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...
“After spending much of Friday in positive territory, the Dow Jones Industrial Average and the S&P 500 retreated in the final hour of trading and closed down on the day.”
Julia Lyons scooped up a handful of carrot peels and tossed them in the compost bin. Cutting carrots was a pet peeve of hers, but the tuna casserole wouldn’t taste right without them. She wiped the bright orange juice off her hands with a clean dish towel and switched the radio to the classical music channel. Listening to politics was stressing her out.
She dumped the carrots into the baking dish along with the green beans and stirred in a generous portion of gravy. Next came onion, garlic, a couple cans of tuna fish, a sprinkling of bread crumbs to finish it all off - and into the oven it went. Finally. Julia slipped off her apron and gave her hands a quick rinse. The little blue bottle of Dawn was almost empty. She made a mental note to pick up more dish soap next time she did groceries.
Julia walked over to the staircase and leaned against the railing.
“Abby! Dinner is going to be ready in half an hour! Are you ready for soccer practice yet?”
“Yes mom!” came the slightly exasperated reply. “I’ll be down in a minute!”
Julia smiled and shook her head. A minute on the clock and a minute of Abby’s time were two very different things. She retrieved her purse from the mudroom and began digging through coupons.
Sure enough, her daughter came bouncing down the stairs some five minutes later. Abby, pink-faced, hair up in a bun, with her Puma gym bag slung over her shoulder. She was wearing her soccer uniform, light grey with maroon lettering across the front and back. Abby tossed her bag near the door and stooped to peek in the oven.
“Is that tuna fish?” she asked, pulling a face.
“Now c’mon Abby, you said you liked it last time.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Abby grabbed a glass and poured herself some water. “As long as there are no peas - I hate peas.”
“No peas!” Julia laughed and gave her daughter a playful poke in the stomach.
Abby grinned and swatted her hand away. Julia couldn’t help but notice Abby’s uniform was getting a little tight. The shiny number ‘eleven’ emblazoned across her daughter’s chest was noticeably distorted by the swell of her bosom, with the top half blown up like one of the wacky text effects in Microsoft Word. Abby had always been large-chested for her age but now, during her senior year, her breasts had reached almost awkward dimensions. She usually wore baggy sweaters and knit tops which downplayed her size, so it was easy not to notice at a glance. But there was no hiding them in that soccer shirt.
Abby took a seat at the kitchen table. “We gotta go in like ten minutes mom, I don’t want to be late again.”
“Alright,” Julia replied. “Do you want some coffee?”
“Yeah sure, thanks.” Abby pulled out her phone, checked the time, and slipped it back into her bag.
“We’re not going to be late,” Julia assured her. She plugged in the coffee machine and grabbed some mugs.
Abby watched her mom prepare the coffee in silence for a while. Finally, she cleared her throat and spoke up in a slightly softer voice.
“Mom? I need some money.”
“For what honey?” Julia flicked on the machine and turned to face her daughter.
“I need to get another bra.”
Julia shook her head.“If you did your laundry you wouldn’t have this problem sweetie,” she chided.
“No, I mean I need two.”
Julia frowned. “Two? What for?”
“Because I have to wear two at once. My boobs move around too much if I only have one, I can barely run. It’s embarrassing, I need another one.”
“Then just grab one of mine.”
“I can’t mom they’re - they don’t fit me.” Abby replied awkwardly.
Julia blinked. She had done Abby’s laundry enough times to know the increasingly eyebrow-raising surface area of fabric required to contain her daughter’s bosom. Although she had never considered it before, she realized Abby was right. No way would one of her 34C cup bras fit Abby. Not even close. Maybe a couple years ago, when she was in middle school, but certainly not now.
“It’s gonna be like fifty bucks for a good one, I looked online.” Abby bit her lip. “I really, really need it mom.”
“Alright, we’ll go to the mall tomorrow after school. I need to pick up a few things anyway.”
Abby nodded. She seemed relieved. Julia wondered how long she had gone without telling her. Most of the time her daughter was fairly open about things like that
Julia knew what it was like to feel awkward about your body at that age. She had been on the chunkier side in high school; never actually fat but always just enough to make her feel out of place at pool parties. Some girls on her volleyball team took to calling her “Big J” when she first joined up freshman year. One of them had even posted an unflattering picture of Julia’s backside outside her locker. All that just for being a little overweight.
In terms of deviation from the norm, Abby’s breasts were much, much more out of the ordinary than a little belly chub. She hoped Abby hadn’t been subject to any teasing. High school girls could be so cruel.
“Let’s go mom, we’re gonna be late.”
Julia looked up. For a moment she had been lost in thought.
“Alright Abby, I’m coming...”
…
Julia frowned at the pink mannequin’s angel wing halter top. She had never liked Victoria’s Secret. The displays were garish, and the store always reeked of cheap perfume. Normally she wouldn’t be caught dead shopping here, but Abby had insisted this was where all her friends got lingerie and she hadn’t felt like putting up a fight.
