This story contains descriptions of the breasts of adult women. No lewd acts take place, although they probably will shortly after the story finishes.
It is intended as a masturbation aid for imaginative men and women and should be used solely for this purpose.
Readers who are significantly below the age of consent will probably go blind, so they should stop reading it while they still can. A Braille version will shortly be made available.
It was such a small shop that she almost missed it. Karen walked past the door and had to retrace her steps. Could this be the right place? Above the door was one word in a flowing script - 'Discoveries.' From the window display it looked more like a fashion boutique than anything else. The window contained one of those trendy modern displays; a solitary manikin wearing a floaty ankle-length dress. Apart from the dress, it wore unfeasibly long eyelashes, a bored expression and no shoes.
Down by the painted toenails of the model was a discreet plaque, propped upright in the sand and pebbles on the floor. In the same script as the word above the doorway, it said simply, 'Susan Shaw At Discoveries.' Karen shrugged. This must be the place, although it didn't look very promising. She was tempted to walk away, but that would leave her with an unsolved problem. An old fashioned bell tinkled as she closed the door behind her. The tinkling was followed by the sound of at least three more bells in various parts of the building. The loudest and most distant sounded like the kind of thing you found attached to a Swiss cow.
The interior of the shop gave no more clue than the window. There were two - no, three - models similar to the one in the window display, equally shoeless, equally bored. There was apparently nobody in the shop. Still time, Karen thought, to sneak out and escape, leaving the doorbells tintinnabulating away to an empty boutique.
A doorway covered by a curtain of dangling beads led out the back somewhere, and in front of it a small glass-fronted display cabinet with a glass top which seemed to serve as a counter. In keeping with the shop's minimalist approach to display, it contained a bra. Just one lacy bra in a shiny cream material, lying on a bed of dark green velvet. Karen felt an uncontrollable urge to giggle. There was a large bell on the counter, one of those bells with a plunger on top. Usually, those bells are plain metal. This one was painted in three shades of pink. Karen's hand hovered above it, then came down hesitantly. Even as her palm touched it, she changed her mind. Too late.
The bell was appallingly loud in the little shop. Karen started guiltily and took a few steps back as the echoes died away. Even the manikins seemed to be cringing from the noise, she noticed, as she looked round her. Strange, there was something about the models that she hadn't seen before. Apart from bare feet and boredom, they shared one other characteristic. It was well disguised, but now she looked, it was unmistakeable.
In the display cabinet, the bra was the same. It was an unusually large size. Not all-over huge, like a fat lady's bra, but unusually large. The cups were for a woman with large breasts. It was a pretty bra, despite its appearance of hidden strength. A bra for a pretty woman with hidden strength, Karen thought. That's me! Only the one bra, though, and there was no indication of the actual size of the thing. A DD cup? An H? An X?
"How may I help you?" murmured a voice, and Karen spun round in alarm. The voice came from behind her, and Karen realised that there was another doorway behind the two models. An elegant lady stood there, smiling her shop assistant's smile. She held her head on one side - carefully, so as not to disturb a piled-high hairdo that must have taken her hours. "I'm so sorry. I startled you. I was in the stockroom." As she spoke, she was gliding smoothly across the floor and sliding behind the counter as if she were on rubber wheels. She arrived without a hair out of place.
"I ... I don't know if I've come to the right place," Karen stammered. "I was expecting something diff ... Susan Shaw?"
"Gosh, no!" The woman cupped her hand round the bell as if it might still be ringing slightly after all this time. Karen realised what the bell reminded her of, and had to tear her eyes away from it before she started giggling. The shop lady went on. "Miss Shaw owns a number of boutiques. All over the country. And elsewhere," she added, as if there might be a branch of Discoveries to be found on Mars. "My name is Veronica Twizzell. I am the manager. Or manageress. Perhaps there is something I can help you with. A dress for evening wear? A business suit, perhaps? Foundation garments?" She gestured around the shop. "Our shop displays don't give very much clue to our uniquely special service, but the greater part of our business comes through personal recommendation. How did you hear about us, Ms... ?"
