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The Salon - 2/3
🕑 Added 2024-08-21 13:00:12 +0000 UTC
Disclaimer: This story contains adult themes. It is not suitable for minors or the easily offended.
https://linktr.ee/spartacuswrites
Contains: Breast Expansion
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The Salon - 2/3
Skye
Something weird was going on with my body. If I hadn’t been in a dry spell since my divorce and for over a year before it, I might have thought I was pregnant. I stood in front of the mirror, watching my boobs spill out of my sports bra. Broken and discarded bras littered the floor around me like a lingerie grenade had gone off. Literally, none of them would fit. I’d only been working at the salon for three months, but I was certain the trouble started then. That’s when my bras started pinching and irritating me. My boobs had been the same size since they grew in, and I knew I wasn’t gaining weight or anything because the rest of my body was the same size. My shorts, skirts, and pants all fit fine. I even put on a sundress one weekend, and it fit perfectly everywhere except my chest, where it was skin-tight. I ended up changing into a different outfit because you could literally see my bra between the buttons.
Honestly, though, I didn’t mind it all that much. I’ve always been proud of my body, and though my breasts were just the right size for my frame, a little extra couldn’t hurt. Plus, I was making such good money with all the tips that I could afford to go shopping. My bigger girls just gave me a good excuse.
***
Melanie
I swore I was losing my mind. I’d brought home a different girl every weekend for almost two months and still couldn’t get Skye out of my head. Somehow, the little blonde was more irresistible every time I saw her. The weather was getting warmer, so she was constantly wearing crop tops and tanks and booty shorts and little skirts. If business wasn’t going so well, I might have tried to drop hints about wearing something a little more appropriate for a workplace. Skye often looked like she was ready to lounge at a beachside bar or go clubbing instead of cutting hair under fluorescent lights. But the customers seemed to love her look almost as much as I did. Sure, there was usually a Karen or two who asked for Amy or me specifically, shooting dirty glares at Skye in the mirror, but they had the decency not to say anything—while she was there, anyway.
“I’m glad you’re working today,” Kim said. She came in about twice a month to get her ends trimmed and color touched up. I’d given up trying to talk her into a style other than the asymmetrical bob that just fed into the stereotype. It was Skye’s day off, but I knew what she meant even before she removed any doubt. “Last time, I had that little harlot with her fake boobs bumping into me the whole time.”
I ground my teeth. Misogyny between women was a sore spot for me, but I’d been in this business long enough to know better than to pick that fight with a customer. I forced a laugh I hoped sounded nonchalant. “Ha, I don’t think they’re implants, Kim. Your ends look okay, though. She didn’t mess anything up, did she?”
“No,” Kim grumbled, “I just don’t think it’s right, coming to work dressed like that.”
Kim was only a few years older than me, so I tried to meet her on that level. “I get that. I think it’s just how kids dress these days. She’s not breaking any rules from Corporate, though, so there’s nothing I can really do about it.”
Kim huffed.
“Besides, she works hard and always does a good job. That’s the important thing, right?”
“I guess…”
“Alright, we need to let these sit for about five minutes. I’ll be back in a bit.”
***
Skye
Mel was on her lunch break, and Matteus was running late, so I had the salon to myself for a bit. Luckily, it was a slow Tuesday, so I was just finishing up the only head I’d cut in half an hour when Matteus got there.
I held up the hand mirror so the customer could see the back of her head. “How’s that look?”
Sam nodded.
“Alright, you’re all set,” I said, unfastening the cape.
Sam followed me to the register, where I punched in a wash and a cut. When the total popped up and she scanned her card, I saw Sam had added a 30% tip. I smiled. “Thanks so much; enjoy the rest of your day!”
As Sam left the shop, I felt an itchy tingle in my chest that was happening more and more whenever I was working. I wondered if maybe I was allergic to our shampoo or something.
“Damn, girl,” Matteus said, “You look like you’re ‘bout to fall out of that apron.”
I checked my fit in one of the mirrors. I was wearing a tank top because it was so nice out, but it left the whole tops of my boobs showing in my apron. I pulled it up a little bit to make myself decent, but when I stood back up, the apron slid down again.
“I don’t know what’s going on,” I said, “I think I might be allergic to our shampoo.”
Matteus quirked a pierced eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
I raised both hands to my breasts, grabbing myself and giving a good squeeze. “Something’s making them grow. I’ve gone up two sizes since I started working here.”
“Well, that explains why you get such good tips. Every straight guy that comes in here asks for you.”
I balled my hands into fists on my hips. “Oh, and I suppose it has nothing to do with me being good at my job?”
He flicked his hand at me. “Why not both?”
The front door chimed, but it was just Mel getting back from lunch. “Still quiet today, huh? What are you two talking about?”
Matteus perched on his styling chair, crossing one knee over the other. “Skye thinks the shampoo is making her boobs grow.”
I felt heat rise up my neck. “Matteus!”
Mel looked at me with concern, though her cheeks were a little flushed. “We can take you off washes.”
“That might be a good idea.”