She watched her daughter dig through the bra bin, occasionally flipping over a tag.
“I don’t think any of these will be good.” Abby frowned. “Maybe they’ve got more in the back?”
“Let’s just ask the lady Abby, she’s right over there.”
“Okay, okay,” Abby turned and walked over to the clerk. “Excuse me, um, I’m looking for a new bra, but I’m not sure I see my size here.”
“Sure thing,” the clerk replied cheerily. She was a young woman, probably just a few years older than Abby. The girl had a large silver septum piercing resting just above her upper lip and two more piercings in her eyebrows. “I can take you to a fitting room for a free professional measurement too if you’d like.”
Abby looked back at her mom. Julia nodded. “Yes, that’s a good idea.”
The fitting room was plastered floor to ceiling in neon pink striped wallpaper. The clerk pulled back the lacy black curtain separating it from the hallway and ushered them inside.
“Is it okay if mum stays?” the clerk asked, pulling out a measuring tape. Abby nodded. “Alrighty then, shirt off please.”
Abby hesitated for a moment, then pulled her sweatshirt up and over her head. The clerk’s pierced eyebrows shot up. For a moment her lips pursed and it looked like she was about to say something, but then she swallowed the comment and quickly regained her professional composure. Despite herself, Julia was surprised too. The sweatshirt had done an impressive job hiding the true size of her daughter’s chest. She had not been expecting anything like this.
Abby was enormous.
She was stuffed into a dingy blue bra, which Julia recognized from the last time they had gone clothes shopping together. A triple D - nothing to scoff at. On Abby however, the ostensibly large brassiere looked tiny. The straps pressed hard into her shoulders, digging grooves into the soft skin as they struggled to support the weight of her chest. Her boobs overflowed each cup, spilling out in all directions. The portions of tit bulging out the top looked taut as a drum from how tightly the insufficient undergarment was squeezing each meaty breast against her chest. Another double handful of boob ballooned out the sides by her armpits. The cups ended about two thirds of the way down each breast, leaving twin crescents of pale white flesh hanging out the bottom. Her cleavage, pushed up to obscene heights by the overly snug fit, looked deep enough to stash a TV remote.
A DDD cup. A size some women paid thousands of dollars to have, and her daughter made it look like a girl’s first training bra. Julia half expected the poor thing to snap in half at any moment, pushed to the limit by the task of wrangling Abby’s massive chest.
“Ah - okay,” the shopgirl was having trouble stifling her astonishment. Her eyes were glued to Abby’s chest, flicking back and forth from one huge boob to the other. “Well, first I’m going to measure around…”
Julia recognized that incredulous expression. She had seen it several times before, when she first noticed how much “bigger” her daughter was than the average girl her age - back a few years ago during a family vacation in Florida. Abby had picked out a bathing suit by herself: blue bottoms with a bright red bikini top. The asymmetric colors, Julia later learned, were due to the matching tops not being available in a big enough size. Despite this compromise, the bikini still wasn’t quite large enough to properly cover Abby’s chest. Not by a long shot. Julia recalled the awkward feeling of trying to relax on her towel while watching her daughter’s oversize bosoms jiggle wildly as she ran barefoot on the beach with her friends. The way Abby’s boobs flopped around in that flimsy top had Julia worried one would pop out entirely. She noticed none of Abby’s friends were anywhere near as big - in fact Julia reckoned all their breasts put together wouldn’t be enough to equal a single one of Abby’s boobs. Julia had bought a new bikini of her own for that trip, and she still remembered the slight embarrassment of realizing her daughter’s bosom made her own modest chest look like a prepubescent girl’s in comparison. As a result Julia had ended up keeping her silk beach scarf on for most of the trip, especially for family photos.
Abby hadn’t seemed to notice, but every man within eye-shot rubbernecked like crazy as she wobbled by along the sand. Women stared too, maybe even more so than the men, wide eyes flickering across her daughter’s big bouncing bosom in disbelief. It was that mixture of dumbfounded curiosity and envy which Julia now recognized etched in the shopgirl's face.
That had all been years ago. Abby’s breasts had clearly expanded at least half a dozen sizes up the alphabet since then. That old red bikini top probably couldn’t cover the expanse of a single boob now.
The clerk awkwardly looped her tape measure around the circumference of Abby’s chest. When she bent to reach around Abby’s back, Julia noticed that each boob easily dwarfed the girl’s head. It wasn’t easy to maneuver around them. Abby stood still, blushing slightly, as the clerk shuffled around her and pulled the ends of the tape together.
“That is… forty-four inches and a bit,” her voice sounded uncertain, as if she had made a mistake. Indeed, the number was hard to believe. Julia didn’t know her own bust measurement off the top of her head, but forty-four inches was considerably larger around than the waistband of her jeans. It was a sobering realization.
