DwindlingAway
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Unobtainable 2 - Chapter 9
🕑 Added 2019-07-27 21:44:55 +0000 UTCNote: Again, no idea if this chapter is correct. I don't think I ever kept proper track. Oh well, for sanity's sake I'll just continue with this numbering.
Edit: Seems like I had an older/non updated version open and lost bits and pieces of changes I made during edits. I've glanced over the story and fixed the most glaring errors but pardon any strange mistakes.
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Chapter 9
“Did you really have another craving so soon?” Heather’s new secretary, a student named Julia, had been drained constantly over the last few days. She lost an inch for bringing Heather lukewarm coffee, two inches for losing a call, and another two inches for being late to deliver an order of bagels. Julia could tell something was wrong but Heather’s domineering presence and entitled demands kept her desperately focused on pleasing her boss instead of investigating her rapidly diminishing stature. “You can’t just use someone as a whipping post!”
My position atop Heather’s desk gave me an excellent view of her newly enlarged body. She was reclined in an enormous, plush executive chair that had been custom made to support her nearly twelve foot frame. Heather’s exact measurements were a mystery but it was obvious she had outgrown her wardrobe. Her current outfit was a skintight jogging suit that rode up her calves and forearms and left her navel completely bare beneath the shelf of her tits. At the moment, Heather was far more concerned with the quality of her pedicure than the losing battle of her wardrobe. “No Dana, that pink might have been cute when I was twelve.”
Dana was seated side-saddle across Heather’s calves, applying nail polish to her toes. “S-sorry Ms. Heather,” Dana said softly, and reinserted the nail polish applicator into its base. She looked like a toddler playing with her mother’s makeup kit, one of Heather’s feet was nearly as large as Dana’s entire body.
“Try the red,” Heather said then turned to look at me. “Julia is happy to serve me, Mike. You want me to send her away?”
I scowled. “Julia thinks you’re going to make her one of your Chosen. I saw her crying at her desk yesterday.”
Heather rolled her eyes, “Ugh, she is such a drama queen.” That was rich coming from Heather but I decided it was better not to point that out. “She wasn’t happy when she came to me, it’s not my problem if she isn’t happy now. Maybe she should, like, learn to appreciate what she has.” The hypocrisy was astounding but all I could do was grit my teeth.
“So you’re just going to drain her away to nothing?” I could not keep an edge of indignation from my voice.
Heather sighed. “Jeez, Mike, you’re such a white knight. If I didn’t know better I’d think you had a thing for Jules.”
“She’s a person, Heather, not a meal.” The moment the words were out of my mouth I knew I had gone too far.
Heather’s glare pinned me in place. “Dana, I’m feeling pretty full. Why don’t you take a break and come get something to eat.” Heather rolled up her shirt revealing her overloaded bra and with a casual motion shrugged off the bra allowing the swollen orbs of her breasts to bobble free. Dana crawled up into her lap and wrapped her arms around a boob nearly as large as she was. “Lay down, sweetie.” Heather cooed, scooping up one enormous tit and angling her nipple towards Dana’s mouth. Dana opened wide to allow the thick nipple between her lips and gurgled happily as Heather’s milk let down. “Mmm, that’s it. Good girls get to drink their fill.” The implication was plain.
“So you’re not going to feed me?” I said.
“Oh Mike, I’m a person not a meal,” Heather said with a fake smile. Bitch! I was hungry but I was not about to beg her for a drink, especially after this conversation.
“That’s not fair Heather- I’m just worried about you. You’re letting all this power go to your head.”
“I think you’re the one letting power go to your head,” Heather snapped, causing Dana to reel back from her breast. Her nipple continued to let down, spraying the small girls face with milk. “Now look, you upset Dana. It’s okay sweetie keep eating don’t mind us.” Dana nodded and latched back onto Heather’s nipple but not before her shirt and hair were partially soaked with milk.
“What are you talking about? I don’t have any power.”
“Really Mike? Is that why you’re the only one who talks back to me? The only one who tries to tell me what to do and, like, how to act?”
“Thats...” Was that true? Maybe I had been a little critical of Heather’s choices since finding out about Lilian’s designs. Heather was somehow one of the keys that would allow the evil titaness to enter our reality. All of the crazy reality warping magic that had swept the world was Lilian’s doing, a means of paving her way to power. All to create a world where everyone revered size and a giantess the size of a skyscraper like Lilian would be worshipped as goddess. Even Heather’s height made her something beyond celebrity in people’s eyes, like a saint and cultural icon rolled into one. Everything about the situation terrified me and maybe I had been a little hard on Heather lately. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled.
