The drive to the mall was uneventful. Mostly it involved forcing myself to watch the road so I did not become hypnotized by Heather’s bouncing baby bumpers.

Middlesex Mall was the biggest shopping center in Middleton. Named, undoubtedly, by some sleazy advertising executive who took the phrase ‘sex sells’ way too literally. However it came by its name, Middlesex was a genuine hot spot for hanging out. Not my scene though. Mallrats grow up to read shitty blogs on jezebel. It is known. I prefered climbing and was fortunate that Middleton had some decent sized hills with decently challenging climbs. I’d conquered most of them. But not all of them, I thought, with a sideways glance at Heather.

There was a bounce in Heather’s step which meant her beleaguered bra had its work cut out for it. A car passing us from the front rammed straight into another car backing out. Heather laughed and quickened her pace. I turned around to look at the fender bender then back at Heather. Did she just cause a wreck? I looked back again at the guy getting out of his car as his gaze flicked past me towards Heather, confirming my suspicion. Unbelievable.

Once we got inside Heather dallied for a long time, perusing stores like Yankee Candle before walking out without buying anything. There wasn’t much for me to do other than people watch, and Heather was the main attraction in that department. As always she was great from every angle; her ass stretched the material of her jumpsuit so much that I could make out the shape of her panties. It was difficult to tell if they were small on her or they were purposely cut to reveal the bottom part of her cheeks, but whatever the case her taut white buttocks pressed lewdly against the shiny black material whenever she bent over a display rack or knelt down to check a shelf. I felt a bit pervy checking her out while she shopped but I was here to buy her underwear, so I deserved a pass.

Finally, we arrived at Madame Moiselle’s. Lingerie clad mannequins decorated the windows which, under normal circumstances, were as good as a stop sign for me. Today I followed Heather inside and felt immediately uncomfortable standing between racks of panties and bras. A little excited, but mostly uncomfortable- like I’d crossed into a forbidden zone.

“How can I help you?” A young girl about my height approached Heather. She probably was around our age. I couldn’t get a very good look at her body, hidden as it was by clothing racks but she wasn’t a patch on Heather.

“I called earlier. I need to get measured for a new bra.”

“My name is Katie. I can help you with that..” the girl trailed off as she drew close enough to realize how tall Heather was. And how busty. “We might not carry your size though,” she said uncertainly.

“Katie. You must be new,” Heather said with plastic smile. “I have shopped here for years and I’ve never had a problem getting exactly what I want.”

Katie glanced around furtively as though hoping someone would rescue her. “I’m glad you’ve had a good experience shopping here,” she said with practiced professionalism. “If you’ll follow me to the back room we can get you measured.”

“Should I just wait here?” I said.

“There is a bench by the dressing room sir, if you’d like to wait there,” Katie said over her shoulder as she led Heather deeper into the store.

“Thanks.” I said, trailing them.

The place was empty aside from a single cashier on the other side of the store, so we were basically alone. Katie brought Heather into the first dressing room and I took a seat on the bench immediately outside.

The sound of ruffling cloth preceded Katie’s voice, “Oh my, you are… very blessed. You’ll need to remove the bra too.”

“This isn’t the first time I’ve had my tits measured,” Heather said irritably.

“S-sorry. If you could raise your arms.”

“Oh. My. God. Just stop. Please, make yourself useful and unhook my bra, it’s caught.”

“O-okay.” Katie’s professional facade was crumbling faster than Heather’s patience from the sound of it. “I see. The hooks are bent.”

“No shit Sherlock.”

“Sorry umm- okay there. That can come off then.. D-do you want to turn or should I come around?”

“The mirror is in front of me.”

“Right, of course. Sorry. Just a second.” The sound of shuffling feet and then, “Oh my, that was really digging into you.”  

“Can you please just get on with it?”

“S-Sorry. Okay. Around the back and then... Can you lift them please?” Heather released an irritated sigh. “T-thank you. Okay, your band is about the same, a half inch larger maybe. Have you gained any weight?”

“What gave you that idea? Was it the too-small bra?”

“M-Mam I think maybe we got off on the wrong-”

“No no no, shhhh. Just measure.”

The rustling sound began again before Katie declared in a thoroughly cowed voice, “Thirty-six inch band size and forty five inches around the bust. An I-cup.”

“Good. Now fetch me a few Goddess underwires and something sporty.”

“Umm, mam. We umm...” Katie trailed off before digging out a nugget of confidence, “I’m sorry but we don’t carry that size here. The largest we carry is a double G which is what you wore in.”

Silence. I could feel the tension through the door, like a taut bowstring ready to snap.

