Tenfingers shut the door to her chambers behind her and breathed a shallow sigh of relief. It might have been a deeper sigh had there not been a large pair of breasts vying for the limited space in her tunic with her ribcage. She needed to relax. The day was only half over, but Tenfingers felt drained. There was the disappointing return on the tarnished alchemy equipment she liberated from the wizard, the diagnosis of her curse by her shopkeeper friend, the unease that plagued her whenever she stole in the daylight hours, and the long walk home, made longer by her uncomfortably tight tunic.
The garment resisted her every removal effort. She grabbed the hem and tried hoisting it over her head, but the material bunched up under the swell of her breasts and refused to go any further. Any additional tugging would just send her chest surging towards her chin. She hopped all over her room, with a death-grip on her hem, knocking over shelves, and stepping on crunchy bric-a-brac indiscriminately, but succeeded only in winding herself, and causing her new and tender breasts to throb with soreness. She plopped down on her bed and rethought her approach.
She remembered Jalah donning her dress one boob at a time. Tenfingers wondered if the principle worked in reverse. So she tried coaxing her right breast down and out. Some progress was made, but gradually her shirt began to feel less like fabric, and more like an iron band choking the life out of her. Stars swum in her vision, her breathing labored. Hurriedly she undid her work.
It was sad that she was going to have to do this to her favorite garment, but the stubborn tunic hadn't left her with any other options. Working slowly down the center with a small knife she made it into a vest.
*glaaaaaaaaare* ............. hmm.... if i keep staring, maybe woot will make another picture..... *glaaaaaare* *pass out* ohmygodiforgottobreathe *dead*
The garment resisted her every removal effort. She grabbed the hem and tried hoisting it over her head, but the material bunched up under the swell of her breasts and refused to go any further. Any additional tugging would just send her chest surging towards her chin. She hopped all over her room, with a death-grip on her hem, knocking over shelves, and stepping on crunchy bric-a-brac indiscriminately, but succeeded only in winding herself, and causing her new and tender breasts to throb with soreness. She plopped down on her bed and rethought her approach.
She remembered Jalah donning her dress one boob at a time. Tenfingers wondered if the principle worked in reverse. So she tried coaxing her right breast down and out. Some progress was made, but gradually her shirt began to feel less like fabric, and more like an iron band choking the life out of her. Stars swum in her vision, her breathing labored. Hurriedly she undid her work.
It was sad that she was going to have to do this to her favorite garment, but the stubborn tunic hadn't left her with any other options. Working slowly down the center with a small knife she made it into a vest.