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Ding-ding! "Wasshoi, wasshoi!"
A hand shoots out from under the covers of a futon to quiet the cheerful festival music at 5:00 AM sharp. Shortly after, a mop of black hair breaches the sheets as Kitasan Black rejoins the waking world with a big yawn. She sits up with the sheets still clinging to her front until she shrugs her shoulders. Shifting motion dislodges the fabric from her body, falling around her waist to expose her freely swinging maestros. Each fair orb is well over the size of her head and radiates heat like a pair of blast furnaces, so sleeping shirtless is the only solution to preserve her bedding from acting as a mop for her sweat.
It takes Kitasan some effort to pull herself up from the futon and start her usual routine, if only because the air is a little chilly and a part of her desires to curl up in bed. Her sense of duty wins out, of course, and it isn't long before Kita is singing in the shower and cooking an omelet for herself. Somehow, she does these tasks simultaneously.
All dry and fed, Kitasan Black opens up her closet to pick out her outfit. Her heart still swells with pride seeing the lineup of vests that mark her as a true trainer at her beloved Tracen Academy. Well, the vests are not uniform or anything, but every trainer she met during her racing career wore one, so the association is rock solid in Kita's head. She pulls on her outfit, pins on her badge, does a giddy little dance in front of the mirror, and gathers her things to catch the train on time.
As always, the morning train is pretty crowded with plenty of people heading into work or school. Kitasan wraps her tail around to hold it close to her side while everyone packs in. Before her thoughts turn to the training regiment for the day, however, a familiar voice pipes up.
"Oh, good morning Trainer Kitasan!"
The uma's ears perk up. She recognizes the voice of a Tracen student that ran in a scrimmage with her trainee recently and looks around to return their greeting. Kita looks ahead, around, behind… but they are nowhere in sight!
"Uhh, Trainer?"
Their tone of voice worries Kitasan. Oh no! I need to find them quickly or they might think I hate them! Uuuuuu… but I can't see them anywhere! Her ears flop while she anxiously spins her head until the student clears their throat.
"Down here."
Kitasan looks down and is greeted by her mammoth mammaries, but peeking further over them, she spies the familiar purple uniform of Tracen Academy and the weary smile of the student she seeks. Kita's expression brightens up immediately.
"Oh! Good morning!"
Iron weights clang. Synthetic cables whir. Springs creak and clatter under load. The sounds of the gym are typical at these hours as umamusume hone their bodies to peak physical condition. Many are accompanied by trainers to monitor their progress, but one such pair stands out from the rest.
"Come on! You got this!"
The umamusume on the bench grits her teeth. Their muscles scream in agony under the burden they struggle to push higher. Kitasan Black smiles down at her charge while cheering them on to break past their limits.
"One more push! Keep it moving!"
Renewed strength wells up from within as Kitasan's pupil roars. They straighten their arms to a full vertical, triumphantly holding up the monumental weight. Kitasan grins wide with pride and assists the other girl by shouldering the immense mass… of her own tits. The exhausted uma immediately lets their arms flop down after completing the set of bench pressing Kitasan Black's rack.
"Great job! You really outdid yourself that time!" While her pupil recovers their breath, Kitasan fetches their water bottle for a well-earned drink. They tilt it back with jellied arms to gulp down enough for a satisfied "Bhhaaah!~" to punctuate the chug. A bright smile beams up at Kitasan from the girl on the bench.
"Thank you very much, Kita-sensei! I appreciate your guidance again today!" Kita nods her head at the similarly sable-haired uma with an oblong white blaze. She pumps her arm in front of her chest.
"It's only a matter of time until you accomplish your goals at this rate, so let's keep up the heat again tomorrow!" Their hands clasp tightly together as Kitasan helps her trainee to their feet. Despite bearing the entirely unreasonable weight of Kita's entirely unreasonable breasts only moments prior, the spunky uma recovers quickly. The pair are all smiles until a soft "Ahem." demands their attention. Trainer and trainee meekly look over at the cross expression of one Tazuna Hayakawa.
"Kitasan. Equinox. May I have a moment of your time?" The academy's secretary taps her finger over her folded arms. She is an expert at concealing her annoyance, so when Tazuna is not even bothering to hide it…
"Yes, ma'am." Two voices reply together with drooping ears and hanging heads in preparation for getting chewed out about using Kitasan Black's logic-defying weights for strength training.
