I am Sarah Stevens

My name is Sarah Stevens, but everyone just calls me Sarah. My life hasn't been what you'd call 'normal', but then, whose is? Stuff happens. You deal with it. Nothing worth writing about. But it was spring, just three months after my 18th birthday when my life got seriously weird. Weird enough to write about, so I'm starting this journal or diary or whatever, OK?

I'm not sure where to start. I guess I'll start today, the day my bra tried to kill me.

I stood and stared down at my chest. My breasts rose high and curved out from my body a long way before they curved away. I could not see my nipples for the swell of flesh.

There was a narrow open space between them at my sternum, but my cleavage closed as the flesh curved inward. My breasts hung together like two blimps in the same hanger. My two very full, very enormous breasts.

I put my hands on my stomach and moved them upward. I could not see them except directly down my chest and I had to cock my head to do that. I felt the curve of my belly and the bottom of my rib cage. I felt one rib and then the curve of flesh. There was no wrinkle and no sag below my breasts. I ran my hands under them both — out and out and out.

My elbows were at my sides when I felt the upward curve. I followed it to my nipples, which had been stretched out over the ends. They still stuck out half an inch or so past my puffy areolas.

I looked at the bra lying on the floor, the same one that threatened to suffocate me. The tag said 34HH. Fuck!!!

I walked over to the full length mirror in the corner. I was speechless. My breasts were magnificent. I kept touching them. I could not take my hands off my body. I turned this way and that, admiring my new shape. I was aroused looking at her own reflection.

The person in the mirror was almost 6 feet tall and fair skinned. Strawberry blonde hair framed a gorgeous face. A voluptuous bust, impossibly narrow waist, a heart shaped ass and long shapely legs. She had a toned yet muscular build.

Three months ago I was a normal teenager with normal problems. Now my 34HH bra was too tight.

'Are you kidding me?'

Since there was no way I was going to put that bra back on, I slid my sweater on without it. It had fit well enough before, but now it was really too small and it hung on me like a tent. School spirit be damned, there was no way I was going to be able to wear a regular uniform now.

It was clear that I was not only going to need a different size, but a different type of clothes, now that my boobs were so much larger. I hoped that I could take up cheerleading, but I had to admit that it was going to be really hard unless I could get a bra that could give me some support without killing me.

Fifteen minutes later i was making my way to a discreet little place that specialized in clothes for women with large busts. A really nice man named Norton ran it. He seemed very excited about finding things that looked good on me. He even told me he could resize my school sweater while I was there. Most of the clothes he showed me were too long and too snug, but he promised he could alter all of it in only a couple of days.

I tried on several blouses and tops, both sheer and opaque; a few dresses with varying amounts of décolletage; some suits; some lingerie; and a variety of casual clothes. The casual clothes were the best fit and I picked out several outfits that would be suitable for school wear and some that were too revealing for school, but which I had no problem wearing anyplace else.

My favorite was a pair of boy-shorts in lycra and a loose crop-top that draped over the front of my boobs and hung just a few inches below my nipples. The top was made of a lightweight synthetic fabric that felt weightless on me. I could move easily in it and only had to worry about a stiff breeze or my own sudden movement making the top fly up. I asked if I could wear that one out of the shop.

"Of course, of course," Norton said. "The fit could be better, but if you like it, by all means." I really did not see how the fit could be improved. Morton was obviously a perfectionist.

I even picked out a mini dress and tried it on. It was basically a short robe with a belt that could be tied loosely to leave the front open as far down as I wanted, to show more, or tightly to pull the dress closed so that only the tops of my breasts showed. I was impressed at how comfortable it was and how light it felt on me. It came almost to my knees and the front would not close all the way over my bust, but Mr. Norton assured us that it would be perfect when I came back to pick it up on Tuesday.

Norton showed me a pair of shorts that were just too cute, but I could not think where I could wear them. They were little more than a four inch wide belt with a large rodeo-style buckle that had a panty built into it. It rode so low on me that the crack of my ass showed as well as the top of my pubic hair. I could see that I would have to shave to be able to wear it. The wide elastic waistband made it feel very secure to wear, even though it looked like it was about fall off my hips at any time. The top was just a pair of bandanas that tied behind my neck and looped under each breast. My back was totally bare down to my callipygian cleft. With a cowboy hat it would be a really cute country-girl outfit.

