Ananya(Student) - How I gave my measurements to the tailor(11 videos)-Scene-28-GOLD!*

[ashuezy2]

Scene 10

I woke up. The sheets were tangled around my legs. I felt a cold, sticky dampness in my underwear.
I had a "nightfall"—a wet dream. In my dream, Masterji hadn't called Remo. In my dream, Remo hadn't stopped licking. I had come in my sleep, my body reacting to the phantom touch of the tailor’s tongue.

I touched myself down there. I was still sensitive, swollen. I hurried to the shower, washing away the evidence, but I couldn't wash away the excitement.

I stood in front of the mirror. It was time.
I put on the peach saree. Then, the blouse.

Remo was a genius. The blouse fit like a second skin. It clasped tight around my ribcage. 

The "hidden band" he made pushed everything up. My heavy "30H" breasts were lifted high, creating a deep, dangerous cleavage that the saree pallu barely covered. My waist looked tiny, cinched in at 24 inches.
I didn't look like the hoodie girl. I looked like a "bomb."

I took an auto to South Campus. My heart was racing.
I reached the gates of Sri Venkateshwara College. Usually, I walked with my head down, clutching my bag to my chest. 



Today, I walked straight.
I stepped through the gate.
The noise stopped.

Groups of boys were hanging out near the parking lot. They were laughing and talking. Then, one saw me. He nudged his friend. Then the friend turned.
Heads were rolling towards me. Eyes were popping out.

It started with a whistle. Wheee-whit!
Then, the murmurs started.

"Oye, who is that?" "Is that Ananya? No way." "Look at the... assets."

I heard the "dirty dialogues." They weren't being polite.
"Check out the milk factory, bro," one guy whispered loud enough for me to hear. "Solid body," another groaned. "I want to bounce on that."

Usually, I would have died of shame. I would have run away. But today?

I smiled. A small, secret smile.
I liked it.
I walked past them, letting my hips sway. I felt the weight of my chest bouncing slightly with every step, contained but visible in the perfect blouse. I felt their hungry eyes sticking to my skin like Remo’s plaster cast.
I had seen my friends getting attention for years. I was always the sidekick. But today was my day. I was the main character, and every dirty look felt like applause.

===

Then I saw my group. They were all wearing kurtas and sarees, but when I approached, conversation stopped.
My best friend, Sonali, dropped her jaw. She grabbed my shoulders, staring at my chest, then my waist.

"Oh my god," Sonali screamed. "Hoodie girl is now a Hootie!"

She leaned in, pouting her lips. "If I were a man, I would have kissed you right now!"

She tried to plant a kiss on my cheek, but I pushed her away, laughing. "Get away! I am not kissing you."

Then there was Ishita. The quiet one. She usually looked at books. Today, she was glancing at me. Her eyes traveled up to my face, then down to the deep cleavage the peach blouse created. She stared at the swell of my breasts, and suddenly, she blushed and looked away. She was shy. I realized then that my body didn't just affect men; it confused women too.

The boys in our group were useless. One of them actually dropped his books. Thud.
"You look like a movie star, Ananya," one stammered. "No, bro," another whispered, staring at my chest. "Supermodel."
I blushed all the way to my ears. We started taking selfies. I posed, arching my back slightly, letting the camera capture the perfect curve Remo had sculpted for me.

We moved to the canteen. The boys ran to get food—samosas, chai, anything to please me. I sat alone on the bench, waiting. The canteen was crowded.

Then, he appeared.
A guy I had seen around campus but never spoke to. He walked right up to my table. He didn't say hello. He dropped to his knees on the dirty canteen floor.

He was loud. "Listen to me!" he shouted.
The whole crowd gathered. A circle formed around us.

"You are an Apsara (Celestial Maiden)," he declared, his voice shaking with emotion. "I have never seen beauty like this."
He pulled a small box from his pocket. He opened it. A silver ring glinted in the light. He must have been watching me, preparing for this moment.

"I don't ask for love yet," he said, giving a big, Bollywood-style romantic speech about beauty and grace. "But I ask for your hand in friendship."

He took my hand. He brought it to his lips. He kissed my knuckles.
The crowd cheered. "Say yes! Say yes!"

I smiled. It was sweet. It was romantic. "Yes," I said. "I accept."
We exchanged phone numbers. My group was jealous. Sonali was rolling her eyes. I was famous.

But as I sat there, smiling at the boy with the silver ring, my mind drifted.
His kiss on my hand was dry. His speech was polite. The crowd was cheering for my face and my saree.
But my body? My body was screaming for something else.

I looked down at my chest. Under the silk, my nipples were chafing against the tight fabric.
The silver ring was nice. But it was nothing compared to what I felt yesterday.

I closed my eyes for a second, tuning out the noise of the canteen. I remembered the dark, dusty corner of the tailor shop. I remembered the smell of musk. I remembered Remo’s rough tongue dragging across my sensitive nipple. I remembered the wet, slurping sound as he sucked me.

This boy offered me friendship and silver. Remo offered me hunger and spit. And God help me, I knew which one I wanted more.