Letters from Heather - 2029 - A Look in the Mirror

Another vignette about an alternate reality Heather whose boobs never stopped growing. Etherial artwork done by the amazing @AldoinHeaven [Twitter & IG].

This piece just kind of flows. When I wrote this short story (as is the case when I write most things that, you know, have a description of some tangible object), there’s always this little Golum Smeagol in the vack of my brain, asking, “Do YoU tHiNk tHeY’Re gOnNa KnOw WhAt ThE hELl yOu’rE tAlKiNg AbOuT...?!” That was the case with this fictional dress, which I think Aldo nailed completely.

For me, this was a fun vignette to write... just a casual moment of self-confidence (if a little reluctant) from a woman who has loooong-since gotten used to herself.

(Extra image here, which baaaarely didn’t make the cut. The redlection is sooo much fun, but the blank space in the main one? Too good to pass up.)

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“Not half bad,” I said to myself as I twisted and pivoted my body in the mirror. It was definitely “more” than I thought it was going to be, but I did say that I was thinking of something light and easy, for springtime, that was just a little flirty. There were a couple of cocktail events coming up, too, so I felt like it might be time to upgrade from the standard-issue flowy tops and borderline muumuus.

When she laid it out on the table, and started to explain it, I was worried that there might be a little too much cleavage. My mind flashed back to a dress I had a few years ago, when I was smaller, and unless the girls were battened in place, I would spill out like crazy if I just moved wrong. Those got retired, and ultimately, outgrown.

It was a pretty standard, gown-length dress, in a flowy dark red satin. At the chest, a single pouch that was built to contain Nat and Olga. Running down the front, a long triangular cutout that looked like it would run from my collarbone, clear down to my knees.

Melanie could see the hair of trepidation in my eyes, and with her usual candor, simply said, “Try it out.”

So, I did. And, again, not bad. It was starting to grow on me. The full length of my cleavage was exposed, but the horizontal bands, placed at intervals and holding the two halves of this “breast sock” together gave it a trendy, modern vibe that had a dash of conservative fun without being prudish. Thick straps were a little reinforced to provide at least a little bit of lift and support, which was a nice touch.

“I think it fits ya’ well,” Melanie said, mentally completing the sentence I had heard from her many times before: “It’s not like we can just throw a blouse on ya. Dress for the body you have, sweetie.”

“I’m such a pain in the ass,” I said, chuckling a little, slowly pivoting my body to see the view from behind, my comparatively small butt framed by the sisters, which still pressed heavily on my thighs as I bent my legs a little.

“Nah, just a challenge sometimes,” Melanie said matter-of-factly. “But I think you’ve got a winner until next time.”

Next time... jeez... It would be nice to hold on to a nice dress for a while before the next couple of spurts put it into the donation bin...