Victoria secret slippers

I have average breast separation (not too close or far apart) and don’t have any issues when braless but when I wear any kind of bra (regular, sports, bralette) I can’t stand that my boobs are constantly squished together. I feel like I’m always readjusting and pulling breasts up and towards my armpits just to feel some relief. Sometimes I even stuff a foam pool noodle that I’ve cut down to about 6 inches in between my breasts when I’m lounging at home in a sports bra to keep them separated. I’m not quite at the point of needing a breast reduction but this sweaty, squished cleavage is driving me bananas enough that I may consider it in the future.
I’ve gone from my usual 38C to 36D (with the help of this subs calculator) and I’m more comfortable but still not getting the separation I’m looking for. I think the styles that I wear (mostly lightly lined t-shirt bras with underwire from Aerie or Victoria’s Secret) don’t have a wide enough gore with enough structure.
Is there any bra or style that will keep breasts apart? Will something with a structured, wide gore help?

You have been a good woman your whole life, but you also have carried a secret with you that fills you with silent shame and embarrassment, because your fantasy doesn't match your personality at all. There is something secretly submissive in you that yearns to be satisfied. You long for a dominant, sexy, man to take control of you and discipline you. You want to feel helpless...dominated...NOT in control. You want to have your panties forcibly taken down and be spanked like a naughty school girl. You want to be pushed down over the sofa, feel your skirt lifted, your moistened underwear pulled aside. You want a big, hard cock to invade your slippery wetness, stretching you wider than you thought possible and making you feel oh so delicious!. You are a normal person, constrained by society's conventions and frustrated by your inability to realize your innermost fantasies. You want to be spanked with your panties down and you want to be fucked hard! -- you are already getting wet right now just thinking about it.
I am a well educated, intelligent & professional man who is physically fit and accustomed to dealing with naughty women like you. I will lecture you and instruct you to pull your skirt up around your waist as I kneel before you and pull your panties down to your thighs. The delicious smell of your aroused pussy will rise to meet me. You will feel the cool air on your bush and revel in the delicious anticipation. Then I will instruct you to stand against the wall with your legs spread and your hands above your head while I slowly pace about behind you and your clit tingles with excitement. You will feel my eyes on your pussy and this thought will excite you even more. Then I will call you sternly and bend you over a chair so that your pussy is in full view - wet, exposed, vulnerable. Oh, the shame of it. I will stroke your clit gently and when you try to stop me I will slap your cheeks hard.
Then I will commence the spanking proper. Perhaps I will use my hand. If you resist too much I will use a slipper or my leather belt. It will sting, but not be intolerable, and every now and again you would feel my fingers probe your fragrant slippery slit, making you gasp with pleasure and ache for penetration. Maybe I will tell you to reach between your legs and spread your lips apart with your fingers as I kneel behind you and slide my tongue between your sopping aromatic folds. I will continue spanking your now very red ass and you will be torn between tears and screams of delight. When your punishment is over, I will instruct you to kneel in front of me and take my big cock deep into your mouth, making you almost gag as I hold your hair and fuck your face while you moan approvingly and look up at me, your eyes wild with desire. When I am convinced that you want my cock badly enough I will turn you around on your hands & knees and I will wait as you kneel in that position until you BEG me to fuck you, and then I will grab you firmly by your hips and RAM my hard cock into your wet & swollen pussy hard and fast; banging you the way you were meant to be banged, until we both collapse in a sweaty heap of sexual bliss.
I know you are wet after reading this so lets do something about it..

(It's my first post here and on mobile so please go easy on me.)
When I was 3F or younger my bio dad had taken in his son from a previous relationship 11M eho we will call A and I already had another bio brother with my bio mom this brother will be B who was 6M and then there was me C (Yes our parents named us in alphabetical order)
My 1st memory is brother A sexually abusing me by trying to get me to preform oral on him. Brother B found us one day and told our parents. Bio mom was furious and called the cops. The police took him away that day and a huge court case came of it with my bio dad refusing to help my bio mom and just have us forget it and be a family again but when he lost the case and A was ordered to register as a sex offender on his 18th bday, bio dad signed away his parental rights so A and his mother could move out of state and not have to register.
But that wasn't the end of it soon B started sexually abusing me too and kept me quiet by saying that I'd get him taken away too and break our family even more. That it was my fault A was now gone. Being young and having not been told why A was suddenly gone I listened.
Growing up my bio mother became an alcoholic after the A incident and would verbally abuse me by stating it was going to be my fault she and bio dad got a divorce. That I was an awful and spiteful child who never listened. My bio dad would defend me from her and tell her I was trying my best to listen. But bio dad would also tell me how he may not be able to make rent because B ate so much but would be insulted if I picked out the "cheap" items at grocery stores. He'd tell me all his problems like I was his personal therapist, but when I tried to offer help he'd snap at me.
Fast forward to age 15F. I've been s abused almost every day by B on an almost daily basis sometimes multiple times a day. I finally have enough and threatened to tell. B responded by taking out a small hunting knife and threatened me and the lives of our parents even sneaking into their room as they slept to show me just how easy he could do it. I stayed quiet but he got board of abusing me after that and moved on.
Age 19F. Bio mom has been diagnosed with a server case of "graves disease" and is now wheel chair bound, bio dad keeps making me uncomfortable by making statments saying that he was "disappointed in my lack of a sex drive" and that i "cant let 1 bad experience tuin men for me." He even took me to Victoria's Secret to get 3 paired of bra and panties for my senior year of high school. Dispte me explaining that i had no boyfriend or girlfriend.
One day our house is raided by the police and B is taken away for having child prn on his computer once he's gone I have a moment alone with biomom and gently tell her how B "used to forcefully take off my robe after showers" she demanded I not tell my father and I was crushed. She said it would drive him to kll himself.
22F my parents received a letter from my brother saying he's in a relationship with another male inmate and he's a bottom. (don't ask me why he sent that) bio mom is crushed and says she may have to down him and I lose it. "What he did to me was ok but this is too far?!" My bio mom asks me what I'm talking about "that thing you told me never to tell dad." Now both bio parents are asking me to explain. Allegedly between her sickness and meds she had forgotten that conversation and I broke down. I told them everything.
When I was done my bio parents are originally on my side, but the next day they change their tune. My bio dad wanted me to forgive my brother as "family is all we have" and my bio mother said "it's your own fault for being quiet for so long."
