Congratulations on Filling Out That Tank Top!

Video game night is usually a boy’s club, with its fevered, lengthy conversations about cultural minutia and perpetual rabbitholing into new heights of drunkenness.  You’ve never been included, simply because you have luscious, full breasts that distract young men from the video games that form the centerpiece of the night’s entertainment, and also possibly because you don’t actually play games at all.  But tonight you’ve formed a plan to crash video game night, and it all comes down to your low-cut cotton tank top.

The tank top in question is about two sizes too small for you.  That means that your already ample breasts are barely covered by your shirt – containment is, at present, not even an option.  The fabric of the tank top will be straining, doing what it can, but it will barely cover your nipples, and your bra will be left holding most of the bag vis a vis concealing your boobs.  The tank top will therefore push your breasts together and up, making them seem larger and fuller than they would if they were just in a bra.

So when you walk into the back of the computer repair store where video game night is being held all eyes will immediately be drawn to you.

“Who wants to get puh-owned by me at Team Fortress 2?” you’ll announce to a room full of men who will look up to your face, then look down to your breasts, then fix their eyes to the floor with a tangible force.  None of them will respond, but a few of them will cough awkwardly.  It won’t be until one particular young man emerges from the bathroom that things will come to a head.

This young man will look you up and down and shake his head.

“Why did you come here?” he’ll ask.

“I can do what I want,” you’ll reply, massaging your breasts and licking your lips while eying all of his friends.

“Please leave,” he’ll say.

“This bullshit is why I broke up with you!” you’ll shout at him before flashing all of his friends and walking out of the computer repair store to return to the streets, where you’ll wander around until you return home, where you’ll fuck your roommate until you can’t feel the pain of losing the man you love anymore.

Perhaps there are healthier ways to deal with being dumped than generating a new, fictitious narrative about how you dumped him because he was too needy, then trying to get his friends to want to fuck you, or at the very least want to look at your tits,  so that they’ll invite you back to video game night.  Maybe “shitting where you eat” for rebound sex isn’t a particularly good idea either.  But you are what you are (the product of an alcoholic, abusive father) and you can’t help that.

Congratulations on Filling Out That Tank Top!