Suramar. She had not been here in millennia and yet, the place still seemed so familiar to her. The air thrummed with magical energy, potent and wild. The woman could feel it, every part of herself reacting to that latent force, invisible yet affecting every living thing in proximity to the great city.
Ever since the Burning Legion had been driven from Azeroth, Shalendris had felt drawn to the place. Mostly to experience the Shal'dorei's rich culture and reconnect with that part of her heritage. Much had changed in Kaldorei culture since the Sundering, yet Suramar still seemed partially frozen in time, a reminder of how things had once been for the Night Elves.
Shalendris wore her typical druidic attire that day, thick leathers and furs decorated with trinkets, baubles, branches, and leaves. This outfit, however, seemed to be struggling to contain the two absolutely enormous tits that the druidess sported. The druidic bra she wore, while enchanted to accommodate changes in her bust size, was starting to show signs of wear as the magic-infused within it had started to deteriorate.
Normally, the cups would enlarge to better hold and support the titanic knockers, yet now the garment struggled to hold back Shalendris's beachball-sized breasts, areolae peeking around the edges and the surrounding flesh overflowing like so much dough from a loaf pan.
While the exact reason for this recent deterioration remained unknown -- it had held for the last 10,000 years, after all! -- Shalendris saw in the rediscovery of her nightborne brethren an opportunity to either restore her brassiere's potency or acquire new enchanted clothing altogether. Either way, she had seen the wondrous things they could do with their imbued silkweave, and she was interested in getting her hands on some.
And to top it all off, it seemed as though the sheer potency of the ambient arcane energies of Suramar were enough to cause the druidess's bust to enlarge even further, making her wonder if her armor would last the trip to the tailor.
A gust of wind came blowing through the city streets, blowing Shalendris's thick mop of rich purple hair into her face. She blew some strands out of her mouth and tossed her head to the side, just in time to see a pair of armored guards making their way towards her, a man and a woman.
"State your business in Suramar, night elf," demanded the female guard with more contempt than Shalendris was comfortable with.
"An illusion?" the other added, his white eyes darting down to Shalendris's immense bust.
"Not an illusion, I assure you. And I'm here to do some shopping. Is that an issue?" replied Shalendris, crossing her arms indignantly above her massive chest.
The woman, quite obviously the more prejudiced of the two, pointed a finger right at Shalendris, taking a single step towards her. "If I hear you caused any trouble in Suramar, you won't be seeing the light of day for the next ten millennia," she spat.
Shalendris offered a simple nod, taking note of the similarity between Kaldorei and nightborne penal systems. Not only that, but physically, the Kaldorei and Shal'dorei would be nearly identical were it not for the nightborne's darker (on average) skin tones, extravagant fashion sense, and exquisite glowing tattoos.
With their warning given, the two guards stormed off, their highly decorated armor barely making a sound as they went on their business. As Shalendris followed them with her eyes, she soon sported indicating the Evermoon Bazaar.
Shalendris knew that recent diplomatic talks between the nightborne and Night Elves had not gone too smoothly and that many nightborne still viewed themselves as superior to the Kaldorei. At least, that's what she'd been told. For now, at least, the Kaldorei were permitted to enter Suramar.
A creaking sound from below alerted Shalendris and she immediately looked downwards, noticing that her chest had grown an inch or two since she had stepped foot in the city. "Not good," she muttered, wondering if her druidic bra would manage to hold back those jiggling colossi she sported. "Must be the magic of this city... I knew they tended to abuse arcane magic, but this is perhaps a bit much," she added to herself, making towards the designated street.
The way to the bazaar was stressful for Shalendris, to say the least, each step bringing with it the heavy jostling of breasts far too large for the overflowing cups. But with no way to safely empty her "mana stores", she had no other choice but to simply walk faster... which brought on more of the incessant jiggling.
The sights and smells that greeted Shalendris, so used to her quiet life in the tranquil forests of Kalimdor, were nearly overwhelming. Dazzling displays of the finest goods gold could buy now lay before her as nearly a hundred merchants all gathered here, their wares on display in stalls. Some other merchants had the doors to their stores open, allowing visitors free access.
