Chapter 21: Fitting Room Temptations
The fluorescent lights of the department store hummed with a sterile, insistent energy, a stark contrast to the firelit warmth of the lodge. Racks of clothes formed colorful canyons. Sakura had begged off, citing a medical textbook emergency, leaving Naruto with Ino and Hinata on a mission for “essentials.”
Ino steered them with unerring purpose past winter coats and knitwear, her long strides forcing Naruto to practically jog to keep up. Hinata followed just behind, a silent, towering shadow, her lavender eyes wide as she took in the overwhelming consumer landscape.
“Essentials,” Ino declared, coming to a halt before a secluded, plush alcave, were racks of lace and silk in a kaleidoscope of colors. The lingerie section. “Specifically, support essentials. For the historically blessed.”
Hinata made a small, choked sound. Her hands flew to her chest, as if to shield it from the very concept. “Ino, I don’t…”
“You absolutely do,” Ino said, turning to face her, a wicked gleam in her baby-blue eyes. “That sports bra you’ve had since high school is a war crime. It’s time for an upgrade. And,” she added, looping an arm through Naruto’s, pulling him snug against her hip, “we have an expert fit consultant right here.”
Naruto blinked. “I know nothing about bra sizes.”
“You know about fit,” Ino corrected, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur. “You know about comfort. And you have a very invested interest in the… architectural integrity.” She began plucking items from the racks—a sheer black number with intricate lace, a deep crimson satin, a pale lavender set that almost matched Hinata’s eyes. She piled them into Hinata’s arms until the fabric threatened to spill over.
Hinata looked down at the heap, then at Naruto, her pale face flushing a brilliant, helpless pink. “I… I can’t.”
“You can,” Ino said, her tone leaving no room for argument. She herded them toward the changing rooms, a wall of floor-to-ceiling mirrors and dark curtains. “Cubicle three. We’ll be right outside.”
With a gentle but firm push, Ino guided a flustered Hinata into the room and pulled Naruto in after her before Hinata could protest. The curtain swished closed.
The cubicle was a world of mirrors, reflecting their images into infinity. Hinata stood frozen, the lingerie a soft mound in her arms, looking impossibly large and desperately shy in the confined space. She was a full two heads taller than Naruto, her lovely, exaggerated hourglass figure seeming to take up all the air.
“Ino, this is…” Hinata whispered.
“Necessary,” Ino finished, smoothly taking the lavender set from the top of the pile. “Here. Start with this. It’s your color.” She turned to Naruto, who was trying very hard to look at the curtain fabric. “Naruto, turn around. Give the lady some privacy to get the foundations on.”
He obeyed, facing the curtain. He heard the soft rustle of fabric, the whisper of a zipper, the delicate clink of a discarded buckle. His own heartbeat was loud in his ears. Behind him, Hinata’s breathing was shallow, nervous.
“Okay,” came her whisper, so faint he almost missed it.
He turned slowly.
The sight stole the breath from his lungs. The lavender lace was a masterpiece of engineering and artistry. It cupped the magnificent, heavy swell of her breasts, the pale satin panels stretched taut, emphasizing their full, round shape. The matching briefs hugged the lush curve of her hips, dipping low on her stomach. The mirrors multiplied her, an army of stunning, blushing giantesses in delicate lace.
“Well?” Hinata squeaked, her hands fluttering nervously at her sides.
“He’s speechless,” Ino purred. She hadn’t turned Naruto around. She was standing right behind him, her hands on his shoulders. “But we need to check the fit. The straps.” Before he could process her movement, she gave him a gentle but decisive push forward.
He stumbled the single step separating them and his face met the soft, fragrant warmth of Hinata’s cleavage. The world became lavender lace and the overwhelming, pillowy softness of her. He made a muffled sound.
“Oops,” Ino said, utterly unrepentant. She stepped up behind him, her front pressing into his back, sandwiching him firmly between them. Her long arms reached over his shoulders, her deft fingers going to the thin straps on Hinata’s shoulders. “See, the left one is a little loose. Needs to be tighter to provide proper lift.” She adjusted the strap, her movement pushing Naruto’s face deeper into the valley of Hinata’s breasts. Hinata let out a shaky, whimpering breath, her hands coming up to rest lightly on his upper arms, not pushing him away, but holding on.
“Ino…” Naruto’s voice was muffled.
“Professional opinion, remember?” Ino said, her own breath warm against his ear. She adjusted the other strap, then ran her fingers along the underwire, her knuckles brushing against the sides of Hinata’s breasts. Hinata shuddered. “Band feels good. Nice and snug. What do you think, Naruto? Does it feel supportive?”
He was drowning in sensation. The scent of Hinata’s skin, clean and subtly sweet. The incredible, yielding softness against his cheeks. The feel of Ino’s taller, equally voluptuous frame caging him from behind. He managed a nod, his nose brushing against the lace.
“See? Expert approval.” Ino finally relented, stepping back and pulling him with her. Hinata swayed, her lavender eyes dazed, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
“T-try the next one?” Hinata whispered, seemingly unable to stop now.
The ritual repeated. The deep crimson satin turned her into a goddess of fire, the color a shocking contrast against her pale skin. This time, as Ino “checked the back closure,” she turned Naruto around and pressed his face into the incredible, jutting fullness of her own chest, which was straining against a tight cream-colored sweater. “Compare and contrast,” she whispered to him, her voice husky. Hinata watched from the mirror, her shy eyes dark with arousal, biting her lip.