I felt so cold and confided in my best friend who I've know since 15. He was the reason I was brave enough to stand up to B in the 1st place and was my shoulder to cry on. His family were having none of it and helped me steal my birth certificate and ss card as my parents said I didn't need them as I "didn't have a husband yet". and helped me move all my things into an apartment my best friend was renting. I told him of my depression and wanting help I started seeing a doctor. I took Antidepressants and I gained weight but I didn't care I was happy and keeping minimal contact with my bio parents. One phone call changed that though my bio mom told me to stop taking "thoes pills" and that there was no cure for what I had as I "was born that way, and had been a sad kid". And that i should spend more time with bio parents as "its not our fault what you two did to each other sexually." I hung up and had a break down I kept hearing my bio mom's voice screaming my name and hearing it spoken aloud made me flinch.
I decided then and there to legally change my whole name and at 22 asked my best friends mother if I could adopt their last name as I felt THEY were my real family. She said yes as did his dad and me and bf now brother went to the court house. I wrote a letter to the judge claiming domestic abuse and that publishing my name change could pit me in danger of B. He agreed and so my bio parents can't look up my name change in the local news.
I'm 25F now and haven't talked to them since that court date. I get updates from grandma who agrees with my decision and keeps it a secret from bio mom.
Part of me feels guilt over leaving my family to break apart and see them in my dreams of the scattered happy memories I had and wish we could of had.
So for my own sanity, reddit, AITA?

Not every town is on the map.
"Daddy, I gotta pee."
Dale Thornton looked over his shoulder at his six-year-old son belted into the back seat of their Jeep Cherokee. As the boy squirmed around, Dale looked at his wife in the passenger seat beside him. "Didn't he just go?"
Carol glanced at her watch. "That was over an hour ago." She twisted to look into the back seat. "Can you hold it?"
In the rearview mirror, Dale saw Jesse shake his head. His wife checked her watch again. He could almost see the wheels turning inside her head. She was the family mediator, and she had just come up with something that made perfect sense. One of the reasons he loved her so much was her ability to change gears. In himself, Dale recognized his single-mindedness as a drawback. He admired her flexibility. In more ways than one, he thought. She was a good wife and a good mother.
"It's almost five," Carol said. "Let's stop at the next town. We can all use the restroom and get something to eat."
Dale tugged the spiral-bound road atlas down from where he had wedged it between the visor and the roof. They had left Tulsa that morning, headed for Mardi Gras, and he hoped to be in New Orleans by 10 p.m. Looking at the LOUISIANA page, his eyes traced the route he had highlighted in yellow. They had detoured down old U.S. 167. Rural America was disappearing and Dale wanted his son to see something of it before it was completely gone.
They were somewhere south of Ruston. He couldn't remember if they had passed Jonesboro or not, so the next town was either that or--if they'd already passed it--Winnfield. The gas gauge was on a quarter of a tank. They needed to stop anyway. "All right, honey," he said. "We'll take a break."
Carol laid a hand on his leg. "I'm glad we came this way. You can't see anything from the Interstate."
Ten miles later they sprang upon a small town. There was an old-fashioned, carved wooden sign posted beside the highway. Dale read out loud, "Welcome to Batesville. Population 875."
"What's that mean," Jesse asked.
Dale glanced at his son in the rearview mirror. "That's how many people live here."
"When somebody dies, do they change the number on the sign?"
Carol smiled over her shoulder at Jesse. "I bet they change it when a baby is born."
Just like her. She didn't like to talk about death or dying. Instead, she liked to focus on the good things in life, babies, birthdays, and family vacations. She had always been like that but more so since her grandfather passed away last year. She had been very close to him, closer than she had ever been to her father.
Dale sneaked a glance at her. She was his angel but an angel with dark secrets. She had shared some of those secrets with him but not all of them, probably because she knew the abuse in her life disturbed him so much. "That sign probably hasn't been changed in twenty years," he said.
"Why put it up if it's not right?" Jesse asked.
Good question. "I don't know, son."
As they got into the little town, Dale was impressed. The side streets that cut off of the highway were lined with neat wooden houses, most of them with white picket fences. A lot of the little towns they had passed through looked run down and dirty, but not this one. Batesville was clean and pretty.
When they came to the town's only traffic light, Dale saw a business on each corner: a hotel, a gas station, a restaurant, and the Batesville General Store. Before the light turned green, Dale pulled the Jeep beside the pumps at the gas station. A middle-aged man wearing oil stained coveralls stepped out from the office. "What can I do you for?" he asked. His tone was friendly, something you didn't hear at many gas stations these days.
Dale stepped out of the driver's seat and stretched. "I need a fill-up and some food." Then he jerked his thumb toward the back seat. "And my son needs to use the head."
The man wiped his hands on a rag he pulled out of his pocket. Then he shook Dale's hand. "Dudley Simpson. I can help you with the gas and the bathroom for your boy, but as for food, afraid all I got is potato chips and sodas." He pointed to the restaurant across the street. "Right over there is the best food in town." He laughed. "Only restaurant we got, but I wouldn't kid you. It's really good. Restroom's not too bad either."
Jesse said he could hold it until they got to the restaurant, so Dale sent him and Carol across the street to get a table. When he reached for the gas pump, Dudley Simpson stopped him. "I don't charge extra for full service. Every car comes through here I pump the gas, look under the hood, and check the tires."
"Don't see that too much anymore," Dale said.
"Guess I'm kind of old-fashioned."
After Dudley finished, Dale added a couple of bucks to the bill. He felt a little awkward, unsure if he could tip the owner of a gas station without insulting him. But Dudley took no offense, just said thank you and asked him to stop in again on their way home.
When Dale turned the key, nothing happened. He turned it again and still nothing happened. Just a click. No dash lights, the motor didn't turn over, nothing. Dudley told him to pop the hood again. After Dale turned the key a couple more times with Simpson's head buried under the hood, Dudley said he'd found the problem. "Alternator's shot. You must've been running on battery for a good while."
"Can you fix it?"
The gas station owner looked at his watch. "Not today. Parts store is closed 'till tomorrow."
Great, just great, Dale thought.
"I could arrange a tow to somewhere else, next town down the highway has a Goodyear Service Center," Dudley said, "but even they won't get to it until tomorrow."
Dale nodded, his mind stuck on having to spend the night in Batesville instead of New Orleans.
"I'll get to it first thing," Dudley said. "Have you out of here by ten o'clock." He pointed at the hotel. "Mrs. Jensen has a nice place. A-C, cable TV, and no bugs."
Great. No bugs.
Dudley told Dale that he could leave the Jeep right where it was. No need to worry about it, he said. They had a town marshal but nothing ever happened in Batesville. So quiet the state police never even came by.
"Sorry I'm blocking your pumps," Dale said.
Dudley shrugged. "Other side's open." Then he looked at his watch. "Besides, it's five-thirty. I close in half an hour."
As he crossed the street, Dale remembered his gun. A Smith and Wesson .357 revolver that he always brought with him on road trips. You never knew what could happen. They might break down on the highway and get attacked by a drug-crazed motorcycle gang. The gun was in the cargo compartment, wrapped inside a cloth and tucked between the spare tire and the side wall. It would be safe enough.
