--Jaune--
The moment Pyrrha slipped the panties on, the real test of my new existence began. Each movement was a rollercoaster, a symphony of sensations and shifting perspectives. She turned back to the bed, picking up a shirt and slipping it over her head. The world around me grew darker and even tighter as the fabric of her shirt pressed me closer against her skin.
Every step she took, every slight motion of her body, was amplified through me. The weight of her chest, the subtle bounce with each step, was a constant reminder of my new role. I strained to contain her, to provide the support she needed, but it was an ongoing challenge. The snugness of the fit meant that I felt every breath she took, every slight shift and turn.
As she moved through her morning routine, the day outside was just beginning to stir. She grabbed her Scroll and a few other items, and I felt the sway and swing with each movement. The confines of her shirt added an extra layer of pressure, making the task of holding her chest even more demanding.
The hours ticked by, each one an eternity as Pyrrha went about her day. I could feel the heat of her body through the fabric, the occasional sheen of sweat that soaked into my material. Every movement, every slight jostle, was a test of endurance.
Lunchtime brought a brief respite, but it also introduced a new challenge. Pyrrha joined her friends at a table in the bustling cafeteria, the air filled with the sounds of laughter, conversation, and the clinking of utensils against plates. The light streaming through the large windows cast a warm glow over everything, making the moment feel almost idyllic. Yet, beneath the surface, I was grappling with my new, awkward existence.
As Pyrrha settled into her seat, I felt the familiar shift and sway of her movements. Each laugh, each gesture was accompanied by a gentle bounce, a subtle reminder of the weight I was tasked with supporting. The snug confines of her shirt pressed me closer against her, amplifying every sensation.
Yang, ever the playful and mischievous spirit, leaned over from her seat. Her golden hair framed her face as she shot Pyrrha a cheeky grin. "Looking good today, Pyrrha!" she declared, her voice full of mirth.
Before Pyrrha could react, Yang's hands darted out, playfully groping Pyrrha's chest. The world around me exploded into chaos. The sudden pressure, the unexpected squeeze—it was an overwhelming barrage of sensations. I felt myself stretch and strain to accommodate the sudden onslaught.
"Yang, stop it!" Pyrrha exclaimed, her voice a mix of embarrassment and laughter. She swatted Yang's hands away, her cheeks flushing a deep red. But the playful warrior wasn't done yet. With a mischievous glint in her eye, Yang gave another playful squeeze, her fingers pressing into the soft flesh.
From my perspective, it was a whirlwind of pressure and motion. I could feel every slight movement, every shift of muscle and fabric. The warmth of Pyrrha's skin, the slight dampness from her exertions earlier, and the firm yet playful grip of Yang's hands all melded into a cacophony of sensation.
"Come on, Yang, give her a break," Blake's calm voice intervened, though there was an amused lilt to her tone.
Yang finally relented, pulling back with a laugh. "Alright, alright. But seriously, Pyrrha, you're looking great. New workout routine?"
Pyrrha shook her head, still smiling despite the lingering embarrassment. "Just trying to stay in shape," she replied, her tone light and modest.
As the conversation continued, I tried to recover from the unexpected encounter. The sensations lingered, a vivid reminder of my bizarre predicament. I marveled at how Pyrrha maintained her composure, her easy laughter and graceful movements seemingly unaffected by the playful harassment.
The rest of lunch passed in a blur of conversation and camaraderie. I felt every laugh, every gesture, and every subtle shift of Pyrrha's body. It was an intimate glimpse into her life, one filled with friendship and light-hearted moments, yet it underscored the surreal nature of my new existence.
By the time lunch was over and Pyrrha rose from her seat, I was left reeling from the experience. Each step she took sent a gentle bounce through me, the weight of her chest a constant presence. Yet, despite the oddity of the situation, there was a strange sense of connection, of understanding the nuances of Pyrrha's life in a way I never could have imagined.
The rest of the day was a blur of movement and sensation. Pyrrha's training sessions were the hardest. The rigorous exercises, the constant motion, and the steady accumulation of sweat made my task nearly impossible. I absorbed every drop, feeling the dampness seeping through my fabric. The smell of exertion, of hard work and effort, became my new reality.
By the time evening rolled around, I was exhausted. Pyrrha finally returned to her room, her movements slow and deliberate. She peeled off her shirt, the sudden release of pressure almost a relief. I could feel the cool air against my fabric, a brief respite from the heat and sweat.
With a casual flick of her fingers, she unclasped me, pulling me away from her body. The world spun as she tossed me into the laundry bin, the sweaty, stinky pile of clothes a testament to the day's efforts.
I landed with a soft thud, surrounded by her other garments. The smell was strong, a mix of sweat and fabric softener. As I lay there, I couldn't help but reflect on the bizarre, intimate journey I had just experienced. Being Pyrrha's bra had been a strange, surreal adventure, one that had tested my limits in ways I never could have imagined.
The darkness of the laundry bin was a welcome change from the constant motion and pressure. I felt a strange sense of relief, knowing that my task was over, at least for now. The day had been long and exhausting, but it had given me a new perspective on Pyrrha's life, one that was both intimate and humbling.
Any Thoughts?...Comments?...Requests?