“Alright, now the band. Could you please, uh, lift up for me?” the clerk gestured awkwardly.
Abby complied, palming the bottoms of her tits and hoisting them into the air with some difficulty. Her hands sunk into the soft flesh, and her forearms disappeared from view, obscured entirely by bulging boob. Pushed up even higher than before, Abby’s cleavage was nearly touching her chin.
The salesgirl made her measurement quickly, taking care to avoid brushing against the convex flanks of Abby’s globes.
“Er, just under thirty-three,” she retracted the tape and stepped back, looking relieved. She jotted down the figures on her notepad. “It’s usually a good idea to round up for, uh, larger bust sizes.”
Abby let go of her boobs. They plopped down against her chest again, wobbling slightly. All the shuffling around had disrupted her brassiere’s already tenuous position upon her hefty bust. She lifted the straps one by one and corralled her heavy tits back into place as best she could. Julia could see red marks running along Abby’s skin where the cups dug into the hillocks of pale flesh that were trying so desperately to escape containment. She wondered how many times a day her daughter had to take a moment to adjust herself like that. It was probably a reflex by now.
The salesgirl looked at her sheet, then back up at Abby. Her expression was not optimistic.
“Okay, I’ll be back in a second with something to try on.” She spun on her heel and ducked out of the room.
They waited in silence. Abby was staring down at her sneakers and didn’t seem in the mood to talk. Julia pulled out her phone and pretended to answer a text.
The salesgirl returned carrying a bright purple bra. It looked larger than the styles available in the bra bin outside, but not by much. She slipped it off the hook and offered it to Abby.
“You can go in the back to put it on, I can adjust it a bit if need be.”
Julia gave the bra an apprehensive look. Although it was considerably bigger than anything she wore herself, that was not saying much when it came to her daughter’s chest. Abby seemed doubtful as well. She took the bra anyways, and went behind the curtain to try it on. There were a few minutes of rustling fabric, then finally Abby shuffled back out.
“I don’t think this fits.”
Julia almost laughed. It was the understatement of the century. Abby was bursting out of the bra. The fit was only marginally better than the tattered blue one she had come in wearing. Her boobs poured out the top, bottom, and sides, just as before. Julia noticed the bra had a small decorative bow on the front. A cute detail for most women, but comically tiny on Abby’s chest. It looked out of place, like a vanity plate on an 18-wheeler.
The clerk frowned. “Unfortunately this is the largest size we have available, it’s a 34F. We don’t sell anything larger than that,” she explained.
Julia’s eyebrows shot up. She would have guessed the bra was a DDD at most. Julia couldn’t recall ever seeing an F cup while lingerie shopping, but here was Abby making the almost imaginary sounding size look small.
“Could you lift your arms please? Maybe I can adjust the sides a bit,” the clerk fished a bobby pin from her apron pocket.
Abby raised her arms. The motion caused her chest to swell forward, stretching the bra even more. Julia thought she heard the fabric creak faintly under the strain.
SNAP!
The back clasp popped open, finally admitting defeat in its battle against the size and weight of Abby’s gigantic breasts. They practically exploded outwards, free at last from the confines of the overly tight garment. Abby’s hands shot to her chest, holding the cups against her naked white globes in a desperate bid to preserve her modesty as the loose bra began to slide down her boobs. Her face flushed red.
“Sorry! I’m so sorry!”
The salesgirl’s jaw was agape. Julia could barely believe it either. They were both staring at Abby’s huge half-naked chest. Her sheer size had ruptured the bra strap. Totally overwhelmed it. Julia was glad Abby had declined her earlier offer to borrow a bra. There was no way it would have survived soccer practice. If Abby’s boobs could snap a 32F like this, her C cup bra would probably have been torn right in half!
“It’s alright! Not a big deal, really,” the girl assured her, “uh, that can happen sometimes.” The fib was painfully obvious.
Abby retreated back behind the curtain. She emerged wearing her sweatshirt, red faced, arms folded across her chest, and sheepishly handed the broken brassiere back to the clerk. Julia offered to pay for the damaged bra, but the clerk waved her off.
“It’s no problem,, please don’t worry about it,” she seemed distracted, and her eyes were still glued to Abby’s bosom, “well, like I said, we don’t have anything bigger than that in stock. You might want to try Nordstrom, I know they carry larger sizes...”
…
Julia flicked through apparel on the lingerie rack. She was happy to be out of Victoria’s Secret. Nordstrom’s selection of underwear was so much more sensible. Abby stood behind her, grimacing. The clothing here was distinctly untrendy by high school standards.
“What did the lady say for band size? Thirty-two?”
“Yep.”
Julia flipped a tag. 32G . That wouldn't do. Julia figured Abby needed something at least three sizes larger than that disastrous 32F she had tried on in the fitting room - but truth be told this end of the alphabet was uncharted territory for her. Before today she hadn't even known bras went bigger than a DDD.
