The day was a cool grey overcast. A chill air bit at me as I sat outside, eating an apple. My break had come, and I was spending it overlooking the square on the steps of the Reichstag. My quaint spot, one of the proud pillars that held up the roof like Atlas held the sky. People bustled about, wearing the latest fashions. I was proud to be in such a cosmopolitan place, the heart of Germany, the heart of the world. I wasn't wearing one of those snazzy suits that many aristocrats were sporting, I had on my pride and joy: my dress uniform. I had perfected everything to a ridiculous degree. I had shined everything to such a point that I could've blinded people should the sun have been out. Every button had been carefully placed and award presented. I was a true soldier of the German people, and I was proud of it. I finished the apple and discarded of it. It was rather ungentlemanly of me to simply chuck it into the square, where it would rot and fester. The Year was 1959, and after a long and grueling 45 years, the Great War had finally been won. Paris lay in shambles and England was a wreck. I had served in the last 2 years, like my forefathers before me. No one really thought that such a conflict could have been endured, but Germany survived and thrived. Total war became our motto. Only temporary we thought, but we did not know it was the way of the future. European civilization made life livable once more. Today's speaker was a young woman from Alsace-Lorraine, French blood, to be every bit German as anyone else, or so she claimed. She had apparently joined the german army as soon as she was able, at age 13 while disguising her gender as well as her age. She served on the front for 6 years, rising to the rank of Staff Sergeant until she was finally discovered to be not only french and underage but also a girl. Only at her Commanding Officer's insistence was she allowed to stay. To that effect, she made sure she proved her worth everyday. She had finally risen to captain by the end of the end of ten years. She left the army after a decade of service at an astonishingly young age of 23. Considered a hero in the eyes of many, she was hear to speak on the issues of women in society to parliament. It was my duty to guard her, at least ceremoniously. I was sure no one coudl've gotten inside and done anything evil with the vigilance me and cohorts put in. The hour ran up. I headed inside to get in position. Dignitaries and Parliament members stood around and discussed the orders of the day. Polished wood reflected the small amount of light that was piercing through the clouds.Rumor had it that the American and Russian Ambassador were attending, so everyone was trying to be their best and impress. I went off to a corner to put the finishing touches on my uniform. An unneeded and empty gesture, but it was the only way i was going to sate my desire for perfection. I made my way down an abandoned hallway where I could work on my uniform so I could make it to the chamber with the rest of guards and get in position quickly as well as keep my ritual a sem-secret. Someone had beaten me to the punch, however. A young woman, the speaker of the day no less, was struggling with her jacket and shirt. A compromising position. I felt pity spring up in my heart. Now, to understand this poor woman's predicament, you'll need to learn a little bit of history. In 1923, the casualties of the Great War were becoming immeasurably high. There simply wasn't enough people to replace the young men being slaughtered. The government, in order to tackle this daunting issue, began to encourage women to procreate. Tax breaks and extra rations were given to women who could birth more children. The average family increased ten fold. This too, simply couldn't keep up with the insatiable appetite of machine guns and shells. Women were then having their genetics being specifically altered to better care for more children, thanks to the modern magics of gene splicing. It was a huge success, and the army of Germany increased in size even as the Allies stepped up attacks. These mothers passed their traits on to to their children. The young men were given traits that made them fare better the inhospitable environment of a trench. Girls took on genes that would held them take up their mother's mantles and support the troops on the front. The most notable of these traits, a dominant gene, was incredibly large breasts. Firm mounds of flesh that would continue to grow past teenage years and swell to truly large sizes. This was originally used to help mothers breast feed more effectively, but their size quickly grew out of control and average breast sizes expanded exponentially to unimaginable and unintended sizes. Enlarged frames accompanied this transition and by the end of the war, small breasts had been weeded out of the population. Anything smaller than a football was considered atrophied and deformed. Bigger became bigger here. In England, the trend is beginning to catch on. Women are having recombinants for growing breasts to keep up with the fair maidens of Germany. Of course, the genetic traits for large breasts have been in Germany's population for much, much longer, and women's chests here still dwarf anything a British women could possibly support or grow. And even as they catch up, the average German bust continues to swell as every generation after receive their birthright from enormous mothers. However, this poor woman the biggest chest I had ever seen, incredibly, unnaturally big, even by modern day standards. Perhaps a combination of an unnaturally over endowed mother and her own domestic genes magnifying the problem. Her jacket had been tailored to a woman to what seemed half her size. She huffed