A Burden On Your Chest – Fetish

A Burden On Your Chest

By Treble Clef

Note: This is an old story from my deviantart gallery.

The woman flashed an evil eye as Layla approached with her check. “What in the seven hells took you so long?” the woman said, slamming a palm on the tabletop. The ice in the woman’s water jumped and rang in the glass like a bell. Layla almost jumped too.

“I’m sorry, ma’am! It’s a very busy evening.”

“Busy! I see you going about here, prancing around in those obscene clothes. Lazy young harlots and their excuses. Bah!”

“I-I’m sorry, I…”

“I’ll give you a tip, so help me, gods.”

“If-if you’d like to speak to the manager…”

“Young woman! May every dollar you make on this day be a burden on your chest!” The woman slammed a twenty-dollar bill on the counter. The ice skipped again. The woman stood, snatched up her snakeskin purse and stomped out of Imperial Bay Brewery, leaving Layla stunned and fear stricken.

Layla had wondered of her attire as fairly conservative; not an inch of cleavage was showing. Her black tank top was pretty tight over her chest, sure, but her restaurant-issue black blazer obscured a good deal of her natural curvaceousness. And, Layla couldn’t help being busty. Okay, she was sometimes a little…teasing with male patrons, yes, but only the single ones who really seemed to want the attention…and, a lazy harlot?!

Layla had no interest in flirtation; she was engaged. She’d been with Zachery for over three years. Even Zach understood: a little harmless teasing helped when she needed the tips. She had rent to pay!

Layla shook herself from her rumination and looked about. Had anyone overheard the altercation? A couple from a nearby table innocently looked away; two men seated by a partition conspicuously resumed their conversation. Flustered, Layla took the twenty to the register and completed the purchase. The bowl of soup and the glass of wine that the angry woman had ordered came to $13.32, leaving close to a seven dollars tip.

“Hey girl, are you okay?” said Sophia, approaching.

“Y-yeah. I’m alright,” said Layla.

Layla and Sophia worked the evening shift together on Tuesdays, which made the hours go faster than usual. Sophia studied Layla’s face to see that Layla wasn’t crying. Sophia had pretty brown eyes and long dark hair, pulled back in a ponytail on work hours. She was taller than Layla, slightly curvy but lacking Layla’s impressive rack.

“What was that crazy lady’s problem?” said Sophia.

“She said I took too long. And, apparently, the way I dress and present myself is ‘obscene.'”

Sophia dropped her mouth open. “What? No way!! You do NOT dress obscene, Layla. You’re not even showing anything!”

“I know…”

“Dumb bitch…”

“Sophia, does it ever…seem inappropriate when I…y’know, tease the male customers a little bit?”

“Pffft! Layla, all you do is stick out your rack out when you take guys’ orders. It’s no big deal. And anyway, it’s a job. We’re all making the best of it. Hey, are you alright?”

Layla was discreetly rubbing her ribs next to her breast. “Yeah,” said Layla, “my bra’s just…slicing into me a little.”

Layla glanced at the clock. “Oh shit, it’s already seven…”


“Yeah, time flies when we’re busy. The rush should be dying down by now.”

“If only,” Layla sighed. She wanted to go home now.

Sophia patted Layla’s shoulder. “Three more hours. Then we’re done!”

Layla did her best to put on a happy face. It being 7:00, several of her tables were winding down and ready to get their checks and Layla was not about to displease anyone else.

A table by the far wall, occupied by a 30s-ish woman and her mother, was ready for a check.

“Would you like us to wrap that up for you?” said Layla.

“Oh, no thank you,” said the 30s-ish woman.

“Are you okay dear?” said the mother. “That woman just…flew into a rage back there. We were worried about you!”

“Yeah, seriously!” said the daughter, her emphatic nods tossing her curly bangs to and fro.

Layla forced a smile. “Oh, I’m alright.”

“Don’t let rude people get to you, dear. We love your service!”

Layla might have appreciated the compliment had she not been embarrassed to know now that the angry woman’s rebuke was loud enough to hear from the far wall.

Layla brought them their check. The mother paid in cash and left a sizable tip. Ten dollars.

The next table to wrap up belonged to the two men seated by the partition. They said nothing about the angry woman’s outburst. One of them, however, a middle age bald man, gave Layla an affable smile. It was kind, but Layla really wanted to put the altercation out of her mind. The men paid separately. Both tipped very reasonably.

Fifteen minutes passed.

