Deacon made his way down the crowded rush hour streets of the bustling metropolis towards the trolley station, his mind wandering from one thing to the next, his left hand absentmindedly playing with the ring on his right. The ring had come in the mail the previous day as a gift from his grandfather, along with a note saying “May it bring you 'good luck' as it has me”. Deacon was anything but superstitious, but he liked his grandfather and it was a nice ring so he wore it.

Deacon was still getting adjusted to living in the city after having moved here from his small town out in the country, but after a few months the large crowds, gigantic buildings, and constant activity didn't feel quite so foreign. Somehow having a job now made the city feel more natural than the previous months. However, there was still one thing that uneased him about city life, the women.

Deacon recalled that his high school graduation five years ago had consisted of 29 individuals, 16 male and 13 female. There were more people in a single class at any of the dozen high schools in the city. His hometown community was quite conservative and isolated, so Deacon's experience's with the opposite sex were few, and the women back home were basically a different breed from those here in the city. Back home, any skirt that showed any knee was considered scandalous. That same garment might as well be reserved nuns here, and conservative ones at that.

Deacon stopped at a crosswalk, waiting for the walk sign to illuminate. On his left, a blonde was crossing the street in his direction. She reminded him somewhat of one of his classmates from back home, a slim figure with long lustrous legs covered by a short summer skirt. She had a proud face but her eyes were friendly, inviting even. His former classmate, however, was flat as a board, which was very clearly not the case with this woman, who wasn't huge but certainly 'well equipped'. To be fair, it was difficult to even judge how big the more “well endowed” women were back home, as the typical wardrobe favored less “descriptive” clothing than what was common in the city. Deacon guessed this woman was a modest C-cup, which still looked quite impressive on her slender frame.

Since his teenage years Deacon had always had a thing for breasts. A post-pubescent male who has a thing for breasts? Breaking news, apparently fish have a thing for water. Unlike other men though, for Deacon a woman without some chest-meat was as sexually appealing as an unfinished cabinet. And while women busty enough to suit Deacons tastes were very rare, what especially pushed Deacon's buttons were the statistical anomalies, the fraction of a percent, the slender women with large breasts. Disproportionately huge, the kind that required special ordered bra's. Breasts that even the most unflattering of clothing the girls back home wore couldn't disguise or downplay.

Nobody back home had breasts like that, or even came close to be totally honest, but there were still some honorable mentions, like Anna. Deacon recalled his first time was with her. He had actually grown up playing with her sister, Jordan, who was three years younger than him. Anna however, was three years his senior. Anna's family was moving soon and she wanted to have her first time be with somebody from home town and who she felt safe with, like Deacon. Deacon still vividly remembered the sight of her lifting her top over her head, slowly lifting her bra clad breasts with it until they were released by the garment and bounced back into place. Back then, it seemed ludicrous to him that any woman could have larger breasts than Anna's D-cups.

As his daydream progressed, Deacon felt a slight warmness radiate from the ring as he played with it, a subtle wave of fussiness in his head that dissipated as quickly as it came about.

“Hi Deacon, I'm Inessa”, said a voice, snapping Deacon out of his daydream. It was the girl who had been crossing the crosswalk, smiling at him with her beautiful face and friendly radiant green eyes. This was strange for two reasons. First, women tended to avoid Deacon, especially women as stunning as the one in front of him. He wasn't downright ugly, but suffice it to say that calling him average would be a bit of a stretch. Second, how did she know his name.

“Uhh... hi Inessa. Have we met before?”, he replied.

“Your name tag, it says say 'Hi, I'm Deacon'.”, she said pointing a finger his chest. Even her hand, Deacon noticed, was alluring. Elegant, with long slender fingers each topped with a perfectly manicured nail. Without the slightest trace of any imperfection, just like the rest of her.

“I forgot I was even wearing this thing”, he said, his gaze rising from her hand back to her when his heart skipped a beat, likely more than one.

Taking in what he now saw, Deacon Realized that his initial estimate of her bust was very short of the mark. What he found himself looking at was the largest valley of cleavage, formed by two of the largest breasts he'd ever seen, compressed into a top that was fighting a losing battle to contain its load. They were easily Double Ds, almost certainly even larger but at that size even a connoisseur of tits such Deacon had trouble accurately judging their size. If he had to give his best guess, he would have said they were another two cup sizes larger than that, an F cup. He had no idea how he had even considered her to be as small as a C cup before.

Not to mention how out of place they looked on this woman, who if not for her tits Deacon would have described as 'willowy'. A man of Deacon's tastes knew that a bust of this size would only normally be found on a woman with a stouter, thicker build, or at least a good deal overweight, and even on them breasts of this size still looked oversized. So understandably, seeing a rack of this magnitude on this tall lithe woman, who otherwise was built like a runway fashion model, left Deacon at a loss for words. Deacon was surprised at how significantly he had misjudged their size.

“So why are you wearing a nametag?” she said cheerfully, breaking his mind out of its deadlock. Deacon realized he had been staring directly at her chest for longer than was tasteful, practically leering. Long enough that even the most oblivious of women would have noticed, and Inessa didn't strike Deacon as the unperceptive type. Maybe, given her figure, she was used to this type of initial reaction, but Deacon still took it as a good sign that she had played it off nonchalantly.

“First day at my new job.” he said raspily. He coughed and continued “HR says all new employees wear them. 'Its eases the process of getting acquainted with all your new coworkers' so they say.”

This drew a laugh from Inessa. 'Even her laugh is charming' Deacon thought to himself.

