Valentina

Valentina hadn’t always been part of Mammopolis’ hypersexual landscape. In fact, when she first arrived as an exchange student from Italy, she was almost overwhelmed by the city’s excess. Italy had its own sensuality, of course, but Mammopolis was something else entirely—a place where sexuality wasn’t just celebrated but commodified, turned into public spectacle and casual ritual. Breasts were the central obsession, and women like Valentina, who were naturally endowed, quickly became objects of intense attention, whether they wanted it or not.

When Valentina first stepped off the plane, wide-eyed and eager to experience a new culture, she had no idea what awaited her. Her family in Italy had sent her off with the best wishes, imagining she would excel in her studies and bring back a wealth of knowledge to apply to her career. She had no idea that Mammopolis wasn’t just another city, but a world where her body, especially her massive breasts, would become the focal point of public interest.

In those early days, Valentina hadn’t embraced the hypersexual culture. She dressed modestly, kept to herself, and focused on her studies. She wasn’t naive—she knew her breasts attracted attention, but she assumed that with time, the staring would stop. It didn’t. On the contrary, the longer she stayed, the more she realized just how central breast size was to the social structure in Mammopolis. In Italy, she had been admired, certainly, but it wasn’t anything like this. Mammopolis was different. There was a hierarchy here, one where the size of your bust determined not only your status but your opportunities.

At first, Valentina found herself constantly trying to downplay her figure. She wore loose sweaters and oversized shirts, hoping to blend in. But blending in was impossible in a city like Mammopolis, where the sight of her breasts—even hidden beneath layers of fabric—made her an instant topic of conversation. She noticed the way men watched her, their eyes fixed on her chest as she walked through the halls of the university. And it wasn’t just the men. Women, too, measured her with their eyes, comparing themselves to her, wondering if she would rise through the ranks of the city’s unique social order.

Despite her best efforts, Valentina quickly became a topic of conversation on campus. The university, much like the city itself, had its own obsession with bust size, and students talked about her in hushed tones. Some admired her, others were envious, but everyone knew who she was. By the end of her first semester, she couldn’t walk through the quad without feeling the weight of the city’s gaze on her. Her professors, her classmates, even the staff seemed to see her not just as a student, but as a symbol.

But Valentina hadn’t come to Mammopolis to become a celebrity. She was here for her master’s degree, and for a while, she tried to ignore the culture around her, focusing on her work. It wasn’t easy. The more she tried to stay out of the spotlight, the more the city seemed to pull her in. Her classmates would invite her to parties, subtly hinting that she should embrace the lifestyle of Mammopolis, where public displays of sexuality were not just encouraged, but expected.

In those early days, Valentina resisted. She had grown up in a conservative household, where modesty was valued, and it was hard for her to reconcile the openness of Mammopolis with the values she had been raised with. But over time, something began to change. Mammopolis had a way of wearing down even the most resistant. The city’s constant focus on breasts, the way it elevated women with the most exaggerated curves, started to get to her.

It wasn’t just about the attention—though that certainly played a part. It was about the opportunities. In Mammopolis, women with large breasts were given access to power, wealth, and status. The city’s Bustocracy wasn’t just a social class—it was the ruling class. Women who entered the Bustocracy became icons, their bodies trademarked and patented, their likenesses sold and celebrated across the city. And the more Valentina saw how the system worked, the more she began to understand that if she wanted to truly succeed in Mammopolis, she couldn’t stay on the sidelines forever.

By the time she reached the second year of her master’s program, Valentina had started to embrace the culture of Mammopolis. It was subtle at first—wearing clothes that fit her curves a little better, accepting the attention rather than trying to deflect it. But the more she leaned into it, the more the city responded. She became a regular at exclusive parties, where the elite of Mammopolis gathered to celebrate their bodies and their status. She wasn’t a full member of the Bustocracy yet, but people started to notice her. Doors began to open.

She still focused on her studies—Valentina was never one to neglect her academic work—but the balance shifted. As her time in Mammopolis wore on, her status as a student became less important than her status as an up-and-coming figure in the city’s social scene. By the time she graduated, she was no longer just Valentina from Italy. She had become *Valentina di Roma*, a name that carried weight in Mammopolis, a name people whispered about at the university and beyond.

The attention didn’t stop at graduation. In fact, it only intensified. After completing her master’s degree, Valentina was offered something most students could only dream of—a chance to become a citizen of Mammopolis, an official member of the city’s elite. She had earned it, not just through her academic achievements, but through her body, her presence, and her acceptance of what the city valued most.

The offer came with an invitation to join the Bustocracy. Citizenship in Mammopolis was one thing, but being a member of the Bustocracy was another level entirely. It was an acknowledgment that Valentina had become more than just a woman with large breasts. She was now part of the city’s ruling class, a symbol of everything Mammopolis celebrated—sexuality, excess, and power.

By the time she accepted, Valentina had fully embraced the culture of Mammopolis. She had gone from a shy, modest exchange student to one of the city’s most celebrated figures, her body a commodity, her image a brand. Her likeness was trademarked, her breasts patented, and her name was spoken in the same breath as the other legends of the Bustocracy.

Valentina didn’t just live in Mammopolis anymore—she ruled it.