1 I am Sarah Stevens (1/2)

My name is Sarah Stevens, but everyone just calls me Sarah. My life hasn't been what you'd call 'normal', but then, whose is? Stuff happens. You deal with it. Nothing worth writing about. But it was spring, just three months after my 18th birthday when my life got seriously weird. Weird enough to write about, so I'm starting this journal or diary or whatever, OK?

I'm not sure where to start. I guess I'll start today, the day my bra tried to kill me.

I stood and stared down at my chest. My breasts rose high and curved out from my body a long way before they curved away. I could not see my nipples for the swell of flesh.

There was a narrow open space between them at my sternum, but my cleavage closed as the flesh curved inward. My breasts hung together like two blimps in the same hanger. My two very full, very enormous breasts.

I put my hands on my stomach and moved them upward. I could not see them except directly down my chest and I had to cock my head to do that. I felt the curve of my belly and the bottom of my rib cage. I felt one rib and then the curve of flesh. There was no wrinkle and no sag below my breasts. I ran my hands under them both — out and out and out.

My elbows were at my sides when I felt the upward curve. I followed it to my nipples, which had been stretched out over the ends. They still stuck out half an inch or so past my puffy areolas.

I looked at the bra lying on the floor, the same one that threatened to suffocate me. The tag said 34HH. Fuck!!!

I walked over to the full length mirror in the corner. I was speechless. My breasts were magnificent. I kept touching them. I could not take my hands off my body. I turned this way and that, admiring my new shape. I was aroused looking at her own reflection.

The person in the mirror was almost 6 feet tall and fair skinned. Strawberry blonde hair framed a gorgeous face. A voluptuous bust, impossibly narrow waist, a heart shaped ass and long shapely legs. She had a toned yet muscular build.

Three months ago I was a normal teenager with normal problems. Now my 34HH bra was too tight.

'Are you kidding me?'

Since there was no way I was going to put that bra back on, I slid my sweater on without it. It had fit well enough before, but now it was really too small and it hung on me like a tent. School spirit be damned, there was no way I was going to be able to wear a regular uniform now.

It was clear that I was not only going to need a different size, but a different type of clothes, now that my boobs were so much larger. I hoped that I could take up cheerleading, but I had to admit that it was going to be really hard unless I could get a bra that could give me some support without killing me.

Fifteen minutes later i was making my way to a discreet little place that specialized in clothes for women with large busts. A really nice man named Norton ran it. He seemed very excited about finding things that looked good on me. He even told me he could resize my school sweater while I was there. Most of the clothes he showed me were too long and too snug, but he promised he could alter all of it in only a couple of days.

I tried on several blouses and tops, both sheer and opaque; a few dresses with varying amounts of décolletage; some suits; some lingerie; and a variety of casual clothes. The casual clothes were the best fit and I picked out several outfits that would be suitable for school wear and some that were too revealing for school, but which I had no problem wearing anyplace else.

My favorite was a pair of boy-shorts in lycra and a loose crop-top that draped over the front of my boobs and hung just a few inches below my nipples. The top was made of a lightweight synthetic fabric that felt weightless on me. I could move easily in it and only had to worry about a stiff breeze or my own sudden movement making the top fly up. I asked if I could wear that one out of the shop.

”Of course, of course,” Norton said. ”The fit could be better, but if you like it, by all means.” I really did not see how the fit could be improved. Morton was obviously a perfectionist.

I even picked out a mini dress and tried it on. It was basically a short robe with a belt that could be tied loosely to leave the front open as far down as I wanted, to show more, or tightly to pull the dress closed so that only the tops of my breasts showed. I was impressed at how comfortable it was and how light it felt on me. It came almost to my knees and the front would not close all the way over my bust, but Mr. Norton assured us that it would be perfect when I came back to pick it up on Tuesday.