“How about this one?”
The bra was a large, no-nonsense, full coverage style made of beige fabric. A thick underwire ran along the bottom. Each cup was more than a handspan wide. Abby inspected it unenthusiastically.
“It’s a 32H. Here, we’ll try a size up from this too just in case.”
Julia retrieved the next size up from the rack. The I cup was even more impressive than the H. She could have comfortably fit a couple grapefruits in this thing.
Abby went into the dressing room. A few minutes passed. Then a few more.
“How’s it going in there hun?” Julia asked.
“They don’t fit mom!”
Julia frowned. “What do you mean? Let me see.”
Abby pulled back the curtain. Sure enough, the bra was clearly too tight on her. Although not as egregious as the ones they tried before, Abby’s boobs were still popping out the top and bottom of each cup, and the shoulder straps were being pulled perilously taut by the weight. Julia realized with some bewilderment that the even just the portion of one boob bulging out the top of the bra was considerably larger in volume than the entirety of her own modest bust. There was enough spillover boobflesh there for a set of D cups, maybe more. She bit her lip, trying to dispel the uncomfortable observation.
“Try on the I cup, maybe that’ll work.”
“This is the I cup, mom.”
Julia blinked, unsure if she had heard her daughter correctly. A 32I looked like that on her? The bra barely covered half her chest! Six sizes bigger than her own 34C cups, and yet they still hadn’t reached a letter that even came close to adequately covering Abby’s bust. None of her girlfriends, most of whom were in their late thirties and had children of their own, were anywhere close to an I cup. Yet her daughter, decades younger, was overflowing a bra that would have swallowed any of their chests with room to spare. This was starting to get absurd.
“I’ll get another one then, you wait here.”
Julia returned to the lingerie section. She pushed past the C’s, D’s, E’s, and F’s, all the way to the back of the rack. There was a single bra hanging there, a monstrous black contraption that looked more like a hammock than a piece of lingerie. Each stiff cup was like a helmet in size, reinforced with foam padding and an industrial looking underwire. The shoulder straps were two finger-widths wide, and five metal clasps held the back together. Julia picked the bra off the rack. It was surprisingly heavy. She brushed a hand against the outside of the cumbersome undergarment, imagining how her own bra would look in comparison to this monster. Tiny, to be sure. She could probably have fashioned an entire bra for herself out of the fabric from just one of these giant cups.
Julia checked the tag. 32K. “Jesus fucking Christ,” she swore under her breath. Unbelievable.
“Try this one hun.”
Abby’s hand slithered from behind the curtain and retrieved the bra. Julia waited silently. She wondered what they would do if this one didn’t fit either. There simply wasn’t a larger size in the store. They’d have to look online or something, find a specialty outfitter. Nobody made bras for hundred-twenty pound women with boobs the size of watermelons.
“I think this one’s okay…”
Abby stepped out, adjusting a shoulder strap. Her massive teat wobbled as she jostled it around, pushing it snugly into place inside the enormous black cups. Despite the fortified design, the bra couldn’t dampen the motion of her chest completely. Abby’s bra encased boobs took up most of her torso, two black mountains of fabric encased flesh. It wasn’t exactly a perfect fit either. Though the cups extended most of the way over Abby’s boobs, a considerable quantity still poked out the top, like the tip of an iceberg denoting a huge white glacier wobbling just beneath the surface of the water. The bottoms and sides however were more or less secured by the smooth black cups. Abby tugged the hem of the bra up a bit, sending waves of motion rippling across her boobs. Her hands looked tiny against the jet black expanse of cotton holding back her gigantic bust.
Julia was at a loss for words. She was relieved the bra fit - though a tight fit it was. Yet she couldn’t shake the feeling of disbelief. That K cup would have slipped right down her ankles if she were to try it on, but here was Abby who could only barely manage to squeeze it over her prodigious chest with some pushing and prodding. Julia almost felt sorry for her daughter. But at the same time part of her felt pitifully small. Abby was a K cup, eight whole sizes larger than her C’s. Her breasts were mosquito bites in comparison to the gigantic udders hanging off her daughter’s chest - like cherries to pumpkins. What’s more, Abby was probably still growing. No way would this bra fit her by the end of the year. Where would she end up? L? M? P? Julia didn’t know if they even made sizes that big.
They paid for the bra and left. The car ride home was quiet, Abby playing on her phone and Julia lost in thought. She recalled the expression on the Victoria’s Secret salesgirl’s face when she first saw Abby’s tits free of her sweatshirt. The wide eyed surprise at seeing something so incredible, so unbelievable, right up close. Abby’s chest was the elephant in the room. It always would be. No matter where she went in life, Abby would be the center of attention: bringing men to their knees in awe and casting lesser women in her shadow.
About halfway home she realized they forgot to get dish soap.
...