and sucked in her breath to button her navy blue jacket shut, but her enormous chest refused to give in to such small constraints. She had flowing Raven hair and a slender face that was undoubtedly French. she had sparkling green eyes and pale skin. She was also rather tall, only an inch or so below me. (I happen to be 6'3''). She was also rather muscular, for a woman at least. Of course, that was a requirement given the enormous weight she must've been lugging around. Surely it was an inability to hide these enormous spheres any longer that had led to her discovery four years prior. I was thoroughly embarrassed. Someone of my stature shouldn't have been anywhere near a surely respectable woman with her breasts hanging out. Let alone someone who was technically my better in rank and social standing. As I recovered from the shock of the events unfolding before me, my eyes began to wander. Her already skin tight jacket stretched across her breasts like an overfilled hot air balloon. I was mesmerized as medals bounced off her flesh as she struggled... I caught myself before my malicious thoughts could continue. How unchivalrous and unchristian! I kicked myself for taking advantage of this poor woman, I headed for the restroom where I could do my uniform without this temptation. "You! Please, stop" The woman said. I froze and cursed myself. I turned. "Yes, madame? How can I be of service?" "Please" she begged. "Help me me with my jacket". Her french accent was seductive and hypnotic. I've always found a french accent rather attractive, but this certainly wasn't the time to bathe in the wonder of language. She stood up at attention, and I had misjudged her height. She was just about as tall was I was, perhaps more so. It was difficult to tell, it might've been my imagination. My eyes once more gravitated towards her cleavage. I stopped myself and stared at a painting directly behind her. It was of some famous military leaders. I flooded my mind with the names of generals to keep me from wandering into thoughts of her enormous chest. "Of course" I said. It was worse to ignore this poor lady's call for assistance than to walk away so I could avoid thinking of her breasts, firm and round... I MEAN HINDENBURG, FOCH- I was really trying to help, but I didn't look down and kept focused on the art at the end of the hall. She stuck her chest out to make the task easier for me. I was taken back by the softness of her chest as it rubbed against me. Focusing became such a difficult task. She realized that my modesty was preventing me from completing this herculean task, which visibly annoyed her. "You can look. Please, just hurry!" I looked down and finally began to make progress towards my goal. "How did you get a jacket so many sizes too small?" I asked under my breath. She took a stab at lightening the situation. "It fit me this morning, actually". She gave a lighthearted smile and chuckle. I stared blankly at her. Her eyes shamefully drew towards the floor. I felt stupid making this woman feel embarrassed. Things must be bad enough with this gaffe. I ran with it for her sake. "Did it now?" "I swear, these two have been growing all day!" Let's hope they don't get any bigger. Suck in, please". Even with her holding as much breath as she could, there was no way the left side of her uniform was going to meet the right side. "I'm sorry, but your jacket is simply too small" Her face became a landscape of despair. She began to pace, gnawing on her fist. Her enormous chest bounced and swayed with every step, like a perfect orb of liquid suspended in air, if like that can be imagined. "Perhaps you could have an associate deliver a substitute set of clothes?" I suggested. "There's no time! Are you sure this won't fit?" Any slack her jacket possessed had seemingly gone, perhaps it was simply the invention of a tried imagination. She was certainly taller than me, now I realized. It seemed foolish how I could've ever thought otherwise. She had about an inch on me. I could've sworn I was looking down at her as I had been fastening her clothing. She was truly a gigantic woman, her height and bosom commanded the space like a Queen conducts a court. Her bust's size too, had been undervalued. Her chest seemed larger than it had been a moment ago. "In all honesty, madame, I can hardly imagine how you managed to get your uniform on in the first place." "Me neither... Surely there is something to be done?" "Perhaps I could inform them that you need new clothes. They'd surely grant you leeway in such a matter." "Oh, and what? Tell them I can't speak because my tits are too big? That's hardly a solution." I was taken back by her frank demeanor. "I'm only trying to help, madame!" "Could we bind my breasts? Perhaps with some cloth?" Her enormous chest was certainly going to make every step of it as painful as possible, but it was the only quick fix available. "We'd have to find something big enough, but we could bind your breasts." She sighed in relief. "follow me" I instructed. We quickly walked to the guard lounge. I thought might be able to borrow a scarf or something. She bounced on her feet a she quickly walked, sending vibrations up her legs and into her chest, which jiggled and bounced like an enormous bowl of gelatin. I noticed too that her butt was absolutely huge. It wasn't on the same scale add her breasts, but her pants were stretched over her rear end ready to tear as those two enormous balls of flesh rhythmically moved up and down. I kept my head straight and did my best to keep my thoughts clean. I was considerably more successful in the former than the latter. We got to the guard's lounge, which is simply a glorified spare room cluttered with just about everything. Not that