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" Three, Dad. Three." Ok, three."Dad walked away with a spring in his step.---------------------------------------"Ben, you're making me self-conscious," Mom complained. She was washing a few dishes by hand while I finished my cereal. As she scrubbed the dishes, my eyes were drawn to the green tank top she was wearing or, more to the point, the tantalizing movement underneath that made the material so interesting to watch. I just couldn't believe my mom didn't wear a bra. This was my third day at home and Mom hadn't worn one yet. She wore t-shirts, loose blouses, and tank tops but never a bra. Misinterpreting the reason for my attention, Mom added, "They're fine. I only have the one lump and it hasn't grown and there aren't any new ones."My face reddened. Whenever that happens to me, trying to stop it makes it worse. I tried to hide it by looking down and scooping Honey Nut Cheerios into my mouth. "Whatever you say, Mom."It was definitely better that she believed I was worried about. .I went to the wardrobe, which as usual had been replenished overnight. (Istill didn't know how they did that, although I assumed that we were givena drug that made us sleep soundly enough that we didn't hear or notice thechange of clothes.)Waiting for me was a skimpy school uniform, comprising a short pink plaidskirt, a see-through white blouse, a pink striped tie, a white padded bra,white cotton panties and long white socks. But instead of the flat shoes Ihad been expecting, and which we had consistently been given so far, Ifound the black high-heeled pumps that I had worn yesterday for my ill-fated walk (or stagger, really) down the catwalk.I looked closely at the bra, as it was the first time such an item hadbeen supplied. It had gel inserts that uncannily mimicked the weight andpliability of real breasts - at least to a person fondling them. Eventhough I'd taken off a few bras in my time and understood how the catchesworked, it took me several goes, working awkwardly behind my.
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