“Layla, what’s wrong now?” said Sophia.


Sophia set a hand on her hip. “You look all tense, girl.”

Layla rubbed her side and dropped her voice to a whisper. “Soph, I…swear I’m popping out of this bra. It’s really uncomfortable.”

“Hmmm,” said Sophia, “I guess maybe you are looking a little…” she lifted her palms in the air, “…more out there than usual.”

Layla snickered, reddening. “Oh, thank you.”

“You and I could go shopping this weekend. Dylan’s gonna be out most of Saturday helping a friend move. I’ve wanted to get some new work out pants.”

Dylan was Sophia’s husband, a sweet guy.

“I’d love to,” said Layla, “but I should talk to Zach first. He may have something planned for us. Anyway, I thought my bra was fitting me just fine this morning. I wonder if I’m getting an early period…”

Layla got several more comments from concerned customers as she delivered their checks. Her tips were much higher than usual, from women and men alike.

By 8:00, there were only a couple campers left over from the dinner rush.

When a moment of downtime hit, Layla slipped into the staff-only restroom. Her bra felt tight and painful. She flipped on the lights, blinked under the fluorescent bulbs and examined her top.

The black, restaurant-issue blazer was all the time buttoned under the bust, giving her chest space to breathe. It didn’t fit Layla perfectly, but no button-up ever did. Too big in the waist.

Layla turned, examining her user account in the mirror. Her chest bulged out between the long lapels. This had never happened before, Layla was certain.

She arched her back and her heart took a plunge in her chest as she saw her boobs puff over the cups, visibly through the black tank top. What was going on? This bra had never given Layla quad-boob before…

Layla gripped her cups and examined her breasts. They seemed quite constricted; even the tank top was looking a little stretched. What in the world was happening to her?

The evening diners gave way to the evening drinkers. A row of men took stools at the bar; already giddy fraternizers were shown to their tables.

Layla tried to keep her back slightly hunched to minimize the overflow of her chest. On this particular night, at least, it was lucky that Imperial Bay was dimly lit and had an all-black dress code. As the last stragglers from dinner paid their checks and left, Layla found herself hunching lower and shrugging her shoulders to keep the blazer upright. The lapels kept digging into her bust, straining the two buttons at her waist. Layla’s movements grew more restricted as she worked and tried to keep down the straining and jostling in her top…

“You look uncomfortable,” murmured Sophia as she passed Layla on her way to the kitchen. Layla turned to Sophia and winced in response.

All the twisting, tensing and hunching was ultimately useless, as Layla found when she took an order for a party of three. They were a middle age couple and a slightly younger man, the latter whose eyes darted repeated glances at Layla’s chest. The married, middle age man was visibly trying to look away. Worst of all, his wife was clenching her teeth, keenly aware of the situation. A wave of embarrassment swept over Layla. Her face felt hot.

Layla held her notebook closer to herself than usual, obscuring her chest with her forearms as she took orders. This seemed to win her into the good graces of the wife, who granted Layla an empathic smile. The wife then made an admonishing eye movement at the inconspicuous younger man, which Layla was clearly meant to see. It was a wordless apology for the younger man’s poor manners.

Layla needed help. She went to Sophia who was folding napkins into silverware rolls in the side station. She looked around to make sure no one else was near. “Soph…look.” She arched her back. The upwelling of Layla’s boobs was shockingly pronounced. They bulged a whole inch out of her cups and yanked at her band which dug into her back.

Sophia’s eyes bugged out. “Holy crap, girl! Is your bra shrinking?”

“I don’t know, but it’s really uncomfortable and people are starting to notice!”

“You’re not stuffing socks in there or anything?”


Sophia arched an eyebrow. “I don’t get it. You weren’t sticking out like that half an hour ago…”

“Um, Soph?”


“That woman who flipped out on me…she said…something…”


“You’re going to think I’m crazy…”

“Say it.”

“Do you…believe in…curses?”

Sophia chortled. “I believe in school loans, does that count?”

“Never mind.”

“Hey, c’mon. What’s wrong?”

Layla sighed. “That crazy woman said something before she left and I’m trying to remember what it was.”

There was a pause between them. Sophia was blank. Layla closed her eyes, trying to piece together the woman’s exact words. She had been so flustered at the time… ‘A burden on your chest’… ‘May every’…

Layla shook her head. The whole thing was silly. “Um, anyway…” she said. What should I do? I’m still stuck here for two hours.”

