghost of christmas past in an obvious attempt to cheer me up. I scrolled down to my max stats even though I could have listed them by heart.

Name: Dylan Anderson
Max Skin: white, light freckles on back and shoulders.
Max Height: 6’
Max Weight: 172 lbs
Max Chest: 34
Max Waist: 32
Max Hips: 34
Max Shoe Size: 11

“Hey, you got the best version of your skin,” Britta said cheerfully.

“It’s the only version of my skin.”

“Still the best.”

“Yeah, great. Can’t wait to show all the girls what great pasty white skin I have.”

“I’d hit it,” she said nonchalantly.

My jaw dropped. I’d never encountered a girl as forward as Britta. Perhaps a bit ironically- she had no filter to speak of. I looked sideways at her, wary of being messed with again but her eyes were focused on the screen. There was no indication she was messing with me.

“That… well, thanks. I guess.”

“Don’t mention it. But you’ll have to get me drunk first. I fancy the ladies… mostly.” Oooookay, I thought, I’m suite mates with a lesbian-leaning bisexual who just offered to have sex with me. I was more than a little concerned with the more than a hundred pound weight difference but judging by the wood I was still sporting, I wouldn’t have any trouble ‘performing’. Honestly though, despite not really being my type Britta’s offer made me feel a bit better.

“Thanks, Britta.” I said again, less awkwardly.

“Really, don’t mention it. You seem like a good guy Dylan. I can tell you’re pretty new at this whole boy-girl stuff.” She placed a finger over my indignant lips and continued, “Don’t get offended. It’s okay to be inexperienced. It’s kind of adorable really. And hey If you want, I’ll be your wingman. I happen to know a thing or two about making the girls howl,” she said, nudging me in the ribs. “If you know what I mean.”

Self-loathing washed away and I laughed. “Should I call you Iceman?”

“Hell no. And I am not calling your skinny ass ‘Maverick’ either.” Britta quipped with a smile that lit up her pretty face.

I loved that she got the reference. More than that, I loved the feeling that I had just made a friend.