Letters from Heather - 2019 - Day at the Beach

(The first in a new series of vignettes about an alternate reality Heather whose boobs never stopped growing. Artwork done by the amazing @AldoinHeaven on Twitter.)

No clue it would be my last trip to the beach before everything shut down… Those last days of summer before the crispness of late afternoon turns into something just a little too chilly for an outfit that I otherwise wouldn’t be caught dead wearing, were it not for the particular emptiness of a strip of shoreline already labeled a nude beach. At midday? Perfectly warm, with just the faintest breeze wafting over the waves.

As I lay there on my beach towel, a bottle of rosé wedged at an angle in the sand, I reclined onto my elbows, scanning the expanse to the north and south. A fellow sunbather was a dot close to the horizon; otherwise, I had the place to myself.

Tanlines linger. That’s why I came here, I reminded myself, still a little self conscious about the idea of being completely exposed from the waist up. Though, I thought, if I was that intent on being wary, why would I have pulled out a long-dormant, and even now a-hair-too-small micro-bikini top in the first place? To think, I was wearing this diminutive garment at all, when it began its life with me as a stupid novelty gift? With its tiny triangles, which barely sufficed in covering my nipples, I had made the walk from the car almost entirely (rarely) unsupported, swaying to-and-fro as my feet navigated the soft sand uncertainly, my center of gravity (as always) just a little ‘off’ — a sight that would have merited at least a double-take from even the most seasoned of nude beach enthusiast.

Stringing my thumbs under the long, thin straps that held the bikini (mostly) in place, I pulled to the sides, allowing the fullness of my breasts to take in as much sunlight as they pleased — only 15 minutes or so, for some color, before remembering to liberally apply some serious SPF.

Nestled to my sides, and resting heavily on the towel, the girls were content. For now, anyway, as I reclined completely, one arm under my head; the other, reaching for the sweating bottle of refreshing wine.