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Tags: Big brassieres; Chounyuu (Implied); Natural growth

Please read the description for more information/warnings.

Original Author: くるとん

April

The setting evening sun bathed the people traversing a busy street in the shopping district.
At the end of said street there was a little lingerie store. The small store was widely known for its large and varied stock of products. It sold everything from popular to luxury brand names, as well as some original creations and custom orders. As a result the store had built up a large and loyal clientele all over the country.

After another day of business, I turned the sign on the door over from OPEN to CLOSED.
I checked our remaining stock and compared my tally of the total sales with the money in the register. After completing all final checks I reported back to the owner that everything was in order.
Before I left, she handed me a small colorful package.

"Here you go, Aki. I made it for you. It's on the house; consider it a birthday present"
"Thank you so much. You didn't have to. I'll promise to take good care of it!"
"Don't mention it, sweetie. If it doesn't quite fit you just tell me, okay?"

I had just started my second year of uni and lived on my own. I had honestly completely forgotten my own birthday until now. Polite enough not to open up a gift in front of the giver I stowed the gift in my bag and continued closing the store: I covered up our display case, drew the curtains, refilled the cash register with change, dusted the shelves and swept the floors.
With everything done, all that was left was to actually close the lock on the front door. I waited a while for the owner to show up, but she was still in the employee area behind the counter.

"Are you okay? I'm ready to lock up."
"Eh? Oh, I forgot to mention, but I need to stay a bit longer today! You go home and I'll lock up after you!"

The boss's voice rang out from the back room loud enough to almost be heard from the street.
After a 'Just leave the key by the cash register!' I left for home.

-----------------------------

"Ooh~!"

I opened my boss's gift back in my own apartment. It was a beautiful black brassiere decorated with numerous tiny little lace roses. My name was embroidered into the inside in decorative script. I couldn't even begin to imagine how long she must have spent on sewing this.
It had a band size of 65 and a cup size of 85(E).
Looking at it I was suspecting she had made it a custom fit for me, and when I put it on it indeed fit like a glove.

Until now, Boss had never stayed late, so the sweetheart must have been working on this at home.
Spurred on by such a gracious birthday present after only two years of working there part-time, I felt like I wanted to help her with something in return. We knew each other well and I liked working in the store enough not to mind a little overtime.

So the next day, as a friendly gesture I offered to stay longer after work as well. But Boss explained that she was working on a special bra that someone had commissioned in secret and that I didn't need to worry about her.
When I insisted I really wanted to help her with something, she told me that the commissioner had requested to let no one know of the project; Unfortunately I wasn't allowed to see the bra, let alone help her make it. After being gently turned down, I went back home as usual. Afterwards Boss kept everything about the mystery bra strictly classified. There was no way a part-timer like me was going to learn more about it.

(I should just forget about it... Looking into it will only cause trouble...)

Having made the right decision, I finished washing my new bra and hung it up to dry.

===================================================

Boss has brown medium-length hair and a slender waist and hips. Wearing an apron that inevitably emphasized her generous bust (more so than even mine), she managed sales, customer service, production and general management all together. Despite all this, she is only 30. Even to a student like me that seems very young.

The lingerie shop belonged to her mother originally, but she took over temporarily while her mother was shortly hospitalized. She kept running the place even afterwards and by now the business has completely changed hands.

During my first two years of university I have worked here on Mon-, Tues-, and Thursdays when I'm done early with my lectures, from the afternoon until closing time.
Strangely enough, Boss apparently manages the store all on her own on other days - I'm the only employee with some sort of managerial position. Having to work overtime to make some kind of special undergarment on top of that... It couldn't be healthy.

I needed to help her somehow. I talked about helping her with the templating, to work on other weekdays, anything..! But she kept stubbornly refusing.
Apparently this secret project was so important that even though I had been her loyal employee for 2 years - and had never called sick or been late in all that time - I wasn't allowed to catch so much as a glimpse of it.
What the hell could this thing be? Something dental floss-thin? Something naughty and see-through?

"Welcome!"

What is it? It's eating away at me.

"That'll be ¥2980. Would you like a bag with that?"

It's agony; even while calculating change it's all I can think of.

"Yes please. Here's ¥3000."

Behind the cash register was a door leading to the storage as well as Boss's sewing atelier, where she was currently working. The door wasn't locked. If I opened it, I could look right inside.