that was an issue for me. I began to look through the cluttered piles of miscellaneous junk for a piece of cloth that could possibly encircle the fleshy monster we were fighting. A scarf? not wide enough. A shirt? not long enough. My comrades and I were not men learned in the world of textiles, we had little to offer. I returned to her, defeated. "I'm sorry, madame, but there is simply nothing here that we could possibly use." Her face became distraught, but It quickly vanished. "What about that?" She pointed to the regimental colors being flown the corner. It would certainly work, but I couldn't desecrate it by stretching it across a young woman's grossly overdeveloped bosom. Could I? When it came to etiquette, I had never heard a rule barring the colors being used in this way. I was turning this perplexing question when She took the initiative and pulled it down from the wall. She pulled of her opened jacket and shirt to reveal her enormous chest suspended in air and quickly wrapped it around her bust. "Get over here and help me!" She ordered. I started to protest, but I decided that a shirtless dignitary was a bigger embarrassment than secretly insulting my regiment. I rushed to her aid. She handed me the both ends of the flag. It was covering her chest and there seemed it would be possible to wrap it all around, barley. "Get behind me. Pull and tie it when I count to three." I took my position. I realized here that my calculations had been further incorrect, she had to be at least 3 inches taller than I was. Something seemed odd. Surely my judgement had not been so seriously in error. Had it? It seemed only a couple minutes ago she had been just a tad shorter than I. "One, two, three!" She sucked in her breath and I pulled. It was yanking a zeppelin to the ground. I only got a moment of dominance before her rubbery breasts pulled on the flag and launched me into her backside. We both fell over. At that moment my colleague, Hanz Kappel walked in. "Paul, You need to be ready! You're alway com-" He looked at me on ht ground, laying atop this young woman without her shirt who was mashing the colors with her breasts. It occurred to me what Hanz was imagining. Never in my life had all three of us been so embarrassed. Hanz quickly stepped out and quietly closed the door, presumably to allow this woman and I to conduct our "business" as he imagined it. We untangled ourselves, a task she attacked with business like vigor. I awkwardly stood, red in the face. She grabbed me "Will you please focus? If anybody finds us like this it'll be the end of us both! Now help me!". Stupid Stupid! Stupid! I thought. I collected myself and gathered my strength. "Put your back into it this time, alright?" she instructed. "It'll be like going over the top. Once you start don't stop for any reason!" A metaphor that worked for us both. "If you so much as slacken off for a second, my breasts are going to pull you forward with so much force you're probably going to break something". I stuttered in disbelief. "Break something? Like a bone? Surely such a thing isn't possible" "You don't believe me, do you? I've been here before, trust me. " I nodded. "Alright,again, when I say three. Understand? One...two...three..." I pulled and pulled. It was like pulling a takn backwards. Even worse, i was sensing active resistance, as if her breasts were intrinsically pushing forward. I started to lose my grip. An image of my jaw being shattered as i was shot into the floor flashed across my mind. I Shoved my boot squarely into her spine and she yelped in pain. I winced at her suffering, but I had the grip i needed and I was winning this game of tug-of-war. "Bear with me, madame! I know it hurts!" I continued to pull, i had gotten to point where i could straighten my leg, but i dared into to lock my knees, then her breasts would've simply used the opportunity to pull it the wrong way. Finally i had enough cloth to tie a knot. With a speed I didn't know I possessed, I tied the two ends together. I let go and she collapsed. The impossible had been done, her breasts had been reduced to half their previous size. "You need to double knot it, or else it'll come undone." she panted, her voice distorted by her cloth restraint. She stood up once more and I went back to work. I decided on the hardy square knot. "I'm sorry about all of this. I really wished I didn't have to put you through it. "It's quite alright, madame, helping people is my profession." I said. "Madame, if you don't mind a question-" "Enough with that 'madame' crap. Please just call me Bernadette. That's my name, its what everyone calls me." "Ms. Bernadette, you said this isn't the first time this has happened. I'm perplexed. Please explain." "Well, to make a long story short, I grow, My clothes don't." "You grow? I don't think I understand." "What's there to get? When I grow I get bigger. That's not really something my clothes mesh well with." "Then why not get a new set of clothes if you've since outgrown them?" "Well, I didn't have the chance to get a new uniform between now and this morning." She snarked This woman's replies continued to puzzle me, but i had finally completed the knot, so it didn't matter. I stood back to admire my handiwork. Her chest was certainly smaller, but her chest had visually swollen since i had tied the first knot. Perhaps my I overestimated my skill with cloth. Anyway, her breasts were going to fit in her jacket, barley. That's what counted. "Thank you so much!" Her voice was distorted as she struggled for breath. She quickly donned her shirt and jacket. Even now, though, it was a fight to get her chest to fit. She was finally in it, but her uniform was much too small on her, ready to give to powerful, soft flesh.