Not for Me

by Axolotl

Copyright© 2011 by Axolotl

Humor Story: Let's look in on a typical day at 'Susan Shaw At Discoveries' to see Veronica Twizzell - Bra Maker Extraordinaire - at work. Just the one customer this afternoon, but she's just what Veronica needs...

Caution: This Humor Story contains strong sexual content, including Fa/Fa   Consensual   Lesbian   Humor   Petting   Size   Big Breasts   Slow   .

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.

August 1998

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?"

"Oh. Right."

"So they ought to be. They cost enough! Lucinda's are the biggest. When you take her bra off, she really goes bloop! Down to here somewhere." Veronica indicated a point somewhere below her own waist. It was noticeable when she did that, her bust was supported quite low, more or less at waist level, although it was still remarkably full. "Milk?"

"Oh?" Karen stared at Lucinda's pink-shrouded bosoms. She was feeling a desperate urge to undress the model. "Milk? Oh, yes, please. Just a drop, thanks."

Veronica handed over a cup and saucer. "Sugar if you... ? No? Nor do I. If I weaken, it goes straight to my hips. And one or two other places, of course. Now, then. Take a seat." They both sat down. The chairs were deep and low, the sort that made you flash your thighs right up to your belly button when you sat down. "A bra, you said? You're a first time customer for Discoveries, but you've had custom bras before?"

"Yes. It doesn't really show, but I'm not an easy size. I'm very slim..."

"I can see that, dear! I'm positively bright green with envy..."

Karen blushed. "I don't have a very broad back. My chest is only a small size. And my cup size is unusual."

"Perhaps not too unusual for Discoveries. But we'll find out when we measure you. How about the style? Something for everyday wear, like Victoria's? Something sporty - God forbid - like Madge? Or something seductive to spice up Mr Weatherill's life?"

"There isn't a Mr Weatherill," said Karen. "I left him five years ago."

"I'm so sorry!"

"I'm not. But it has to be plain white. It's the rules. I mean, the dress regulations. Only plain white underwear is allowed." Veronica looked surprised, her navy blue eyes opening wide. They matched her dress.

"Plain white, then. It's unusual. "We can do a sort of satin pink, very pale. Or a nice cream..."

"No, it has to be plain white. And I do mean plain. No lace. A little bit like Madge's, but it doesn't have to be so stretchy. She's..."

"We can do that. How about fastenings? Kelly's fastens in front. It can be more convenient..."

"No, it has to fasten at the back. With hooks. Like Victoria, except that it will need to be..."

"You're right. Hooks are a hassle, but they're probably more reliable. Velcro is easy to use, but some women don't trust it. And it picks up fluff in the washing machine."

"Ah, good, I was going to ask about washing. They can go in the machine? She's..."

"Yes, the washing instructions are on the label. Of course, plain white does tend to go a bit ... dull after a while. Sort of grey..."

"I don't suppose that will matter too much. It won't have to last more than six months."

"Still growing, huh?"

"Tell me about it!"

"I've stopped now," said Veronica, holding her arms up, elbows out, and swivelling from side to side. "But only just! I thought I was doomed to buying a new size every three months for the rest of my life." Karen found it difficult not to stare. She finished her tea in one gulp and set the cup down with a clatter.

"Three months? God, I hope not! It was bad enough..." Veronica was already unfolding herself from the chair. "Well, let's have a look at you, Karen! If you're ready? Would you like to just slip off your sweater... ?"

"Oh, right." Now the moment was here, Karen was feeling strangely nervous. Veronica had removed the tea tray and returned, waiting for her to do something. She stood up and plucked at the hem of her sweater. Should she explain now? No, not yet.

Veronica had seen nervousness before from first time customers. She turned away, rummaging through a drawer and coming up with a tape measure. It had been on top of the other items in the drawer all the time.

Karen was still apparently undecided, pulling at her sweater. Finally, she crossed her arms, making a decision, and pulled the bulky sweater over her head. Veronica found her mouth getting dry. It always did round about this stage. It was never wholly certain what would be revealed. In Karen's case, it was a T-shirt. "Yes, that, too," she nodded to Karen's unspoken question.

Karen folded the sweater and placed it on the back of her chair. Veronica could now see what Karen had meant about her figure problem. Her back was narrow and her waist unusually small; there would have been room to place both hands inside the waist of her jeans. And those two hands would probably almost span Karen's middle. Veronica swallowed a lump in her throat. More of that slender body was appearing as Karen tweaked the T-shirt out of her jeans and tugged it up over her head. Slender, but not fragile. This young woman's body was lean and wiry, a taut-muscled sportswoman's body.

But not with those! Veronica tried and failed to imagine Karen partaking in any sporting activity. At this moment, she was folding her T-shirt and placing it neatly on top of her sweater. She stood up straight, blushing, her eyes lowered. Veronica's eyes were lowered, too, but only as far as Karen's overloaded bra.

It wasn't plain white, more a faded pale blue, and it had seen considerable wear and tear. The shoulder straps were stretched, the once-elastic sides of the body band were ridged and pulled out of shape. A great amount of Karen was trying to escape from the bra's generous cups. Generous, but not generous enough. She bulged out above the elastic at the sides, flesh spilled out above the cups to form an almost painful-looking cleavage. The bottom of the body band was wrinkled where she had constantly to shove herself back into the bra. She did it now, then looked down and patted her breasts into submission. They wobbled for a long time - and two half-moons of flesh immediately made a reappearance below the underside of the bra.

"You can keep it on for a while," said Veronica, her voice wavering. "Just a few measurements, then perhaps you can take it off. It is a bit too small, isn't it?"