At the restaurant he told Carol the news and in typical Carol fashion she looked on the bright side. "It'll be fun being stranded in a small town," she said. "Who knows what'll happen?"
"Do they have TV?" Jesse asked.
A cute young waitress served them. The plastic tag pinned to her blouse said her name was April. When she brought out their food she set Jesse's down first.
"That's the cutest little mark on your face," she said. "Almost looks like lipstick."
Unabashedly, Jesse pointed to the red oval shaped birthmark set high on his right cheek. "It means I'm special."
She smiled. "It looks like a kiss."
"Really?" Jesse asked.
Dale saw a look of contentment on Carol's face. Jesse's birthmark was something she'd never wanted their son to be shy or embarrassed about.
The waitress set out the rest of the plates. "I heard a mark like that means that right before you were born an angel kissed you."
Jesse turned to his mom. "Is that true?"
Carol smiled at her son and nodded. "I think she may be right."
April bent down and kissed Jesse on the top of his head. "I'm not an angel, but there's a kiss from me."
Dudley Simpson had been right; the food was excellent. After they ate, Dale got up to use the bathroom. "You need to go again, Jess?"
The boy shook his head. "No thanks."
Dale handed Carol a credit card. "Let's save our cash."
She nodded. "All right, baby."
"Back in a sec," he said as he turned away.
***
When he came out of the men's room, Carol and Jesse weren't at the table. The waitress had been quick. Most of the dirty plates were gone; the only ones left were his. Dale looked for his family near the front door, then up by the cash register, but they weren't there.
Maybe Jesse had changed his mind and Carol had brought him into the bathroom with her. So Dale waited, but after several minutes passed and they didn't come out, he decided to check outside. They might have gotten cold or Jesse could've gotten restless and they were waiting out front for him. But they weren't out front, either.
Across the street the lights were out at the gas station--Dudley was closed for the night. The Jeep Cherokee sat at the pumps. Anxiously, Dale looked at the hotel. Maybe...but they wouldn't do that, wouldn't have gone without him. That wasn't like Carol. Smart and independent, but she liked her husband doing the man things, and in her mind, checking into a hotel was a man thing.
Back inside he knocked on the door of the women's restroom. No one answered, so he cracked it open. "Carol?" No answer. "Carol, Jess, you there?"
"Can I help you, sir?" It was their waitress.
Embarrassed, Dale forced a laugh. "I seem to have lost my wife and son." He nodded toward the men's room. "While I was in there."
"Your wife and son?" She looked confused.
"When I came back they were gone."
She had a blank look on her face.
Annoyed, he said, "I ate with them."
The waitress furrowed her brow. "Sir, I didn't see you with anyone else."
Dale stared at her. For a second he thought that maybe he was wrong, maybe this wasn't his waitress. He checked her name tag, saw it said April. "You waited on us." Dale pointed to his right cheek. "My son has that little birthmark. You said an angel kissed him."
She shrugged. "I think I'd remember that."
He pointed to himself. "You remember me?" Then at their table. "We were sitting right there."
She nodded. "Yes, sir. I remember you, but you ate by yourself." She turned to the table where Dale's dishes still sat. "I was just bringing you your bill."
He raised his voice. "Is this some kind of a joke?" People began looking at him.
April took a step back and raised her hands. "You need to talk to Mr. Simms."
"Who's Mr. Simms?"
"The owner."
"Well that's who I want to see."
Mr. Simms was already scurrying over. "What's the problem?"
Dale turned to him. "I can't find my family." He pointed at the girl. "She was our waitress and she's telling me she doesn't even remember them."
Mr. Simms looked at April.
She shrugged again. "I'm sorry but he was alone. I've never seen his family."
Simms looked like he didn't understand. April tried to explain it again, but Dale cut her off and pointed to the table. "My family and I ate right there. I went to the restroom, came out, and they were gone."
Mr. Simms clapped a hand on Dale's shoulder. "Maybe they're outside waiting for you."
"I've checked outside," he barked. "They're not there."
Simms glanced at the waitress. "Why don't you get back to work. I'll handle this."
Dale grabbed her by the arm. "She knows where they are."
Everyone in the restaurant stared at him.
Mr. Simms jerked Dale's hand away from the girl. "Sir, she said she doesn't know where your family is."
April pleaded with her boss. "He didn't have his family with him."
"She's lying!" Dale said, as he inched closer to April.
Simms stepped between them. Looking at Dale, he said, "Have you checked your car?"
He nodded. "It's broken down at the gas station across the street. We've got to spend the night at the hotel."
Mr. Simms smiled. "That's probably it."
"What?"
"I bet they're at the hotel."
"He was by himself," April said.
The restaurant owner snapped his head towards her and pointed to the dinning area. "Go."
She looked at her boss for a second, a half-formed protest on her lips; then suddenly she spun on her heel and stomped away.
Simms looked back at Dale. "Have you checked the hotel?"
"They wouldn't do that."
"Have you checked?" Insistent.
Dale could feel himself losing control as the sweat dripped from his armpits. He took several deep breaths, trying to force himself to calm down. "No, I haven't."
"Maybe your kids got tired."
The deep breathing had made him light-headed. "Just the one boy." As Dale turned toward the door, Simms patted him on the back. "I'm sure everything's going to be fine."
But things weren't fine. At the hotel, he woke up Mrs. Jensen. Turns out she and Mr. Jensen had an apartment behind the office. Dale had banged on the glass door of the office for five minutes before a light came on.
Mrs. Jensen had come out first. A white haired old lady, covered in a paper-thin pink housecoat, imprinted with blue flowers the size of a quarter. A minute later, Mr. Jensen, looking about seventy, dressed in a full set of dark green, silk pajamas and a pair of matching slippers, stumbled into the office, smelling like he'd taken a bath in Jack Daniel's.
Dale's heart sank. He went through the story anyway, but as he expected, the Jensens said that no one had checked in or even come by since mid-morning.
Walking back to the restaurant, he looked at his Jeep. Still empty and no one near it.
A marked police car was parked near the restaurant's front door. As he got closer, Dale read the decal on the side, BATESVILLE TOWN MARSHAL. Maybe now he could get some help.
Just inside, near the cash register, Dale found April the waitress, Mr. Simms, and a heavyset man in jeans and a T-shirt, talking. As he walked up, all three stopped and stared at him. He felt like a freak in a boardwalk exhibit.
"Did you find them?" Simms asked.
Dale shook his head. "The people at the hotel haven't seen them."
The big man in jeans took a step toward him. "Mr...?
"Thornton. Dale Thornton."