The black lace was last. It was sheer, daring, a web of shadows against her skin. When Naruto was once again guided forward, his face nuzzled into the cleft of her breasts where the lace gave way to warm skin, Hinata’s whimper was louder. One of her large, gentle hands came up and tentatively cradled the back of his head, holding him there.
“This one’s the winner,” Ino declared, her voice thick. She was watching them in the mirror, her own cheeks flushed. The cubicle felt charged, humid with their shared breath.
Ino looked at the mirror, then at the gap under the curtain. The store around them was quiet, devoid of nearby footsteps or voices. A reckless, hungry smile touched her lips.
“You know,” she said casually, reaching down into the shopping bag she’d brought in. “For a true fit test, you have to account for elevation.” She pulled out a pair of elegant, strappy black heels with a formidable four-inch stiletto. She kicked off her boots and, in one fluid motion, slid her feet into them.
She towered. The heels brought her to well over eight feet, an impossible, breathtaking amazon. The ceiling lights glinted off her blond ponytail. She looked down at Naruto, her baby-blue eyes blazing with intent. The height difference was now comical, profound.
“See?” she said, her voice a low thrum. “Different perspective.”
She stepped toward him, the click of her heels sharp on the tile. Without a word, she placed her hands under his arms and lifted him effortlessly, as if he were a child. She held him up, his face now level with her stomach. She was wearing a soft, flowing skirt.
“Ino,” he breathed, legs dangling.
“Shhh.” She adjusted her grip, one strong arm around his back, holding him against her. With her other hand, she gathered the fabric of her skirt and pulled it up around her waist. The black lace of her own underwear was a modest contrast to the dramatic display. “Expert opinion,” she repeated, her gaze locking with his. “On accessibility.”
She moved him closer. The intimate, musky scent of her filled his senses. Hinata watched, paralyzed, one hand pressed over her mouth, her eyes glued to the scene in the mirror’s reflection.
It was an act of breathtaking intimacy and logistical daring. He had to strain slightly, and she had to bend her knees just a fraction, a gentle dip of her monumental form. Her free hand steadied his head. Her breath hitched, then came in slow, controlled draws. The only sounds were the wet, soft rhythms of his mouth on her, her shuddering sighs, and the distant, impersonal Muzak from the store speakers. Her thighs trembled around his shoulders, the incredible muscles of her legs rigid with tension and pleasure.
It didn’t take long. The intensity of the public secret, the visual of Hinata watching, the sheer physical dominance of her position, coiled her too tightly. A stifled, guttural cry broke from her lips as she fell against the mirror, her forehead pressing to the cool glass, her body bowing around him in powerful, quaking waves. She held him there, his face still buried against her, until the last tremor subsided.
Slowly, gingerly, she lowered him back to the floor. Her legs were unsteady. She leaned back against the wall, breathing heavily, a sheen of sweat on her brow. She looked utterly debauched and radiant.
Hinata hadn’t moved. Her blush had deepened to a mortified, aroused scarlet. Her eyes were wide, pools of dark amethyst, fixed on Naruto. A new, unfamiliar boldness seemed to crack through her shyness, forged in the heat of what she’d just witnessed.
As Naruto stood, slightly dazed, trying to catch his own breath, Hinata moved.
She stepped forward, the black lace she still wore seeming to smolder against her skin. She was still a full head taller than him even in her bare feet. Her movements were silent, determined. She didn’t speak. Her pale lavender eyes held his, and in them was a question, a plea, and a command.
Her hands, which were always so gentle, went to the button of his jeans. Her fingers, slightly clumsy with urgency, popped it open. She drew the zipper down, the sound obscenely loud in the quiet cubicle. She pushed the denim and his boxers down over his hips in one decisive motion.
Ino, still leaning against the wall, let out a slow, approving sigh. “That’s my girl.”
Hinata didn’t look at her. Her gaze was fixed on him, on his arousal, which stood thick and demanding between them. The size disparity was never more apparent than now, his length formidable but his stature so utterly dwarfed by her towering, lace-clad form.
Then she sank to her knees.
Even kneeling, her eyes were over his head. She looked down at him, her beautiful face filled with a vulnerability and a longing so profound it made his chest ache. This was her statement, her claim. Not with Ino’s playful dominance, but with her own quiet, devastating surrender.
She didn’t hesitate. She leaned forward, her long, dark hair cascading over his thighs, and took him into the warm, enveloping heat of her mouth.
Naruto gasped, his hands coming up to tangle in her silken hair. She moved with a slow, reverent rhythm, her head bowing before him. The mirror showed the impossible, gorgeous tableau: the colossal woman in black lace on her knees, her head diligently working in his lap, and the other amazon watching from the wall, a satisfied, loving smile on her glistening face.
Ino pushed off the wall and came to stand behind Hinata. She placed a large, gentle hand on Hinata’s shaking shoulder, a wordless gesture of solidarity and shared love. She looked over Hinata’s bent head at Naruto, her eyes soft.
“Told you,” Ino mouthed silently, her smile widening. “Essentials.”
The fluorescent lights hummed on, a silent witness to the essential, messy, perfect love growing in cubicle three, sealed away behind a simple dark curtain.