***
Melanie
Leave it to Matteus to say the quiet part out loud. We’d been friends for years, and I knew he basically had no filter. Once he said it, though, I couldn’t get the idea out of my head. Not that it wasn’t already living there rent-free. Skye was one of those “tits on a stick” girls when I met her. Not unrealistically busty, just one of those Sydney Sweeney types that make you look twice. Or two to five times an hour, in my case. But the evidence was as plain as the nose on my face. In the few months since she started at the salon, Skye had clearly outgrown the apron I ordered for her back in that first week. Now she was back to wearing a medium, the ties behind her lower back pulled so tight that the sides touched, it still slid around on her tiny waist. It was more than snug around her chest, though. And she was still growing.
“Skye thinks the shampoo is making her boobs grow.”
Those words played on repeat in my brain all day. I’d already been lowkey interested in my young coworker, but now I was downright obsessed. I took Skye off washes—Amy, Matteus, or I did them for her—and she handled none of our products aside from the disinfectants on the shears and trimmers. But every week, her sexy little tops and that medium-sized apron were a little tighter. There was nothing I could do about it, even if I wanted to, which I definitely did not. I loved my job, but having the walking embodiment of femme sexuality bouncing around the salon made me count the hours until my next shift. And even though the Karen complaints slowly got more frequent, we were taking more customers than ever. We needed three stylists for almost every shift, and the other two of us were only there to take the customers who weren’t willing to wait an hour or more to let Skye cut their hair.
Still, I couldn’t help wondering just what was going on with her. It obviously wasn’t the shampoo; she hadn’t touched the stuff in weeks, and her tits had almost doubled in size. Besides, we used all the same products the school did, and she would’ve noticed any allergies back then. Even if allergies could make boobs continuously swell week after week, which was absurd.
I assumed it was something outside of work. Maybe she was eating better. The salon paid well, and I knew she more than doubled her take-home in tips. She could just have really good genes and be stuffing herself with ice cream and other dairy sweets—she could definitely afford it.
Mostly, I wondered how long it could go on. Her boobs were bigger than her head. Would they keep growing until she got too big to cut hair? That’s what usually happened in my fantasies about Skye before bed. I wondered what she would do if that really happened and, more importantly, what I would do.
***
Skye
I’d be lying if I said I was upset that my boobs were growing. I didn’t understand how or why, but shopping for new clothes every few weeks wasn’t exactly a hardship. I would have suspected I was putting on weight, but I’ve always maintained a pretty healthy diet. It was just one of those things that came easy to me. I never had snack cravings and was never hungry enough to eat more than I needed. Even when my ex and I were dating, going out to eat all the time, it never got any worse than an old pair of jeans getting a little snug.
For real, though, I liked it. Hunting for tops and swimsuits and dresses that fit my changing body activated that competitive part of my brain and made finally finding the perfect fit that much more thrilling. I was already used to getting a lot of attention in public, so getting even more was a pretty easy adjustment. And the tips… I’m not exaggerating when I say that I made more in tips than my weekly paycheck. Even with the other stylists handling everything but cutting, I had barely any downtime at work. Just a constant stream of customers who left with smiles on their faces and their wallets or bank accounts a few dollars lighter. After the shitshow the past two years of my life had been, feeling like the sexiest person in the room was just another way I was finally in control of my life. I was never going to be that powerless little housewife again.
It was Sam who solved the riddle of my growing breasts—completely by accident. She was in for her regular trim like she did every other Tuesday, like clockwork. When it came time to pay, she handed me a crisp bill with Ben Franklin on it.
I tried to give it back to her. “I think you gave me the wrong bill, Sam.”
Sam smiled. “Nope! I won a big scratcher yesterday, and you’re my favorite stylist. I want you to have it.”
Pride welled up in my chest even as that familiar itchy tingle returned. “That’s really sweet of you, Sam. Thanks so much!”
As Sam left, the tingling got worse. The salon suddenly felt very warm, and the new top I’d bought just a week earlier was squeezing me tighter and tighter. The shop was empty except for me and Mel, so I untied my apron and tossed it over my styling chair.
“What’s up?” Mel asked.
“I don’t know…” The words to describe what I was feeling tried to form in my head but were drowned out by sensation. The tingles had gone from itchy to feeling very, very good. I was burning up, beads of sweat popping out of my temples, and my chest felt like a thousand tiny hands were touching and caressing me. Fire blazed between my legs, better than any sex I’d ever had. A tiny voice in my head worried I was about to come in front of my boss, but it, too, was buried under an ocean of pure, raw, mind-blowing pleasure.
“Skye? Are you alright?”
Mel got up from her chair and stepped toward me, but I couldn’t speak. The sensation, the heat, the ecstasy, it all centered on my chest. By that point, I was pretty used to my bras and tops getting too tight, but as I looked down at my own cleavage, I saw I was already bigger than I was that morning. Slowly, ever so slowly, my boobs grew while I watched. My knees shook, and if I hadn’t been clenching every muscle trying not to embarrass myself in front of Mel, I probably would have collapsed on the salon floor.
Before Mel got to me—her hand reaching to grab my shoulder—a button popped off my shirt. Then, two more. I gritted my teeth as I came, willing myself not to make any noise.
Mel’s mouth fell open. She was staring at my boobs. I couldn’t blame her; half my bra was showing.
My voice came out shaky as I said, “I guess it’s not the shampoo.”
Comments
Yarn
Make her rich! 😆