"And ¥20 makes ¥3000. Here's your receipt..."

I could look right inside if she hadn't forbidden me. She told me not to disturb her. No entry; Trespassers will be shot.

"...And here's your purchase. Thank you, come again!"

Even when leaving the cash register to see the customer off by the door, my mind was focused on what laid behind. If I keep being distracted like this I'm going to start making mistakes handing back change.
When the customer had left and I turned around to head back to the cash register, I suddenly locked eyes with Boss, who had just come in from the back.

"Apologies, but I need to step out for a moment to talk with a supplier of ours. It's just a short car ride and I'll be back soon. Please look after the store while I'm gone, okay?"
"Yeah, uh, of course."

Boss quickly left the store, entered her car and drove away...
...
...

...A golden opportunity.

---------------------------------------

I knew I shouldn't be doing this.
I was a not a woman of criminal inclinations.
Boss had only left the shop in my care because she trusted me completely.
On one hand, I'd be betraying that trust, but on the other hand I would finally learn about that damned special order.
Boss's car drove down the street and turned right out of view.
Having confirmed this, I pinged the bell on the desk to signal for an assistant to take over, rushed down the hallway to the atelier and slowly pushed open the door.
And there I saw... quite something.

".........It's huge..!"

Spread out on her work table were the makings of an absolutely massive indigo bra.
Almost subconsciously I picked up one of the loose cups and held it to my chest.
It wasn't just too big for me: There was still enough empty space to dunk a basketball in there - no net.
There was no woman on earth with boobs big enough to fill up all that space between ribcage and bra cups, right? If this bra was a proper fit for anyone, they'd be a Guinness World Record holder or something.
Trembling, I took a closer look at the commission note left on the worktable.

"...Band size s-sixty? Bust... 190?!"

That's a band size a bit smaller than mine and a bust twice as big?

But that can't be right. There's no way that's correct.
I couldn't say for certain without a size tag, but I hadn't worked at a lingerie store for two years for show. This thing was over 200cm for sure.

Seeing the design specs pinned underneath the commission note, I picked it up. Written on it was [Bust +30].
My head was spinning. That meant this thing was designed for a 220cm bust. These kind of numbers didn't belong in a lingerie store for normal human beings.
And look, I was proud of my own breasts. Not just because of their size, but also keeping shape, firmness and softness in mind. It's not all about size after all.

But even though this bra didn't tell me anything about its owner’s breasts but their size, it more or less drained that pride from me. 220cm... The sheer impact of that number bled into those other categories as well.
Just seeing this bra, knowing that someone out there was more than twice as big as I was... I completely spaced out. It felt like all color had been drained from my world. I just stood there in shock, covered in a layer of cold sweat.

"......Ah!"

I snapped out of it when I heard the sound of an engine cutting off in the distance. I quickly returned everything where I had found it and slipped back out behind the register.

"Welcome back Boss. That was fast."
"Yes, apparently the supplier mistakenly tried to come over to me instead. It was quite the surprise when we saw each other drive by."

Letting out a laugh, Boss brought a package she was carrying to her atelier and started making some coffee as if everything was normal. And I suppose it was to her - she was just working - but I was still distraught, my heart a deep giant-bra-colored indigo.

Why am I reacting like this? Am I a little bit gay? Do I want to have boobs that big myself?
The sight of those cups was burned into my mind more vividly than even the grisliest scenes of the splatter film I had recently seen with a friend.
Her boobs would reach down to her hips even with that bra on, it was so big.
What did she eat to get that big?
Her nipples and areola would be really big too then.
How do you even live like that?

"Hello? Can I have a receipt please?"
"...completely out of bounds..."
"E-excuse me..?"

When I finally came to my senses, I was talking to a customer buying a growth-encouraging night bra, who was giving me a puzzled look.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

October

Half a year later, I had all but forgotten about the whole incident. Boss had finished that commission halfway through June and the sewing atelier had become accessible again since.
Having finished an internship and most of my required study credits, I now worked at the store almost full-time.
On weekends I'd go out with my friends from uni and on my Fridays off I'd go on the occasional trip; I had a busy, but fulfilling life.

On a day in early October, when cold days have become the norm, a mother and her two daughters entered the store together. Judging by their height they looked like two adorable little grade schoolers, probably brought along by the mother to pick out their first bra. They moved to our starter bra section where the girls looked at all the colorful patterns, pointing out all the ones they liked to their mother.