“Sounds exactly like something my work's HR would say” she said. Deacon was dead set on keeping his gaze from drifting downwards from her face, as difficult as it was. He noticed that she didn't seem to have the same reservations, as he saw her eyes scanned him down and up until she made made eye contact with him again. Her lips curled into a thoughtful smirk, unconsciously teething her lower lip once. “So do you work nearby?” she finally asked.

'Is she flirting with me', he thought to himself. 'No way, just look at her. Why would she flirt with me of all people'. “Yeah, just a few blocks up 4th street, 8th floor of the Wallace Bank building.” he replied, he gestured up the way he came and hoping he sounded much less nervous than he was.

“You're joking right? I also work in the Wallace Bank building, on the top floor, 25!” she said, her smirk widening into a knowing grin. Deacon knew that the upper six floors were all occupied by the bank's employees, and the bottom floor was used as a branch of the bank. All the floors between, 2 to 19, were rented as office space to companies, like the one Dean worked for. Half the top floor belonged entirely to the bank's president and his closest few employees. The other half, along with the roof was an extremely luxurious suite, including a pool on the roof, walking garden, dining room and kitchen staffed with top of the line chefs, and that was only what Deacon had heard of through office gossip. And of course there were a few, more 'suggestive' rumors he had heard in hushed tones that he prayed were true but not dare mention now. “We're practically coworkers”, she finally added

“I guess we are.” he said, thinking. Deacon decided to play it dumb, “So the top floor, what goes on there?”. Inessa's expression clearly indicated she was privy to his act, but she decided to play along. “More than I can do justice just by telling you about it.” It was just then that he realized that they had already crossed the street together and were at the trolley station, a train just arriving. “Do you take the northbound?”

He looked behind him at the train, and then back to Inessa, “I do.”

“That's too bad, I take the southbound.” she paused for a moment and then added “...but how about this. Meet me at the top floor tomorrow after work, say 5:30? We can get better acquainted then.”

“Uhhh sure, I can do that.”, Deacon replied, barely aware he was talking at this point. “Oh, but I don't have access to the top floor with my key card” he realized.

“Just use the service console inside the elevator to dial the top floor, and say Inessa is expecting you, they'll let you up.”

“Ok.”

“Ok. I'll see you then.” she said, turned and started towards the train, Deacon taking full advantage of this opportunity to soak in every curve of her magnificent figure. As he did, he also began to subconsciously play with his new ring and felt that same warmth from it, along with the same quick surge of dizziness.

Her skirt clung to her rear like a second skin, highlighting her tight curvaceous ass that rivaled any he had ever seen. Each step breathtakingly rocked her ass back and forth. While Deacon was firmly a breast man, he could appreciate the other parts of the female anatomy, and Inessa's ass was a masterpiece. His focus slid further down to her endlessly long legs, lissome, immaculately smooth, and sun kissed like the rest of her skin. Their length was even further highlighted by her height and 4 inch heels. Her legs put to shame any he'd ever seen, even those magazine models polished with Photoshop to an “unrealistic” level of perfection could not compete. He could have sworn that they seemed to be getting longer with each step.

Shifting his focus higher, he had to admit even the small of he back was sexy. Her wide hips and ass tapered down to slim waist that fashion models tucked into their tightest corset would strain to match, and yet while it appear might appear almost anorexic on some other woman, on her it couldn't look healthier. Her waist definitely hadn't seemed that slim before, and her blouse was definitely looking tighter on her back as well, but that had to just be the light-headedness. Looking closer, he even noticed her blouse clung so tightly that he could even make out the dimples on her lower back with each step she took, just underneath the bottom of her blonde hair.

Which, just as the rest of her, was perfect. It was bright blonde and lustrous, like silk, the kind of hair that women in a shampoo commercial envied.

But what Deacon saw next stole the air right out of his lungs. Even from behind, the contours of her massive chest were easily visible on both of her sides, accentuated even further by just how tiny her waist was. The outline of each of her magnificent orbs were firmly pressed up and out, so firm and tightly wrapped that each of her majestically long strides didn't cause any jiggling, but rather a single pronounced bounce of her bust. From this perspective they seemed significantly larger from behind than even his second impression of them from the front. It wasn't till she turned back to him that he realized they were unmistakably larger. Three?... Four?... Five cup sizes?...More? Suffice to say enough to go from just huge to downright fucking enormous. 'Its some sort of optical illusion. Its not possible for breasts to just swell bigger from one minute to the next'. Deacon thought to himself, but there was definitely a disagreement between what his eyes were seeing and what his rational brain was thinking. Tit flesh was practically erupting from the gaps between the buttons on her blouse, which was now lifted just enough to show her althletic midriff and pierced naval. Some of her tit flesh was even visible beneath the bottom hem of her blouse.

“Oh Deacon, I almost forgot to mention. Make sure you're alone in the elevator when you come up.” she then turned and ducked her head under opening to the trolley before the doors automatically shut and the trolley departed.

Deacon continued to stare at where the door had closed to her trolley in disbelief of what had just happened. Then, from behind him Deacon heard the sound of the Southbound trolley arriving. He turned to enter it, and had the craziest realization of the day. Deacon was not a short guy, just over six feet tall. Between his head and the top of the door to the trolley there was easily an additional foot of clearance space. So how was it that when Inessa entered her trolley, she had to duck her head to get through the doorway. She was nary an inch, maybe two, shorter than Deacon by his estimation. But for her to have had to duck to get into the trolley, she have almost than seven and a half feet tall.

Now Deacon knew he was seeing things. He had to be deliriously exhausted from his first day.

But he didn't feel tired.