>You are Anon, and you are hanging with Rarity and Pinkie Pie at Rarity's boutique.
>"I just have no idea where these things even came from, Nonny."
>Pinkie stares down sadly at her chest, which is straining against her shirt.
>Like most girls, she didn't wear a bra; you can see her nipples clearly trying to poke holes through the material of the shirt.
>"Ugh. What am I, pregnant?"
>Pinkie hefts both of her tits, holding them through her shirt and glaring down at them.
>"I have no idea where these even came from. Ma's got a small chest, and all of my sisters have tiny tits, too."
>She lets out a sigh and clumsily leans back in her chair, head leaning back and mouth open in a groan.
>Naturally, this presses her breasts even harder against her shirt.
>You can see the buttons straining to keep the front of the shirt closed, and the gaps between them reveal plenty of cleavage.
>Rarity nods sympathetically.
>>"Tell me about it, darling," simpers Rarity, "It's just so difficult to implement my fashionable vision when I have two disastrously large breasts to work around."
>Rarity sighs and eyes up your flat, male chest.
>>"You men really have no idea how good you have it. Do you know how much money I have to spend in material when I make myself a shirt?"
>Her top is a simple black sweater with vertical embroidered lines on it.
>It's a tasteful simple turtleneck, but you can see that the hem is riding up her flat belly as the material struggles to contain her face-smothering knockers.
>>"I thought that perhaps the more elastic material I used for this sweater would allow for accommodation without compromising the patterns and the design of the outfit, but..."
>Rarity tugs at the hem, trying to pull it down over her slightly-exposed stomach.
>You can see the material stretch as she brings it down to meet her belt, but it returns to its original position a few inches higher when she lets go.
>>"Perhaps I should simply start going topless while I'm at home."
---
>You make a show of shrugging carelessly.
"Hey, go ahead.  If the shirts are giving you that much trouble, then who am I to tell you to keep'em on?"
>Rarity and Pinkie Pie exchange a glance for a moment; curiosity, and not outrage.
>Man, tits really aren't that big of a deal here.
>Rarity rolls her eyes and chuckles indulgently at you.
>>"Now now, Anonymous, don't joke at our expense.  Nobody wants to see-"
>Rarity pats her chest dismissively, and you watch as her breasts sway under the tight material of her sweater.
>>"-these things."
>You just shrug, making sure that one of Rarity's throw cushions is firmly in place over your crotch.
"Hey, it's your house, Rarity.  Who am I to tell you what to wear in your own home?"
>>"Hmmm..."
>Rarity eyes you up thoughtfully, seemingly put off by your lack of reaction to what most people here consider unattractive.
>You guess this would be like a girl back home telling a pair of flabby guys that she doesn't mind seeing them without their shirts on.
"I won't mind.  Don't make yourselves uncomfortable just because of me, okay?"
>Rarity eyes up her sweater again and bites her lower lip apprehensively.
>Fuck, that's hot.
>>"Well, if you don't mind, then I see no reason not to-"
>"Oh, thank god!"
>Pinkie moans in pleasure, wasting no time in removing her shirt.
>Her nimble fingers dance like a pianist's down the front of her shirt, plucking buttons and undoing them as quickly as she can.
>Inches and inches of cleavage are revealed, and her breasts begin to sag a little under their own weight as the support that the tight shirt provided is taken away.
>At first, you can just see the swell of her breasts.
>Soon, her areola peek out as the fabric slides over her breasts more and more with each button undone.
>Your breath hitches in your throat when, after the last button is undone, Pinkie grabs the back of her shirt and unceremoniously yanks it off her body and carelessly throws it into a distant corner.
>She sighs with relief as the discomfort of her tight shirt leaves her, unconstrained breasts spreading out slightly.
>Her nipples aren't too big, and they're not too small; they're perfect for breasts as large as Pinkie Pie's.
>And brother, either this room is chilly or Pinkie's enjoying your company more than you knew, because they look like they could cut glass right now.
>Pinkie smiles at you, and you return the smile and throw in a thumbs-up for good measure.
>"Nonny, we need to hang out more!" she chirps, "None of my other guy friends wanna see these things, and it's really cool that I don't have to wear those uncomfortable tight shirts when you're around!"
>She giggles, cupping her mouth with a hand.
>"Dashie and Applejack go topless all the time 'cuz they don't have big dumb tits, and it's really neat-o burrito that I can get comfy around you too!"
"Y-Yeah," you say, trying to keep the stammer out of your voice, "Absolutely.  M-Maybe we can do our homework together after school, and you don't have to worry about wearing tops."
>Rarity smiles at you, looking touched.
>>"Well, then, I don't see a single reason why I should burden myself with this accursed sweater any longer."
>Your eyes are glued on Rarity's chest as she delicately grasps the him of her sweater and begins to tug it up her torso.
>Her smooth, flat belly reaches up seemingly without end, revealing and then bypassing a cute belly-button on its path upwards.
>Her breasts are trapped by the sweater, but you can see the hemline bulge as the weight of her puppies overcomes the tightness of the material.
>Just as her sweater is about to crest her collarbone, her breasts free themselves from the sweater and fall back into place.
>You nearly moan out loud as they sway all on their own, trying to find a natural and comfortable position to rest in.
>The light from one of Rarity's lamps dances off of a thin sheen of sweat coating her tits, and it occurs to you that the material she used might have been that much thicker to try and compensate for the sheer size of her chest.
>Her nipples are a bit smaller than Pinkie Pie's, but not so much that they look out of place.
>You swallow thickly as Rarity's chest seems to make eye-contact with you.
>>"Oh, dear," mutters Rarity to herself, delicately tugging the sweater over her head, "Watch the hair, now..."
>A moment later, Rarity has carefully folded the sweater into a neat bundle and sets it down next to her on the couch.
>She smiles at you and pats down her chest, trying to wipe the sweat off.
>She sighs, looking vaguely disgusted, and pulls her hand away so that she can fan herself off instead.
>>"I believe you mentioned homework, darling," Rarity remarks casually, seemingly unaware of what the sight of her and Pinkie's beautiful chests are doing to you, "Why don't get to work?"
>You fucking love this place.