"Excuse me, if you like, I could take their measurements for them?"
"Well if it’s not too much trouble... Thank you very much. Lina! Lena! Come here."
""Yes mama!""

I wasn't sure I should approach them at first, but now I'm glad I did.
I offered for two reasons:
First, simply because that's how the store typically operates. More than just selling clothes, it was important to ensure customers chose something that fit them right.
The other reason was curiosity I suppose.
And I know how that sounds, so let me be more specific: There was something off about how those girls looked.
And when I led Lina and Lena into a fitting room and had them take off their clothes for measurements, it turned out I was right on the money.

"They'll probably be a little difficult to measure right. Are you sure it won't be a problem?"
"Thank you for your concern, but I'm good -- Okay, Lina, Lena, is this your first time shopping for a bra?"
"Hm? Yeah."
"We are. I know everyone at school is going to make fun of us, so i didn't want to. But mama says we have to wear one."
"Very good, understood. Then I am going to take both your measurements, okay? Just turn around and take off your sweaters, okay?"
""Okay~""

The gist of it was that the two of them were a lot more 'gifted' than they appeared at first glance.
The swells on their chest underneath what seemed like home-knit turtleneck sweaters looked incredibly out of place on the two children. They were overgrown. I had them face away from me for easy measuring, but their breasts were big enough to stick out from their sides.
With an audible gulp I steadied myself. Despite everything, this kind of stuff still got my heart racing.

(What do they feed children these days?)

Slowly I rolled out the tape and measured the girls' busts.

"......"
"Are you okay, lady?"
"It's cold. Is it almost done?"
("What the...")

I was stunned. It was the same feeling as half a year ago all over again.
I had an 85cm (E cup) bust.
In comparison, Lina and Lena had a bust of 105 and 109 cm respectively.
With that in mind I took their band size: 60cm on the dot each.
Something that had cracked in me earlier was now utterly pulverized.
Regardless, no starter bra was going to be able to handle all of this. Not many stores were going to stock these sizes on adult brassieres. *We* probably didn't stock this size.

"So, yeah, um... It's done, you can dress back up. I'll go talk with your mother just a sec, okay?"

I explained the situation to her. I told her about how at that size shopping online was basically the only choice. I told her we didn't deal in swimsuits or gym clothes and that those needed to be ordered at the school's appointed stores. I even went on about ways to deter and prevent molesters etc.
The mother listened to it all as if I was a doctor telling her they had a terminal illness.

"I think I understand. B-but you do take custom orders here, right?"
"We do. We can make them for you at one week per garment if that's not too long. You can fill this form in, if you're interest--"
"Ah! Hold it! Wait up, please!"

Boss had suddenly appeared from the backrooms, startling both me and the mother. We looked at her in surprise.

"I'm sorry but a large-scale order just came in. That's why it's not going to take a week - I'll make them in 3 days each. Write that down, Aki."
"Eh, yes of course..."
"Do you mean that?! I can't thank you enough!"

Huh, I was sure that conversation was going in the opposite direction.
Regardless, the mother filled in the form with the necessary information and she and her kids left the store with big smiles on their faces. I only learned this afterwards, but apparently the typical one week deadline on custom orders was pretty generous. This was to keep up with potential bulk orders.

But that wasn't important. What bothered me was what Boss said earlier. A monster from the dark recesses of my memory began gnawing at my heart once more.

"Aki, the large-scale order I talked about... It's what you think it is. I'm sorry, but the sewing room is off-limits again for the time being. That customer wants me to make another one."
"Yeah, I- I understand."

I had kept my calm, but my heart was sinking below my stomach.
The memories of six months ago welled up fresh in my mind.
A new bra for her? The mystery customer with a 200cm+ bust.
For a split second it was all I could think of.
Standing behind the counter, I put my hands on my fulsome E-cup breasts and repeatedly pushed into their firm surface.
I was still at 85 cm as always. And honestly, I felt like maintaining that number together with my 65 cm band size was quite the accomplishment.
As a result I hadn't bothered to buy a lot of new underwear lately, relying on what I already had instead.

In other words: Buying a new bra was something you did when you wanted a different model or something with a different pattern or color. Or, of course, if for some reason your old bra broke or something.
Could it be..?

"...It doesn't fit anymore?"

