Chapter 1 - The training begins
Why had she let her mother do it? Why had her mother agreed? It was just so wrong.
Susan Settle sat demurely in her neat school uniform waiting for Mr Lovell and Mr Canning as her mother had told her to do. She bit her lip. It was not as if they were young men or middle-aged men, but even so... could her mother not have found a nice lady to fit her? It was so unfair. All her friends had long ago 'grown up' and become womanly - at least in shape. Samantha with her, actually absurd and impractical, boobs had developed so early, but even Eve had swollen and grown years before. All of eighteen and only now was there any sign of growth to Susan's breasts. Finally, they were budding and the nips getting larger and something was swelling behind. Her mother had said it was time she had a brassiere - a training brassiere. It was not as if she had not developed elsewhere. Womanly things had happened down below years before. Her chestnut bush was full and lush. Very full. Very lush. Both Samantha and Eve had said in the changing rooms she needed a 'trim.' Eve had gone one step further and shaved hers all away. Samantha had laughed and said Eve looked like a young girl from the waist down and Susan like a young girl from the waist up. Eve had found it funny: Susan had not. She was eighteen after all, the same as her friends.
Not funny, but nor was the thought of the two old gentleman, one from next door, coming around to fit her for a training brassiere. Why? Her mother had explained one of them had worked for years in a department store in the lingerie department and was expert at brassiere fitting. Really? It was a little bit difficult to believe. Why the second man? Her mother had laughed at the face she had made and said she need have no worries 'they're as bent as a butcher's hook.'
Certainly, they dressed very neatly, and their hair was always combed and tidy. It was not, though, as if they lived together. Mr Canning lived next door and Mr Lovell up the road in a block of flats.
The doorbell rang and there they were on the doorstep carrying a suitcase.
"Good afternoon, Susan. Is your mother home?"
"No, she's gone out. She said I was to wait for you and let you in to..." Her voice faltered. She was going to have to take her white blouse off for these two gentlemen. The bag was placed down upon the floor and opened. Inside were white things.
"Would you like a cup of tea." It both put off the event and was polite. Susan busied herself as the two greying old men sat and waited, neat and professional in suits and ties. Indeed, they all had ties. Susan had her school tie, striped in green and white but hers would need to come off whilst she was fitted. She did not think they would want her just to take her blouse off and leave her merely with a tie around her neck. That would look a bit strange. The tea was served.
Already upon the coffee table Mr Lovell had set out several neat white cellophaned packages. Training brassieres in various sizes. Her eyes kept returning to them and the thought she was soon going to have to undress in front of these two men. Well, take her top off anyway.
"Well, Susan, shall we begin?"
"You want me to... shall I take my blouse and my tie off."
A nice smile from Mr Lovell and a gentle nod of his head. To Susan it seemed as if he was sympathising with what she needed to do. How much easier for her had it been a nice elderly or even young lady... rather than not just one man but two.
She began undoing her tie so conscious both men were watching her. Their nods encouraging, as she pulled one end through the knot. Taking a tie off is easy, unbuttoning her blouse one button at a time less so. Of course, not really a proper exposure until she pulled both leaves apart. Susan bit her lip. Just be casual, she thought, just do it as if undressing for bed. Normally she just threw her clothes on the chair in her room any old how but down in the lounge Mr Canning had picked up her tie and was carefully rolling it up, ever so neatly.
There was no alternative. Susan had to do it. She pulled and there she was all at once naked from the waist up in her skirt. Not that there was a great deal to see and that was the problem in the first place. There were no gasps, no knowing glances between the men, just reassuring nods as Mr Canning took her blouse and smoothed it as he carefully folded it. He would be feeling its warmth from her body.
"Good, Susan, very good. Your breasts are budding nicely. They will grow shapely and well, particularly with the right training." Mr Lovell was reaching for one of the white packets, extracting a white brassiere. Flimsy, soft material with straps.
"Arms straight out Susan, that's it. Let me slip it on."
Mr Lovell's fingers seemed practised, his fingers easily catching hook and eye at her back, his nimble fingertips adjusting the straps, tightening and loosening. And then shock, his fingertips were touching the edges of her breasts, easing the material.
"What do you think, Mr Canning?"
Again, shock when the other man touched her. Not on the straps or the edges of the material but right upon her breasts, his fingers pulling upwards on both right to her nipples, feeling how much she filled the soft cotton. His head swayed from side to side as if he was thinking.
"I... there is plenty of room to grow and Susan will grow, only I wonder if there is too much. We will be back regularly to check the fit, Susan. I do think a smaller cup."
Mr Lovell was already undoing the brassiere and almost immediately Susan was half naked again, her breasts, such as they were, out in the open.
Another packet, another brassiere, indeed a further two until the men were satisfied. Their hands roamed freely over cup and strap.
"That looks perfect!" The two men stood back and nodded encouragingly to Susan. "Go and look in the mirror."
In the privacy of the bathroom Susan looked at herself. The brassiere looked so good, so white and well fitting. She put on her blouse over it. That looked good too. She trooped downstairs thinking the fitting was over. Four steps from the bottom she halted. Upon the coffee table were now a selection of white knickers.
"Are you happy with that, Susan?" Her eyes were on the knickers as she nodded.
"Your mother asked whether we had matching knickers for you. We do. Now let's see your waist size."
A tape around her waist. Relief from Susan that she did not need to take off her skirt. Mr Lovell's tape encircling; his hand pulling it tight against her.
"This size, I think." The cellophane scrunchy sounding in his hand. "Run upstairs and put them on, Susan."
