Estelle couldn't believe just how much the place had changed. The chill bar run by a bunch of potheads was now a clean, antiseptic, gleaming white, space-themed restaurant developed by Vlad, a weird geek with way too much money and silly ideas. The walls were covered with displays that endlessly repeated scenes from the boss's favorite movies, the comfy sofas and hammocks had been replaced by not at all comfy but trendy bar stools and high tables. Her beloved weed bar was gone for good, replaced by this blazing white hell hole! At least he had kept the smoking area so the old patrons didn't completely freak out!
The previously open door frame to the kitchen area was now a fucking airlock, apparently an original prop from the set of some famous sci-fi movie. That thing constantly opened and closed with annoying sounds whenever someone came near it. But the absolutely worst change were those sexist uniforms! The old owners didn't really care about anything, including what staff wore during their shifts but the new one was different. Vlad was all about brand image and presentation. And for some damn reason, he also decided to go full idiot and cater to young, horny males instead of the chill dope crowd. The beach was right around the corner and surfer-dudes were everywhere, but testosterone-filled geeks that couldn't wait to see some sexy space girls? Nowhere to be seen! This place would tank big time!
And how were those skimpy outfits even legal? The bit of white spandex that supposedly covered their asses but showed every nook and cranny? Fine, why not, but it would have been nice to allow underwear as well to provide for some decency. The tops? Breast sleeves that pushed her tits into white-stalked, red-capped mushrooms? With her dark complexion, her tits would look like freaking headlights, framed by sparkling white spandex! Her thick, black nipples were apparently supposed to be covered by some sort of pasties just that those were no pasties at all! Actual pasties would have been a welcome improvement, but those things were freaking nipple clamps! Clamps with cutesy red caps and white stalks no less!
She needed to get out of this shithole and fast! Why hadn't she looked for a job while the place got remodeled? Why did she instead bum around the beach, blowing the rest of her scarce savings with drinks and dope? She was royally screwed! The timing of this 'rebranding' was just horrible.
And to make matters worse, Estelle had her own problems to cope with. A few months ago, and with zero warning, her young, fit, chocolate brown body suddenly had chosen to burden her with another massive growth burst, propelling her already large breasts into an entirely different league. Her previously springy, healthy Double-D's had expanded in a matter of days, blown up to dark, fat E's at least, probably even larger. Of course her bras didn't fit anymore, and with no money to spend, she wouldn't be able to buy any new ones either. That didn't matter much though because since that freak growth spurt her new balloons were so sensitive that she couldn't stand any constricting undergarment anyway. A simple touch made her shudder, a hefty movement made her jump out of her dark skin. A gentle squeeze was an almost unthinkable event!
Back then, the lax dress code at that chill bar had made it relatively easy for her to cope with her sudden problem. She simply skipped bras altogether and chose baggy, wide hoodies instead. During the work hours she had restricted chest movement to a bare minimum and had tried to ignore the lustful stares of the patrons. It wasn't optimal but apart from the odd bump or jiggle she had managed reasonably well. But how could she cope with those damn uniforms?
"Estelle was it?"
She nodded absentmindedly.
"So you'll do the night shift on Fridays and Saturdays. Here, take your uniform and try it on. It's... uh... I can see you're a bit large up there but it's the biggest size they'll produce, so you'll have to make it fit. Listen, I know all the changes are a bit much for everybody but I can assure you all that it's worth it. You'll rake in tips like never before!"
Estelle wanted to complain, wanted to tell that jerk that his juvenile fantasies were shit and what an asshole he was. She wanted to go back to that chill dope bar where she could wear whatever she wanted and didn't have to parade her massive tits around for the creepy geeks to drool over. But she needed the money. Estelle bit her lip and watched the other girls, wondering what they thought about the whole mess. She couldn't believe not one of them had objected yet! Well, actually there had been a bunch of complaints, but they had all come from the girls he had fired already. To no one's surprise, all those unlucky women were flat as a board of course. After that incident, it took mere hours for new flesh to show up at the bar, big titted and dumb like shit. Obviously not as big as Estelle herself, but large and squeezable nonetheless. Her own massive chest still ruled supreme though, unmatched by a healthy margin.
