***This is an EROTIC STORY. If you are too young to read this, do not read this.***

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

DISCLAIMER: ALL CHARACTERS HEREIN ARE OVER THE AGE OF 18. I do not condone any abuse of any kind IRL, and everything herein is just fantasy. Do not attempt to re-enact anything you read here. All BDSM activities should be Safe, Sane and Consensual. What I describe in my stories is varying degrees of abuse which make for wonderful fantasies, but would in reality be awful. To quote the wonderful Gigglinggoblin: Real-life con-noncon requires a lot of trust, safewords, and other things a fantasy can fudge a little. Enjoy the kink responsibly, and enjoy the story! If you feel inclined, please get in touch, I'd love to talk about my writing or any related kink stuff!

*****

The whole reason Andrew had left, or so he had told those he left behind in his note, was to 'find himself'. The sentiment felt empty as soon as the pen had left the paper, even to him, but the note wasn’t really for them.

Setting off to backpack across the continent with a pocket full of money and a backpack full of dwindling supplies, he had lied to them, but more so to himself. That wasn't why he had left and he knew it.

Life was harsh, and it was cold. He’d known that before leaving. Not just physically cold, as the long nights he had experienced since he left could attest to, but truly cold. In a way that coldness was the reason he had left. Nothing in life froze your heart like years of being alone. The world out here was just as cold as when he’d left, but he knew it wouldn’t get any warmer back home. 

The constant awareness of an emptiness ate away at him more than hunger. Only now, miles from home, with little money to his name and an empty stomach, though, did he begin to consider what a fool he had been. He was hardly in better company surrounded by soaked fallen trees and the whistling of the wind over a meagre campfire.

He wasn't ready to accept he had made a mistake, not yet, but he was certainly failing to see how this grand adventure was the solution to his solipsism. Pulling his jacket tighter around him as the wind did its best to throw as much freezing rain at him as it could, Andrew shivered, alone.

***

The first signs of civilization he had seen for some time was the gas stop that crept out from around a bend in the road, out from amidst the trees. He tried his best to straighten himself up, brushing his hair with a hand and tugging his shirt as straight as he could, but he doubted it would do much to help. The fact he wasn't pulling up in a car would be quite the giveaway, too, he admitted to himself, as he stepped under the pump roof which was the first real shelter he'd had in days. 

He savoured it for a moment, but didn’t want to linger. With an almost banal tingle, the door tripped a bell. 

“Hi there!” came a woman's cry from the back, somewhere behind shelves which towered over him, as he slowly closed the door.

For a moment he waited there, unsure what to do. 

“Hello?” they asked, sounding a bit more concerned.

“Uh, hi, sorry,” he replied, awkwardly, trying and failing to project some confidence.

“Didn't hear you drive in, have you broken down?” they asked after a moment. 

Andrew was staring, longingly, at the plethora of snacks and drinks available, and didn't quite hear them.

“Uh...?” he asked, almost inaudibly.

The woman's voice was a little closer now. She was stood behind one of the aisles and, as he looked up, realised she was looking at him now, properly.

“Are you okay? Were you in a crash?”

‘Do I really look that bad?’ Andrew asked himself.

She had her hair in a short cut bob, and wore rimless glasses that sat low on her nose. She had to be standing on a footstool or something, he reasoned, as he had to crane his neck up to see her over the aisle ahead.

“N... no, sorry, I'm just... not driving,” he admitted, struggling to meet her gaze.

“Okay, come on in,” she said, seemingly satisfied, and as she moved away he went browsing. 

How tall was she? He knew he was tired, not holding himself as tall as he normally did - not that he was a particularly tall guy - but she seemed to be looking directly over these shelves that came up past his head!

Still, his hunger distracted him from any such thoughts. Andrew browsed the aisles, and had soon found some of his favourites. However, as he counted out the money remaining in his wallet, he dejectedly began to put them back one by one, swapping them out for the bare essentials. Bread, water, some fruit, and so on. None of the aisles had any prices, he began to notice, as he returned the snacks he so desperately craved. Then again, he knew he could barely afford what he needed, let alone what he wanted.

“How long have you been walking for?” the woman asked him, appearing behind him, her head poking over the top of the aisle once more. He still hadn’t really registered just how tall she had to be to see over the aisles so easily. She had to be standing on a box or something, right?

“Oh! A... few days,” he lied, not meeting her eye.

“Did you come from Marington?” she asked, sweetly, but with a rather intense stare. 

“Uh... no. Is that where this road goes?”

He regretted the question as soon as he’d asked it. If she hadn’t known he was a drifter, she would now.

She just smiled, and observed him, arms crossed on the top of the shelves. Increasingly, he felt a little uncomfortable, but he supposed it was understandable. He was essentially just a vagrant, and she probably didn't get many customers. It made sense to keep an eye on him. He wouldn’t dream of stealing even if he was starving, but she didn’t know that. 

He tried to focus on the goods on the shelves, but kept finding himself looking her way, trying not to look like he was doing so. Every time he did, she caught him, and her knowing smile widened ever so slightly.