The man stuck out his hand. "Jerry Stillwell. I'm town marshal."
"Saw your car outside." Dale shook the marshal's hand. "My wife and son are miss--"
"I understand there was a problem here earlier."
"Yeah there's a problem. My family disappeared."
The marshal and Simms traded glances; then he looked back at Dale. "So I heard. What do you think happened to them?"
Something didn't feel right. "If I knew that, they wouldn't be missing."
Marshal Stillwell stuck his belly out. "No reason to get smart. You all ready scared some customers. Don't make--"
"Scared some customers. Is that why you're here, because I scared some customers? My wife and son are MISSING!" Everyone in the restaurant had stopped eating and was watching the soap opera at the door. With a sharp edge to his voice, Dale said, "What are you going to do about it?"
The marshal jabbed a finger at him. "You better calm yourself down or I'll do it for you. Now I need to ask you some questions," his eyes swept the customers, "and I don't think this is the place to do it."
"I'm not going anywhere." Dale pointed to the completely cleaned off table where they'd eaten. "Half an hour ago my family and I ate right there. Now they're gone. Someone in here knows what happened to them."
The marshal dropped a big hand on Dale's shoulder and tried to guide him out the door. "We're going to find your family, but not here, not like--"
Dale pulled away. He pointed to Simms and the waitress. "They coming with us?"
"I don't see the need for--"
Dale reached out for April. "She's lying!"
With surprising speed, the town marshal slipped behind him and clamped a meaty forearm around his throat, sealing off his windpipe. Dale grabbed at the hairy arm and tried to twist it away as the marshal whispered in his ear, "Take it easy, son." Then something jabbed him in the kidney that sent waves of pain shooting up his back.
Seconds later, Dale was on the floor, his cheek pressed against the cool tiles, as the marshal handcuffed his wrists behind his back.
***
"She said it was the kiss of an angel, huh?" Marshal Stillwell asked. Things had calmed down some. Dale and the town marshal were alone in his office. Dale was still handcuffed, but the marshal had moved them to the front. He sat in a chair in front of the lawman's desk, watching him fill out forms with a ballpoint pen. Stillwell touched his finger to his right cheek. "That mark you're talking about is right here?"
Dale nodded.
"That's strange."
The handcuffs were uncomfortable. Dale twisted his wrists, trying to get some circulation back. "What's unusual about it?"
"We had a preacher in town few years back with the same kind of mark on his face." Stillwell traced a small circle on his cheek. "Heard him say once during a sermon it was from an angel's kiss."
Dale stared at the marshal, his flesh suddenly crawling with goosebumps.
"But he was a strange one. Lots of rumors. Guess it goes with the territory."
"What territory?"
"Young, good-looking preacher. Single. Moves into town, starts preaching all hours of the night." He gave Dale a knowing wink, like they were sharing a secret. "Giving special counseling sessions to half the women in town."
Grasping at straws, looking for anything. Dale said, "Is he still here?"
Marshal Stillwell shook his head. "Church burned down."
"What about the preacher?"
"We never found his body."
"He was the only one in the church?"
Stillwell looked down at the form on his desk and pressed his pen to it. "He had six or eight ladies in there with him. Supposed to be some sort of social club. Fire was so hot, we couldn't tell one body from the next. That was when the rumors really started."
Dale flexed his fingers. His hands hurt. "What kind of rumors?"
The marshal laughed. "Just gossip. People 'round here are simple minded, superstitious, that's all."
"What kind of gossip?"
Stillwell looked up. "Not everybody you understand, but some people have been talking about how the preacher isn't really dead, about how he's gonna come back some day."
Dale needed to get out, to find Carol and Jesse. There was something terribly wrong here. "Am I under arrest?"
Stillwell nodded.
In the corner stood a single holding cell, the door gaping open, waiting. "What's the charge?"
The marshal jerked a thumb in the general direction of the restaurant. "Disturbing the peace."
"What about my family?"
The man tapped the pile of forms in front of him. "I'll forward these missing persons reports to the state police in the morning; then I'll call the judge and try to get a bond set for you."
Dale sprung to his feet. "I've got to find my family tonight!"
Marshal Stillwell eased out of his chair and stood up. "Just calm down. Soon as I get this information to them, the state troopers will be on the lookout." He jerked his thumb toward the south. "Their office is just five miles down the road."
Dale nodded at the phone on the desk. "Call them now."
The marshal shook his head. "Can't do that."
"Why not."
"I got procedures to follow."
Dale Thornton squatted and shoved the desk into Stillwell. The marshal's chair rolled back on its casters but snagged on something and tipped over, spilling Marshal Stillwell onto the floor. Dale scrambled over the desk, knocking papers, pens, and a near full cup of coffee on top of the lawman, then dropped a knee into the man's big belly. The marshal curled into a ball and moaned.
Stillwell didn't have a gun on him, at least not one Dale could find. The way he was dressed it looked like he had been called out from home. Maybe he forgot his gun, or maybe he just didn't carry one. Dale grabbed a handful of shirt and dragged the marshal into the open holding cell, then kicked the door shut. It locked automatically.
By the time Stillwell staggered to his feet Dale was searching his desk. The marshal tried to rip the steel bars apart with his bare hands. "Let me out of here, you crazy bastard!"
Dale ignored him. In the bottom right hand drawer he found a gun, a .38 caliber, five-shot Smith and Wesson. Stillwell started shouting for help. Dale leveled the gun at him. "Shut up."
Stillwell quit yelling.
Dale kept searching.
A few seconds later, the marshal said, "You'll never get away with this."
Holding his wrists up, Dale rattled the handcuffs. "Keys?"
The cop pointed to the desk. "Bottom left."
After he got the handcuffs off, Dale finished going through the desk, then did a quick search of a filing cabinet that was set against the wall. There he found keys to the holding cell and a roll of duct tape.
As Dale approached the cell, Marshal Stillwell backed against the far wall. "What are you gonna do?"
Aiming the revolver at Stillwell's belly, Dale ordered him to lie on the floor. A few minutes later he relocked the cell door, leaving the marshal with his hands cuffed behind his back and a strip of silver duct tape wrapped around his head that sealed his mouth shut. On his way out of the marshal's office, Dale tossed the revolver back into the desk drawer and kicked it shut. That was trouble he didn't need.
The state police. "Their office is just five miles down the road," the marshal had said.
Darkness had settled over the Batesville. How long had he been in the marshal's office? Everything in town was closed and locked up tight. There wasn't a light to be seen, and not a soul on the street. He didn't see any payphones.
He had to get out of town. Which way had the marshal pointed when he mentioned the state police? Thinking about it, Dale decided it had to be south. They'd driven in from the north and he was sure they hadn't passed a state police troop.