Estelle sighed as she grabbed the sealed uniform. Would this skimpy thing even fit? And where was she supposed to change? Surely not in the kitchen, with all those newfangled regulations? Regulations... the icing on the shitcake. Since management declared that serving food was a must, but that those poor smokers needed protection as well, the requirements for staff passing in and out of the kitchen became so much more onerous. Instead of that little gate that had simply been left open all the time, they had now this fancy double-door that looked like an airlock straight out of a freaking space station. Of course only the outer barrier facing the guest room looked that fancy, the second one towards the kitchen was just a boring but efficient automatic door. The idea was that only one side would be open at any time, keeping smoke and dust outside the kitchen. So whenever staff wanted to pass through, they had to step into some sort of active area in front of the outer door, wait for that round hole to fancily swirl open, get inside the lock, wait for the fancy side to swirl close again, then wait for the boring door to open and finally step through into the kitchen. It took ages. And whenever someone was loitering around in the active area, no side would open at all leaving everyone wondering what the hell was going on.
The touted solution to that problem was of course shouting. Whenever one of the girls wanted to pass through she was supposed to yell "Coming" and step into the active zone, assuming that anyone on the inside would clear the way so she could enter. This of course didn't work at all. When closed, the double doors were fantastic noise insulators that dampened every sound to a degree that made it impossible to understand a thing.
But the main issue was the design of the airlock itself. Vlad had literally bought it off a film set and performance clearly had not been a concern when that contraption had been developed, neither was safety. The thing needed to look good and that was all that mattered.
The airlock was basically a big, white, round gate of sorts, its inner circular door made out of segments that could twist and turn. Whenever the door needed to open, the outer circle would slowly rotate 180 degrees and the segments would be pulled into the frame. And whenever the door needed to close again, it would slowly rotate back, those blade-like segments would re-emerge out of the frame and block the circular hole in the middle. The optical effect was great for sure, the opening would grow or shrink with fancy whirring and beeping, just like the producers of a sci-fi flick would want to. But for an actual work place this was totally inappropriate.
Despite Estelle's concerns, she decided to stay on board. She sighed once again, ripped open the packet and unfolded the uniform. Watching the other girls strip on the spot, she rolled her eyes and followed their example. Her baggy hoodie and comfortable shorts slid to the ground, her large, sore breasts slowly swaying in front of her chest. She grimaced as the pain hit her and tried to keep as still as possible while she struggled to get into the weird, tight top.
Vlad stared at her with gaping mouth. "Holy fuck, those are massive!" he muttered, watching her dark chocolate cakes slowly sway to and fro. Estelle couldn't believe it. Trying to ignore his creepy comment, she squeezed herself into the spandex and adjusted the garment, popping her head through the tight collar and pulling the hem down. Her bare shoulders were in position, her shapely arms hugged tightly by the uniform. Only her breasts were not in place yet. She reached through one of the openings and carefully pulled her sore flesh through, pushing the tight sleeve flush against the base of her breast.
She was stunned by how good it felt, almost like a tender hand supporting her burdens. The top was actually really comfortable despite its demeaning look!
"Nice! The white color really accentuates your delicious bits, Estelle. The contrast is just great!"
She almost felt offended by that comment but decided to ignore his leering mutterings. A few moments later she had adjusted the other side as well, her two, tender, brown globes now tightly hugged into form by the white spandex sleeve. Her tits felt good, stabilized but not irritated. Estelle tried to catch a glimpse in the mirror and almost choked on the ridiculousness of her outfit.
"You need to put these around the bases," her boss grinned and handed her two white, tubular objects. Estelle grabbed the two rubbery things and looked at him quizzically.
"The stalks for your mushrooms," he grinned.
"What?"
"The mushrooms. Don't you remember the name of this bar?"
Estelle couldn't follow.
