Continue this story until Ada returns home.

In a bustling village nestled between the wooded hills on the south side of the river, Ada began her day with the first light of dawn. In the distance behind the hills the blue outlines of mountains could be seen, and the river, far enough to avoid the danger of spring floods, widened at this point and moderated its rapid flow to a measured current. Here, life was simple and hard, but Ada had always felt a deep connection to the land that sustained her. The roosters crowed, signaling not just the start of another morning but the beginning of Ada’s tireless efforts to support her large family. Ada was a striking figure, known throughout the village not only for her beauty but also for her remarkable strength and determination.
Every morning, Ada rose from her simple straw mattress. Another girl would not have even thought about it, but for Ada, it was not so easy. Her large and heavy bust made getting up a challenge, but she had developed her own techniques to maneuver around this over the years. Carefully standing up, she knelt beside it and whispered a morning prayer, her voice a soft murmur in the quiet room. Her ample chestnut hair fell loosely around her, strands framing her beautiful round face, and her clear fair skin seemed to glow in the morning gloom. Her family, still asleep, did not stir. She braided her hair in a thick braid, wrapped her full thighs in clean linen wraps to protect them from chafing, and dressed in practical clothes, plain but sturdy enough to withstand the rigors of the day, although Ada's richly voluptuousness tested the kirtle lacing a little more than it should have today.
Her first task was to fetch water from the village well. Ada carefully picked her way along the dirt path; her form may have looked bulky, but her movements were heavy yet purposeful. The village boys, still rubbing sleep from their eyes, could not help but watch her pass. None of them could match Ada's bodily might and presence, but that seemed to intrigue most of them rather than scare them off. They whispered to each other, trying to steal glances at her generous curves, but Ada was used to the attention by now. Her bust swayed, and her hips shifted rhythmically with each step, not because Ada wanted to be flirty, but because it was her natural moving rhythm.
Reaching the well, she greeted the other villagers warmly with a welcoming smile on her full lips and began drawing water, her powerful arms making quick work of what was a strenuous task for many. Despite the weight of the filled buckets and the additional challenge of her ample frame, Ada made the journey back home without spilling a drop. Her physical strength was well known; a hefty, substantial girl, thick of waist, ankle, and forearm, heavy-hipped, stocky-armed and legged, she could easily lift and carry loads that even strong men in the village would struggle with.
Back home, Ada’s family was already moving about, each member contributing to the household's needs. She helped her mother, who had already milked the sheep, stir the morning porridge to evenly distribute the piece of butter, the large wooden spoon looking almost small in her strong hands. Her younger siblings gathered around her, and she gently chided them to eat quickly, but the mirthful crinkling of her wide-set, radiant green eyes betrayed her love. Even in these moments of domesticity, Ada’s presence was commanding yet tender.
After breakfast, Ada's mother and grandmother gathered up the dishes, and her father and children set about preparing for the day's work. The younger girls, Gerta and Christa, ran to the henhouse to let the hens out, collect the eggs, and scatter the grain in the yard. Ada's youngest brother, Jacob, let the sheep out of the pen and laughed as the dogs licked his face. Every day, three households in the village had to send out a shepherd, and today it was their turn — little Jacob, along with two older boys from other households, would go out for the day to roam the hills with a shepherd's crook, and he was delighted. Ada opened the gate, and their flock poured into the river of sheep flowing down the street.
Meanwhile, the two Marks, Ada's father and the eldest of her younger brothers, harnessed a horse to the cart, and the middle brother, Jorg, led the second horse to graze on a tether in the meadow not far from the house. As the sun rose higher in the sky, Ada set out with them into the fields, joining the men in the grueling work of harvesting the crops. She put on a wide-brimmed straw hat to prevent the sun from burning her alabaster skin; Ada's mother often urged her daughter to take care of such a rare treasure. The puffy sleeves of Ada’s smock draped over her hands, shielding them from the glare yet staying breezy in their roominess. The work was punishing and relentless, but Ada’s robust frame and sturdy build gave her an advantage. Actually, her work more came to fruition than the collective work of her father, Mark and Jorg, and they knew well the immense power she possessed. Although Ada sometimes felt burdened by her body, she never shirked from her responsibilities.
The day was filled with labor: hauling grain, tending to the livestock, and gathering firewood. Throughout it all, the young men of the village found excuses to pass by Ada’s tasks. Ada, however, remained focused, giving them polite but distant smiles. Her brother Mark warned her, “One of these days, Ada, you’ll need a stick to chase them off!” She laughed good-naturedly, but inwardly, she pondered the truth of his words.