There, nestled between a bakery and a smithy, Shalendris soon spotted the tailor's shop, so identified by the needle and bobbin upon its sign. Unaccustomed to large crowds such as these, she immediately made her way towards it, trying not to attract too much attention to herself. Considering the volume of flesh she carried and considering that her breasts appeared to have grown a few additional inches since her meeting with the guards, she knew there was no time to waste.
Entering the dimly lit shop, Shalendris was greeted by the pleasant smell of lilac incense. Though the floor was of marble, the woman's bare feet felt no cold as she stepped onto it. Her gaze, however, was drawn to the dozens of outfits being worked upon by floating needles, enchanted to create dressed, doublets, lingerie, and all other fine clothing the nightborne seemed to love so much.
"We are... closed," came a voice at the back of the stoor, a nightborne woman stepping out from behind a curtain.
The white-haired elf simply stared at Shalendris for a few moments before resuming her thoughts. "Though I don't mind taking one more customer for the day," she added. "Do lock the door behind you."
Shalendris did as instructed before walking further into the small but cozy shop, taking a good look at the owner. The woman seemed only a little under six feet tall, with long white hair tied into a neat ponytail. She was as slim as most of her people, with narrow hips and two moderate handfuls upon her chest, all covered in a sheer gown of elegant purple silk, allowing her to show off the multiple intricate glowing silver tattoos that decorated her deep purple skin.
"I... I need clothing," Shalendris said meekly, more than a little impressed by the stern seamstress before her and the myriad of enchanted tools floating all about.
"Most who come here do," replied the nightborne, her gaze alternating between Shalendris's face and the massive breasts that threatened to destroy her top at any moment. "But do come here, please. Stand on this stool so that I may take your measurements," the purple-skinned woman added, motioning to the stool in question.
Shalendris offered but a simple nod before walking over to the stool, noting that the nightborne's features had softened somewhat, allowing the druidess to feel a little more at ease. That feeling didn't last long, however, as a single step, a single bounce of her chest was the last straw, her druidic bra breaking apart at the front to allow her two gigantic tits to wobble out into freedom.
Bringing both hands to attempt to cover her nipples, it soon became clear that her palms were wholly inadequate for the task, barely even able to cover half the vast areolae. "Ah! I'm so sorry!" apologized the night elf, attempting to preserve some semblance of modesty in a city she didn't really feel welcome in.
"No worries, we'll whip something up for you. Now up onto the stool," repeated the other elf, giving the stool a few pats. It was quite obvious the woman was doing her best to reassure Shalendris, to make herself welcoming.
Those eyes of hers told a whole other story. Shalendris had been alive long enough to know when someone was looking at her chest out of curiosity, admiration, professional necessity, or sheer, unbridled lust. The glances that this Shal'dorei seamstress kept giving Shalendris's tits indicated that this was the latter of the three.
Shalendris climbed onto the stool, letting her breasts hang free Those twin mountains, round and firm, hung down to her hips, so ridiculously huge now that she could have easily smuggled a gnome inside each comfortably.
"I didn't quite catch your name, dear. I am Eianine," said the tailor as a long measuring tape materialized in her hands. "I am both a tailor and an enchantress, there is very little I cannot do," she added with a cocky grin, bringing that measuring tape to Shalendris's hips.
"Ah, um. I'm Shalendris Oaksong, of Ashenvale. I'm a Druid of the Branch, though most know me for my magic boobs," she said, cupping the heavy, fleshy boulders and giving them a squeeze.
"Magic boobs, huh?" inquired Eianine, raising an eyebrow as she measured every aspect of the Kaldorei.
The purple-haired woman nodded. "Yes, they're like mana sponges, in a way. And different energy types affect them -- and me -- differently," Shalendris said, noticing that her bust had continued its slow growth, feeling its ever-increasing weight.
"I see... That's quite interesting," the Shal'dorei said. "I'm going to need to remove this kilt of yours to take your full measurements," Eianine said.
Shalendris nodded simply, untying the garment, and kicking it to the side.
To Eianine's shock, however, Shalendris had not worn anything beneath that kilt, revealing to the white-haired elf the splendor of Shalendris's bare ass, two huge, round cheeks begging to be grasped. Had she been in front, she would have been greeted with the sight of Shalendris's neatly trimmed bush.
"Oh, uh, I wasn't expecting you to... Not be wearing anything," said Eianine, looking away abashedly.