The night had turned cold. If he was going to walk for five miles he needed a jacket.
It took just a few minutes to make it to the gas station. His Jeep was right where he'd left it, but when he reached into his pocket for the keys they weren't there. An image flashed through his mind. A close up shot just like in a movie. His hand reaching toward Dudley Simpson's, and in his hand, his keys.
Damn!
He looked into the rear window, saw their luggage lying in the back. Dale thought about breaking the window and getting a jacket, maybe his gun, too. Not the gun. He was in enough trouble all ready for what he'd done to the town marshal. Assault, kidnapping--maybe not kidnapping, he hadn't taken him anywhere, just locked him in his own cell--but something like kidnapping. Desperation had driven him to it. That's the only reason he had done it. Because he had to find Carol and Jesse.
He could make it without a jacket.
Old Highway 167 south. Dale Thornton started walking. Ten minutes later he saw headlights behind him, coming from town. He crouched in the bushes beside the highway, but the beat-up pickup glided to a stop next to him. An old man sat behind the wheel, alone in the truck. "You need a ride?"
Feeling like a complete fool, Dale stood. "Yeah, I guess."
"Where you headed?"
"You know where the state police office is?"
The old man nodded, then jerked his head toward the passenger side. "Hop in."
As he climbed into the pickup truck, Dale shot a glance at the old man. Probably at least seventy, with long ghost white hair and a bushy mustache, wearing a stained undershirt and a pair of denim overalls. Dale scanned the dashboard for a clock but didn't see one. "What time is it?"
The old man shrugged. "Haven't worn a watch in thirty years. Do things as quick as I can. A timepiece strapped to my wrist ain't gonna make me move any faster."
The drive was torture. Never did the old man go over thirty-five miles an hour. Only good thing was that he didn't ask any questions. Just dropped Dale off in the parking lot of the state police troop. As he walked through the door into the police station, Dale glanced over his shoulder and saw the old man's pickup rumbling down the highway.
Inside, sitting behind a chest high counter, was a uniformed trooper, sergeant stripes on his sleeves. Mid-40's, with an iron gray crew cut. "Can I help you, sir?" the sergeant said.
Dale spat out the story as fast as he could, leaving out the part about how he'd handcuffed the town marshal and left him gagged in his own jail cell.
The sergeant's face had remained inscrutable while Dale talked. "What was the name of that town again, sir?"
"Batesville."
The sergeant wheeled his chair over to a map hanging on the wall. "And where'd you say it was?"
The state cop demonstrated the same bureaucrat mentality as the town marshal. Any minute now he'd break out a sheaf of forms and start filling them out. Dale pointed north. "Five miles that way."
"What'd you say your name was again?" The sergeant glided the chair back over to his work area and pulled a pen from his shirt pocket.
"Thornton. Dale Thornton."
As soon as the sergeant finished jotting Dale's name on a pad, he looked up. "There's no town named Batesville."
"I was just there!"
The sergeant stood up. "Take it easy, sir. I'm sure you just got the name mixed up."
Just like in the restaurant.
"...get to the bottom of it." The desk sergeant was still talking, but Dale hadn't heard everything. He felt dizzy. Was everyone around here crazy? "We ate dinner there," he mumbled. "I left my car at the gas station. Dudley Simpson's gas station."
The sergeant nodded as he walked around the counter. A big man, at least six feet, with the beefy build of a weightlifter. "I know Simpson's place. Old 167 and Highway 90. But there's no town there, just the gas station."
"The gas station's smack in the middle of the town. There's a restaurant, a general store, and a hotel, too."
The sergeant closed on him, his body bladed, his gun side away from Dale. "I need you to put your hands on the counter, sir."
"What?"
With his right hand resting on his holstered pistol, the state trooper took hold of Dale's wrist with his left hand and pushed it to the top of the counter. Dale's other hand followed. The sergeant said, "Pull you feet back."
"What are you doing?"
"You have any weapons on you?"
"No! Of course not." Glad he'd left the marshal's gun, glad he hadn't gotten his own out of the Jeep.
"I'm just gonna pat you down."
"Why?" Dale said. "I haven't done anything. My family's missing?"
The sergeant slid his hands over Dale's waist and the outside of his pockets. "It's for safety, sir."
"Whose?"
"Yours and mine," the trooper sergeant said as he stepped backward a few feet.
"Something's happened to my wife and son. I came here for help."
"What happened to them?"
"I don't know," Dale said. "That's why I need your help."
"Mr. Thornton, I've worked this area for nineteen years. There is no town called Batesville."
"I don't care what you call it, but there's a town five miles away and we need to go there right now."
"Closest town is twelve miles from here and it's south."
The gas station. At least the sergeant knew about the gas station. Dale looked over his shoulder at the big cop. "Can I stand up?" After getting a nod, Dale pushed away from the counter and stood straight. Arguing wasn't getting him anywhere. "Look sergeant, maybe I seem a bit confused, but I know my wife and 6-year-old son are missing. Our car broke down at Simpson's gas station. Can you drive me there and help me look for them?"
The sergeant took his hand off his pistol and relaxed a little. "How'd you get here?"
"An old man in a pickup gave me a ride."
"You get his name?"
Dale's mouth opened but nothing came out as he realized he couldn't remember a thing about the old man or his truck. No details at all.
"What's the matter?"
Dale shook his head. "He...he just gave me a ride. I didn't get his name."
The trooper sergeant held up his hand. "Stay right here. Soon as I get someone to cover the desk, I'll give you a ride back to Simpson's."
Ten minutes later Dale climbed into the passenger seat of the state police car. The sergeant looked over at him. "Put your seatbelt on." Dale strapped himself in but noticed the sergeant didn't.
On the highway the trooper asked him to go over the story again. As Dale repeated what had happened, the sergeant asked several questions about Simpson's: what time of day, what was wrong with the car, who had the keys; but he asked nothing about what happened in the restaurant. The restaurant that wasn't there, according to the sergeant.
A few minutes later the police cruiser's headlights lit up the darkened gas station and Dale's Jeep parked at the pumps.
There was nothing else--absolutely nothing else.
The sergeant slowed down as he turned into the parking lot. "That your Cherokee?"
Stunned, Dale couldn't answer. Staring out the window, struck dumb by what he saw, or didn't see. No restaurant, no hotel, no Batesville General Store--no town. Just empty farmland and a few trees surrounding the gas station.
The trooper pulled his car up behind the Jeep, leaving a car-length gap between the two of them. "Stay here," he said as he pulled a flashlight from a charger mounted to the dash.
Dale leaned his head against the window and watched the sergeant creep up to the driver's door of his Jeep Cherokee, flashlight held out in front of him, his other hand on the butt of his pistol. The state cop opened the door--the locked door--and poked his head inside the passenger compartment of Dale's Jeep. The trooper backed out and held up his hand, Dale's keys dangling from his fingers. "Keys were inside," he shouted.
