Triggers. Every woman has them. Little psychological pressure points buried in the subconscious and

Triggers. Every woman has them. Little psychological pressure points buried in the subconscious and waiting for the right touch: an ad glanced on the subway showing two girls with their nipples pressed together; the taste of warm cream as it passes over the lips; the feeling of walking into a clothing store and finding every bikini top five sizes too large. Anything that could give a woman that moment of pause to let the phantom weights within her chest swell up and out to join her in reality.For Katee it was dance. Formally trained, even at nineteen she never missed a lesson. And even at nineteen, her father never missed a show. She’d never needed to tell him how much it meant to her. To look out on the audience and know that he was down there watching her with pride.She herself watched with horror as her college friends gave in one-by-one, some girls vanishing completely from the dance society, holed up somewhere with the men they’d enslaved. But the girls who remained were not much better: Sophie, who’d once danced en pointe with such grace and poise was now far too big for that kind of elegance. She careened around the studio, stumbling after the momentum of heavy boobs on her slender figure.Isabella, the newbie who’d taken up street dance with so little skill but so much enthusiasm, now found herself perfectly suited to these new lessons. Always bouncing, never tiring, Rubbing and clapping her tits together with a smile.Surrounded by girls in tap shoes and bras with no more rhythm but plenty of jiggle, Katee, for once, found herself struggling to keep up. Her dignity was no longer a benefit in this new world but it kept her going, driven by a single-minded determination to reach one last summer show.But the show was the problem, wasn’t it? No matter how hard she trained it was going to be a mess. She could already picture it; girls bouncing around her, tearing off their tops, careful choreography lost in the struggle to be noticed. How would her daddy ever see her up there? How would he admire her?But that was okay. Buried in her subconscious was a way to keep him watching. -- source link

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