Heather’s face softened and I caught a glimpse of the caring girl inside. It felt like I saw less and less of her lately. “Forget it,” Heather said, breaking eye contact. “I’ll feed you later. Probably.” I sighed, letting the conversation drop was probably the best outcome I could hope for.
The door opened and Julia peeked in. “Ms. Vance, the seamstresses downtown say they are ready to meet with you.”
Heather did not appear the least bit concerned with being caught nursing Dana. “Which one?”
“Oh, erm, all three of them.”
“Oh good!” Heather clapped her hands together which had the unfortunate side-effect of squeezing her tits and sending a jet of high-powered milk down Dana’s throat. The small girl broke away coughing and choking. “Omigod,” Heather complained, “You’re getting milk all over my clothes. You’re lucky I’m getting new clothes today.”
“S-sorry Heather.” I watched her latch back onto Heather’s nipple with a frown. Dana had always been beta female to Heather’s alpha but the difference since being shrunk was pronounced. She never contradicted Heather no matter how unreasonable the growing teen primadonna acted. In many ways Dana enabled Heather to act more selfish and callous. Mike wanted to shake her sometimes, even if Dana was twice his height. There was nothing for it though, Dana belonged to Heather heart and soul and trying to get her to stand up for herself would only drive her deeper into Heather’s arms. At some level I knew I was jealous of the relationship Dana had formed with Heather, envious of the way my giantess girlfriend doted on Dana.
“That’s enough,” Heather said brusquely. Dana’s lips came free nipple with an audible pop. My stomach growled in protest as Heather used a cloth dab up the lingering milk. She transferred Dana to her desk and stood up, submerging my position in shadow. No matter how many times I saw it I never get used to seeing Heather move up close. The size of an office building her arms swung like the booms of cranes, her chest wobbling with exaggerated slowness. In fact everything Heather did was slightly exaggerated- like she was moving at 7/8ths speed. I was not sure if it was a side effect of shrinking or another part Lilian’s reality-altering magic. Whatever the case I was grateful for it, even as it was Heather’s movement could be terrifyingly fast. Imagine how quickly a hand swats a bug, now replace that hand with a wrecking ball and imagine it flying directly at you at hundreds of miles per hour. That was the terror Heather inspired by simply moving too quickly.
“I’m feeling generous today,” Heather declared. “All three of you can join me, oh and Julia the dress we ordered for you must be ready by now.” Julia glanced nervously at Heather then looked away. What was that all about?
***
Needle Pulling Thread was the kitschy name of a very posh tailor Heather favored. NPT specialized in making custom-fitted knock-offs of name brand clothing and as Heather had grown they had managed to keep her trendy and stylish as wealthy girls half her size. Our procession must have seemed strange with Julia towing Dana behind her like a big sister leading her little sister while Heather lead the way fully three times the size of Julia. I was safely tucked away in Heather’s purse, since she wanted me out of the way when she got fitted.
Magic had altered buildings and the tailor had ten foot doorways and huge twelve foot ceilings, that still managed to crowd Heather. Her hair nearly brushed the ceiling and her steps shook the clothing on the racks around her like they had been subjected to a series of minor earthquakes. I did not know her new measurements but I had snuck a glance when Heather weighed herself on an industrial scale. She was over fifteen hundred pounds of entitled teenage terror. The number did not seem to bother her, possibly a side-effect of everyone constantly fawning over her.
“Oh my,” a middle aged woman exclaimed. The prada wearing matron wove between racks of clothes to meet Heather. “You poor dear,” she said, taking Heather’s hand. “You’re spilling out all over. Follow me to the back, we’ll get you measured.” Heather let the woman lead them into an open area lined with doors to dressing rooms. All of which looked too small for her. The woman looked apprehensively between Heather and the rooms. “Oh dear.”
“You can measure me out here, I don’t mind if someone sees.” Heather said casually. Mind? She would happily gobble up the attention. She loved showing off her size and curves and the bigger she got the more of an exhibitionist she became. The woman nodded and got out her tape measure. “Oh, before I totally forget. Were you able to finish the dress I requested?”