With legs quivering, Dale stepped out of the police car. He couldn't understand this. The Jeep had been locked, Dudley Simpson had the keys. He stumbled toward the trooper.
The sergeant shined his flashlight into the back, into the cargo compartment. Suddenly, his face turned to stone. He dropped the keys, drew his gun, aimed both it and his flashlight at Dale. "Don't move!"
Dale stopped dead. What the hell was...
"Get on the ground!"
Not comprehending, Dale just stood there.
The trooper screamed at him, "Get on the fucking ground--now."
Dale Thornton dropped face down onto the pavement. From the corner of his eye, he saw the sergeant side-stepping around him until he was behind Dale and to his left.
The trooper said, "Turn your head to the right."
Dale did as he was told. Then the sergeant closed in and cuffed his hands behind his back. Just the second time in his life Dale had been handcuffed, both on the same night.
After backing up a few steps, the sergeant keyed the radio clipped to his belt and called the state police troop. When the dispatcher answered, the sergeant said, "I need back up units," Dale heard him take a deep breath, "and notify the corner."
The tinny voice from the radio said, "What you got, sergeant?"
"Homicide," the trooper answered. "Suspect is in custody."
Homicide?
The sergeant hooked Dale's elbows and jerked him to his feet, then picked up the keys and opened the tailgate of the Jeep.
Lying in the back, in the cargo space, arms and legs twisted into a torturous configuration, was the naked body of his wife, Carol. At the back of her head, her golden hair was tangled and caked with dried blood. Her face chalk white, her forehead blown out where the bullet had exited. On the carpet next to her was a .357 revolver--Dale's .357 revolver.
She was alone.
"Jesse!" Dale screamed at the dark and empty fields.
***
In 1885 the town of Batesville, Louisiana burned to the ground. Scores of people were killed in the predawn fire that swept through the town. Among those reported killed in the blaze was the town's only minister, but many bodies were so badly burned that positive identification was impossible.
The fire started in the Batesville church and was allegedly set by a preacher from a nearby town. The preacher, a God-fearing and righteous man, was said to have been outraged at the evil deeds going on in Batesville, which he had called a modern-day Sodom.
The town of Batesville was never rebuilt.
THE END

So yes, I don't really know if this can be called a theory, it's more like just my thoughts bunched together, however, it is still the closest concept. I hope you'll enjoy my thoughts.
The game raises a lot of life topics presenting them to us in a distorted way, and sometimes it is not easy to decipher them. But I managed to use some information to interpret the game content. Before reading you must know that everything contained in this text is just a theory, personal guesses and does not claim to be canon. The whole theory is based on the concept "if something exists in the game universe, it also exists in reality." By reality I mean our human mundane reality. Thus all the characters that exist in the phantasmagoric game world are just projections of people and creatures created by Hugos flexible baby mind. The fact is that children aged 3 years just begin to develop long-term memory. In your 4-5 (approximate Hugo's age) you are more likely to remember people you know, other children and adults, rather than cartoons you watched. In fact, sleep is a way for our brain to cope with the impressions of the day. Children do not have a very stable psyche and that is why they often have dreams with various content. Perhaps the part with PIB comic book that Hugo remembered so well probably means that his father gave it to him. Thus, brain generates dreams due to mixed and exaggerated emotions, interaction with different people, phrases the boy heard and so on. For example, the image of background characters such as Elsen could arise due to the familiar sentence "to burn out at work", that means emotional burnout, but Hugo at his his age could take it literally and make poor workers burn alive. That's why their monster form is called "Burnt". The phrase "the stab of happiness" refers to the disclosure of drug addiction topic, which explains what the secret fifth element is - "sugar". It would be easier for a child to perceive white packaged narcotic substance as identical-looking sugar. Let's talk about the boy's family and friends. The main character, Puppet aka the Batter is his father, as many objects and other game characters hint at this point. He is a baseball player or maybe he was into baseball in the past, so he wanted Hugo to follow in his footsteps. For this reason Hugo could remember him as a baseball player. Another proof of why Hugo's son is the moment with the music box. According to the note, one day his father brings him this item, which also contains in our inventory during the game, and we are able to leave it on the bed in Hugo's room. The thing will play a pleasant melody and player will receive an Aura of Ideal. Probably Batter was a bad father, at least we are hinted at it in the game. dad was not too interested in his child and family life, he even could've been an abuser. The Queen, aka Vader Eloha is definitely Hugo's mother, we were directly told about it. The child believes she's nice, but she's often not around. In a relationship with the Batter, it seems that wife trys to be patient, even when he is in a bad mood. The child remembers some of her phrases, for example "Do you want coffee, my love?", "He has your eyes." Perhaps Hugo was quite far from his parents, since their appearance features in the game are quite blurred. "The room" may be an allegory for the hospital where Hugo gets his treatment. At some point we pass through a room resembling a hospital ward with his stuff. Later he appears in a same (but changed) room. It got me thinking about the Elsen we meet in the "room", asking us questions quite similar to those we hear at the hospitals: "how do you feel today?" and so on. In addition to this it can also be assumed that "the room" is a family house and a child's nursery but this is not reinforced with facts. Theres a calendar on the walls with alternating dates that mean something since the child memorized them. The Queen said she baked a big cake for him and maybe one of these dates is Hugo's birthday. He remembers holidays coming soon and how parents are quarreling over a party for him, a certain part of the dialogue between the Batter and the Queen bares resemblance to it. Thus, plenty of things hints at strained relations in the family. About Zacharie. His name can be an abbreviation of the name "Zacharias" in order to make it easier for the child to remember and pronounce. Zacharie can be a family friend. Hugo's parents leave Zach with Hugo as a babysitter, since they are too busy to spend time with him. Though his role as a merchant can extend to reality since it was quite common to run a small business in those years. By those years, I mean the 50-70s in which real events take place. Since the song at the end of the game was written in 40s and the heyday of the popularity of comics happened in 60-80s. Sometimes his speech is replaced with Spanish. Hugo could listen to his conversations with other people and memorize ьsome simple phrases such as "amigo" "buenos días" and so on. His mask may just be a metaphor for "hiding behind a mask", hiding his true emotions in other words. For example when the guardian of the Zone 0 dies, he says "maybe it will be better this way" and just changes the subject. Although we might guess that these two were quite close to each other. But Zacharie's words can be taken out of context because I don't think Sugar could have died in reality. But who knows. Although the game does not contain information about who they are to each other but I am more inclined to believe that they are relatives, presumably brother and sister. But this is just my opinion. About Sugar aka Sucre. This girl suffered from drug addiction, because of her name and the first time we meet her in a sugar cellar. In any case, in the game she is shown to be quite