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Tess’s breasts didn’t look like they belonged to her. They were heavy and they jutted out proudly. They sagged only slightly, like they made one concession to the fact of gravity, to make up for their otherwise taut look. As she moved, she brushed her arms against the sides of her breasts, then squeaked and wrapped one arm around her chest to cradle them. They were more tender than she had expected. From her elbow to her fingertips, she just barely managed to cover the front of her chest. They weren’t quite as large as her head, but the size wasn’t that far off.