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"Melissa?" the barista called, voice carrying over the morning-time bustle inside the Starbucks. In her hand, she held up a grande cup.

"That'd be me," Melissa said, waving a palm at the woman from one of the side tables. "Hup," she grunted, rising from her seat and hefting the immense weight of her bosom up off the table with practiced ease. As she drew to her feet and leaned back to counterbalance the weight of her chest, conversations nearby faltered. Her massive mammaries projected an incredible distance before her.

"...Whoa! She's huge!" someone said. "Those things are like balloons!"

Melissa stepped towards the counter, maneuvering her chest through the awestruck customers. "Coming through, 'scuse me," she said, shuffling forward and making way. One gigantic, implanted breast bumped against one oblivious customer in headphones. The woman turned in surprise at the impact, plucking an earphone from her ear as she turned. She glanced downward, and retreated a full step back in shock at Melissa's size.

The woman's step back had put the coast clear up to the counter, and Melissa stepped forward to navigate her enormous bustline through the gap up to the counter. The barista caught sight of what the others had been staring at and made a soft choking noise in the back of her throat, eyes wide.

"Holy-!" she squeaked, the proffered cup jittering a little in her grip. The barista's gaze danced back and forth between Melissa and her chest. She put her free hand over her mouth.

"Thanks," Melissa said. She reached a hand forward, but the barista stood stock still, blinking. Melissa cocked her head and raised an eyebrow as she leaned forward further to take hold of the cup, her enormous, spherical breasts bumping against the glass of the pastry case and compressing slightly.

The barista didn't seem to realize Melissa had grasped the container and her shocked gaze was fixed on the gigantic orbs on the other side of the glass. They were barely restrained by Melissa's overwrought shirt, the garment's silkscreened text, "ANIME WAS A MISTAKE," stretched to billboard size.

"Thanks?" Melissa tried again, hopeful, a half-smile starting to spread across her lips. She jiggled the cup in their combined grip. The barista blinked and shook herself out of her reverie.

"I... uh, right. Have a good day!" she managed, and released the cup to Melissa's care.

"You too," Melissa replied, with a chuckle. She turned and began walking to the door, trailing whispers and shocked glances. She reached her free hand out before her chest and pressed the door open, and then turned sideways to shuffle through the doorway in a practiced maneuver, sidling each globe through with care.

She emerged out into the sun and took a tiny sip of the hot coffee. "Ah-h-h, coffee! For you, I would run the rubberneck gauntlet anyday," she said, heading down the sidewalk. The newfound spring in her step was accompanied by an avalanche of bouncing in her bosom, her thirty-kilogram fake breasts bonking together in the confines of her shirt in time with her gait.

A man coming the other direction halted as he saw her coming. His mouth worked wordlessly for a few moments, until he croaked, "Oh my GOD!"

"Here we go again," she murmured into her cup, taking another sip. Melissa nodded at the man and continued walking as if she hadn't heard. She had almost passed when he spoke up again.

"Um... excuse me, this will sound crazy, but... are you... y’know, Melissa M-Mountains?" he said, a quaver to his voice. He let out a nervous giggle, stuttering over the fake surname. Melissa slowed her pace a little in surprise at hearing her old modeling stage name.

Oh? Now there's a name I haven't heard in a while, she thought, bemused. She glanced over at the guy, and he appeared flustered, cheeks pink. He had a bit of a cute, lost puppy look to him. He was even trying to make eye contact, with visible effort. Well, I guess we know what you're into, don't we?

Melissa didn't respond, but she met the man's eyes and gave him a slow, playful smirk. The guy looked like he was about to melt, right there.

Betcha he thought these 'Mountains' of mine were long gone after I retired, Melissa thought. She continued walking, unhurried. Not gonna see these plastered on anymore covers of 'Mega Melons!' She smiled, and reflected back on her past career as the model with the biggest fake boobs in the business. In her heyday, the magazines had switched from centerfolds to whole fold out posters, just to fit her tandem zeppelins on the page.

The fellow stood there and watched her go. "Wow," he breathed. "Even bigger in person..."

"Hey," Melissa called over her shoulder, black hair tumbling as she turned, vast boobs the size of overinflated beachballs silhouetted in the morning sun. The guy stood, open-mouthed.

"You must be thinking of someone else. My last name's not Mountains," Melissa giggled. "But, if you stop by this shop called Japan•Ai sometime, you might see some geography that looks a little familiar." She gave the man a playful smile and went on her way.
many many MANY thanks to criticalvolume for writing this up for me.