A short rest came when Ada dined on bread and green cheese, washing them down with morning milk from a jug carefully hidden in the shade. She removed her sweaty thigh wraps to replace them with clean ones. One of the village lads, whom Ada had noticed watching her earlier, approached. With a timid smile, he offered her a peach, an exotic fruit that she had only heard about and never tasted. Ada took it with a sincere smile and a modest thanks, Mark and Jorg huffing protectively at the boy, who quickly took his leave, not wanting to provoke their irritation further.
As they ate their simple fare, Ada discussed the gift with her father, who was both pragmatic and kind. “Da,” she began, turning the peach in her hands, “what do you think of such gestures?” She glanced at her father, awaiting his opinion. Her father looked thoughtful. “Ada, you are a beautiful and strong woman, much admired in our village. As you grow older, more suitors will come with gifts and words of affection. But the truth is, we need you here, for now.” He paused, his gaze drifting over the field. “Before you shouldered this work, I had to give more than half our land to sharecroppers. Now the boys are helping too, but they need a couple more years to get up to full strength. When your younger brothers are older, when they can take on more, we will discuss your future more seriously.” Ada nodded, understanding his position. “Father, you need not worry. I am in no hurry. I have time to wait.” Her words were earnest, and her father's face softened with gratitude and relief.
By mid-afternoon, Ada’s work required her to load sacks of grain onto a cart. This task was particularly taxing, given the weight of the sacks and the awkwardness of their size, and usually required two men. Nevertheless, Ada managed with her impressive strength, though the extra strain did not go unnoticed by her elders, who admired her capability and resilience. At the end of the day, after completing field work, Ada managed to go to the well again and water the unharnessed horses.
As evening approached, the day’s warmth began to fade, and the village girls, including Ada, made their way to the nearby river. This daily ritual was a time of relief and companionship, a chance to wash away the sweat and grime of hard work. As they approached the river, Ada's friends broke into a run, throwing off their clothes as they went, only to splash into the water with a squeal and a raising a lot of spray. Ada was not made for running. Having undressed, she approached the river's edge cautiously, her ample bust obscured her downward view. With every movement, her curves swayed mesmerizingly. While the others splashed and played, chattering and teasing each other, she took her time, each step measured and deliberate.
Ada stepped into the water, letting it swallow her slowly. The current rose to her thighs, then waist, then shoulders, the buoyancy lifting the enormous burden she bore all day. Her breath came out in a soft sigh, her wide eyes momentarily closing to savor the relief. Her broad body moved with a certain majesty in the slow current, attracting glances and playful comments.
“That breasts is a whole miracle,” one of the girls giggled, eyes wide with something between admiration and disbelief. “They’re larger than all of ours combined!”
Another chimed in, “Ada blessed from head to toe. Even the dress can’t keep up!”
But not all voices were friendly.
Fyhe, the carpenter’s niece, watched Ada with narrowed eyes. She was a pretty girl — trim, neat, with a bright laugh, but had never quite warmed to Ada. Ada suspected, quietly, that it had something to do with Fyhe's fondness for Matthias, a freckled, laughing boy who — like many others — often watched Ada with unconcealed admiration. Now, as they all floated and swam, Fyhe swam closer, her voice loud enough to carry.
“Honestly, Ada,” she said, with a false little laugh, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a girl with a backside like that. You could put a crock on the shelf of your butt!”
A few of the girls stifled laughter. One of them, trying to smooth things over, muttered something about Fyhe always having a sharp tongue, but the words were thin.
“I mean, I wouldn’t be surprised if the water ran off the other way,” Fyhe continued, turning to the girls near her. “She’s like a dam all on her own.”
Ada winced inwardly. These were unpleasant words, as if she were a horse at the market, whose mouth was looked at, whose croup was slapped, and whose hooves were checked. Fyhe had spoken with such bluntly directness on purpose, in order to implicitly reduce all of Ada's virtues to her body. But Ada did not bristle or respond with wit, as some might have. Instead, she smiled broadly and welcomingly. “Believe me, ladies, it’s not all sunshine and rainbows,” she said, her voice filled with warmth. “You have at least one advantage over me. You can see where you're going.”
The girls laughed, and even Fyhe couldn't help but smile.
Later, as they bathed and helped one another scrub backs and untangle hair, the mood softened. The other girls resumed their laughter and gossip, the tension draining away with the current. Ada's broad back, tired from hard work, was kneaded by a couple of her friends, and Ada gratefully accepted their care. As the sun turned red and touched the horizon, it was time for the girls to return home. Ada emerged from the river with some difficulty, her curves making it challenging to regain her balance on the slippery rocks. The other girls rushed to her side, any envy forgotten in the face of mutual laughter and support.
Dressing after their swim proved to be another challenge for Ada. Her companions gathered around her, helping her get into her kirtle. As they tugged and pulled, they noticed the fabric struggling to contain her ever-growing curves and was slightly straining at her back. “Looks like you’ll need a new dress soon,” one of them remarked, half in jest.