"Weatherill. Karen Weatherill. That's Mrs," she added, and immediately felt foolish. "But you can call me Karen. In fact, it was ... foundation garments I was looking for. A bra."
"Of course. Perhaps you would like to come through into the fitting rooms? You can take a look at one or two designs. It's not so public back here." Veronica gestured to the beaded curtain, then immediately glided through it, leaving a hand behind to hold the curtain parted for Karen to follow her. Karen had no choice. With a final glance around at the bored manikins, she plunged through the curtain and followed Veronica down a narrow passageway with a light at the end.
This was the first opportunity Karen had to notice Veronica's figure, half silhouetted. She was taller than Karen - when you're just under five feet tall, most people are, after all - wearing a dark blue dress, cut short enough to reveal a pair of shapely calves and quite a generous display of thigh. Her heels clip-clopped on the wooden floor and there was a rhythmic rustling and rubbing from her black stockings.
Broad hips twitched hypnotically from side to side as she walked. She seemed to have abandoned her gliding motion for more of an all-action style. And higher up, above an understated but noticeably slender waist, it was clear that Veronica was built along similar lines to the models in the shop display. That much was clear, even from behind her.
"Here we are," said Veronica brightly. There was a flush in her cheeks and she wet her lips with the tip of a pink tongue. "Would you prefer tea or coffee?"
"Er ... tea, thanks." Karen was staring around her. Was this part of the same shop? One wall consisted entirely of boxes stacked on racks that extended from floor to ceiling. The opposite wall was completely covered in photographs and letters, pinned up without an inch to spare between them. Elsewhere were display models, a couple of full length ones wearing nothing but their undies. Others were without heads and legs, wearing only bras. Back here, all pretence and disguise was gone. These models were unashamedly and decidedly well-endowed.
"I won't be long. I'll make a fresh pot. Take a look around." And Veronica disappeared, her wheeled glide now replaced entirely by a shameless hip-swaying sashay. Every part of her was in motion.
Karen grinned and scanned the stacks of boxes. All bras, she could tell by the picture on the end of each box. The sizes - if that's what they were - were confusing and bore no relation to any familiar sizing system. She turned her attention to the opposite wall. The pictures were all of women of every shape and size. Correction, not every shape and size. They were all hugely stacked! They made Karen feel uncomfortable, pinned up there, very much in her face. The letters were from customers, expressing the writers' delight and surprise now that they had discovered Discoveries.
She moved on, finding herself confronted by one of the headless models. It was wearing an extraordinarily large bra, she observed, and it certainly needed one. The cups looked big enough to carry half a week's shopping; the straps were fully two inches wide, equipped with soft padding where they passed over the model's shoulders. It was mounted on a swivelling base, Karen found as she grasped the model by its Venus de Milo arm and turned it round to see the back. An impressive row of heavy duty hooks held the massive body band together. She shook her head, not quite believing, and turned it round again...
And stopped. Surely not! She looked around her, feeling guilty, then reached out and touched the model again. It was true! Where the generous curves of the model's breasts swelled seductively above the lace trimmed upper halves of the cups, her questing fingers actually sank into the surface. The model was soft, like real flesh! Not only that, it was warm to the touch. Without realising, Karen found herself cupping one hand beneath the bra-clad breast, raising it. It was shockingly heavy, and the shoulder strap flexed as she took the weight in her palm. Truly fascinating!
"Ah, you've discovered Victoria's secret!" Veronica had come back in with a tray, which she placed on a low coffee table. Karen jerked both hands away from the model, noting with horror that the plump breasts wobbled for a few seconds before settling down. "Miss Shaw had them made specially, to give a realistic look and feel. This one's Victoria. That's Madge in the stretchy number, Kelly in black, and Lucinda's the full-length manikin in the pink. They're all like it. Realistic, right?"
.... There is more of this story ...