Reaching a different bra size in half a year...
It's definitely not impossible. Back in middle school, when I was an A cup, I grew all the way to a C cup in only half a year time and others around me gained like three cup sizes as well. Those two girls from earlier must be in one heck of a growth spurt as well. Then, unable to leave them without a bra any longer, that mother went over here. She had looked worried about her daughter's rapid growth from beginning to end.
So it's not an impossible thought... Or is it?

(I have to know.)

Although I wasn't on any dating apps or the like, I had never before felt this kind of intense interest for someone I didn't know and had never seen before.
For all I knew this was all in my head. Breasts that big don't exist in real life. They're probably for someone with a weird fetish or some other purpose, not for actual use...

"No, that can't be it..."
"Hm? What can't be it?"

Boss swung her hand down onto my right shoulder and poked her head over the other. I jumped and gave a shrill and panicked response:

"I-It's nothing! I mean, no, it's just university stuff! Maths!"
"Is that so..? Sure. Anyway, I forgot my order catalogue at home. I'm going to swing by real fast to get it."

And with a "Thanks for pulling so many shifts by the way, Aki." she left for her car and sped away like a hurricane.

.........

My body was already moving before my mind had any say. I stormed into the atelier and searched for the commission form. It had been in an envelope last time, so it would probably be in another envelope this time as well. Searching for envelopes for 3 minutes netted nothing but some utility bills.

(Maybe it was sent by email...)

I shifted my focus to the PC that was always on. Scouring the mailbox I didn't spy anything that resembled a request for a custom order. Could they have sent it to her personal address? No. That wasn't listed as contact information online. It would have been sent here for sure. But no matter how I kept searching, I found nothing and another 5 minutes had already passed. Knowing Boss would return any minute now, I beat the retreat and headed back to the counter.

(What's that cardboard box doing there?)

It's always in the most obvious place, isn't it? Behind the door, cloaked in shadow was a big cardboard box. Big enough in all dimensions to reach my waist, the box could probably fit an entire piece of small furniture.
As I opened the box with trembling hands, the first thing I noticed was that enormous indigo bra from last time. And I was at a loss for words once again, but for a different reason.

"What the hell..."

The huge brassiere was completely totalled. It looked like it had returned from a battlefield. I'm not talking about a few dents in the cups: The cups had completely lost their original shape, looking stretched out and worn thin as paper.
Some sort of unnamed protrusions must have slowly twisted the cup around itself over time, the place where the nipples would have been still showed gouged out hollows as proof. Every single strap on the thing - front, back and shoulders - was absolutely shredded. This was in spite of numerous signs of them having been repaired and reinforced.

(This is Boss's special extra-sturdy textile blend, isn't it? But it's been ripped apart all over... What happened to it?)

I was drooling almost as much as I was sweating. I had to swallow my own saliva like I was breathing oxygen to keep even halfway decent. I couldn't tell you if the sweat was 'I'm afraid my boss finds out I'm sneaking into a forbidden room' sweat, or 'I think this oversized bra held some even more oversized breasts' sweat.
I steadied my breathing and slowly lifted up the bra.

(Wow this thing is heavy!)

I only had to wonder at its weight for a moment before the answer became apparent. This bra had no bra hooks to close it with. Boss must have designed it knowing that traditional hooks weren't up for the task of containing the sheer mass this baby needed to hold. Instead, a metal fixture shaped like the hook you'd find on a towing truck had been used. The fabric on it was clearly much thicker than usual as well. The whole thing was around 3 kg total, if I had to guess.

(Oh! And there it is! The commission note, I think.)

Having lifted the monster from its cardboard box, I saw a letter lying on the bottom.

(Let's see... The request is from Misora... How old is she..?)
"I'm back! I'm sorry Aki, but can you come out for a second?"

I thought back to when I watched a horror movie with some fellow students as a challenge where we weren't allowed to make a sound.
I stopped breathing. I dropped the letter back into the box.
I thought lightning fast. Boss was still outside. The atelier is not visible from the door at the register.

"I'm coming!"

Acting like I had just come from the toilet, I stepped outside like nothing had happened.

.........

......

...

"Pwaaaah! I felt like I was gonna die!"

