The automatic doors hissed shut behind Selena as she stepped out of the supermarket, her shoulders slumped from six straight hours of restocking canned goods. She adjusted her cap against the late morning sun, already dreading the five-block walk to pick up her first food delivery order of the day. Her sneakers scuffed against pavement.

She tugged her unzipped jacket tighter around herself, though it did little to hide the way her colossal breasts strained against the thin crop top underneath. Her exhausted mind drifted to scenes from last night's romance novel—tender arms holding her closely, lips murmuring sweet nothings against her neck. Gender didn't matter anymore, just warmth. Just someone.

A particularly rough step made her heavy tits bounce painfully, drawing a whimper. Selena glared down at the obscene mounds distorting her shirt. Disgusting, she muttered to herself, quickening her pace. Like anyone would want a broke, dumb dropout shaped like this. The delivery app pinged—another twelve hours before she could cry into her collection of dollar-store romance DVDs.

Suddenly, a raised sidewalk tile caught her toe. Time stretched thin as she pitched forward, vision filling with concrete rushing toward her face—