Beachwear Fit for a King (Preview)

A preview for an upcoming tale in honor of the 15th Anniversary of Undertale! Throw on your best, oversized thoughts and swell on up to king size~

Andrea hit the sand face first with a thud. She groaned. Well, so much for a perfect day.

“Are you okay!?” Gabe quickly got to her side, holding a hand out to her.

“Y-yeah…” She rolled onto her side facing him. “I think so.” She took his hand and got to her feet with his help. “That suc-”

As she stood up fully, there was a sharp snap and tear. She looked down. It felt as if the world fell into slow motion at that moment. There went her black bikini, falling to the sand with a soft thud. She was left topless, breasts fully exposed.

Time reasserted itself, Andrea squeaking. Her hands went and covered her breasts, pressing into them as hard as they could as if it made a difference. Her entire face went red, her mind racing and repeating the same thought over and over: Why?

“Shit, crap, crap!” Gabe stuttered out, “I-I-I'm s-s-s-so sorry! It was new and it shouldn't have… this is my fault! I didn't know this would-”

“N-no, it's not your fault,” Andrea said, “Things happened.” You're just not experienced at buying clothes for women, knowing the right brands, material used, and all of that. She didn't say that, wanting to avoid hurting his feelings, even though she still didn't blame him.

Right now, she had to fix this. She took her sarong and wrapped it around her exposed breasts. It wasn't exactly the most comfortable and with how thin it was, her nipples were still partially visible. It would work for the time being, but not for the long term.

Still, she was grateful for one small miracle. This part of the beach was pretty empty of people, so no one saw her unfortunate accident.

“Okay,” Andrea mumbled, trying to calm down even just a little bit, “What… what should we do?”

“We can head back to the car,” Gabe suggested, “We left your shirt back in there.” She remembered now. She had slipped out of it and her shorts when they arrived. She had forgotten all about it in her panic.

It was a good idea, but there was a problem. “It's pretty far though, right?” she nervously asked, “We've been walking for half an hour and…” She looked at herself, her cheeks reddening more. Even if it offered some covering, she didn't feel comfortable walking around for long with her sarong over her breasts.

She looked around frantically, not sure what to do. That was when she saw it. Up ahead, there were a few lone, blue, changing booths stationed up away from the shore.

“Let's do that!” She pointed them out to Gabe. “I can wait in there while you go grab my shirt. That could work, right?”

“Yeah, that could work!” The duo walked over to the small row of booths. The first one they checked on the far right was empty.

“Okay, I'll be here!” Andrea ducked inside. “Be back soon, okay?” She kissed Gabe on the cheek. He smiled and kissed her back, hurrying off without a word.

With him gone, Andrea locked the door and sighed. Please come back soon.

She removed the sarong, placing it on the small bench in the booth, and took a look around. Besides that bench, there wasn't much to see. There were some diamond-shaped holes at the very top of the hut to let air and light in. On one of the walls was an old, dusty, sandy mirror that stretched almost all the way up from the floor to the ceiling.

But, there was one thing there, one thing that had been clearly left behind by someone who used this booth at one point. On the opposite wall of the mirror, hanging on a hook was a shirt. It was a large, oversized, red, Hawaiian shirt. It was so gaudy and bright that it was hard to believe she missed it when she first stepped inside.

Andrea eyed it curiously. How the hell do you forget this? She felt around the shirt, checking its breast pocket. There was no ID, no nothing that could tell her who the owner was.

Who do you belong to? The young woman stared at the shirt for a considerable amount of time. The longer she looked at it, the more garish and tacky it felt. What did Homer Simpson say about these things? Only big fat party animals wear them or something?

She chuckled but kept staring at it.

After a while, she started to feel the wait. Time felt like it was moving too slowly. It was going to be a while before Gabe got back, wasn't it? Even if he ran, it still might be a bit. It felt awkward enough having her sarong on before, but letting her boobs hang out felt almost as awkward, even in this closed environment.

Maybe… She stared at that shirt. Put you on, catch up with Gabe, and get my shirt back. She nodded. She could return it after she got dressed, just in case the owner returned.

Andrea didn't want to wait anymore. This was the best option in her mind, despite how gaudy and silly it would look on her.

She took the Hawaiian shirt down and placed the sarong up on the hook, deciding it would be better to leave it there than in a pile. She slipped her arms through the top's arm holes and slipped the rest on over her back, buttoning it up after.

This top was several sizes too large for her. It went almost down to her knees, and a good chunk of her shoulders were visible in the large collar despite how buttoned it was.

Looking in the mirror only confirmed her feelings. Yep. Totally look silly, dumb, tacky, and ridiculous all at once. Impressive! That's a new record and a new low all at once. Yay me.

Regardless of her feelings, it would work. Certainly beats letting my tits hang out. Andrea sighed, shaking her head. Better see if I can catch up. She started to turn.

The strangest feeling came over her. She paused midturn and looked back at the mirror. She stared intently at the glass, looking herself over with that shirt on. She looked down at her body, seeing how the clothing fit and hung off of it.

There was something… pleasing. It was soothing; it provided a weird sense of comfort. The outfit felt good on her.