Only after I had gone back home, eating something, taken a bath and had put on a relaxing face mask, I thought back on what had happened. I took a sip from my coffee.
I wouldn't call myself a bad girl, but as guilty as I felt, this strangely exciting behavior had me hooked. Even though next time I'd need to be more careful.
That letter I found was without a doubt a request for a custom order from the mystery commissioner. I had been cut off before I could read everything, but I now knew she was a girl named Misora.
And it seemed like she had 'somehow' completely overflown that enormous bra after only three months of use (July, August, September).
Even after that she had tried to hold on to it by extending the straps until they finally broke and the reinforced hooks and worn out bra cups were all that was left. And now she has to order a new one.

"She destroyed that thing in only... three months?"

I had no way of knowing what size she was right now, so I could only imagine. And of course you can keep wearing a bra for longer with the proper tools, like how Misora presumably did by extending her straps.
The only way for her to then destroy that bra she wants to keep wearing would be by having her actual cup size to be too far above the original bra to handle. She must have grown at least 40cm more, if I had to put a number to it.
And then there's the fact that her original order was 190, later amended to keep her growth in account to a 220 cm bust.
All that growth in just half a year's time...

What scared me most was her handwriting. Seeing someone send physical mail with an envelope and a stamp and everything surprised me in the first place, but Misora's handwriting was... juvenile.
There were simple kanji, but words like 'chest' and 'extension' were still spelled out in hiragana. If her writing was any indication of her age, she must have been about as old as the two sisters I'd measured today, so very early primary school...

Cute age aside, the letter I had found was asking for a 300cm bra. She had pointed out the parts that broke on the previous one and asked if the next one could be made sturdier, if possible please.

"Misora..."

I'd love to see her one day.
Completely forgetting my face mask was long overdue for removal by now, I stared up at the ceiling.

----------------------------------------------

March

It was the height of graduation season. I was only one year away from graduation myself. I had already found a promising workplace and all that remained was writing a good thesis.
What should I write about? I could go on a longer trip if I finish it early, maybe together with one of my friends? I should message them and make plans. What's a nice destination?

Thinking like this was how I spent most of my time at the lingerie store, where I now mostly stood behind the register. This wasn't because I was lost in thought more often lately.

Until October last year I'd been making some of the original creations sold at the shop.
Boss had trained me in everything from cutting to sewing and embroidery.
Until October. Until that one day, the one where'd that mother and her daughters visited and the sewing atelier had become off limits once again. It was still forbidden ground to this day. I've been on nothing but counter duty for the entire half year since.
And lately our store room has gotten emptier and emptier, with no signs of Boss wanting to restock.

I asked her if we had issues with our suppliers.

"Oh, I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier, but the store is going to close temporarily starting next month. I don't know for how long this will be, so I'm hoping to deplete our current stock."

It felt like we were going out of business.
It meant the end for my work there as well and marked a turning point for me to stop worrying about the store and think more about how to spend my free time...

...Who am I kidding? It only made me focus more on the one thing that really mattered to me: What was going on in that damned atelier?
Boss seemed to have gotten more devoted to her secret project, leaving the store mostly in my care and staying cooped up in there all day more and more often.
I haven't seen her take so much as a break from her work these past months.
Did she need to constantly remodel that bra to keep up with Misora? Or was it simply that big? Was she working on multiple ones at the same time? I wasn't allowed to know.

(How big could that thing be this time?)

My feverish imagination was left free to run wild.
220 cm in April, 300 cm in October. 80 centimeters of growth in half a year for little Misora.
The cups I had held back in April had already blown my mind, and the as of yet unseen 300 cm bra cups were still hard to imagine properly.
With boobs that big a bra stopped being simple support and started being a necessity for structuring their immense heft.
That 220 cm bra from April had been sent back in tatters in October. It had been a carcass, grisly evidence of how that structure had been ripped apart by a great force from the inside.
Even if I put on an AAA cup bra with my E cup breasts it wouldn't have that effect. It would be uncomfortable and most of my chest would spill from the cups, but both I and the bra would survive.
If anything, I'd suffer more damage than the bra itself; it would leave marks where it dug into my flesh, and the horrible support would definitely badly influence their shapeliness.

With that in mind, breasts able to murder a 220 cm brassiere like that needed to be even more ridiculously big. Would a 300 cm bra even be enough for them?
All her food had to go straight to her boobs for them to grow *that* much in only half a year. What did she eat anyway? How did she live like that even? Just going to the toilet would be difficult.

