#27: Ten Years Ago

Ten (or so) years ago.

Krysta had not initially planned to go to prom. Her friend Julie was apprehensive about her blind date, and after a lot of begging and bribery, Krysta finally agreed to go with the stipulation Julie would find her both a dress and a date—a formidable challenge three days before the dance. At eighteen Krysta already wore a 30F and her breasts had taken on a legendary, if not mythical status at her high school. Students regarded her as "the super-smart Asian girl with crazy big boobs," while those who knew her better saw an ambitious robotics geek and honor student who avoided social events like the plague. In spite of this, Julie found the perfect date for Krysta in Raymond: handsome, friendly, fun, a great dancer, and gay as a tangerine.

Finding a dress would prove more challenging since three days before the most popular prom weekend in the Northshore area left no time to special order a dress to fit Krysta's unusual frame. Visits to seven formalwear retailers turned up only three marginally acceptable options. The yellow cocktail dress was thin, stretchy, and near-transparent when she squeezed into it. The empire-waisted green dress flattered her top half, but the projection of her chest shortened it's already racy hemline, which barely reached the middle of her thighs. Krysta would choose the third option: a calf-length bright orange sleeveless dress with a plunging neckline made all the more daring by her pulchritudinous bust.

Despite the aggressively cleavage-friendly dress, Krysta had been most concerned about her ankles. While her top half had curves in spades, her hips and legs had yet to fill out in kind. Her mother, ecstatic to hear her daughter intended to go to prom, rushed out to purchase matching shoes for the dress. The strappy orange heels fit her feet perfectly, but Krysta had to tighten the ankle straps all the way and even then there remained enough slack to allow a couple of her fingers to slip underneath.

In the end, Krysta and her party had an enjoyable evening. The group went to dinner at the Bangkok Garden, her favorite restaurant and her date picked up the tab. She and Julie's parents surprised them with a limousine ride from the restaurant to the dance. Krysta got her share of looks at prom, declined to take professional photos, and hardly danced at all, but still enjoyed herself. Afterwards, the group crashed at Julie's where they ate ice cream and introduced Julie's younger sisters to early Pixar movies.

Three months later, the summer before her first term at Stanford, Krysta received a call from Julie.

"Hey, can I come over? It's important."

"What is it?"

"I...I need to show you. I'm on my way over now."

Five minutes later, Julie arrived, knocking rapidly before letting herself in. Julie took Krysta by the hand and practically dragged her to her father's office, shutting the door behind them.

"Julie, what is happening? Are you pregnant?"

"What? Why would I be pregnant? I mean, yeah, Terrell and I—wait, no this isn't...I'm not pregnant. This isn't about me." Julie sat in the computer chair and mashed the power button on the computer.

"What is going on?"

"You need to see this." Julie opened a web browser, logged into her email, and clicked a link. Krysta gasped at the unexpected sight of a web forum with several topless women adorning the top of the screen.

"Julie, what the hell? My dad uses this computer!"

"We'll erase the browser history later." Julie closed a racy pop-up window, clicked the "Best Breasts - Newcomers" thread and pointed at the title.

Skinny superbusty Asian teen "Krysta" 

Krysta's jaw dropped and she stared for several seconds, struggling to process what was on the screen. She saw her name, and she recognized herself as Asian, teenaged, objectively "super busty" and apparently...


She could not dwell on it for long, as a large photo of herself in her orange prom dress captured her attention next. Krysta had never seen the photo before, but its existence hardly surprised her. Though she'd decided not to pay for the professional photos, digital cameras were everywhere and she'd noticed more than her fair share of flashes. When someone pointed a camera her way, her first impulse had been to clasp her hands together, straighten up, and smile. The pose compacted her already compressed breasts between her arms, further emphasizing her already extraordinary cleavage. Her forced smile highlighted her braces which would be removed less than a week after the picture was taken.

Julie searched her friend's face for some sign of telepathy. "Krys, you okay?"

"That is...me."

"It is, and unfortunately it's not all." Julie continued scrolling down to a string of comments ranging from casual admiration to obscene.

Fuuuuuuck yeah!


Look at those things. I hope shes still growing. 

Can't get enough. There has to be more.

Her body is INSANE. I bet she's popular with the guys.

Julie continued scrolling down the page, passing by three more photos including cropped photos of her with the robotics club and honor society she recognized from past high school yearbooks. The more explicit comments crossed into the perverse, but eventually they all blurred together. Krysta slowly realized Julie had been talking, but the only thing she could hear in her head was the near-deafening roar of the comments on the page.

"I am not popular with the guys, Julie. I have not even kissed anybody."

"Don't listen to them. They don't even know who you are."

Krysta pointed at the first name on the list. "DungerGroot. Who...who is that?"

"It's not a real name."

"I just wanted a dress. I wanted...ankles that were not skinny."

Julie dropped her face into her hands. "God, I made you go to prom. Krys, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have—"


The tone of Krysta's voice took Julie by surprise.

"You did not make me. I went, and I had a good time. I really did." Krysta gestured at the screen. "And this is what I get for that. I do everything I can to hide my chest. I wear big sweaters and baggy t-shirts on hot days. I avoid cameras at all costs. And the first fucking time I let myself try and relax and live like a normal person, I show up on a tits message board. Is this what my choices are: live with shit like this or hack them off?"

Julie stared at the ground. "What can I do?"


Julie started to protest, but Krysta cut her off.

"I know it is not your fault this happened, but I need to handle this on my own. I promise I will call you when I am ready to talk."

Julie nodded, stood up and headed towards the door. Krysta sniffled, and the sound hit Julie like a dagger as she closed the door. Finally alone, Krysta wiped her eyes and felt her logical mind return.

Ok. That's enough for now.

With the initial shock out of the way, Krysta's curiosity set in and she returned to the forum with an analytical perspective. She navigated back to the main forum homepage, which displayed a warning in large block letters: "NO UNDERAGE GIRLS." Despite this, all of the photos with the exception of the prom photo (literally "barely legal") depicted her under eighteen. In fact, many and multiple threads on the "Best Tits Forum" included the word "teen." She assumed if the pictures were enticing enough the general rule was 'don't ask, don't tell.'

Re-visiting her thread, Krysta re-read the comments. While unsavory, the comments contained neither threats nor personally identifying information, which put her at some ease. Sleaziness aside, some could even be considered flattering. Others compared her to other models, using qualifiers like "skinnier," "younger," "cuter," and "Asian." This led Krysta down a rabbit hole of Google searches and explicit images that immediately broadened her imagination for what constituted "porn." Some pictures were tastefully provocative, while others were unsettlingly graphic. Having never actually browsed porn before, the whole scene fascinated her.

It didn't even occur to her she was even looking at porn until her mother opened the door and called her to dinner.

Krysta whirled around, making no attempt to hide the screen. Her mother glanced back and forth between her and the images on the monitor, appearing neither shocked nor dismayed. Instead, she shook her head dismissively, cursing in Vietnamese under her breath while Krysta searched for some possible explanation.

"Mom, I—"

"You don't need to look at that stuff. Your breasts are better than theirs."

Krysta reddened with mild embarrassment. "Thank you, Mom."

"If you're a lesbian, you should tell your father." Her mother sighed as she left, shutting the door behind her.

Alone in the room once again, Krysta laughed softly to herself. She shed and wiped one last tear before clearing the browser history and powering down the computer. As she left the office to join her parents for dinner, she thanked her lucky stars she had enough going for her she would not have to build a career around showing off her breasts.

...unless I really wanted to.