“You got a sweater here with you?”

“Yeah, but…”

“Wear it, Layla. Screw the dress code; I’ll vouch for you if Jeff gives you shit about it. And, if you can help it, don’t walk all stiff and tight like you’ve been. It’s not helping.”

Layla removed her nametag from the discarded blazer and pinned it to the navy blue sweater. It, too, looked a little snug. It had always gapped a bit between the buttons at Layla’s bust line but the gaps were wider than usual now. Her black tank top kept her decent underneath though, so, the sweater would do.

Still, her bra was more awkward and tight than ever and the overflow of her boobs was starting to crease at the cup line and hang over.

My boobs are not getting bigger, Layla told herself. That’s silly, there’s just something wrong with this bra… As much as she said it to herself though, Layla’s mind kept traveling back to the angry woman’s last words. Forget it, Layla, she thought. Just finish this damn shift and go home.

It was a busy late evening. Giddy patrons became tipsy revelers and ordered more drinks, plus appetizers, occasional desserts. A half hour passed.

Layla was ringing up a check, impatiently tapping the side of the register with her fingernail when she dropped the customer’s card. Layla bent over and picked it up off the floor. As she rose, two buttons of her sweater slipped out of their holes at the bust line.

When she had a spare moment, she snuck into the restroom once more. The gaps between Layla’s buttons were even wider than before.

Layla checked herself in profile.

Oh my god, she thought. That’s not my body…my boobs look so big! The quad-boob effect now showed through the sweater.

She took the sweater off. Layla’s boobs surged drastically over her cups. The crease line where it dug into the tender flesh was much deeper than before. Layla poked at the excess flesh with an experimental finger. This was no wardrobe malfunction; Layla’s boobs had truly grown, quite a few cup sizes.

Layla shut her eyes, clenched her teeth and searched her memory. ‘A burden on your chest’…Yes, the woman said ‘dollars’! Every dollar I…”

There was a rapping at the door. “You almost done in there? I gotta go!” It was the voice of Quincy, a surly chef.

“J-just a minute!” said Layla.

She flushed the unused toilet and buttoned her sweater. The two buttons over Layla’s bust line yanked at their buttonholes.

Layla had to prove it; she would not believe it otherwise. She glanced around her area, found a recently vacated table where the patrons had left a few dollars for a tip. She took the cash.

Nothing happened.

The old woman had said, ‘every dollar you make…‘ But, what even counted as ‘making a dollar‘ anyway? Was it when you simply picked up the cash from the table? Maybe it was already ‘a dollar made’ at that point; after all, you made it, whether you picked it up or not. Did it become ‘your dollar‘ when the customer decided to give it to you? And, did it matter whether it was a cash tip or a tip left on a merchant copy of a receipt? Layla had to test those possibilities, before she discounted the influence of her tips.

She got her chance ten minutes later when she rang up a check for a party of five. Layla brought them their card receipt and watched them from the corridor, making certain that no one saw her.

The apparent host of the party did some calculations on his phone and scribbled on the receipt.



Three buttons of Layla’s sweater opened all at once, a fourth strained to stay closed. Her cups felt suddenly narrower over her boobs and her band sank deeper into her back. The upwelling titflesh mounted and advanced against her cups.

Shit, shit, shit, Layla wondered. It’s true!

“Hey, Soph. Do me a favor?”

Sophia turned to face her. “Yeah, what is—holy…Layla, what’s going on?! You’re so…”

“I know, I know, my boobs are even bigger. I have a theory! Look…”

She took a ten and a five out of her pocket, took Sophia’s hand and put the bills in it. Layla shut her eyes and waited as nothing happened.


“Dammit! Okay, okay. Put this money in your pocket. Okay? It’s yours.”


“Just do it. Please.”

“Well…okay…” Sophia pocketed the $15. Again, nothing happened.

Fuck…” Layla muttered.

“What’s going on, Layla?”

“I can’t give the money away and go back down.”


“Sophia, I know this is crazy but I swear…that woman cursed me. Right before she left she said that every dollar I made this evening would be…a burden.”

“I don’t even know what you’re…”

“Soph, every tip is making my boobs grow!”

Sophia’s brow furrowed.

“I swear it’s true!”

“Well…I…I…I guess you do look…definitely bigger than before. I mean…you’re almost busting out of that sweater now…”

“Sophia, you have to believe me.”

Sophia’s brow remained furrowed.

