As she washed them, Sharon assessed her new, fake tits. They felt stiff and firm, the skin almost drum-tight over the implants. She didn't know how she'd get used to the non-movement of them, but she knew she'd have to. Unused to having so much up-front, Sharon kept bumping into things.
“I'm gonna have to get used to you two being in the way,” she muttered.
Gone were her perky B-cups in favour of these perfectly round DDs that jutted high and proud from her chest, announcing to all the world that Sharon gave herself so completely to Jim that she would let him do this to her.
She looked through the steamy glass of the shower stall at her reflection in the mirror. Her tits, her tits, didn't match her slender build at all. From head to toe she had a natural set of curves, except the giant balloons on her chest. She felt ridiculous; she felt sexy. She ran her hands all over new assets, imagining going out in public – the stares from men, the glowers from women. The whispers and judgements as she passes, her big fakies not bouncing right with each step.
Even alone, in the shower, she felt embarrassed, but something else, too. As she imagined all the eyes on her and all the people ruling her a slut and a floozie, she felt warm in her crotch. Before she knew it, she was writhing against the walls of the shower, furiously pumping her fingers in and out of her pussy. She couldn't tell how wet she was for the cascade of hot water, but her knees felt weak and her nipples – so much further away now – stood erect with arousal. Her hips bucked as she fingered herself through multiple orgasms, but her tits barely quivered.
Standing in the middle of the bathroom, showered and spent, now wrapped in a towel, Sharon thought about explaining the change in her figure to her friends, to her boss! What would they think? She blushed – she hoped they'd judge her.
Sat Feb 12 13:51:57 2011
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