cheerful and less serious than Zacharie. She can also be friends with the family and keep an eye on Hugo as the merchant does. Pablo, Valerie and Jaffet. They can be Zacharie and Sugar's cats, and Japhet is Hugo's bird. Children like to talk to their pets and fantasize about various features, character and so on for them. When we fight Valerie/Jaffet, their reincarnation looks like a huge bird tearing a cat apart. But in the end they both die. In fact, it could look like a cat ate Hugo's bird, which caused the death of both animals: Japhet died because he was eaten and Vallery could simply suffocate with a bird's body or get an inversion of the intestines later. I've read a bit about child psychology and children often exaggerate situations that have had a big impact on them, like the one i just explained. I assume that Dedan/Tall Mister is their neighbor, namely an ordinary farmer because he has paddocks and barns for cows. He doesn't seem to be in very good relations with Hugo's parents (at least with his father), unlike with Hugo himself. And against the background of this I assume characters live somewhere in the province. Enoch/ Big Mister, can be the boss at father's work and that family friend who comes to stay from time to time, brings sweets with him and trys to be nice. If you take a look at the character from the other side, at this point Enoch would fit the role of a drug dealer, since there is a whole sugar factory under his leadership. Towards the end of the game we meet enemies such as secretaries. These are creatures that look like dolls in boxer suits. They, having more HP and damage, are not a courtesy. If you interpret them into reality, they still resemble toys. Sometimes in children's fantasies toys come alive and give their owners a sense of security. In our case Hugo created them to protect him from his own father, as it happens in the game. The reason why the secretaries look like boxers can be explained by PIB comics influenced on the young reader. Probably the Boxer, the main character, was loved by the boy which is why he awarded the secretaries with boxing suits. But let's not forget about another comic character - Ballman, who (just like the Batter) is a baseball player. This similarity is inherent in them due to the fact that Hugo sees the Batter as villian. And yet...what is the main point? We know that Hugo's sick, but we don't know with what disease. Some people believe that the disease is leukemia or some similar incurabledisease which can be confirmed by further information about his condition. From his words we can get the fact that the boy stopped taking prescribed pills which of course negatively affected on him.щ And this may be one of the reasons that caused a comatose state of any severity. It has already been proven that people in a coma are able to hear everything that happens near them. Due to these circumstances, Hugo's body is supported by a life support device and since his brain has started to shut down he may be disconnected from the device by the doctors. And if this is wont happen it will prolong the child and his loved ones' suffering. Possibly specters are also images of people Hugo remembered not that clearly due to his state, so they could become characters in his world of imagination. Judging by the conversation between the Batter and the Queen in the game, it is possible to admit real life's mother was against Hugo being cut off from life-support machine. But the father understands this will be the only way out. There is another suggestion of the real Zacharie had a mask something like a medical one. For this reason many people think he was Hugo's attending physician. It was quite odd that Zacharie was in "the room", even considering that he is the essential game merchant. And I don't think Hugo could have think up what he tells us there because children (even those gifted ones like our boy) can't know Latin. But there may be such a logical explanation for this - Zacharie was in the hospital at that moment to support the father of the family. His words are quite suitable for this situation. Maybe Hugo heard them from outside the ward. "bis Vincit, qui se Vincit in Victoria" Which translates as "the best victory is a victory over oneself." Which refers to what is written above. After all, let's admit it is psychologically difficult enough to disconnect your dying son from a life support device. The fact of killing characters in the game may be an allegory on Hugo begining to forget people and events associated with them. Apparently the game endings are the choice of Hugo's father in the real world: disconnect the child from the life support system or leave him in a coma until the darkness completely engulfs him. So the Batter says: "I'm here. From now on there will be no darkness." And in the true finale he nevertheless decides to turn off the switch. That's why the game is called that.
Everything in the game is pretty messy, but it fits pretty well doesn't it?

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Sky Sports: the grand buffet of sports viewing, offering everything from the delicacies of cricket to the rib-sticking goodness of football, and the high-octane dessert of Formula 1. It's a veritable feast for the eyes, but like that one amazing candy shop you stumbled upon on a childhood vacation to the UK, it's only available to those fortunate enough to find themselves within the British Isles' invisible circle of privilege.
A Virtual Private Network, or VPN as the technologically savvy call it, is your Willy Wonka golden ticket to this sporting wonderland. But just as not all chocolate is created equal (looking at you, American "chocolate"), not all VPNs are capable of whisking you away over the digital rainbow to the land of Sky Sports. And of those that can, only a select few provide the silky-smooth streaming experience you need to see each ball kicked, each wicket taken, and every flashy, hair-raising overtake.
In my self-appointed role as the VPN connoisseur, I've diligently tested every major virtual sous-chef on the market, seeking the one with the speedy connection that would make Usain Bolt envious. The thrill of the game shouldn't be overshadowed by the heart-stopping horror of a buffering wheel of doom, after all.
So, without further ado, I reveal the crown jewel, the pièce de résistance, ExpressVPN. It takes the pole position as the primo choice for sneaking a peek at Sky Sports, and the cherry on top? You can try it out today, without the fear of buyer's remorse. They offer a 30-day money-back guarantee, ensuring that your sporting dreams never turn into a buffering nightmare.
ExpressVPN
Consider ExpressVPN as that best friend who happens to have a summer house in every corner of the world, 160 corners to be precise, four of which are conveniently located in the cozy confines of the United Kingdom. This is not just hearsay, oh no, I've tested it myself. A quick digital jaunt to the UK, courtesy of ExpressVPN, and voila! Sky Sports in all its streaming glory, available to anyone outside the UK and Ireland. Not just that, the network is optimized for the smoothest HD streaming that would make butter envious. The specifics of the speed test results are tucked away neatly in our ExpressVPN review, for your perusal at leisure.
The charm of ExpressVPN is that it's a regular jack-of-all-trades, making itself right at home on a myriad of devices - from the more pedestrian iOS and Windows to the chic smart TVs and elusive consoles. Its special power, the 'MediaStreamer' feature, is the magic wand that transforms your streaming experience, making it possible on even those devices that usually snub VPNs with a raised eyebrow and a dismissive wave.
Perhaps you're looking at your console and wondering, "Can I use ExpressVPN to unlock Sky Sports on this piece of modern art?" Well, my friend, you're in luck. It's as simple as upgrading your router's firmware with the one provided by ExpressVPN. Granted, the process might seem as complicated as explaining the offside rule in football to a toddler, but worry not! There's a handy video tutorial, clear as a bell and easy to follow, that makes the process less "rocket science" and more "microwaving popcorn".