*Sigh* As soon as I let my thoughts wander from thinking about leisure, this was what happened. I placed my hands on my chest and squeezed gently. Nice and big, but still manageable enough to find cute underwear, their firm roundness and pleasing bounciness was clear to the touch even through my clothes.
My 85 cm bust E cup breasts were bigger than a handful each and their heft rested pleasantly on my palms when I cupped them from below.

"Three hundred centimeters... Just how big is that even?"

Because boss had been holed up in her atelier so much now, I hadn't gotten the opportunity to peek like before.
It was spring right now; still a little chilly, with the cherry blossoms starting to fall.
And I dealt with our customers absent-mindedly, my head filled with these wild delusions of Misora's situation.

....................................

..................

.........

Two years later

My graduation already a year behind me, I was working at a famous lingerie brand company where I was making a name for myself.
My experience at that lingerie shop during my student time had been a great boon and I had already developed several very popular new undergarments.
During my first year I had already been promoted to vice director of our plus-size division, where I was able to keep up with even the industry veteran that was my boss.

"The materials are ready, chief."
"Thank you, Aki. I can't overstate how much of a help you are. You work so fast and precise and you actually know your stuff. I'm surprised HR was competent enough to recognize your talent and appoint you here despite your recent graduation."

She looked over the material I had designed to support larger busts and nodded in appreciation.
In a big company like this, there were so many different employees with different quirks that I was impressed by my chief's ability to keep them all working in harmony.

"Thank you, but I learned everything during my part-time job during uni. I couldn't have done it on my own."
"Oh yes, you mentioned something like that before. I got curious and tried to visit the store, but apparently they had closed down March last year. What a shame; I would have loved to talk to the owner."

D-did I hear that correctly?
It closed down?
Last time I checked it was 'temporarily closed'.
Ignoring my boss's pleas for me to stop, I ran out of the building.

I had never visited the store again after the end of March two years ago. Even though I had worked there for three of my four years as a university student.

The sun was setting. Maybe I rushed over here to make it in time before closing.
But as my boss had just told me, the store had completely shut down.
All the shutters were closed and in place of an OPEN/CLOSED sign, a sign advertising the next tenant was hanging in the door. Apparently a pet store would open here next.
I knew the store hadn't closed due to bad management, a negative reputation or because of the location. There must be something else to it.
Unable to restrain myself, I ducked under the 'KEEP OUT' tape and put my hand on the door knob.
To my surprise, the door opened.

Slowly I shuffled into the pitch-dark interior of the store, the barren space of the sales floor stripped of all its belongings made it feel larger and lonelier than ever before.
Or... Actually it seemed like the wall separating the sales area and the back rooms had been removed.
With an inexplicable feeling of dread I inched forward, a strangely sweet smell beginning to permeate the room.
As I got closer and closer to the sewing atelier, that scent got stronger as well. By the time I reached out for the door to the atelier, I unconsciously pinched my nose shut.

(I guess it needs this much remodeling if they want to start a pet shop in here, but isn't this a bit much?)

Instead of the door, my hand grasped at thin air. For some reason the door had been destroyed and the doorframe had been crudely extended with a saw, the entrance instead covered up with a thick plastic curtain like you'd see in warehouses.
They even took out the door?
Originally the store had consisted of three separate spaces: the sales floor, storage and atelier. Now it was basically one big room.
Questions whirled in my head, but they were all answered as I stepped through the curtain.

"This can't be real..."

In the back of the store, propped up against the widest wall, was a neatly folded up bra. But each cup must have been big enough to hold an exercise ball each with ease. More striking were the shoulder straps - one had snapped. This looked like a bra that had been worn once, only to discover it didn't fit.
Furthermore, the sweet scent permeating the room was emanating from the hollowed-out spaces in the middle of the bra cups.
It was a scent that somehow carried an unspoken kindness with it.
A warm and nostalgic feeling washed over me as I smelled it through my pinched nose.

"Breastmillk..."

Instinctively I knew that was what it was.
I didn't know if something like this could go in the laundry, but even if it could, I'd doubt this smell would ever wash off.
These bra cups that I could probably use as a tent if I turned them upside down...
Spread around them were various design documents, the atelier in ruins.
Looking around, I looked at the various letters and other mail spread around the room.
My heartbeat was slowly speeding up.
Finally, my eyes stopped at a specific document.

