My mother stands next to the bay window, gesturing to a large collection of tight revealing clothing with a purse full of condoms.
My jaw drops as I stare at the rough pile of various clothes resting by the window atop a pile of small comfortable-looking cushions. Tube tops, crop tops, tight sweaters with plunging necklines, and short shimmering satin dresses only begin to describe what Amy had simply discarded into a loose laundry pile. Tight pencil skirts, teeny tiny denim shorts, clingy lycra athletic wear, and long sheer stockings complete the lower half of my new collection.
A terrified squeal escapes my lips as my eyes drift to the right, to the space between the pile and one of the larger royal purple pillows. A small black leather purse sits nestled in the tiny space, aesthetic silver chains dangling from the bag and over the edge of the little seat in the windowsill. The handbag itself had toppled over, the contents spilling out onto the plush carpeted floor. My hands fly from my overflowing chest to cover my mouth in shock, the sight of the torn condom wrappers along with ones still clean and ready for use sending shivers down my spine.
My mother's face is also pale, her mouth agape as she takes in the sight with me. The gears slowly begin to turn in her head, a lewd smile forming on her thin lips as she throws me a side glance.
"Looks like I'm not the only one taking after mom" she chuckles, the looks of shock creeping back over her face after the little quip.
"What did you just..." I whimper, slowly pulling myself to my feet. I gasp loudly as I stand, my back straining with the weight of my new chest and my legs struggling to adapt to the sudden change in my center of gravity.
"I...didn't mean to...it just slipped out..." my mother mutters, looking towards the window in an effort to catch her own reflection.
I slowly begin to trudge over to my mother, wincing and whimpering as I feel each and every step reverberate up into my expansive bust. I'm forced to grab the massive fatty mounds that made up my chest with both my hands, holding them firmly in an effort to reduce the hefty bounce and sway of these new annoying and uncomfortable assets. My lip quivers as I feel the flesh overflow my hands, spilling out to the sides of my palms, and my small hardened nipples dig into my rough bed-shirt.
My eyes dart rapidly between the assortment of dirty clothes that lay only a few paces away from me and the massive valley of cleavage I had found myself saddled with, my heart leaping into my throat as I watch the sea of pale flesh wobble in my grasp with each footfall.
Reaching the pile I can't help but reach out and slowly begin to sort through it all, my stomach sinking as I grab each successive garment knowing how little modesty it would afford me. Tops that would show off my cleavage and belly, hideously colored sweater dresses which would hug and show off every curve and contour of my future body. I feel like I'm going to be sick, the sight of the torn condom wrappers only making the sensation worse.
"This...I can't be..." I stammer, my hands shaking as I hold up a tiny lavender satin dress.
"I don't like it either...but..." my mother mutters, unable to tear herself away from her faint reflection.
Pulling the pile apart, whipping clothes around the room and all over the floor, I eventually find one item I actually recognize to some degree. I quickly snatch it up, a tight navy blue sweater with a tiny coat of arms embroidered top the left of the chest. Beneath it lays a short tartan skirt, the base being dark blue with dark green and red lines crisscrossing the surface, and a long pair of white thigh-high socks.
"This is...Raymond Heights uniform..." I muse under my breath, my eyes drifting over the insignia on the chest. These were definitely part of the uniform for one of the most expensive private schools in the city, though the design looked a little out-of-date compared to when I had seen them. I had never gone to that school myself, my parents could never have afforded such a place, but I had seen the uniform out and about during my time in high school.
"Mom...I think I'm..." I begin to squeak nervously, holding out the sweater for her to check.
Before I can finish my sentence my mom spin around to face me, her eyes wide as she points out the window.
"Sweetheart! Cover up!" she shouts, her eyes darting about as she looks for something more conservative and modest than my pajamas but finding little amongst the mess I had made on the floor. "Someone's watching us!"
I jump in fright as she points out our peeping tom, groaning loudly as I feel my chest bounce and jiggle well after my initial movement. Glancing down I'm reminded of just how much of my chest is showing, my red checkered pajama top leaving little to the imagination.
Looking out the window I glance around the stretch of yard leading from the front of our house to the back, but I don't see anyone.
"The neighbors! I saw someone moving!" my mom shrieks, still searching for something to cover me up from all the revealing clothes around the room.
Looking over at the neighboring property I try to see what she was talking about. For the life of me I can't find anyone in their yard either, not in the back or the front. My gaze drifts over the large house, finding it not too dissimilar from Stacy and Dayle's massive home. The white rendered exterior looks practically identical to ours, though it appears to have grown slightly discolored and shifted to a more off-white hue over the years. The house also lacks the ostentatious bay windows, leaving the exterior far more flat and uniform in nature.
As my eyes drift to the window opposite my own I catch movement. As the figure comes into view I gasp out loud as I see...
No comments:
Post a Comment