...
“After spending much of Friday in positive territory, the Dow Jones Industrial Average and the S&P 500 retreated in the final hour of trading and closed down on the day.”
Julia Lyons scooped up a handful of carrot peels and tossed them in the compost bin. Cutting carrots was a pet peeve of hers, but the tuna casserole wouldn’t taste right without them. She wiped the bright orange juice off her hands with a clean dish towel and switched the radio to the classical music channel. Listening to politics was stressing her out.
She dumped the carrots into the baking dish along with the green beans and stirred in a generous portion of gravy. Next came onion, garlic, a couple cans of tuna fish, a sprinkling of bread crumbs to finish it all off - and into the oven it went. Finally. Julia slipped off her apron and gave her hands a quick rinse. The little blue bottle of Dawn was almost empty. She made a mental note to pick up more dish soap next time she did groceries.
Julia walked over to the staircase and leaned against the railing.
“Abby! Dinner is going to be ready in half an hour! Are you ready for soccer practice yet?”
“Yes mom!” came the slightly exasperated reply. “I’ll be down in a minute!”
Julia smiled and shook her head. A minute on the clock and a minute of Abby’s time were two very different things. She retrieved her purse from the mudroom and began digging through coupons.
Sure enough, her daughter came bouncing down the stairs some five minutes later. Abby, pink-faced, hair up in a bun, with her Puma gym bag slung over her shoulder. She was wearing her soccer uniform, light grey with maroon lettering across the front and back. Abby tossed her bag near the door and stooped to peek in the oven.
“Is that tuna fish?” she asked, pulling a face.
“Now c’mon Abby, you said you liked it last time.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Abby grabbed a glass and poured herself some water. “As long as there are no peas - I hate peas.”
“No peas!” Julia laughed and gave her daughter a playful poke in the stomach.
Abby grinned and swatted her hand away. Julia couldn’t help but notice Abby’s uniform was getting a little tight. The shiny number ‘eleven’ emblazoned across her daughter’s chest was noticeably distorted by the swell of her bosom, with the top half blown up like one of the wacky text effects in Microsoft Word. Abby had always been large-chested for her age but now, during her senior year, her breasts had reached almost awkward dimensions. She usually wore baggy sweaters and knit tops which downplayed her size, so it was easy not to notice at a glance. But there was no hiding them in that soccer shirt.
Abby took a seat at the kitchen table. “We gotta go in like ten minutes mom, I don’t want to be late again.”
“Alright,” Julia replied. “Do you want some coffee?”
“Yeah sure, thanks.” Abby pulled out her phone, checked the time, and slipped it back into her bag.
“We’re not going to be late,” Julia assured her. She plugged in the coffee machine and grabbed some mugs.
Abby watched her mom prepare the coffee in silence for a while. Finally, she cleared her throat and spoke up in a slightly softer voice.
“Mom? I need some money.”
“For what honey?” Julia flicked on the machine and turned to face her daughter.
“I need to get another bra.”
Julia shook her head.“If you did your laundry you wouldn’t have this problem sweetie,” she chided.
“No, I mean I need two.”
Julia frowned. “Two? What for?”
“Because I have to wear two at once. My boobs move around too much if I only have one, I can barely run. It’s embarrassing, I need another one.”
“Then just grab one of mine.”
“I can’t mom they’re - they don’t fit me.” Abby replied awkwardly.
Julia blinked. She had done Abby’s laundry enough times to know the increasingly eyebrow-raising surface area of fabric required to contain her daughter’s bosom. Although she had never considered it before, she realized Abby was right. No way would one of her 34C cup bras fit Abby. Not even close. Maybe a couple years ago, when she was in middle school, but certainly not now.
“It’s gonna be like fifty bucks for a good one, I looked online.” Abby bit her lip. “I really, really need it mom.”
“Alright, we’ll go to the mall tomorrow after school. I need to pick up a few things anyway.”
Abby nodded. She seemed relieved. Julia wondered how long she had gone without telling her. Most of the time her daughter was fairly open about things like that
Julia knew what it was like to feel awkward about your body at that age. She had been on the chunkier side in high school; never actually fat but always just enough to make her feel out of place at pool parties. Some girls on her volleyball team took to calling her “Big J” when she first joined up freshman year. One of them had even posted an unflattering picture of Julia’s backside outside her locker. All that just for being a little overweight.
In terms of deviation from the norm, Abby’s breasts were much, much more out of the ordinary than a little belly chub. She hoped Abby hadn’t been subject to any teasing. High school girls could be so cruel.
“Let’s go mom, we’re gonna be late.”
Julia looked up. For a moment she had been lost in thought.
“Alright Abby, I’m coming...”
…
Julia frowned at the pink mannequin’s angel wing halter top. She had never liked Victoria’s Secret. The displays were garish, and the store always reeked of cheap perfume. Normally she wouldn’t be caught dead shopping here, but Abby had insisted this was where all her friends got lingerie and she hadn’t felt like putting up a fight.
