The Pencil Test on my 48 inch Bust

I picked out a couple pairs of casual knit shorts and some t-shirts that would cover a bra if I wore one and we left Mr. Morton to work on altering those things that were too long or too loose.

As I put on the shorts that I wanted to wear instead of my uniform, Mr. Morton brought back my sweater. When I tried it on, it fit much better than before. My breasts did not feel confined and it only hung away from my stomach a little bit. He had moved the embroidered patch so that it was directly across the front of the largest part of my chest. No one was going to miss which school I attended.

I was surprised at how nice the maternity-wear shop was. It was called "Moms". Mrs. Reynolds had to point out the significance of the missing apostrophe to me. I still thought it sounded more like it should be a restaurant.

The clerk was a woman who liked to mother her customers. She told us to call her Madge. We hadn't been in her store for a minute before she had us sitting in comfortable chairs and offering us snacks. I could see why she would be very popular with the pregnant women who were the majority of her clientele.

"And what may I do for you and your lovely daughter today?" Madge asked Mrs. Reynolds. Being mistaken for Bambi's daughter shouldn't have been a big shock to me. We have the same basic coloration: blonde hair and lightly tanned skin. Her eyes are ice-blue and mine are sort of green, but I think the clerk was going by our other obvious shared attributes when she assumed that we were related. I really didn't think Mrs. Reynolds looked old enough to be my mother. I thought she looked more like my older sister. Bambi did not even bat an eye at being taken for my mother, though. I realized that she had been serious when she said she thought of me as a daughter, among other things. I reached over and took hold of her hand, which I thought was a very 'daughterly' thing to do. She held it and patted it with her other hand — a very 'motherly' response. I could see that the clerk's misapprehension was not going to be corrected and from the way Bambi was holding my hand in both of hers that she was perfectly willing to be 'Mom' for the moment. It dawned on me that by choosing to move in with Mrs. Reynolds, I had basically consented to be adopted and that the beautiful woman holding my hand had already agreed to be my mother in fact.

I was almost overcome by the feeling of warmth and closeness that I felt for her then that my eyes started to tear up. The strong emotion must have showed on my face, because both Bambi and Madge reached for tissues to give me. As I dabbed my eyes, Madge said, "It's all right, dearie. It's perfectly normal to feel bursts of joy and sadness for almost no reason. The hormones are jumping all over for someone in your condition."

I held the tissue to my face to hide my grin and looked at Bambi to see what she thought about 'my condition'. She smiled warmly at me, as she pictured me pregnant. I waited for the other shoe to drop and I could tell instantly when the word 'grandmother' surfaced in her mind. Her eyes opened wide and her mouth dropped open with a look of horror. It was really delicious to see her become a victim of her own fantasy. I almost burst out laughing.

Madge had to have me help her get the tape measure around my bust. When she read off 48 inches she sounded impressed. She said she had never seen a 48-inch bust that could pass the 'pencil test'. Bambi had never heard of the 'pencil test' and we had to explain it to her. Basically, you lift a breast and put a pencil right underneath against your ribs. You let go of the breast and then the pencil. If the pencil falls, you pass. It's supposed to be the way you know when your breasts are big enough so you need to wear a bra. I heard about it from my friends at school. I thought that story had been around, like forever.

They had a sports bra in my size that felt really good. It had strong underwire that was padded, a wide band with Velcro instead of hooks, and reinforced cups made with spandex so they gave a lot of support when I jumped. I was very glad to have something that would make it possible for me to stay in cheerleading.

Madge also wanted to show us a bra that she said would make nursing easier for me. At first I hesitated, but I couldn't think of a polite way to avoid trying it on and I was glad I did. The band didn't have hooks; instead, it stretched enough that I was able to pull it on over my head. The cups were lycra and felt really soft and smooth. Madge showed us how the cups were made so they could each be pulled aside with one hand. The one I tried on was really smaller than my size but the cups felt so good that I didn't mind at all. I bought a couple to wear under my school clothes.

On our way out of the store, Madge gave me a pamphlet on breastfeeding and how to induce lactation so I would be ready to nurse when the 'big day' arrived. Ever since Mrs. Reynolds had used the threat of making me lactate as part of her campaign to scare me into allowing my breasts to be tortured, I had been thinking about that. The image of milk coming out of my breasts had figured in many of my fantasies. Now that I was so much bigger than before in the boob department, I found the idea even more interesting.