Omar wasn’t sure what to feel the day he cracked his phone screen into oblivion. There was the normal grief of losing something he had held onto for so long, accompanied by the relief that he finally had a proper excuse and motivation to get a new one. It was an older model he had bought almost four years ago, only his second smartphone. Never the kind of guy to fret over owning the latest gadgets, he didn’t bother himself keeping track of the latest models’ capabilities. His phone got the job done, and that’s all that mattered.

Only when the physical appearance of his phone made its age overly apparent did he start considering a replacement. That, and the playful jeers of his friends:

“Damn, is that a phone or walky-talky?”

“How is that thing still alive?”

“Ya know technology has advanced since then, right?”

He laughed along as best he could, but the joke got very old soon enough. He started to envy the fast connections everyone else’s phone could make, while he was left in the dirt. The battery life showed signs of deterioration. The speaker grew dull and subdued.  The screen started to bulge out of its casing. Planned obsolescence, no doubt. It didn’t matter. Omar was going to hold onto the thing as long as it worked.

That was up until the day he backhanded it off a bench during his lunch break at work. It landed flat on its face, right smack onto a brick walkway. Nonchalantly chewing on his sandwich, he picked it off the ground. He wasn’t worried. He had dropped the thing countless times as long as he had owned it. He turned it around and inspected the screen. He stopped chewing. Reflected in the screen was not his masked raccoon face, but dozens of split images. In the epicenter of the fractured black mirror was a snowy crater of pulverized glass. Well, fuck. He clicked the power button, and was greeted with a beautiful rainbow of glitched images and blacked-out glass.

He sighed heavily through his nose. After three years of loyal service, he finally had to get a new phone. It was that Saturday he dropped by the nearest Verizon store. He hadn’t done this in a long time, and was worried that he’d say something foolish, or get tricked into getting the wrong phone. Walking into the front door, he took a deep breath and looked around.

Spaced across the floor were a dozen or so sales associates’ desks. Most of them had a person behind it, and a customer sitting in front of them. The empty ones had their owners nearby, showing off the store’s selection to a potential buyer. The place looked busy, with hardly any associates available to greet him. Standing there at the entrance alone, he felt exposed, like he didn’t belong. His ringed raccoon tail swished uncomfortably. Maybe now wasn’t the best time.

“Hello there!” chimed an amiable voice.

Omar spun his head in that direction, and noticed for the first time an associate at her desk, unoccupied by a customer. Waving politely at him was a golden eagle, sitting behind a large monitor she was half obscured behind. 

Omar smiled and waved back. Oh thank Jesus. “Hey!”

“How can I help you?” she asked. Her voice was a cheery melody, one that settled Omar’s fears somewhat.

“I’m here to replace a phone,” he told her.

“OK! Come here and have a seat!” 

Omar walked over, beaming brightly. He felt foolish for having been so nervous. This woman didn’t seem like the kind of person to chastise him for a foolish question, or try and trick him into a bad deal. Why had he been so anxious? Whatever. This lady seemed eager to help him. There was no need to worry.

He reached his paw out to shake. The woman stood up and extended hers. Like a stone thrown into a lake, Omar’s eyes plummeted downwards. The woman was dressed in a plain navy blue skirt and jacket. She was tall with a svelte build, typical of predatory birds. She had strikingly robust feathers. They were a tannish-gold around her head and neck which gave way to a dark brown throughout the rest of her body. Her beak was yellow and black, angling down dangerously like a fish hook at the tip. Her eyes were a fierce amber, looking ready to pin down any of Omar’s most minute details.

He ignored all of that completely. His eyes had fallen and locked onto her bosom. Almost bursting through her jacket and shirt, each breast seemed to possess a weight unfathomable for any normal woman to carry. Impressively round and wholesome, they lacked any proper concealment over the expansive plain that was their top slope. Her cleavage was a deep trench that looked capable of hiding a newborn infant.

“And what’s your name?”

Omar blinked. He realised how his face was aiming directly at her jovian jugs and that his eyes were opened like saucers. He gave a quick shake of his head and looked her in the eye. She was smiling patiently.

“Um… Sorry, what?” He licked his lips. His face started to sizzle.

“I was asking your name. I’m Tristany!” He should’ve known that. Pinned on her jacket, just over the colossal swell of her monstrous mammaries, was a gold name tag. 

