HOME | DD

Description
Yet another caption that’s just been sitting in my library for months now ready to essentially be posted lol. Poor girl, I wonder if she’ll ever be normal again?

- Dialogue -

You know, once I had finally accepted what had happened to me, I thought it would be the loneliness or sheer
boredom that would have been the worst part about being a bra, but that’s not the worst part. Or maybe just the fact
of being demeaned by having to hold a pair of boobs the rest of my life, that my life didn’t matter anymore would
be the worst part, that’s not the worst part either. Sure, not being able to see friends and family anymore is awful,
but that’s not the worst part. No, the worst part is the feeling of non-moving. I can’t even shrug if I want to! Being a
bra is essentially being “paralyzed”, unable to move, barely able to feel, unable to do anything but be there. I miss
being able to wake up and take my dog for a run, or go to the park and play soccer with some work friends, or maybe
go salsa dancing on Fridays. I would give up everything else if I could just move again! Hell, I’d even take being able
to move my cups and straps at this point. A bra can dream, right? Maybe one day she’ll turn me back to normal, but I doubt it. I remember her coming up to me
one day as I waited for my Uber. She looked
down at my cleavage and said, “I bet you
know a thing or two about the difference
between a good and bad bra, don’t you?”. I
was always blessed to have a decently sized
chest, I had no idea who she was, so I just
went with it thinking she was having a bad
day and needed to vent to. “Girl, yes! It’s like
torture when you don’t have a bra that fits you
right”, I told her. “That’s what I thought! Very
good, you’ll do”, she told me and with a snap
I’m a bra, been one ever since. Damn witches,
who knew they were REAL?! Well, she just
put me on, so at least I’m able to move a little
bit, huh? Even if it is just holding up her
boobs from this room to the next!

Description
Yet another caption that’s just been sitting in my library for months now ready to essentially be posted lol. Poor girl, I wonder if she’ll ever be normal again?

- Dialogue -

You know, once I had finally accepted what had happened to me, I thought it would be the loneliness or sheer
boredom that would have been the worst part about being a bra, but that’s not the worst part. Or maybe just the fact
of being demeaned by having to hold a pair of boobs the rest of my life, that my life didn’t matter anymore would
be the worst part, that’s not the worst part either. Sure, not being able to see friends and family anymore is awful,
but that’s not the worst part. No, the worst part is the feeling of non-moving. I can’t even shrug if I want to! Being a
bra is essentially being “paralyzed”, unable to move, barely able to feel, unable to do anything but be there. I miss
being able to wake up and take my dog for a run, or go to the park and play soccer with some work friends, or maybe
go salsa dancing on Fridays. I would give up everything else if I could just move again! Hell, I’d even take being able
to move my cups and straps at this point. A bra can dream, right? Maybe one day she’ll turn me back to normal, but I doubt it. I remember her coming up to me
one day as I waited for my Uber. She looked
down at my cleavage and said, “I bet you
know a thing or two about the difference
between a good and bad bra, don’t you?”. I
was always blessed to have a decently sized
chest, I had no idea who she was, so I just
went with it thinking she was having a bad
day and needed to vent to. “Girl, yes! It’s like
torture when you don’t have a bra that fits you
right”, I told her. “That’s what I thought! Very
good, you’ll do”, she told me and with a snap
I’m a bra, been one ever since. Damn witches,
who knew they were REAL?! Well, she just
put me on, so at least I’m able to move a little
bit, huh? Even if it is just holding up her
boobs from this room to the next!