…again…
…for the third time this month.
Kitasan sulks on her way back home. Her stipend has been penalized (again) for employing unorthodox training methods. She pouts. It's not my fault that it's such an effective and convenient way to build muscle! Kita grumbles internally - completely oblivious to the reality that her oversized chest curvature is at least partially her fault. The retired runner trudges down the sidewalk until a delectable aroma wafts into her field of smell. Pork, noodles, and broth swirl into a siren's scent that beckons to the wayward Kitasan. Her belly rumbles in reply. She follows the beguiling trail with drool leaking from the corner of her mouth to a humble little ramen restaurant. The building must be pretty old, but that just reinforces her determination that the food must be incredible. All Kitasan has to do is open up the creaky door and step-
Thump.
Her progress is halted by a critical issue before she even reaches the handle. The building's age works against Kita thanks to a rather narrow doorway constricted further by some wooden paneling. While she appreciates the lovely form, Kitasan softly curses the hostile function of the doorway too slim to allow her chest's width through. She tries ignoring the discomfort and squeezing in anyways, but hearing the wood groan from the attempt makes Kita pause before she causes any property damage.
Rather than give up and find somewhere else to eat, however, Kitasan Black sets her brain to work trying to figure out ways to get inside. She tries a sideways crab walk next, then backing into the door so her chest can be pulled through. Both attempts end in failures. Twisting her body like a screw to spin through? Fail. Folding her entire body over itself, touching her toes, and waddling in from the side? Critical fail. Kita even tries just walking in normally again to make sure it doesn't work. Surprisingly she did get further than her first attempt this time, but she is too upset at failing again to realize it is due to the wood slightly warping from the accumulated effects of her entry methods. She starts stretching in front of the restaurant for another attempt when a voice calls out to her from the left.
"Oi! You need help or somethin'?"
Kitasan turns to see a man peeking out from below the curtain of a street-side ramen bar. Her eyes trace his location to the door she's standing in front of.
It's the same building.
"Howaaah~ It smells so good!"
The bowl of ramen looks absolutely heavenly in the chef's hands. Kitasan's mouth waters; such a delicious display almost distracts her enough to forget how she made a fool of herself only a few minutes prior. However, she notices them having some trouble setting the dish down until she realizes:
Kita's chest is completely taking up the space in front of her seat!
She blushes hotter than the bowl in the chef's hands. Thankfully, the patron next to Kitasan agrees to scoot their bowl over slightly for enough room. Eating ramen while sitting cockeyed is a lot harder than she initially expected, though. Kitasan has to clear a Tenno Sho's worth of distance just to get her chopsticks from bowl to mouth. A whole lot of napkins are needed to prevent the drizzling broth from becoming a mess along the way, and sucking down the noodles is much less satisfying when Kita needs to maneuver around her unwieldy boobs. She really wishes for a way to have the bowl be closer, but considering her breasts are big enough to completely dominate the bar space in front of her, there's no way to fit it onto the shelf.
Suddenly, two neurons strike together. Kitasan gets an idea. A brilliant idea.
…
When the chef returns to deliver the next bowl of ramen to a hungry customer, they (and everyone else in the shop) are treated to a truly bizarre sight. Kitasan Black happily slurps up her noodles with fluttering ears and a joyous smile between her stuffed cheeks. That part is pretty normal, but the strangeness is that the bowl is now perched atop the valley of her absurd bosom. A thick blanket of napkins soaks up any spillage while also dampening the heat radiating from the ceramic.
This is genius! I should do this more often! Kita merrily takes in another bite, entirely unaware of the stares she's getting.
"Thank ya kindly for helpin' out, Kita!" A weathered old man bows his head politely after the uma finishes unloading the last of his cargo. Kitasan dusts her hands off before jabbing her thumb into her titanic chest, making it jiggle on impact.
"Aww, don't sweat it! I can't just leave somebody in need!" The two share a hearty laugh. She noticed the man in distress after polishing off her dinner and offered to help them fit a few large boxes onto their lightly rusted kei truck. After learning he intended to unload the crates himself, Kitasan insisted on accompanying him to help out further. Naturally, she had to run to keep up with the vehicle considering it was well over its weight capacity. Any attempt to ride shotgun would have probably broken it in half. The trip was a light workout for Kitasan Black, anyways.