“Oh! Hi. Nice to meet you!”

“Nice to meet you too!”

Omar sat down in the chair across from her. She sat down in her seat and moved the computer monitor which was attached to a swivel arm. No, Omar begged to himself. Please keep that there. Now there was nothing to block his view of her humongous honkers. Like a man skittering up the hull of a listing ship, he tried to keep his eyes from sinking into the dangerous waters of her titanic tits.

She smiled at him silently for a moment. “And you?” she asked.

“W-What?”

“And your name? I didn’t catch it.”

“Oh! Uh… Omar. I’m Omar.” God damnit! Pay attention, you perv.

“Nice to meet you Omar! You said you want to replace a phone?”

“Uh, yes ma’am. I broke mine a few days ago and I need a replacement.”

“Oh no! Well, we can help you with that.What’s your phone number?” She swiveled in her chair towards her keyboard. Her tits floated through the air like a pair of wrecking balls swinging towards a decrepit building. He half-expected them to knock into the monitor, or the water bottle she kept on her desk. Instead they came to halt right with her, performing a shimmying jiggle as they settled into place. God, they look like two wine barrels nailed horizontally to a wall.

“Your number?”

“Huh?” Omar asked, snapping his head back up.

“Your number, what is it?” She seemed oblivious, or at least unfazed.

“Oh uh…” Shit, what’s my number? WHAT'S MY NUMBER? “Sorry, give me a second.”

“It’s OK! If you give me your last name I can look it up and see”
“Uh, yes please.” Any other day he would’ve rattled it off no problem. Faced with those huge nanny knockers, he could hardly think straight. How big must her nips be? God, they’re probably the size of my fist.

“What’s your last name?”

“Omar Titian. I mean... Tinian.” Fuck!

“How do you spell that?”

“T-I-N-I-A-N.”

She whispered those letters as she tapped at her keyboard. The plain of her mountainous mommy milkers jiggled like a spoonful of custard held by someone with parkinsons. If she fell on her face it would probably measure on the Richter scale.

“Here we go!” she chirped, sitting up excitedly and creating a heavy bounce. “Omar Tinian, the last digits of your number are 1555?”

“That’s it.”

“Awesome. Looks like your last phone was… gosh, four years ago?”

“Yeah, I’ve been overdue for a new one. I guess it’s kind of a good thing it broke.” I bet she keeps her phone in that Marianas trench she’s got. She could hide a gun in there. Hell, a whole arsenal. He snapped his head up once again, blinking himself back into focus.

“Phones have improved since then, that’s for sure. Do you have one in mind?”

He shrugged. “Not really. Something durable. I really just want something that will last a while so I don’t have to come back here every year.” -and have to stare at your leviathan lactaters. Jesus, she could feed a whole village.

“I understand. If it’s durability you want, we have some models that are built for that, but they don’t necessarily have all of the high-end features you’d expect from all of the other stuff.”

“That’s fine. I don’t need anything fancy. I’m not trying to impress anyone, I just need a phone.” How does she check herself for lumps? Her neck pain must be ungodly.

“OK! That makes things easier. Let me show you what we have.” She stood up, lifting her bodacious bazookas with her as effortlessly as air. Now he was looking up at them, worrying that they would somehow fall on him and crush him into bits. She walked over to the far wall where there were sections of different brands and their phone selection. She turned around and gave him an odd look. “Are you coming?”

Omar was still in his chair, seemingly afraid that if he followed her, he’d do something wrong. “Oh! Sorry, yeah.” He got up and joined her.

She smiled that same sweet smile, nonchalant and uncaring. “It’s Ok! Take your time.”

Omar slid his paws into the pouch of his hoodie, stretching it out and forward in front of his crotch in the event of a boner. Please God, help me keep it sheathed. Don’t let me keep staring at her planetary papayas. But he did, for every second his eyes kept with hers, they would spend another thee scanning her melons.

“First we have Samsung, who has the best model made purely for lasting long.” She picked up a model from the wall, held to the display case by a security plug. She unlocked the phone with a swipe of her talon and handed it to him. An irrational fear told him that when he reached out for it, he would somehow miss and grab a huge fistfull of boob.