"I suppose it is," said Karen, as if the thought hadn't really occurred to her before.

Veronica passed the tape around Karen's body, just beneath the bra. The lump in her throat wasn't getting any smaller. Especially when Karen tucked herself into the bra again. That was three times she'd had to do that since taking her T-shirt off. "Hmmm. Let's see ... Twenty-five inches. Does that sound about right?"

"It's about right for me, yes. But it will need to be..."

Veronica was checking the figure again. "Yes, twenty-five. It has to be taken tightly around the body, that measurement, or the bra will tend to ride up and you'll fall out of the bottom. Rather like the one you're wearing, but that's probably more to do with the way it's stretched. It makes you a 30 inch bra size: not that that's very relevant with a custom bra, but it's nice to know."

"Would you measure my waist, please?" Karen asked in a tiny voice. "I know it's not strictly necessary for a bra, but you might like to know it for later..."

Veronica needed no second bidding. She had been wondering if she could get away with letting the tape fall down to Karen's waist so she could take a rapid measurement down there before the customer realised what was happening. "Twenty inches. No, let's call it nineteen, shall we?"

"If you like."

"Oh I do, I do," Veronica muttered under her breath. "Now, the big one. It won't be quite right with you squashed into this bra, but it will be a start." She tried, but couldn't hold her hands still long enough to wrap the tape around Karen's bust. She made three or four abortive attempts, feeling as if she was wearing boxing gloves.

"Shall I hold one end for you?"

"No, I'll be all right. I just ... need ... to... there... !"

"I'm trying not to breathe! I'm holding myself in. Tell me when I can let it go."

Veronica couldn't read the numbers. She had to pinch the tape with her thumb and finger and hold it as Karen subsided with a gasp and a giggle. "You didn't tell me I could breathe again, sorry! I was nearly turning blue."

"Sorry!" Veronica dared to take a peek at the tape, still held tightly in her fingers. "Jeez-us!" She reddened, hoping she hadn't said that out loud. "It's forty-six inches."

"Are you sure? I was forty-four when I bought that bra last year."

"Last year?" Veronica's voice wasn't working properly.

"Well, this year, in fact. January. February? Yes, I remember, the end of February, it was. Forty-four. I remember, because Andrea was with me when I was buying it, and she was cracking up laughing."

"That was six months ago, and you're at least two inches bigger now. Probably more than that. That poor old bra's holding you in."

"Only just," said Karen, tucking herself away once more.

"I think we can take it off now." Veronica didn't recall ever feeling like this while measuring a client. She was becoming uncomfortably aware of her wetness down there. She always did get a little bit moist, but not like this - and the customer hadn't even taken her bra off yet.

"There's something I have to tell you," Karen said urgently. "This bra, it's not..."

"Not the right size, I know! You don't need to tell me that. It must have been too small when you bought it. Some of these places employ the stupidest girls. Don't they realise how important it is for a lady always to wear a properly-fitting bra? Come on, then, off with it..."

"No, it's not that. This is an old bra, anyway. I have others that fit me better than this." Why am I lying to myself? Karen thought. Why can't I just come straight out and tell her?

"Do you need a hand with the hooks?" Cool fingers brushed her shoulder blade and Karen jerked her hands into action, reaching round behind her.

"No, it's all right. I can do it." Easier said than done. It was never easy, undoing her bras, and this afternoon it was even harder than usual. The thing was so tight, she could scarcely get her fingers under it to grip the straining elastic.

"Let me!" Veronica's voice was cool, amused. Helplessly, Karen dropped her arms to her sides and let her shoulders droop. "That's better, now you've relaxed, it comes off easy-peasy! Well ... almost." It wasn't that easy, obviously. Veronica gave a little grunt as she wrestled with the last of the six hooks. "There! Done."

Quickly, Karen brought her hands up to support her breasts. They were so full and heavy, and they felt almost as if they were someone else's, like one of the Discoveries models. She felt the weight of them now in her hands as Veronica let go of the straps and hurried round to the front. Was this woman getting aroused? Surely not! Veronica worked with busty women all the time. If she was going to get turned on by the sight and feel of a pair of big floppy dangling tits like hers, she wouldn't last five minutes in the job. And yet, Veronica didn't seem as composed and at ease as she had been earlier. She was almost twitching, breathing heavily, and the flush on her cheeks had become an intense glow. Still cupping her breasts, with the bra falling in folds across her wrists, Karen looked at Veronica with concern. "Are you feeling okay? You look a bit flushed."

"I'm fine." But Veronica's actions suggested otherwise. "Do you mind if I take these shoes off? They're still a bit new. I shouldn't really be wearing them for work..." She kicked the shoes off with evident relief. It brought her down to a less imposing height. Karen grinned at her.

"Does that feel better?"

"Does it ever! I hope it's not too ... noticeable! I've been on my feet all day. And you'll have to remind me to put them back on if anyone else comes into the shop. Ms Shaw insists on heels." Veronica seemed almost to have become a different person with the loss of her shoes: softer, less remote. Not that she'd been remote before. There was just a subtle change about her. "Aren't you going to take it off altogether? Or are you going to stand there all day holding them up?"

Karen laughed softly. "I just needed to make sure you were standing somewhere safe before I let them go. They're a bit heavy, you know." And slowly she lowered her hands.

Veronica gazed, transfixed, as Karen gradually removed the support and allowed her breasts to find their own level. More cleavage appeared now, not the tight crevice it had been originally, now more of a flowing, widening gulf between those massive mounds. And as Karen finally took one hand away altogether, letting the bra hang from the other, Veronica found she had been forgetting to breathe. "Oh, my God, Karen! They are incredible! Just unbelievable... !"

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