Eventually, he smiled nervously up at her, arms full of goods, and turned to the end of the store. She seemed satisfied and followed him in the parallel aisle to the cashier's desk, and he waited at the corner to let her pass first. Only when she stepped out from between the aisles ahead of him was he fully able to take her in. Indeed, her breasts appeared a solid second before the rest of her body caught up, and they were like nothing he had seen before.

The woman was easily the tallest he had ever met. Her hips were easily wider than his shoulders, and as she turned away from him her ass seemed to fill the space endlessly.

He put down the supplies, regretting leaving behind so many of his favourites behind, but that feeling was swiftly overshadowed as he looked at the woman for the first time. Her woollen jumper, obviously hand-sewn, did very little to cover a stunning body as she turned to him. She had, easily, the largest breasts he had ever seen. 

Andrew wasn't sure if it was just the days of isolation, with only passing cars for company, or simply the fact he had never seen a woman of quite her… proportions, but he couldn't take his eyes off her.

“You're eating pretty healthy,” she noted sweetly, as she rang through the energy-dense fruit he had come to despise on his long trip.

“Y-yeah,” he said, not really paying attention, as every movement of the woman's arms was causing her soft, woolly jumper to shift, and the massive breasts within to jiggle. He was now hyper-aware of the fact she wasn't wearing a bra underneath.

She just looked up and smiled at him for a moment, innocently, not seeming to notice he was gawking at her chest fairly openly now.

“So, you're probably going to be stopping in Marington I guess,” she asked, not looking up as she rang through things with practised ease.

“I guess… if that's where the road goes,” Andrew muttered, unfocused, practically fixated on her breasts now as they tantalisingly glided around in their woolly confines.

For a while he just stood there, not really aware of time, until a loud DING shook him free of his daze.

“83 and 50!” she remarked, looking up at him with a grin.

Blinking, he pulled his wallet out once more, but already was feeling the bottom drop out of his stomach.

“Uh... right...” he said, guiltily, pulling a few notes out and doing unnecessary mental math.

That was much more than he had thought it would be, he admitted to himself, and furrowed his brow. There hadn’t been prices on the shelves, but… how could it cost that much? 

“Um, I...” he started, and pulled the last note out of his wallet.

Her smile didn't waver, but she was now staring at him intently.

“I could, um, I mean, could I... I need to put some-”

“Well it's fresh, I'm afraid,” she interrupted, “I can't sell it now you've taken it off the shelf.”

She said it quite simply, as if it were nothing at all, no matter how utterly devastating it was to him.

“I can't... uh...” he began, feeling tears begin to well in the corners of his eyes, ashamed.

Part of him wanted to say that was ridiculous, and the price was way too high, but he just found he couldn't get his thoughts together. Between the exhaustion, the isolation, the loneliness, and in no small part those massive tits, his mind was simply a mess.

“Oh, dearie...” she said softly, and reached out with a silky handkerchief to dab at the tear now trickling down his cheek, “I didn’t realise you were… well, so in need.”

She gently gripped his shoulder, a firm but reassuring touch.

“I have a friend in Marington, her name's Megan. If that's where you're going, I'll call ahead and let her know.”

“B... but...” Andrew began, struggling to overcome the emotions which were now, all at once, overwhelming him.

“Don't worry about this,” she said, moving his shopping to the floor beside her before taking his hand in both of hers, after she took the last of his money and put it away.

“I'll call Megan and she'll help you when you get there, okay? She works in the coffee shop. It's only a few miles, will you make it there on your own? I could call the Sheriff to give you a ride…”

With that, she handed over the bag of food, water, and everything he needed... including a chocolate bar he had sullenly had to put back that now sat atop his supplies with twinkling promise. Blinking the tears away, he wasn't sure what to say. The rip-off prices were forgotten in the face of her seeming generosity. She had emptied his wallet, but… well, it was her store, he supposed.

“Yes. Thank you,” he managed to squeak out, and began to pack his things away.

“Oh, don't mention it dear...” the woman said, smiling down at him from above as he knelt before her.

She bent down as he picked up his bag and patted his head, and he wasn’t sure how to feel about it. He just knelt there, letting her dote upon him for a while, before she eventually relented. He stood, he thanked her again, and she just smiled at him. 

***

He left, with a small smile on his face for the first time in weeks, and looked back before making for the exit of the store. She sat at her chair, smiling, waving... and staring at him intently. Returning the wave, he felt his smile broaden slightly... but felt her eyes on his back as he left. 

Indeed, as he walked away, the clouds at last having broken and the sun coming out, he looked back to see her standing by the window, staring.

Somewhere, deep down, he felt uneasy. Yet that was swiftly forgotten as he bit into chocolate for the first time in a month. Sweetness flooding his mouth and washing away his concerns. 

***

The ornate, Victorian era phone rang softly on a tea table in the foyer. A velvet, gloved hand lifted it from the receiver and, upon hearing the message, the owner of that glove smiled broadly.