Watchmen Kink Meme 3. Weeeeeeee.
Rules of the meme:
1. Anonymously post a pairing and prompt you would like to see written. Since this is a kink meme, there is supposted to be a kink involved, but normal well-written prompts should work just as well.
2. Anonymous will respond to your post and write it for you! Art and such is also acceptable/awesome. Multiple people may respond to ( Read more... )
Veidt Lingerie --- fighting the crime of visble panty line.
***///***
The other girls had talked about them in eager anticipation, comparing tips to make them bigger --- pulling on them, massaging them ---
She'd lain quietly in her bunk and hoped this 'puberty' would just pass her by. Perhaps if she were very very good, God would spare her Eve's curse---
He didn't. She was a woman now, Sister Eunice had said kindly as she helped her scrub the blood from her uniform skirt. It was a wonderous thing, a good thing, Sister Eunice had assured her.
That was a lie, but she had meant well.
The blood, she could have dealt with, but when they started growing, huge and bulbous, larger than any of the other girls --- Huge ugly breasts just like her mother, just like a whore.
The sisters don't approve of them either, glaring at her disapprovingly as she walks through the halls, plucking at another shirt has grown uncomfortably tight. She didn't ask for them she wants to shout, but stays silent on account of what they did to Sister Eunice.
It's not even fair, because while her breasts have grown, not much else of her has --- her arms and legs are still skinny and she'll never be taller. They boys take advantage of that, staring directly down her blouse when they chose to speak to her. She hates it, and them.
A cruel twist of fate that she winds up working in a lingerie factory, making pretty little things for tiny little breasts. Sweating and bent over a sewing machine, back aching from the weight of those breasts, the wires and bulky support straps of her bra digging into her skin, always having to pause and adjust her girdle as it rolls down yet again.
Not for the first time since she turned 14, she thinks her life would have been so much easier if she'd been born a man instead.
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Wanda: Measuring or fondling, Daniel?
Dan: ...uh, both? =D~
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I love the way you show the progression of time, with those brief and powerful snippets. Can't wait for the next part!
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Fucking scratchy lace inside the cups why why why do the fucking straps have serrated edges may the rats eat their eeeyyyeesssss...
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If she were more naive she would take comfort in the homeliness of her face. Her teeth are crooked, her features are masculine and splashed with freckles. She's no Helen of Troy, that is for certain --- unless those thousand ships are fleeing her presence.
Except one time, in the back stockroom Johnny corners her. He's a garment presser at the factory, and she knows from observation that he likes to think of himself as a ladies man, even though most of the girls, as silly as they are, wisely turn him down.
"Hey, Wanda, whatcha doin?"
"Working," She mutters, digging through a bin of thread spools, looking for something to match her piece of sheer yellow georgette.
"Working... that's cool," He steps in closer to her, and her skin begins to prickle. "What about after work we---"
"Not interested," She informs him curtly, grabbing the spool she wants. She tries to step around him, but he steps in closer, penning her in against the shelves.
"Aw, c'mon baby, most guys, they can't see past your face, but me...," Here he meets her eyes with shining earnestness, even as his hand brushes the outside of her breast. "I see deeper than that."
"Let me go," She demands, angry when her voice shakes slightly. She's alone here in the back room, it's hard to hear over the sound of all the machines, and if she screamed what were the real chances of anyone hearing? Of anyone responding?
"What you got to be so proud of, huh? Not like you've got guys lined up waiting at your door with that mug of yours! If you didn't have such a nice rack---" His hand clutches her breast now, fingers digging into ample flesh and she isn't scared any more, she's furious.
She stomps on the arch of his foot, which causes him to jerk away from her and call her a whore --- He'd have said more if she hadn't kicked him between the legs, before storming out of the room.
She uses that week's paycheck to buy a couple of yards of the fabric she uses to make girdles for wealthy women who want to appear smaller without the effort of actually watching what they eat. If her face won't protect her any more, she'll have to find another way of defending herself.
On a whim, she also purchases some black and white fabric out of the remnant bin, enchanted by how the pattern swirls and changes at her touch.
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By the way, I'm LOVING this fic so far. Can't wait to read more!
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Wider shoulder straps, much like a man's undershirt are the first thing she decides upon. She needs to distribute the weight of her chest evenly across her shoulders. Seaming and reinforcement to shape and control the movements of her breasts. She decides to incorporate a girdle into the pattern to spare the fabric and to make it more comfortable---
Finally, after weeks of hard work, she stares at the fruit of her labor in the speckled mirror that came with her flat. She'd be fired if she dared present it to a customer, with it's bulky stitches and the way it compresses her breasts into one solid lump.
For the first time, however, she notices how broad her shoulders really are, pulled back and straight for the first time in years. She can walk and jump with only the slightest jiggle---
She scrapes her knees and elbows when she falls out of the first cartwheel she's attempted since she was thirteen, before her body betrayed her and became too cumbersome and unbalanced. Her body remembers what to do, and if she had followed her instincts instead of thinking too hard---
For the first time in her life her body is completely hers to master.
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Just don't do it again.
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