Travis wandered through the Megamart, heading on a roundabout path to the men's clothing department. He did it on purpose, cutting into the smaller aisles through the petites and women's departments, subtly sneaking peeks into the racks and displays of sleepwear, lingerie, and panties and bras of all sizes. Like other teenage guys, he already had a consuming interest in the female form, but while the internet had more than enough on the subject to offer, there was something visceral about all the garments hidden under their clothes--accentuating their shapes and teasing him with bright colors and frills mostly left to his imagination.
As he strolled through the store toward the men's department, he was mesmerized by a busty woman picking out brassieres in the next aisle down. Immediately he felt that wicked feeling stirring as he watched the older brunette hold up big, soft white satin cups to her chest, gauging the fit and tossing it in the cart with the others. Next she considered another, blue and strapless. She held it up, looked it over, and hung the delicate underwear back on the rack. When she was holding up a lacy, see-through black bra, he realized he'd been staring too long. The woman spotted his gaze right through the translucent fabric, threw the bra in her cart and raised an eyebrow at him. That feeling of being caught--that horrible red-faced surge of embarassed excitement coursing through him--it stayed with him as he passed through the the mostly empty aisles of forbidden fabrics.
Even fleeing to the men's department in embarrassment, he imagined the woman, the perfect shape of her huge tits in his imagination as they filled bra after satiny, frilly, lacy bra. He felt his cheeks blushing fire and a tell-tale feeling below his waist. As he passed into the mens' department, the feeling subsided while his mind drifted back to the task at hand--plain white t-shirts to wear under his busboy button-downs at his new part-time job. He rifled through some shelves, grabbed what he needed, and made it a point to go straight to the front. When he passed to a main aisle, though--he saw the backside of the same woman heading in the direction he intended, her curvy hips sauntering back and forth, filling tightly-cut denim.
Passing by her or--worse--waiting at the checkout with her--weren't options. He decided to kill a little more time by passing back through the magical space where sexy, flashy, cute, or demure intimates sat waiting for just the right woman to pick them up and bring them home. As he wandered back through the lingerie, he rationalized his silly obsession with these clothes: almost everything on these shelves would get to hug, squeeze, and hold a woman's body--likely much sooner than Travis would. It gave him a measured deference for these inanimate objects--an almost envious respect for what they'd get to feel, even if they didn't have the capacity to 'know' the priviledged position they'd been given.
Ridiculous, he thought. He had to wonder whether these were normal male conclusions.
Taking a long look at a red satin bra, he imagined the woman from before wagging a finger at him, almost playfully shooing his impressionable eyes away--teasingly letting him know that this was a girls' realm and a girls' realm alone.
So teasingly, though. She simply raised that eyebrow, coupled with an almost Mona Lisa smile as if to say "I know what's in your daydreaming mind..." He snapped back to reality, standing face to face with the red satin bra on the display. It was huge. With a couple of glances, he made sure no one was looking. When he was satisfied he wouldn't be caught, he reached out to feel the soft crimson cup, shining in the light as his fingers gently trailed over it. He let out a sigh, looking at the thin label on the back strap reading 34DD. Great big double D breasts on an understated, medium frame--what a sight this bra would be, filled with a figure like that.
He thought back to the woman again, letting his memories stray into fantasy. She was more full figured than this--taller and full-figured. Probably a 36. Maybe even a cup size up...the luscious, bouncing bounty of triple-D cups.
"Something I can help you with?"
Travis was startled out of his reverie, and he quickly pulled his hands down to his sides. A wave of embarrassed heat swept over his face again as he found himself staring at a cute blond with pixie-cut hair and a body nearly as impressive as the one he was daydreaming about. Looking at her, he guessed she was somewhere in her mid-twenties.
"Buying a gift for someone, maybe?" She asked, smirking as she gave him an out.
"I was--yeah," He lied. "For my girlfriend." She raised her eyebrows and gave him a little shrug.
"Can I help you find something specific?"
"N-no...I was--uh--just looking." She smiled and nodded.
"Well, let me know! I'll be around." As she disappeared around the corner again, Travis sighed relief. His face was still bright red, but his thoughts went immediately to the woman he'd just seen. Judging from the curves shaping her polo shirt, she had to be at least a D. He wondered how she'd look in a bra like this.
Then you should ask her to model me for you, said a womanly voice from right in front of him. He took a step back and blinked, looking around him at the racks of lingerie, then back at the bra.
"Did..." He whispered, trailing off after the first syllable. Great. Now he was hearing things.
When Travis' gaze lingers a bit too long in the women's department, strange things begin to happen before his eyes...is he getting carried away with his imagination, or is there more to his predicament than hormone-driven delusion?
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