“Or…” said Layla, “at least…pretend to believe me? Just for now? Okay?”

Sophia sighed, regarded Layla and shrugged. “Alright. I can do that. What do you want from me?”

“I need you to collect my tips.”

“And give them to you later?”

“No! Just take them. They’re yours. I don’t want them, now or later.”

“Girl, I can’t take your…”

“Please! Just do it once. So I can see what happens.”

Sophia laughed. “Alright, if you say so. But I’m not taking this.” She removed the $15 from her pocket and handed it over to Layla. Layla recoiled.

“No, no! I don’t want…”

“Hey, hey, it’s fine,” said Sophia, sticking the bills back into Layla’s pocket. “Your boobs aren’t doing anything.”

Layla dawdled in the side station, regularly poking her head out into the front to check on her tables. Why won’t anyone leave, she wondered. She was desperate to test her theory.

A voice came from behind. “Layla, I need you out there.”

It was Jeff, the manager. He had big ears, a beak nose and an overwrought, yet thoroughly unconvincing professional demeanor that Layla and Sophia liked to mimic for fun on slow hours. Layla had been trying to avoid him since she discarded her blazer.

“What?” she said.

“You’re standing around and it doesn’t look like you’re doing anything. And why are you wearing that sweater? Where’s your jacket?”

“The…the buttons ripped off and I didn’t want to look…underdressed.”

“Do we need to issue you a new one?”

“No. I can repair a couple buttons myself, Jeff.”

“Alright, well, check on your tables.”

Luckily, Jeff was too busy listening to the sound of his own voice to catch Layla’s bulging chest in the dim light of the side station. One of Layla’s buttons would not close now. The other buttons were strained. Layla’s shape was now comically top-heavy. And heavy it was indeed; the weight of her boobs pressed down on her now useless cups, making her underwire dig deeper into her ribs. Her bra felt like a bear trap around her torso.

The staring eyes of Layla customers made her uncomfortable too, but no one actually said anything. Until, that is, she got to a table occupied by a flamingly drunk, skinny brunette in a party of four girls. The brunette loudly said, “damn, girl, I never noticed that you had such a RACK! You need a bigger bra…”

Oh, the embarrassment.

An Asian girl beside the brunette set a palm on her friend’s shoulder. “Okay, Leslie, please stop.” The Asian girl turned to Layla. “Sorry about her.”

“It’s alright,” said Layla, who did not feel right at all.

The brunette lifted her hands in the air as if cupping Layla’s boobs and indiscreetly mouthed the words SO BIG with her lips. Layla tried to ignore it.

The girls ordered another round of drinks, as did other tables.

The leering, from both male and female patrons was starting to make Layla upset. The worst of it was from a man who sat alone at a two-person table. He had two empty beer glasses that Layla gathered up as he requested another. This guy was shameless. His eyes were absolutely locked onto Layla’s bosom. He smiled pleasantly and Layla could smell the alcohol on him. These weren’t his first two drinks tonight.

Sophia would have found a catty way to tell him off. She would have said I’m up here, sir, or something like that. But, Layla had none of Sophia’s nerve.

Minutes passed and finally, a table in Layla’s area wrapped up. Layla flagged Sophia down.

“Sophia, that table is ready. Could you please ring them up? Here’s the order.”

Layla was worried that she would have to talk Sophia into it but Sophia smiled and took the piece of paper. “You got it.”

Sophia took the customers’ cards to the register and brought them their receipts. Then, she returned to the corridor where Layla was watching, heart pounding in her chest.

“Well, that’s that,” said Sophia. “Anything happen?”

“No…” said Layla.


Two buttons broke off Layla’s sweater. It opened once more. Layla’s teeth clenched as she felt her breasts surging out, spilling over, mounting up and up on her chest. She felt her nipples start to peak over her cup line. Her boobs had grown halfway out of their cups.

Sophia’s mouth fell open as she watched Layla’s tank top stretch over her massive breasts. It was pulled down her neckline, showing off an inch of cleavage that her mostly open sweater could no longer conceal.

“Holy shit, girl!”

“Dammit…” said Layla. The experiment had failed. She couldn’t just let Sophia collect her tips for her. It still counted as ‘dollars made’ for Layla.

“Is this really…” Sophia moved in and tested Layla’s bosom gingerly with her fingertips. “Damn. It’s all titty under there, isn’t it?”


“You weren’t kidding about…curses, huh?”


Layla listened discreetly from outside Jeff’s office.

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