She watched her daughter dig through the bra bin, occasionally flipping over a tag.
“I don’t think any of these will be good.” Abby frowned. “Maybe they’ve got more in the back?”
“Let’s just ask the lady Abby, she’s right over there.”
“Okay, okay,” Abby turned and walked over to the clerk. “Excuse me, um, I’m looking for a new bra, but I’m not sure I see my size here.”
“Sure thing,” the clerk replied cheerily. She was a young woman, probably just a few years older than Abby. The girl had a large silver septum piercing resting just above her upper lip and two more piercings in her eyebrows. “I can take you to a fitting room for a free professional measurement too if you’d like.”
Abby looked back at her mom. Julia nodded. “Yes, that’s a good idea.”
The fitting room was plastered floor to ceiling in neon pink striped wallpaper. The clerk pulled back the lacy black curtain separating it from the hallway and ushered them inside.
“Is it okay if mum stays?” the clerk asked, pulling out a measuring tape. Abby nodded. “Alrighty then, shirt off please.”
Abby hesitated for a moment, then pulled her sweatshirt up and over her head. The clerk’s pierced eyebrows shot up. For a moment her lips pursed and it looked like she was about to say something, but then she swallowed the comment and quickly regained her professional composure. Despite herself, Julia was surprised too. The sweatshirt had done an impressive job hiding the true size of her daughter’s chest. She had not been expecting anything like this.
Abby was enormous.
She was stuffed into a dingy blue bra, which Julia recognized from the last time they had gone clothes shopping together. A triple D - nothing to scoff at. On Abby however, the ostensibly large brassiere looked tiny. The straps pressed hard into her shoulders, digging grooves into the soft skin as they struggled to support the weight of her chest. Her boobs overflowed each cup, spilling out in all directions. The portions of tit bulging out the top looked taut as a drum from how tightly the insufficient undergarment was squeezing each meaty breast against her chest. Another double handful of boob ballooned out the sides by her armpits. The cups ended about two thirds of the way down each breast, leaving twin crescents of pale white flesh hanging out the bottom. Her cleavage, pushed up to obscene heights by the overly snug fit, looked deep enough to stash a TV remote.
A DDD cup. A size some women paid thousands of dollars to have, and her daughter made it look like a girl’s first training bra. Julia half expected the poor thing to snap in half at any moment, pushed to the limit by the task of wrangling Abby’s massive chest.
“Ah - okay,” the shopgirl was having trouble stifling her astonishment. Her eyes were glued to Abby’s chest, flicking back and forth from one huge boob to the other. “Well, first I’m going to measure around…”
Julia recognized that incredulous expression. She had seen it several times before, when she first noticed how much “bigger” her daughter was than the average girl her age - back a few years ago during a family vacation in Florida. Abby had picked out a bathing suit by herself: blue bottoms with a bright red bikini top. The asymmetric colors, Julia later learned, were due to the matching tops not being available in a big enough size. Despite this compromise, the bikini still wasn’t quite large enough to properly cover Abby’s chest. Not by a long shot. Julia recalled the awkward feeling of trying to relax on her towel while watching her daughter’s oversize bosoms jiggle wildly as she ran barefoot on the beach with her friends. The way Abby’s boobs flopped around in that flimsy top had Julia worried one would pop out entirely. She noticed none of Abby’s friends were anywhere near as big - in fact Julia reckoned all their breasts put together wouldn’t be enough to equal a single one of Abby’s boobs. Julia had bought a new bikini of her own for that trip, and she still remembered the slight embarrassment of realizing her daughter’s bosom made her own modest chest look like a prepubescent girl’s in comparison. As a result Julia had ended up keeping her silk beach scarf on for most of the trip, especially for family photos.
Abby hadn’t seemed to notice, but every man within eye-shot rubbernecked like crazy as she wobbled by along the sand. Women stared too, maybe even more so than the men, wide eyes flickering across her daughter’s big bouncing bosom in disbelief. It was that mixture of dumbfounded curiosity and envy which Julia now recognized etched in the shopgirl's face.
That had all been years ago. Abby’s breasts had clearly expanded at least half a dozen sizes up the alphabet since then. That old red bikini top probably couldn’t cover the expanse of a single boob now.
The clerk awkwardly looped her tape measure around the circumference of Abby’s chest. When she bent to reach around Abby’s back, Julia noticed that each boob easily dwarfed the girl’s head. It wasn’t easy to maneuver around them. Abby stood still, blushing slightly, as the clerk shuffled around her and pulled the ends of the tape together.
“That is… forty-four inches and a bit,” her voice sounded uncertain, as if she had made a mistake. Indeed, the number was hard to believe. Julia didn’t know her own bust measurement off the top of her head, but forty-four inches was considerably larger around than the waistband of her jeans. It was a sobering realization.
