Aisha let her hand drop from her collar and shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "I need a new bra or something..." she muttered under her breath, bugged by the soreness that was only getting worse. "Seriously?" She winced as she felt the top button of her pantsuit strain. She'd need a better fitted suit too apparently.
Actually this was a little weird. Wasn't she just thinking about her size? And now it was becoming a nuisance. It was probably only bothering her because she was thinking about it, she figured. That would happen sometimes: noticing how her tongue sat in her mouth or the rate of her breathing would often distract her for a while.
But this was different. Aisha flinched as she felt the button give way. She watched it drop and roll somewhere under the seat, but when she reached down to pick it up, she finally noticed her situation. Aisha sat shell-shocked, gazing down into her ample cleavage. Not two minutes ago her chest had been just about flat, and now she was staring at two smooth, pearly orbs of flesh squeezing against the inside her jacket, compressed by the small space of her bra.
Aisha instinctually held her arm up in front of her chest. She felt naked and exposed, her tits pushing up through her suit and jiggling like water balloons with the rhythm of the bus on more of a display than she would ever have willingly gone out in public with. Luckily for her, with all the rest of the commotion on the bus nobody had noticed Aisha's new circumstance.
Having had to undo another button to relieve her aching breasts, finally it seemed like their growth had slowed to a stop. Aisha's first reaction was to panic or scream or do something to let out her feeling of hysteria, but she managed to steel her nerves. No point in drawing attention to herself; that would only make this worse. She took a minute to take some deep breaths and calm herself, albeit still vaguely distracted by the feeling of her tits faintly bouncing with every dip in the street.
They weren't comically large. Just... generously sized. Especially for Aisha's own body type. She glanced over at the annoying girl beside her chatting to her friend to confirm her suspicions. She was right! Aisha had somehow developed an exact copy of her breasts right down to their seeming ability to lift themselves without the need for a properly sized bra. And boy did Aisha not have a properly sized bra.
The bus lurched to a stop, and Aisha had to grab the rail again to keep from falling into the aisle. She stood up on wobbly legs, grabbed her suitcase, and hurriedly strode down the aisle to the front, catching the glances of a few men including the driver. She noted it was easier to arch her back somewhat to counterbalance the weight, but that didn't help the attention she was getting. Finally she stepped out onto the more familiar empty street, cold sweat running down the back of her neck.