Description

"Melissa?" the barista called, voice carrying over the morning-time bustle inside the Starbucks. In her hand, she held up a grande cup.

"That'd be me," Melissa said, waving a palm at the woman from one of the side tables. "Hup," she grunted, rising from her seat and hefting the immense weight of her bosom up off the table with practiced ease. As she drew to her feet and leaned back to counterbalance the weight of her chest, conversations nearby faltered. Her massive mammaries projected an incredible distance before her.

"...Whoa! She's huge!" someone said. "Those things are like balloons!"

Melissa stepped towards the counter, maneuvering her chest through the awestruck customers. "Coming through, 'scuse me," she said, shuffling forward and making way. One gigantic, implanted breast bumped against one oblivious customer in headphones. The woman turned in surprise at the impact, plucking an earphone from her ear as she turned. She glanced downward, and retreated a full step back in shock at Melissa's size.

The woman's step back had put the coast clear up to the counter, and Melissa stepped forward to navigate her enormous bustline through the gap up to the counter. The barista caught sight of what the others had been staring at and made a soft choking noise in the back of her throat, eyes wide.

"Holy-!" she squeaked, the proffered cup jittering a little in her grip. The barista's gaze danced back and forth between Melissa and her chest. She put her free hand over her mouth.

"Thanks," Melissa said. She reached a hand forward, but the barista stood stock still, blinking. Melissa cocked her head and raised an eyebrow as she leaned forward further to take hold of the cup, her enormous, spherical breasts bumping against the glass of the pastry case and compressing slightly.

The barista didn't seem to realize Melissa had grasped the container and her shocked gaze was fixed on the gigantic orbs on the other side of the glass. They were barely restrained by Melissa's overwrought shirt, the garment's silkscreened text, "ANIME WAS A MISTAKE," stretched to billboard size.

"Thanks?" Melissa tried again, hopeful, a half-smile starting to spread across her lips. She jiggled the cup in their combined grip. The barista blinked and shook herself out of her reverie.

"I... uh, right. Have a good day!" she managed, and released the cup to Melissa's care.

"You too," Melissa replied, with a chuckle. She turned and began walking to the door, trailing whispers and shocked glances. She reached her free hand out before her chest and pressed the door open, and then turned sideways to shuffle through the doorway in a practiced maneuver, sidling each globe through with care.

She emerged out into the sun and took a tiny sip of the hot coffee. "Ah-h-h, coffee! For you, I would run the rubberneck gauntlet anyday," she said, heading down the sidewalk. The newfound spring in her step was accompanied by an avalanche of bouncing in her bosom, her thirty-kilogram fake breasts bonking together in the confines of her shirt in time with her gait.

A man coming the other direction halted as he saw her coming. His mouth worked wordlessly for a few moments, until he croaked, "Oh my GOD!"

"Here we go again," she murmured into her cup, taking another sip. Melissa nodded at the man and continued walking as if she hadn't heard. She had almost passed when he spoke up again.

"Um... excuse me, this will sound crazy, but... are you... y’know, Melissa M-Mountains?" he said, a quaver to his voice. He let out a nervous giggle, stuttering over the fake surname. Melissa slowed her pace a little in surprise at hearing her old modeling stage name.

Oh? Now there's a name I haven't heard in a while, she thought, bemused. She glanced over at the guy, and he appeared flustered, cheeks pink. He had a bit of a cute, lost puppy look to him. He was even trying to make eye contact, with visible effort. Well, I guess we know what you're into, don't we?

Melissa didn't respond, but she met the man's eyes and gave him a slow, playful smirk. The guy looked like he was about to melt, right there.

Betcha he thought these 'Mountains' of mine were long gone after I retired, Melissa thought. She continued walking, unhurried. Not gonna see these plastered on anymore covers of 'Mega Melons!' She smiled, and reflected back on her past career as the model with the biggest fake boobs in the business. In her heyday, the magazines had switched from centerfolds to whole fold out posters, just to fit her tandem zeppelins on the page.

The fellow stood there and watched her go. "Wow," he breathed. "Even bigger in person..."

"Hey," Melissa called over her shoulder, black hair tumbling as she turned, vast boobs the size of overinflated beachballs silhouetted in the morning sun. The guy stood, open-mouthed.

"You must be thinking of someone else. My last name's not Mountains," Melissa giggled. "But, if you stop by this shop called Japan•Ai sometime, you might see some geography that looks a little familiar." She gave the man a playful smile and went on her way.
many many MANY thanks to criticalvolume for writing this up for me.