“Alright, now the band. Could you please, uh, lift up for me?” the clerk gestured awkwardly.
Abby complied, palming the bottoms of her tits and hoisting them into the air with some difficulty. Her hands sunk into the soft flesh, and her forearms disappeared from view, obscured entirely by bulging boob. Pushed up even higher than before, Abby’s cleavage was nearly touching her chin.
The salesgirl made her measurement quickly, taking care to avoid brushing against the convex flanks of Abby’s globes.
“Er, just under thirty-three,” she retracted the tape and stepped back, looking relieved. She jotted down the figures on her notepad. “It’s usually a good idea to round up for, uh, larger bust sizes.”
Abby let go of her boobs. They plopped down against her chest again, wobbling slightly. All the shuffling around had disrupted her brassiere’s already tenuous position upon her hefty bust. She lifted the straps one by one and corralled her heavy tits back into place as best she could. Julia could see red marks running along Abby’s skin where the cups dug into the hillocks of pale flesh that were trying so desperately to escape containment. She wondered how many times a day her daughter had to take a moment to adjust herself like that. It was probably a reflex by now.
The salesgirl looked at her sheet, then back up at Abby. Her expression was not optimistic.
“Okay, I’ll be back in a second with something to try on.” She spun on her heel and ducked out of the room.
They waited in silence. Abby was staring down at her sneakers and didn’t seem in the mood to talk. Julia pulled out her phone and pretended to answer a text.
The salesgirl returned carrying a bright purple bra. It looked larger than the styles available in the bra bin outside, but not by much. She slipped it off the hook and offered it to Abby.
“You can go in the back to put it on, I can adjust it a bit if need be.”
Julia gave the bra an apprehensive look. Although it was considerably bigger than anything she wore herself, that was not saying much when it came to her daughter’s chest. Abby seemed doubtful as well. She took the bra anyways, and went behind the curtain to try it on. There were a few minutes of rustling fabric, then finally Abby shuffled back out.
“I don’t think this fits.”
Julia almost laughed. It was the understatement of the century. Abby was bursting out of the bra. The fit was only marginally better than the tattered blue one she had come in wearing. Her boobs poured out the top, bottom, and sides, just as before. Julia noticed the bra had a small decorative bow on the front. A cute detail for most women, but comically tiny on Abby’s chest. It looked out of place, like a vanity plate on an 18-wheeler.
The clerk frowned. “Unfortunately this is the largest size we have available, it’s a 34F. We don’t sell anything larger than that,” she explained.
Julia’s eyebrows shot up. She would have guessed the bra was a DDD at most. Julia couldn’t recall ever seeing an F cup while lingerie shopping, but here was Abby making the almost imaginary sounding size look small.
“Could you lift your arms please? Maybe I can adjust the sides a bit,” the clerk fished a bobby pin from her apron pocket.
Abby raised her arms. The motion caused her chest to swell forward, stretching the bra even more. Julia thought she heard the fabric creak faintly under the strain.
SNAP!
The back clasp popped open, finally admitting defeat in its battle against the size and weight of Abby’s gigantic breasts. They practically exploded outwards, free at last from the confines of the overly tight garment. Abby’s hands shot to her chest, holding the cups against her naked white globes in a desperate bid to preserve her modesty as the loose bra began to slide down her boobs. Her face flushed red.
“Sorry! I’m so sorry!”
The salesgirl’s jaw was agape. Julia could barely believe it either. They were both staring at Abby’s huge half-naked chest. Her sheer size had ruptured the bra strap. Totally overwhelmed it. Julia was glad Abby had declined her earlier offer to borrow a bra. There was no way it would have survived soccer practice. If Abby’s boobs could snap a 32F like this, her C cup bra would probably have been torn right in half!
“It’s alright! Not a big deal, really,” the girl assured her, “uh, that can happen sometimes.” The fib was painfully obvious.
Abby retreated back behind the curtain. She emerged wearing her sweatshirt, red faced, arms folded across her chest, and sheepishly handed the broken brassiere back to the clerk. Julia offered to pay for the damaged bra, but the clerk waved her off.
“It’s no problem,, please don’t worry about it,” she seemed distracted, and her eyes were still glued to Abby’s bosom, “well, like I said, we don’t have anything bigger than that in stock. You might want to try Nordstrom, I know they carry larger sizes...”
…
Julia flicked through apparel on the lingerie rack. She was happy to be out of Victoria’s Secret. Nordstrom’s selection of underwear was so much more sensible. Abby stood behind her, grimacing. The clothing here was distinctly untrendy by high school standards.
“What did the lady say for band size? Thirty-two?”
“Yep.”
Julia flipped a tag. 32G . That wouldn't do. Julia figured Abby needed something at least three sizes larger than that disastrous 32F she had tried on in the fitting room - but truth be told this end of the alphabet was uncharted territory for her. Before today she hadn't even known bras went bigger than a DDD.
