“Manon, fetch me something else to wear, will you? This blouse is becoming a little&hellip

“Manon, fetch me something else to wear, will you? This blouse is becoming a little… inadequate.” Claudette lowered the hardback volume of Les Fleurs du Mal from in front of her. That was the only place she could read from with an unobscured view now. She experimentally tugged at the tight polyester which failed to encase her. There was little give, but it still stung as it snapped back like a bowstring. She winced, and then smiled. Claudette had no idea what was causing the augmentation of her breasts, and visits to doctors had shone little light.The Parisian socialite had shrugged. Yes, people would say what they would; didn’t they always? But it was better to be talked about negatively than not to be talked about at all. She pulled a tablet from her new Chanel handbag, and examined her schedule. She had gym in an hour, where she and Cristophe would be working on another back-focused regimen. That left plenty of time for to buy some new outfits, and a well-needed larger sports bra. Free until 3 O’ Clock after that… Perhaps she would have the boy again today, she felt inclined towards a little fun. Claudette buttoned on the chiffon kimono, luxuriating in the feeling of the soft material against her chest. One of the wonderful things about the condition she had developed was that it gave her even more excuse to try and buy new clothes. More than that, it was fascinating from a design perspective. Her slim, lithe body had sprouted a bounty which stretched from just below her collarbone to two-thirds of the way down her ribcage in a graceful teardrop, and rested gently on her upper arms on its sides. Claudette turned to observe herself from profile. She thought she cut quite a figure, gently brushing the fabric above her nipples, a full span from her body now, angled ever so slightly upwards. They stiffened and she muttered an oath before chuckling.She gently applied makeup, Manon fetching her this and that to complete her look. She found that she did not need to lightly over apply her lipstick. She pouted, admiring their bee sting plumpness. Well that was new. As was a slight increase in height. Manon had to quickly unhem the lower part of her outfit, as well as to put a thinner insole into her shoes. Claudette’s heart skipped a beat as inspiration for new a whole line of clothing began to take form in her mind. She descended the stairs, exhibiting an inimitable grace as she walked with ease in slender 6-inch heels, her bust trembling ever so slightly. Manon wondered about the amount of thigh her mistress was showing today, but Claudette merely returned a knowing smile before lighting a cigarette. The fashion designer stepped out on to the busy street, where her driver was waiting. She would not let these developments hold her back. Far from it; she would embrace them (figuratively, of course, she mused). Claudette was an artist, and her body was her palette. What paintings she would give the world… Click for more stories… -- source link

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