“You must be joking.” Heather sounded pissed. “Your website *clearly* lists bras in that size.”    

“Yes b-but we don’t carry them in the store. I tried to tell y-”

“You don’t get to tell me shit. I tell you, capiche?” There was no stopping her now, this was classic Heather. Terror of Sedgwick. “You keep a file on customers.”

“Y-yes.”

“And that file includes their measurements.”

“Yes.”

“Then when I called and said I was coming in to get measured for a larger size why didn’t you *tell me* that was a huge waste of my fucking time?”

“I- I- I-” Katie stuttered.

“Y-y-you don’t know how to do your job. I bet you didn’t even measure correctly.”

“Th-that’s not-”

“What size are you?”

“Wh-What? That… That isn’t-”

“Isn’t what? Important? Oh it is important, Katie,” Heather spat the girl’s name. “Why don’t you tell me what size those mosquito bites are and we’ll see if you’re right.”

“I-I’m a b-cup, okay?” Katie mustered a flicker of defiance.

Heather snorted. “That would barely qualify you as a woman, but I think you’re deluding yourself. Lets see that tape. Now what are you doing? Raise your worthless little arms.” Jesus Heather, I thought, give the girl a break. “That’s better. You’re thirty two inches around the chest.”

“R-right.”

“And let’s see thirty three and- no wait... thirty two and hmm. What do you think? Does that qualify as a centimeter?”

“Th-that’s not right.” Katie protested. “Oh… Oh my god, where did they go?”

“Exactly.”

“B-but before I-”

“Tsk tsk tsk, Katie. You might be big enough for a training bra but that’s being generous.”

“N-no that can’t b-be.”

“Measure me again,” Heather commanded.

“Wh-what?”

“You heard me, measure me again. Only this time try really, really hard to get it right.”

Katie sniffled and I had to hand it to her, she had survived Heather’s onslaught for longer than most.  “Th-thirty s-six around the ch-chest.” Katie stuttered pitifully.

“Yes, yes, and the bust?” Heather demanded impatiently.

“Forty… six. Th-thats a J...“ Katie trailed off.

“Brilliant. So tell me, because I’m dying to know, why did you take this job? What made you feel qualified to fit other people for something you obviously lack? Was it fascination? Oh my god, that’s it. This was your chance to see real live titties, wasn’t it?” I couldn’t see the look on Katie’s face but it wasn’t hard to imagine the stunned horror. Heather continued the evisceration, “Okay, let me educate you. See this? This is a nipple. When you flick it like this it gets hard. Yours will do that too when you grow up. And this bumpy area around it, that’s the areola. Oh god, you know what I just realized? Lets check the tape- oh look at that. My nipples are bigger than your  breasts. I mean, you set the bar pretty low but that’s gotta sting, right?”

A sob wrenched from Katie. A second later the door swung open and she dashed by, tears streaming down her face.

“Jesus Heather,” I said,  “Was that really nec-” While Heather’s lurid description had painted quite a mental picture the sight of her naked upper body through the swinging dressing room door was something else entirely. Her thick, dusky nipples stuck out jauntily, tracing arcs through the air as she moved to cover herself. Her areola were small compared to the total surface of her breasts; dark, pebbled coasters on a sea of jiggling titflesh. Freed from the constraints of an undersized bra, Heather was immense. The door swung shut, but the image of her swaying breasts was burned into my memory.

“Get a good look?”

“Sorry,” I said.

“No you’re not.”

“It was an accident… but you’re right.”

“That’s okay, I’m still making you buy the bras.” I groaned. “Oh, hush. If you’re a good little boy I might let you watch me try them on later.” That was definitely worth the price of admission.

“I’ll hold you to that,” I said. “But was all that really necessary? You didn’t have to torment the poor girl.”

“It was only a bit of teasing,”

“You call that a bit of teasing? She ran out crying.”

“I’d cry too if my tits were that small.”

“Jesus, Heather. You really can be such a b-” I stopped myself from saying something that might prevent a certain someone from following through with a private showing.

“Care to finish that sentence?” Heather’s forced ambivalence was completely transparent.

“You don’t have to crush everyone who disagrees with you, that’s all I’m trying to say.”

The dressing room door opened and Heather stepped out once again dressed in her black jumpsuit which looked even tighter around the chest than when we came in. She smiled at me and said, “I know I don’t *have* to crush them, Mike.”

She leaned over me, blocking the light with her incredible size. Her breasts swung forward like fat pendulums, and I shrank involuntarily back against the bench as she lowered her face down to mine and said, “But where’s the fun in that?”