“How about this one?”
The bra was a large, no-nonsense, full coverage style made of beige fabric. A thick underwire ran along the bottom. Each cup was more than a handspan wide. Abby inspected it unenthusiastically.
“It’s a 32H. Here, we’ll try a size up from this too just in case.”
Julia retrieved the next size up from the rack. The I cup was even more impressive than the H. She could have comfortably fit a couple grapefruits in this thing.
Abby went into the dressing room. A few minutes passed. Then a few more.
“How’s it going in there hun?” Julia asked.
“They don’t fit mom!”
Julia frowned. “What do you mean? Let me see.”
Abby pulled back the curtain. Sure enough, the bra was clearly too tight on her. Although not as egregious as the ones they tried before, Abby’s boobs were still popping out the top and bottom of each cup, and the shoulder straps were being pulled perilously taut by the weight. Julia realized with some bewilderment that the even just the portion of one boob bulging out the top of the bra was considerably larger in volume than the entirety of her own modest bust. There was enough spillover boobflesh there for a set of D cups, maybe more. She bit her lip, trying to dispel the uncomfortable observation.
“Try on the I cup, maybe that’ll work.”
“This is the I cup, mom.”
Julia blinked, unsure if she had heard her daughter correctly. A 32I looked like that on her? The bra barely covered half her chest! Six sizes bigger than her own 34C cups, and yet they still hadn’t reached a letter that even came close to adequately covering Abby’s bust. None of her girlfriends, most of whom were in their late thirties and had children of their own, were anywhere close to an I cup. Yet her daughter, decades younger, was overflowing a bra that would have swallowed any of their chests with room to spare. This was starting to get absurd.
“I’ll get another one then, you wait here.”
Julia returned to the lingerie section. She pushed past the C’s, D’s, E’s, and F’s, all the way to the back of the rack. There was a single bra hanging there, a monstrous black contraption that looked more like a hammock than a piece of lingerie. Each stiff cup was like a helmet in size, reinforced with foam padding and an industrial looking underwire. The shoulder straps were two finger-widths wide, and five metal clasps held the back together. Julia picked the bra off the rack. It was surprisingly heavy. She brushed a hand against the outside of the cumbersome undergarment, imagining how her own bra would look in comparison to this monster. Tiny, to be sure. She could probably have fashioned an entire bra for herself out of the fabric from just one of these giant cups.
Julia checked the tag. 32K. “Jesus fucking Christ,” she swore under her breath. Unbelievable.
“Try this one hun.”
Abby’s hand slithered from behind the curtain and retrieved the bra. Julia waited silently. She wondered what they would do if this one didn’t fit either. There simply wasn’t a larger size in the store. They’d have to look online or something, find a specialty outfitter. Nobody made bras for hundred-twenty pound women with boobs the size of watermelons.
“I think this one’s okay…”
Abby stepped out, adjusting a shoulder strap. Her massive teat wobbled as she jostled it around, pushing it snugly into place inside the enormous black cups. Despite the fortified design, the bra couldn’t dampen the motion of her chest completely. Abby’s bra encased boobs took up most of her torso, two black mountains of fabric encased flesh. It wasn’t exactly a perfect fit either. Though the cups extended most of the way over Abby’s boobs, a considerable quantity still poked out the top, like the tip of an iceberg denoting a huge white glacier wobbling just beneath the surface of the water. The bottoms and sides however were more or less secured by the smooth black cups. Abby tugged the hem of the bra up a bit, sending waves of motion rippling across her boobs. Her hands looked tiny against the jet black expanse of cotton holding back her gigantic bust.
Julia was at a loss for words. She was relieved the bra fit - though a tight fit it was. Yet she couldn’t shake the feeling of disbelief. That K cup would have slipped right down her ankles if she were to try it on, but here was Abby who could only barely manage to squeeze it over her prodigious chest with some pushing and prodding. Julia almost felt sorry for her daughter. But at the same time part of her felt pitifully small. Abby was a K cup, eight whole sizes larger than her C’s. Her breasts were mosquito bites in comparison to the gigantic udders hanging off her daughter’s chest - like cherries to pumpkins. What’s more, Abby was probably still growing. No way would this bra fit her by the end of the year. Where would she end up? L? M? P? Julia didn’t know if they even made sizes that big.
They paid for the bra and left. The car ride home was quiet, Abby playing on her phone and Julia lost in thought. She recalled the expression on the Victoria’s Secret salesgirl’s face when she first saw Abby’s tits free of her sweatshirt. The wide eyed surprise at seeing something so incredible, so unbelievable, right up close. Abby’s chest was the elephant in the room. It always would be. No matter where she went in life, Abby would be the center of attention: bringing men to their knees in awe and casting lesser women in her shadow.
About halfway home she realized they forgot to get dish soap.
...
