The dream I awoke from that morning was just as intense as some I'd experienced before, but there was something different about this one. This is going to sound weird but, well, although my dreams are usually super vivid, I never actually see myself in them. I've always just been like a floating head, or absent, or something--never aware of myself. But in that dream, for the first time, I could see my body. Or, well sort of, not my whole body. It was a bit fuzzy, not fully defined. But the one thing that was defined was my boobs. My boobs were there.
So in my dream, I was standing in the gallery, at one of my exhibitions. It was just like a normal show I'd attended a million of, with members of the public wandering around looking at the artwork. But this time, all the people kept inspecting me as well, like I was one of the pieces on display amongst all the others. But it was not just me they were interested in, but my boobs specifically. The faceless people would stroll disinterested past my pieces, and then spot me from across the room. They'd come right up to me, bend down to look at them up close, and ponder them thoughtfully. A few people would even reach over and prod them with the tips of their fingers. Once in a while, someone would hazard a proper squeeze.
I didn't say anything while they did this to me. I just stood there, taking it. I couldn't speak, so I was unable to stop them. All these members of the public groping me, but unable to intervene. I mean, God--it sounds like a horrible nightmare the way I'm describing it now, but... I dunno, it was more like I didn't want to stop them. Apart from the fact I'd never seen my own breasts in a dream before, the experience was weirdly... exhilarating, I guess. I felt admired, like a statue carved by an ancient master, long since dead.
Officer Barker: So this dream, did it have some significance to your real life then?
Alicia: Ah right, well the thing you should probably know is that, back then, I looked nothing like I do now--my body was very different. I actually looked like a normal person, believe it or not. But still, you're right, it didn't exactly surprise me that my boobs would make an appearance in my dreams. My chest had always been on the larger side, even when I was a teenager. It's something that had always been a part of my life. But especially after I gained a lot of weight in college and most of it went to my tits, then they got really quite impressive. I remember getting much more attention from people around that time. Glances and stares more frequently than I ever remember getting before. But although admittedly I did play it up by wearing low-cut tops and push-up bras, I always felt a little pathetic doing so. I saw the way people admired them, but I was never able to regard them the same way. When I looked in the mirror, I just saw a little girl with a larger-than-average chest.
Anyway, to skip ahead a little. I chalk it up to a lack of self-respect, but it's fair to say I was a complete slut by the time I got to art school. I loved basking in all the attention I had been denied in high school and ate up boys and girls as fast as they would come to me. But sadly, despite all my sexual exploits, by the time I graduated, I still hadn't really managed to hold down any sort of relationship for longer than a few months. Wanton behaviour aside, that was always what I actually wanted. In my head, I was still this reserved and well-behaved little girl who wanted a nice sensible boyfriend or girlfriend, but I had created such an unwholesome reputation around myself that no one took me seriously. It didn't help either the sort of attention that I'd attract looking the way I did. Being a chubby Asian girl with big boobs who was always a bit too drunk, it only ever caught the eye of those pervy little boys who wanted someone submissive and 'exotic'. There was this one who sort of took my fancy, but he--
Officer Barker: Uh, excuse me, Miss Nguyen? Sorry to interrupt, I know I said I would listen to your story, but I don't exactly have all day. I'm sure your romantic history is fascinating and all, but would you be able to get to the events of today?
Alicia: Oh... right, yeah I'm sorry. I mean, it is relevant, I promise, but fine I'll try to get to the point. Okay, so let's go back to the morning after I had that weird dream, the one with all the groping. Everything seemed fairly normal. It was just a usual work day: I got the bus to my studio, worked for a bit on whatever it was I was making at the time, and hung out drinking espressos with the other artists with whom I shared the studio space. I think I was trying to improve some terrible sculpture at the time, so I was probably hands-deep in a bunch of clay. I still suck at making sculptures, by the way, I'm a much better painter... but whatever, you don't need to know any of that.
So what happened was that one of them--Candace, super-hot blonde artist friend of mine--made some off-hand comment about me looking ill. I felt totally fine, so I tried to force her to explain what she meant. Eventually, she admitted it, something about how my face looked thinner than usual. This wasn't exactly a comment I would hear very often, you see. I dunno if I'd call myself fat back then, but I was definitely borderline. If it weren't for the fact I had big tits, most people would have just described me as fat--as it was, the word they usually used was 'curvy'. Anyway, it turned out that Candace wasn't joking, she really did think I had lost weight, which coming from a stick insect like her was saying something. To be honest with you, I never really monitored my weight at all, I was so insecure about it. And besides, I loved food so much that losing weight wasn't really on the cards for me. But no, turns out, she was right. After looking in the mirror for a bit I could see what she meant--I had lost a bit of weight, just a little around my tummy and my face, but it was noticeable.
Officer Barker: Miss Nguyen please, your weight loss is not really what we're here--
Alicia: No no! Hold on. Honestly, this is relevant. You see officer, this was pretty scary to me at the time--I'd probably lost 5 or 6 pounds overnight. Candace and I agreed that it was not normal and that I should probably watch for any further symptoms. So after that, I started weighing myself every morning.
But as the week went on, things just got weirder. Every night I had the same super-intense, super-vivid dreams. And they always involved my boobs in some way. Like with them being on display at an art gallery like before, or in this other one I was a bust sat on some pedestal being held at auction. There was this one dream too, where I was back in high school, presenting something to the class, and a faceless teacher with wings on her back would come up behind me behind and rip my shirt and bra clean off of my body... Oh, and there was another where I was in the middle of a busy road full of cars all swerving to avoid me. Some primal urge within me would then cause me to take off my top and jiggle my jugs around while a throng of tourists encircled me to take photographs.
Officer Barker: Ahem, can we get back to the real world, please?
Alicia: Right, right... Whatever, it was all very unsettling. But then, even during the day, things seemed off. I kept getting thinner, especially around my upper arms and tummy where the flab seemed to be sloughing off my body night after night. My double chin had all but disappeared by that point too. If I hadn't been so scared for my health I probably would have been happy about these developments, because, to be honest, I was definitely looking a lot better than before...
But then get this, here's the crazy thing: throughout all that time, my weight hadn't gone down a bit. In fact, I actually gained a couple of pounds. This continued for a whole week after that before I finally caught up with Candace for coffee again on Friday. And she nearly lost it when she saw me. Somehow I had failed to notice during that week that my boobs had grown. A lot.
You see, ever since leaving college and my slutty shameful days behind me, I'd started to get really self-conscious about my body. About my weight in general, but especially my boobs. So usually I would just wear baggy sweaters and oversized plaid shirts all the time-- stuff that covered me up as much as possible and hid my shape. I used to just wear the same old comfortable bra that didn't really provide any support but at least held my boobs in a way that didn't place them too much on display. But somehow, even with all of that on, Candace noticed straight away that something had changed. She immediately grabbed my chest over the sweater and squeezed down tightly--Oh, don't worry, we have that kind of relationship... And yeah, I was clearly up quite a few cup sizes, she said, and a quick check under the sweater confirmed she was right. Somehow I had failed to notice when putting on my bra that morning that I was spilling out of the thing left, right and centre. I dunno how I managed to not notice that my boobs had swollen up so much all of a sudden, but that's what happened. I chalk it up to a mixture of intentionally avoiding looking at my body in the mirror too often, and just a general absent-mindedness.
