Spy Mission: Operation See Dem Titties

You examine your sister-in-law the rest of the day. Looking for curves in her clothes. Trying to find evidence of her rack. Does she have a history of back pain? Do men find her attractive even if everything else is mid? Did your brother marry a Sydney Sweeney—just a pair of big tits?

Your conclusion: she hides them well.

There’s no hint of those tits in your brother’s pictures. She must tape them down, ashamed of their massive size. Just the size of her tits make her vulgar, obscene. To protect my family’s conservative sensibilities, she has to keep them under wraps. If my family saw her tits, they would disown her as a harlot. No self respecting woman could have tits that big.

You decide to find proof, hard evidence.

Slip into their room. Unzip a luggage. Find just your brother’s clothes. Where’s the other bag? Find it on the floor of the closet. Past up shirts and panties. You need a bra.

The door opens.

You don’t want to be caught. You slip further into the closet. Back into the hanging clothes that will never be worn again: wedding dresses, letterman jackets, shoulder padded blazers.

Your sister-in-law giggles, then in a stern voice says, “You can’t touch me like that around your family!”

Your bother: “We’re newlyweds, babe. They’ll understand why I can’t keep my hands off of you.”

“Yeah maybe they’ll understand you holding my hand or rubbing my shoulder, but you grabbed my boob!”

Your brother laughs, “If they knew the boobs you have, they’d understand!”

A slap rings across the room. Your sister-in-law’s voice says, “Never will never know!”

With less confidence in his voice says, “They won’t! I didn’t even know until the honeymoon! I don’t even know why you hide them. Having big boobs isn’t a crime.”

“I know your family. They won’t let your niece paint her nails. Even boobs bigger than a D cup is a scandal—they’re the devil’s work.”

Holy fuck. Your heart speeds up. She has even bigger than a D cup? You have to find this bra. You have to confirm.

“Speaking of your boobs,” your brother says. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen them. I remember you promising to flash me whenever I asked.”

“That was a joke,” she says.

“You don’t joke with your husband about that. Your boobs are a very serious topic for me. Show them to me, babe. We’re all alone.”

Oh shit! You step up out of the forgotten clothes. You press your eye up to the crack in the door.

You need to witness.