My name is Clive Thompson Lewis. Call me Tommy. I collect boobs. I've only been collecting a couple years, so my collection isn't very impressive. I have just three sets. I keep them on the wall in my dining room. It was the only room that had enough open wall space. And there's room for a few more sets.
Now, I should perhaps explain. These aren't fake boobs. They're not sculptures. They're not made of plastic, plaster, silicone, or metal. They are actual flesh and blood. They are body temperature, and in fact, if you place your ear between them, you can hear a heartbeat. At rest, they rise and fall as if perched upon a breathing chest. And if you have a set for a long time, like years and years, they will visibly age. And of course, they feel real and the nipples stiffen and soften depending on temperature and what you do to them. Let me assure you that all this is not spooky or creepy. I don't have women embedded in my dining room wall with only the boobs visible. Collector boobs, as they call them, are magical constructs. In that sense, I suppose they are fake, really. I don't understand how they go about creating collector boobs, but I do know that nothing and nobody is harmed in the process. Otherwise, I assure you I would not be involved in the hobby at all.
So what does one do with collector boobs? Well, aside from the obvious fondling and sucking, there are a number of different activities I do with my sets.
One thing I like to do is take a hand fan and cool them down and watch the nipples stiffen up. Watching the process from soft to erect is always interesting. Sometimes the areolae get little bumps, sometimes they crinkle up around the nipple. Sometimes the nipples darken or redden. You just never know how it's gonna play out.
A couple times a week, I wash them. I use a soft cloth and mild soap. I don't really get them dirty in my day-to-day, but playing with soap-slicked boobs is one of life's great luxuries. And when I dry them off with a soft, fluffy towel, they positively glow. I love that.
My collection is humble, but there's a lot of variety. Three different sizes, three different skin tones, and I'm always looking to branch out. The thing is, boobs are bloody expensive. So my collection will grow slowly, since I'm not mister moneybags over here.
On the day I'm about to tell you about, I was excited because I had finally saved up enough money to get a fourth set of boobs. It was a Saturday in July, late morning. I got in my car and headed out to the mall.
There are three boob stores at the mall.
The first is a second-hand place. Sometimes you can get really good deals, and some people swear by the used ones. Seasoned, they call them. A lot of them are saggy, and that tends to turn off a lotta younger people. But I'm of the opinion (and it is shared by millions) that saggy boobs are usually really lovely. I mean, they're boobs, right? It's hard to go wrong.
The second place is your everyday boob store, just like in every mall in America. I liken them to mall book stores. Just one letter off. There is a modest selection of boobs to choose from. You don't get a ton of variety, but they're all new.
There are several prominent brands. Tommy's Titties (no relation) specializes in pert, small-to-modest-sized boobs. Mams, Inc. usually goes in for a rounder profile. The Milk Factory sells all shapes and sizes of lactating boobs. Some people are all about the milkers, but I give them a pass. When I'm sucking a nipple, I'd rather not have anything come out of it. It's a distraction. Lactation is beautiful, fascinating, miraculous even, and breast milk is delicious, but it's not my bag.
There are a couple brands that specialize in the really big boobs. Juggs is one. Stackers is another. And then there's Belle Curve. They specialize in uncommon configurations. Big boobs that don't sag at all, small boobs with really big nipples, that kind of thing.
All the companies offer a wide range of skin tones, from black to so pale you can see all the veins (yum). Different sized and colored areola, different sized and colored nipples. There isn't usually a preponderance of any one skin tone. They say no two sets of boobs are exactly alike, and I believe it. This period in history is a really good time to get boobs. It's not like it was back in the Fifties, when all you could get in the stores were white boobs with pink nips.
And then there's the third store, Build-a-Boob. That's where you can get a totally custom set of boobs. you choose size, shape, color, density, sag, space between, areola size/shape/position/color, nipple size/shape/position/color, all that stuff. They'll put together whatever you specify. From bog standard to stuff that isn't found in nature. Like white boobs with black nipples, for example. They're also the place to go if you're looking for an asymmetrical set. Some people don't like asymmetrical boobs, and that's a real shame. I love them. Shay Laren for the win, am I right?
But I don't generally shop at Build-a-Boob. They're more expensive, and I don't really have the exotic tastes that would justify the higher price. Maybe someday.
Of course, you can't touch the boobs before you buy. That could get pretty disgusting, with a buncha mall rats fondling them all the time. So unless you're at Build-a-Boob, any set of boobs you buy is a bit of a gamble. I like the uncertainty of it.
I usually start at the second-hand place. If I see something I like there (and the odds are pretty good I will), I can save considerable money. Two of my three sets came from the second-hand store. I insisted on new for my first set. What a newb. Oh well.
So I'm at the second-hand place. When I walked in, I noticed that the person working the store was a woman. I found her attractive, but she was wearing a baggy sweatshirt that obscured her boobs, so I couldn't check her out. I didn't blame her for that. One wouldn't want to be confused for merchandise. And hey, I wasn't objectifying her. I'm interested in boobs, that's all. She had brown hair and eyes, a sweet round face, and a winsome smile.
Anyway, when she saw me come in her face kinda lit up with a smile. I was the only one in the store. "Hey there, handsome," she said when I was at an appropriate distance to be spoken to.
I chuckled. I must be her type, I mused. "You think handsome? Nobody's ever said that about me before."