“Dress? Oh, the one using fabric from the brassiere you sent back?” Wait, what? Heather was having a dress made out of a bra. “Yes, I think Trisha finished it last night. Trisha!” After a moment curvy blond emerged from the back of the store.
“Is everything al-” the blonde cut off mid-sentence as she took in Heather.
“Be a dear and measure our best client for me, I have to go find where I put that nice dress you made.”
“O-okay,” Trisha stammered as the older woman brushed by and disappeared into the back of the store. The world around me shifted and jostled as Heather set her purse on a bench and I had to turn to get a better look. Without waiting for the curvy blonde to recover from her shock Heather tugged off her clingy top, revealing a cream-colored bra loaded beyond capacity. The pants came next, sliding with some difficulty down Heather’s ample thighs and over her rotund rump. Heather may have been topheavy, but her ass was large and shapely enough to be the defining feature on any lesser female. A giant peach of taut female flesh protruded from her upper thighs and jiggled just enough to confirm its existence was natural. Well, as natural as any other part of her magic-enhanced superbod.
Trisha approached apprehensively, pulling a step stool behind her. “Lets go,” Heather said irritably. “I don’t have all day.” Something about this scenario was familiar. It hit me, this was just like the date when I had taken Heather to Middlesex Mall. She had tormented that poor girl, and now that I thought about in retrospect… Heather had stolen the poor girl’s breasts. As much as I cared for her I had to admit Heather could be a tremendous, unparalleled, supreme- bitch. I really hoped she wasn’t planning on creating a similar scene here. Trisha started to climb the stool and the top of her head rose closer to the dominant shelf of Heather’s bust. My girlfriend’s tits were so big now that the underside of one was twice the width of a normal person’s head. Her upper arms were as wide around as Trisha’s thighs, and her torso was so wide that if doorways had not been magically enhanced Heather would have had to turn sideways to fit through.
Strange that the dressing rooms were not Heather-sized.
Trisha started to wrap the tape measure around Heather’s bust but the big girl stopped her. “Start with my waist, then hips, bust last.”
“Okay,” Trisha mumbled, clutching the tape measure to her own chest, visibly intimidated. In the end she required Heather’s help to hold the tape measure and still took a considerable time wrapping the end around. “Waist is 52 inches.” She pulled out a notepad and scribbled down the number.
“Could you be any slower?” Heather complained.
“S-sorry,” Trisha stammered, shoving her notepad away and moving quickly to measure Heather’s waist. Unfortunately for her the distance was even longer around and she was forced to make a second measurement while Heather complained loudly of her incompetence. “Y-Your h-hips are 82 inches.” Eighty two? Holy shit, Heather’s hips were wider around than most people were tall. Eighty two inches of ass was unheard of, even hugely fat women would struggle to achieve that girth. And rather than dumpy cellulite Heather’s glutes were plump and taut with youthful elasticity. Eighty two inches of youthful elasticity, enough to bury a full size man. To me they were the size of a pair of Volkswagen Beetles, and probably weighed more- relatively speaking.
“Oh wow,” Heather cooed. “Maybe I should go on a diet, what do you think Dana?”
“You’re perfect Ms. Heather.”
“Aww, and what do you think Jules?”
“Any girl would kill for a body like yours.” Unlike Dana, Julia could not keep the bitterness from her voice.
Heather ignored or didn’t notice her assistant’s tone . “You’re both so sweet. Umm, hello? Weren’t going to measure my chest Trixie?”
“Its T-Trisha.”
“Whatever, just hurry up already,” Heather had already lost interest in being fawned over and had begun to pose for headshot selfies, phone held high.
Trisha scrambled up the steps and brandished her tape measure, eager to get this over with. I could not blame her, Heather was a handful on her best days and she had a tendency to demean and degrade anyone who served her. Trisha seemed to be doing her best, but she had run into a big problem. Two big problems to be specific, Heather’s tits- which had been freed from her bra.