I also tried on a really attractive outfit in a gray wool blend that had a lot of stretch woven into it. The skirt was a mini that fit snugly around my hips and butt and came down to mid-thigh. The blouse was a lacy bloused-out tube-top that had two elastic bands that held it above and below my breasts. Over this went a short jacket that matched the skirt. It was almost a bolero-style it was so short and it only came two-thirds of the way around my breasts. My midriff was bare. The effect was to frame my breasts and show them off, while still giving an overall conservative look.

I decided on a good selection of even more conservative clothes for me to wear to school. Most were the white-blouse, pleated skirt kind of retro ensemble that was the current 'thing', much to the relief of the school administration. Last year, they came very close to imposing a dress code because several girls came to school wearing see-thru blouses and dresses and quite a few had shown up in Brazilian-cut bikini tops and shorts cut off so high that they were little more than denim g-strings.

Threats of lawsuits had stifled the urge to dictate school attire, and the inevitable retreat of fashion back from the verge of total nudity made the whole thing irrelevant. It was the sort of thing you could expect in a part of the country where Winter was the two months of the year that you didn't have to run the air-conditioning very often and the best thing to wear the rest of the year was as little as possible.

I picked out a little black dress in stretch velvet that had a high neck with teardrop cutouts in front and back. I got a green empire-waist dress that made me look like a little girl — a busty little girl with a big ass. I got a slinky gown that just draped over my front and had slits up the sides all the way to my waist. It tied behind my neck and was so loose, that if the tie came undone, the whole thing would just slide right off.

As my selections piled up, I noticed that almost none of the clothes allowed for underwear to be worn with them. They were all either too close-fitting or too revealing for anything but a pair of thong panties. I decided that I needed something at the other end of the scale as well.

"I'm going to need some workout clothes and a good sports bra, too." I said.

Norton didn't have anything like that, apparently neither exercise nor underwear was popular with his customers, but he suggested a maternity-wear shop down the street where I might find a bra. I was put off a little by the idea of shopping in a store for pregnant women, but I figured if anyone would have a bra that could give support to my huge boobs, then that would be the place.

I picked out a couple pairs of casual knit shorts and some t-shirts that would cover a bra if I wore one and I left Mr. Norton to work on altering those things that were too long or too loose.

As I put on the shorts that I wanted to wear instead of my uniform, Mr. Norton brought back my sweater. When I tried it on, it fit much better than before. My breasts did not feel confined and it only hung away from my stomach a little bit. He had moved the embroidered patch so that it was directly across the front of the largest part of my chest. No one was going to miss which school I attended.

I was surprised at how nice the maternity-wear shop was. It was called "Moms". So Original...

"And what may I do for you?" Madge, the clerk asked.

Madge had to have me help her get the tape measure around my bust. When she read off 48 inches she sounded impressed. She said she had never seen a 48-inch bust that could pass the 'pencil test'. Basically, you lift a breast and put a pencil right underneath against your ribs. You let go of the breast and then the pencil. If the pencil falls, you pass. It's supposed to be the way you know when your breasts are big enough so you need to wear a bra. I heard about it from my friends at school. I thought that story had been around, like forever.

They had a sports bra in my size that felt really good. It had strong underwire that was padded, a wide band with Velcro instead of hooks, and reinforced cups made with spandex so they gave a lot of support when I jumped. I was very glad to have something that would make it possible for me to try out for cheerleading.

Madge also wanted to show me a bra that she said would make nursing easier for me. At first I hesitated, but I couldn't think of a polite way to avoid trying it on and I was glad I did. The band didn't have hooks; instead, it stretched enough that I was able to pull it on over my head. The cups were lycra and felt really soft and smooth. Madge showed me how the cups were made so they could each be pulled aside with one hand. The one I tried on was really smaller than my size but the cups felt so good that I didn't mind at all. I bought a couple to wear under my school clothes.

On the way out of the store, I passed by the counter and the girl behind it smiled at me. She looked familiar, like she was someone from school that I'd never been introduced to, and she was seriously cute. Those freckles were adorable! I smiled back politely. As I was going out the door, I saw the mirror near the ceiling in the corner. The one that let anyone behind the counter see everything that was going on in the back. I turned again to look at the girl. She looked like I had just made her day. I went over to the counter and leaned over to talk to her.

"Hi, I'm Sarah, Stevens."