Described there was the bra that laid folded up in front of me.
Designed for a 600 cm bust, the only thing that this thing had in common with a bra was that it had cups.
There were shoulder straps, but most of the weight was instead diverted to the back strap. Instead of hooks, an experimental system of zippers and belts was used to make the bra adjustable.
By now I had grown accustomed to the smell, but my head was still spinning.
Needing to feel what wearing that bra was like for myself, I began trying to unfold it.
I braced myself for its incredible weight, but that was a bad idea - it was surprisingly light. While I wasn't very strong, I could still lift it with ease and so I fell over when I yanked at it.

After getting up, I put on the bra as per the design specifications and was astounded at how well designed it was.
While I couldn't fill the cups, but if they had been completely full, this bra would have taken an incredible weight of my shoulders.
But in the end, no bra could actually reduce the weight anyone had to carry around. Even with this bra distributing the weight more evenly over neck, shoulders, back and waist and allowing the wearer to use all the muscles in their torso to take the strain, breasts this big would have been an unimaginable burden. I couldn't even begin to put a number on the mass of a 600 cm bust.

Without prompting, I turned around the design document I'd been eyeing.
Finally I understood why this place had shut down.

"Production date: February of last year..."

The store had closed just a month later in March. Having unfolded the monster bra, I understood Boss could have never made something like this in her sewing atelier.
She must have knocked out the walls between her atelier and storage first to make this thing. The door was probably still intact then.
Then, one month later, a request had come in for an even bigger bra, forcing her to remove the wall between the backrooms and the store itself.
I looked around the scattered design documents and schematics to get a picture of Misora's growth.

April, two years ago
Boss makes the first 190 cm bra.

October, two years ago
The bra from April is destroyed by Misora's incredible growth. It had been cramped since July and now she wants a new bra at 300 cm.

January, last year
Having hit a growth spurt, Misora outgrows her 300 cm bra. The production of a 450 cm model starts.

February, last year
New information comes to light during production: According to Boss's own measurements, Misora's growth is more than expected. She also learns of Misora's lactation. Predicting she could potentially reach 500 cm before the end of the month, the current bra is scrapped. Boss knocks out the wall between her atelier and storage and starts working on a 600 cm model instead.

March, last year
To her own surprise, the 600 cm bra that Boss had finished by the end of February is already insufficient for Misora's burgeoning bust and it is returned to the store. At this point Boss remodels the entire store into a workshop to work on the next bra. She sells her remaining inventory wholesale and closes the store. Preparations are made for a 1000 cm brassiere.

May, last year
The 1000 cm bra that had finished production in April was the biggest possible size Boss could produce from here. So, she accepted an offer of employment as personal lingerie designer from Misora's family. The store is offered up for free to whomever wants to clean it up.

In between the schematics and specifications are various notes.
One read 'I'm sorry mother for closing down the store, but I'll keep sending you money - don't worry.'

In the end there was not enough information there to learn Misora's age or where she lived. I understood that what laid here was underwear, but when the next tenant came in for cleaning, they’d probably mistake it for some weird bed or something.
Not to mention that the most recent document here was dated in May one year ago. While I was adapting to my new job, Misora's growing bust had already reached past the 10 meters.

...So obviously I had to ask myself: Just how big was she by now?

If she had grown a thousand centimeters over the course of one year, what would another year bring?
And I say, 1000 in a year, but according to Boss's notes, her growth really got started after October.
Her expansion had been fast enough to close down this store.

I was sweating again. In a state that was arousal as much as it was fear, I couldn't stop myself from calling Boss's number.
The only response was an automated 'The number you have dialed is currently not in range of reception'.
It felt like I had witnessed a ghost - like everything here was nothing but a mirage. I was afraid it would all disappear if I blinked.

Just think about how ridiculous it is. A 10 m bust - there's no way that's real. There are plenty of people on social media with big boobs, but most of them are either fat all over or have work done on them - nothing even close to something like that.

Still, having seen what I saw, those magnificent breasts seemed so real to me that I could almost reach out and touch them. It felt like a dream, but the definite proof was scattered all around me. If this was all impossible, then the fault most certainly laid with the rest of the world.

I knew I would never meet her. I'd probably never see my Boss, whom I was together with for two whole years, again either. Thinking back on it, I hadn't seen her much even when I still worked there after that day in October.
It was as if all the time I had spent there had been erased somehow.
It hurt somehow. Like someone had stuck a dagger right through my heart.
Standing there, alone in the remains of that store, tears of regret and loss that I couldn't fully explain rolled down my cheeks.