As they grew Heather’s breasts maintained an enviable, extremely full teardrop shape. Fake tits of her size had a tendency to look like soccer balls strapped to one’s chest and natural breasts often flattened and drooped. Heather’s breasts did neither, their upper slopes had a gentle convex curvature that lent them an appealing plumpness that was typically only granted big boobs via the use of a bra. At fullest part of her breasts Heather’s nipples stood straight out, firm pegs of flesh that did not point down as the nipples of large chests so often did. In spite of all this youthful buoyancy her breasts were still very large and some concession to gravity had to be made. They filled the space between her arms and extended down just past the inner bend of her elbows, creating a deep valley of cleavage even when she wore no bra at all. This shape also created more than a foot of contact between underside of Heather’s mammary mountains and her ribs. That twelve plus inc distance was the gap Trisha was trying, and failing, to bridge.
The blonde was by no means a scrawny girl, but Heather’s tits were a pair of prize watermelons and merely jiggled when Trisha tried to lift them. The blonde seamstress strained, beads of sweat broke out on her brow- her arms trembled and Heather’s boobs only wobbled gently in response. A third attempt left Trisha panting. A fourth try made her back pop loudly enough to be heard from across the room. It occurred to me that Heather’s tits probably weighed as much as the poor girl trying to lift them. “I need to get a measurement under your bust,” Trisha gasped.
“Yeah? So, like, get it then,” Heather said without looking away from her phone. The scene bordered on the absurd. Heather with her phone held high over her tits, tits which in turn loomed over Trisha, who tried desperately to push the tape measure beneath them. Each time the tape measure slid up the underside of Heather’s boobs the fabric strip became hopelessly trapped beneath the weight of her bust. Trisha tried lifting one breast up and pinning the tape measure beneath it but the size of Heather’s orbs made them roll out of her hands and she kept dropping the tape before getting it into place. All Heather had to do was reach down and lift up her tits for a few seconds so the poor girl could get on with her job. Judging by the smirk on Heather’s face, she knew exactly what she was doing. I wanted to scold her, but that would have made me a hypocrite.
Watching Trisha struggle to lift my girlfriend’s bust had me rock hard.
Just then a sound from the back made both girls turn. Unfortunately this brought Heather’s tits around to wallop Trisha in the back of the head. The blonde let out a yelp, tottered for a moment, then sprawled onto the floor with a loud thump. The middle-aged proprietor returned with a box in her hands just in time to see Trisha roll over and groan. “Oh dear, what happened?”
“Trixie is a bit of a klutz,” Heather said. “She was having trouble measuring my bust.”
The woman hurried over to Trisah’s side and helped the girl up. Her eyes bounced between her coworker and Heather, concern mixing with frustration on her face. It was obvious she was torn between loyalty to someone she clearly knew well and cared for and the obligatory worship Heather inspired. I knew how this story ended. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave, Ms. Vance.”
My jaw dropped, and for that matter, so did Heather’s. Maybe I didn’t know how this story ended after all.
“My niece is an excellent employee and if she did not serve you to your satisfaction I’m certain it was not for lack of trying.” Wow, I mean really, wow. Witnessing someone stand up to Heather was- well, it just did not happen. Not anymore. “I’ll help Trisha finish your taking measurements and you’re welcome to take the dress, but perhaps a different seamstress would better suit your needs.” You had to hand it to the lady, she had professionalism in spades.
Heather uncharacteristically sputtered in shock, not able to produce more than fragments of indignant speech. The seamstress used the opportunity to marshall Trisha back into position beneath Heather’s imposing bust. “Lift for just a moment dear.” In testament to how of sorts Heather was she actually obeyed, lifting her tits with an incredulous expression plastered on her face. The aunt niece team made quick work of the measurement. “Your under bust measurement is 78 inches. And your bust is,” the woman paused as Trisha ran the tape around Heather’s broad back.
“96 inches,” Trisha croaked. Heather’s smug smile returned in an instant and she stepped away from the pair, nearly knocking Trisha back to the floor in the process.
A long silence was finally broken by the proprietor. “You’ll need a 78-R cup.”
“Guess I have outgrown this place,” Heather sneered. “Don’t think this is over though,” she snatched up her purse and I lurched sickeningly into the air. Heather struggled back into her poorly fitting bra and was headed for the door before she was finished. Julia grabbed the box that presumably contained her new dress and chased after Heather, struggling to match the giantess’s long strides. The floor shook, hangers rattling on their racks, as Heather stalked to the entrance. She paused at the door and turned to glare at the seamstresses. “You’ll give me what I want eventually. Everyone does,” she snapped and stormed out.
She wore only a pair of ill-fitting bra and panties.
