Aisha walked through the empty street, the occasional lamppost shining down on her passing self and lighting the way to her home. Her breasts bounced and jiggled as she walked, making her uncomfortable. She was used to a certain cup sized and walking at a certain pace, and now suddenly both of those things had fallen out of their reciprocal equilibriums. Holding her suitcase over her chest, she tried her best to keep her new figure hidden from the world. The humiliation she had experienced getting off of the bus had been more than enough for her. Aisha had initially wanted to scream and panic at the turn of events, but found herself growing less and less alarmed with each passing moment. Sure, her bra didn't fit anymore, her pantsuit had lost a button or two, and she would have to get a brand new wardrobe for everything above her waist, but it wasn't exactly a bad turn of events. It wasn't GOOD, either, but it was a far cry from her losing her legs or growing a third arm. As far as Aisha was concerned, a more generous bust size was something she could live with.
Sooner rather than later, Aisha arrived at her house. It was a relatively nice place, with modern art sculptures and paintings decorating the walls (all of which came with the house and Aisha had decided to keep for decorative sake), along with a few collectable figurines on display in a select number of glass cases and posters. Aisha had long since been something of a "nerd". While most people who would have seen her would have guessed she was an uppity, all-business type individual, Aisha was far from that.
She would often get lost in recounting the seventy-eight different ways that Picard was superior to Kirk in her opinion or how Episode IV was the best Star Wars film as opposed to V, would occasionally think about which comic book character would be able to beat the other (Aisha had always figured Hawkeye over Green Arrow), and had spent upwards of twelve-hundred dollars on her hobby of collecting Magic: The Gathering Cards. Aisha was an intelligent young woman who knew the stock market like the best of them, but she had her interests as well.
Aisha walked inside, taking off her pantsuit top and white shirt beneath it. She sat down on her couch in the living room, and removed her bra. Her breasts spilled out, soft and squishy as they were large. Aisha cupped them, thinking as well as chuckling with some slight amusement to the sensation. They were growing on her, no pun intended. They might be hard to get used to, sure, but she couldn't help but feel a sense of relief that all of her coworkers making her envious of their chests would finally be over. One less tormenting aspect of my job, she thought.
Then again, how had this happened? Had she done something? Had some sort of insect bitten them? Was this an allergic reaction? Was she just imagining this? No, that last one didn't make sense, why had all those men on the bus looked at her... Was she more attractive than she had thought?
Aisha was indeed pretty, with smooth white skin on an inviting face of asian decent dotted with emerald-green eyes set behind a pair of reader glasses. Her brown hair was cut into a bob-cut which she wore in a short ponytail during work, which she was currently undoing now that she was home and able to relax, giving her hands a break from examining her breasts. She was a natural sort of person, spending more money and time on her collection of VHS tapes than make-up or cosmetics, and had always had something of a natural glow around her. Tonight with Dylan was an exception, as she very rarely raised her voice to anyone, let alone swear.
Aisha thought bad to the bus. How all those people had stared at her. How that girl with the breasts had so rudely dismissed her. She wanted to yell at them. Nothing bad or mean, just maybe something that would make them realize their insensitive behavior. Aisha had never been a very confrontational person (once again, Dylan had just been the final straw for her), and was never exactly willing to speak up or give her opinion unless it was asked for. Which usually was only done by clients who only saw her as a way to make "free money" on the stock market.
Suddenly, Aisha's mind went back to the girl on the bus, and how her breasts were now almost verbatim the same as hers. Looking down at the medallion, Aisha wondered for a moment. It couldn't be, no... but what if...?