She intended to run back home as well for a little extra exercise, but it was getting pretty dark by now. The man must have noticed Kita's worried expression gazing at the horizon since he spoke up a few moments later.
"Tell you what - I gotta head back to pick up some small parts, so we can ride back an' I'll drop ya off. It's the least I can do if yer not gonna take my money for the help."
Kitasan's instinct to take them up on their offer is held back by two very sizable issues. She tries to assure the man that she is fine jogging back on her own, but just like she badgered him to let her help earlier, the kind fellow wears down Kitasan's resistance and gets her to agree. They immediately run into the first problem when Kita opens the door to the truck. Her height is not an issue, but the extra distance added from her exceptional curvature gets snagged on the A pillar of the passenger side. She feels her stomach drop - was that dent always there?
"Hehe, reminds me of my wife!" jokes the old man, shutting down Kita's attempts to apologize in the process. "Lucky it's not too bumpy on the road, so you can hop in the back." He jerks his thumb towards the truck bed. Kitasan does manage to fit in a quick bow of thanks before her driver gets in the cab and she moves around the back. She grabs the edge of the vehicle, hoists herself up, and…
CRREEEEEAAAAK!
Metal groans in protest at the immense mass added to the back. Kitasan Black blushes a fierce scarlet as the lightweight kei truck struggles to bear her as a passenger more than the crates of machinery from earlier. The owner rolls down his window to whistle in a mix of shock and awe.
"Wowee! I didn't expect a reaction like that from this ol' bat!" Kitasan attempts to lean over to the driver's side to meet his eyes for another apology, but she quickly re-centers herself when the suspension squeaks and the entire truck starts to tilt. Her ears flop down in a reflection of her sorrow.
"I-I'm sorry!" Kita squirms in shame, making the truck wobble, which makes her squirm more.
"Nothin' to be ashamed of. Yer a healthy uma even after runnin'!" His belly laugh does ease her worries slightly. The man continues before Kitasan pipes up again. "An' don't count this ol' girl out jus' yet; she's full of piss n' vinegar! Come on, girly!" Cranking the key makes the engine sputter to life, and after some hyped-up hollering and revving the engine from her chauffeur, Kitasan dons a surprised expression when the kei truck actually starts to move. Her position in the truck bed gives her a front row seat to the gouges left by the back tires digging deeper into the dirt road than the way in. Knowing that her considerable chest is the cause keeps the fierce scarlet in place on her cheeks while the vehicle trundles along.
True to the man's word, the taxed truck endured with its oversized load for the entire journey without much incident. Sharp turns were tricky and the few bumps on the road made the frame sound like it was seconds away from disintegrating, but it did endure. Kitasan made sure she apologized profusely for the trouble even if the old man simply waved his hand at her and thanked Kita for her help.
"Phew! I am BEAT!" Kitasan Black stretches her arms up to the ceiling after such a long and eventful day. She intended on taking the elevator just to give her legs a little rest, but there were a fair number of other residents coming and going, so Kita kept tripping the weight limit when trying to board. As has become tradition for her evenings, she pulls her top over her head and reaches back to unclasp her bra. That tiny click precedes a wave of relief as her cooped-up Kitasans are unleashed upon the world.
"Aww. I'll have to wash this one by hand again." Kita frowns as she holds out her damp bra after peeling it away from her slick skin. Helping out the old man worked up enough of a sweat that her sleek, shiny rack still steams with heat. She sets the dirtied garment down before wandering over to a cheap standing fan and pressing a button for max speed. The motor spins up to life as Kitasan lifts up the double-trouble melons with both hands, shuddering with the cool comfort of air-drying her underboobs. It naturally takes a while for her to finish with so much surface area, but that simply prolongs the delightful sensations for Kitasan Black to enjoy.
After sufficiently dry, Kita goes about the rest of her nightly chores while chatting with some friends over speakerphone. She isn't sure why her camera is always enabled when she calls them, but if they do have any problems with Kitasan's champion's cups casually being on display, nobody ever tells her. The former runner finishes up the last of her chats before climbing into her futon for a good night's sleep.
…She still needs to get rid of the splintered remains of her old bed after recently crushing it with her destructive bust, but that can wait for tomorrow.