CyberGhostVPN
Imagine, if you will, CyberGhost - a generous spirit, with over 320 UK-based and 36+ Ireland-residing servers up its phantom sleeve, all ready and raring to deliver the thrill of Sky Sports to your screen. It's more than a mere boast - this spectral buddy is geared for speedy streaming, capable of delivering high-definition cricket balls whizzing and football goals scored right into your living room without a hiccup. The performance of this spectral speedster has been put to test, and the results can be found tucked away in our CyberGhost review.
What's more, CyberGhost doesn't discriminate against the multitude of gizmos you might possess. Be it the latest iPhone, a beloved old tablet, or anything in between, CyberGhost makes streaming as easy as belting out your favorite shower song. And did I mention its capacity for benevolence? Seven, yes seven, devices can connect simultaneously. So go ahead and share the joy of VPN protection with a few unsuspecting friends or family members. Or better yet, host an impromptu sports night!
And for those who have found themselves victim to the infamous throttling ISPs, CyberGhost is a hero in disguise. It guarantees that your HD sports streaming experience is as smooth as a perfectly thrown bowling ball, free from the irksome interruptions that can make a simple cricket match seem as long as a season finale cliffhanger.
Private Internet Access
Imagine my glee when I discovered that Private Internet Access (PIA for us insiders) is not only the proud parent of a substantial herd of servers strewn across the UK and Ireland but also capable of delivering Sky Sports in a swift and steady stream. It's a bit like finding out the neighborhood spinster aunt turns out to be a champion arm-wrestler. My various tests of PIA proved its uncanny ability to churn out high-quality video content faster than a cheetah in a sports car. You can find the exact numerical delights in our detail-packed Private Internet Access review.
Now, this VPN is no ordinary digital specter, oh no. PIA possesses the key to those pesky geoblocks that stand between you and Sky Sports in HD, irrespective of where on this globe you plant your slippers. And while other lesser entities may impose bandwidth limits or throttling, PIA believes in letting it flow – all in favor of granting you faster connections and an enhanced visual feast. After all, what's the joy in a close-up if you can't appreciate the rivulets of sweat tracing a path down a player's furrowed brow?
And here's the icing on the cake: Private Internet Access hands you a golden ticket to try it out, risk-free, for an entire month, courtesy of its 30-day money-back guarantee. It's like being invited to a banquet and told you can leave anytime without having to foot the bill.
The Gentle Art of Digital Disguise: VPNs and the Quest for Sky Sports
Here's a bitter pill: grand streaming powerhouses like Sky Sports in the UK and Ireland have decided to become the exclusive clubs of their territories, turning a blind eye to the legion of sports enthusiasts beyond their borders. Imagine that – something as universal as sport being held hostage by geographical boundaries. This is where our dear friend the VPN, or the Virtual Private Network, steps in, like a dashing secret agent from a spy novel, ready to help you leap over these digital hurdles.
Now, you may ask, what's the magic trick? Well, when you summon a VPN, it graciously enables you to connect to a server in the UK or Ireland, effectively morphing your IP address into one that's born and bred in the UK or Ireland. Picture yourself donning an impeccable disguise, becoming practically indistinguishable from the local digital crowd. The geoblocks, in their oblivious state, will not detect your international origins and let you walk right through the front door.
So, what happens next? Then, my friend, you are free to bask in the glory of Sky Sports to your heart's content. And all this, thanks to the unsung hero of the internet - the VPN.

Victorias secret, thick thighs, cute eyes, push that whaletail to the side

Sizing help
LU 40 SU 38 TU 36 SB 44 LB 47 LB 45
Suggested size 38DDD
There is no way! I’m currently wearing a 36c (I know it’s too small). Going up 4 cup sizes would absolutely swallow my breasts. I own a 38C that I don’t wear because there is so much extra room in the cups. Where do I begin? I’m in the US and typically shop at Victorias Secret but am not married to them.
For reference, my breasts are bottom heavy. They are what I could call “volume depleted” on the top. They are not very firm. I believe they are shallow. There is a fair amount of space between them but when I wear a push up bra or sports bra I have cleavage. I feel like a decent amount of my breast tissue “migrates” to my underarms when I’m not wearing a bra.
Also, I’m plus sized and feel like my breast size is disproportionate (smaller) to my body. I wear a US size 16 in clothes.

I have been a Geronimo Stilton fan since I was young and I still collect the books. When I heard that there was a Geronimo Stilton tv show I bought the DVDs and when I found a Geronimo Stilton plush I also bought that. When I heard that there are talks of a Geronimo Stilton I was so happy and I can wait for it just like the Anya's Ghost movie. I don’t know what the plot is going to be but I have my own idea, it should mix It's Halloween, You 'Fraidy Mouse! and The Secret of Cacklefur Castle to act as an origin story to ship Geronimo and Creepella. I’m honestly shocked there is little to no fanfiction or fan art of Geronimo and Creepella; they are kinda perfect for each other, opposites attract. And don’t be like “WhAt AbOuT PeTuNiA PrEtTy PaWs?!” That is never gonna happen and you know it, plus Geronimo even says that he found her attractive in it's Halloween, You 'Fraidy Mouse! If I could create a Geronimo Stilton film, my cast would be.
Ryan Reynolds as Geronimo Stilton
Sofía Vergara as Creepella Von Cacklefur
Jack Black as Trap
Rebel Wilson as Thea
Ben Whishaw as Benjamin
Timothy Dalton as William Shortpaws
Awkwafina as Pinky Pick
The Spice Girls as The Thea Sisters
Melanie Brown ("Scary Spice") as Pamela
Emma Bunton ("Baby Spice") as Violet
Melanie Chisholm ("Sporty Spice") as Nicky
Geri Halliwell ("Ginger Spice") as Paulina
Victoria Beckham ("Posh Spice") as Colette
Jennifer Aniston as Tina Spicytail
Ralph Fiennes as Boris
Peter Capaldi as Grandpa Frankenstein
Jenna Coleman as Shivereen
Judi Dench as Madame LaTomb
Julie Andrews as Grandma Crypt
Terence Stamp as Boneham
YUNGBLUD as Snip and Snap
Gino D'Acampo as Chef Stewrat
David Tennant as Simon Squealer
Drew Barrymore as Sally Ratmousen
Johnny Depp as Billy Squeakspeare
Eddie Izzard as Booey the Poltergeist

Hi, I’ve always had a hard time trying to find a good push up bra since I was a teen due to gapping but now that I’m 20 and in a lot fuller shape. Victoria secret pink used to be my go to until the quality dipped then I switched to aerie but I wanna try something new I almost bought the lift bra from pepper until I found out about their inaccurate sizing ,so please drop your recommendations in the comments that also ship to Canada too, thank you!