He very carefully grabbed the phone between his thumb and index finger and took it from her. It was heavy, something he expected from a phone made to last. It looked as good as any other phone. He couldn’t pinpoint anything that really made it special other than the weight.

“This model will last you a long time, maybe not four years, but we can give you a two year warranty in case it breaks. Let me show you something.” She lifted her talon up to the screen and tapped it a few times. Whatever she was doing, Omar had no idea thanks to the way her breast shuffled around the side of her bicep like a gelatinous bean bag. “That way you can save battery, one feature that separates it from the others. How’s that?”

“Uhh, pretty cool. That’s neat!” he had no idea what the fuck she just said or did.

“Want to look at our other options?”

“Yeah, sure.” He wanted to buy a phone and get the hell out of there. He felt so raunchy having his gaze sucked into her chest like a meteor falling into the earth’s gravity. If I threw an apple at the right speed it would probably go into orbit around her. Instead, his lack of focus made him blindly follow her lead, forced to remain in the presence of her tantalizing twin titties.

“Alright. I’ll show you the tougher models from other makers.” She led him to the other brands, showing off each of their phones designed to last. Omar was hardly listening. He was too busy bathing his gaze into the cool water of her cavernous cleavage. He visualized his face awash in her bosom’s gossamer embrace. He wanted to rustle the fine feathers coated down her curves, meticulously fingering every one. Yes, he was aware that she was speaking, but her breasts muffled the noise from her mouth like wondrously fluffy earmuffs clinging to the sides of his head. He hated himself for it, but it seemed the only thing worth listening to was what her braggart bazungas had to say.

“I think you’ll like this one! It’s got the durability you want without much compromise on everything else.” It was the first thing he registered her say in over five exchanges.

Omar blinked. He realized that he was holding a phone display model. “Oh! Yeah, it’s pretty cool.” He cringed his eyes shut and whipped his head as if shaking away a bad memory. Dammit! Fuck! Pay attention you idiot! And stop blushing. He wasn’t there quite yet, but he could feel the stirring of a stiffy coming on. He stressed the pouch of his hoody down as far as it would go.

“So, out of all those, what do you think? Do you wanna look at some more?”

He wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. “No thanks! This one is great. I’ll take this!” He looked down at it. It was a Nokia.

“Are you sure? You said the LG was pretty awesome.”

Shit, did I? “I know, but I like this one better.”

“Alright then! Just give me a moment in the back of the shop and I’ll be back with one. You can have a seat at my desk.”

“Uh, alright.” Omar walked back to her desk and sat down. His face was on fire. Tristany disappeared into the backrooms, searching for his new phone. What was the model? He had totally missed it. He had missed everything. He looked around the store. Sales associates were either busied with customers or elsewhere. Had anyone seen him ogle her tits like that?

She did, there was no way she couldn’ have. He had stared with the subtlety of a nuclear explosion. She had every reason to slap him in the face, to call him a pervert, to remind him where her eyes were. She did none of that. She was a gracious salesperson through and through, talking to him and showing their options patiently. In a way, that made him feel worse. She was a sweet woman who had given him time to get a new phone, and he had rewarded her by drowning in the sight of her breasts. He had no idea how she felt, and that would haunt him the most.

“Here we are!” Tristany strode back to her desk, a white box in her hand. She also carried a phone case and some screen protectors. She spent the next few minutes setting up his phone. Omar kept his eyes down as best as he could, but the allure of her tremendous ta-tas still drew the occasional glance. She snapped on the phone case and delicately laid down the screen protector. “Aaaaand we’re done!” she said proudly once the last air bubble was squeezed out from under the thin plastic. “Do you want to keep the box?”

“No thanks. I don’t need it!”

“Alright then! You’re all set! Enjoy your new phone Omar!”

“Yeah! Thanks, Tristany.”

She extended her arm for a pawshake. He limply accepted it, being sure not to cause any unwanted jiggling. After that he quickly turned around and made a brisk getaway.

Tristany watched as he flung the doors open and disappeared round the corner. Satisfied that he was gone, she rolled her eyes and made a derisive sneer.

“Men,” she grumbled.

Lauren, her cat friend and desk neighbor, snickered to herself.

“Shut up,” Tristany said, cracking up too. “It’s not funny.”

THE END