Be careful what you wish for
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[So, in celebration of the fact that people seem to enjoy my writing, I've spent most of today thinking about what I could write about next. I'm a fan of MonsterGirlQuest, and in Part 2 there's a succubus witch that defeats you in a rather unique way...and...it gave me the inspiration to make this. I'm also going to see which I'm better at, switching from a third person to first person storytelling point of view.]
Jessica and I had been dating for about five months when she decided to get her first set of breast implants. Though she had a nice, slim, curvy figure to begin with, she was always someone who absolutely craved the feeling of all eyes in the room turning to her when she walked in. She had always liked how men would watch her as she served tables at the sports bar at which she worked, walking about in her tight, khaki shorts that she used as a uniform. She knew she was pretty, that she had nice, athletic legs, a trim waist, shapely hips. A touch taller than average, but by no means gawky. Her long, straight blond hair attracted looks. And she had always been known for her fantastic rear back in high school. But she knew that the real way to draw men’s’ attention was with a big chest. She thought a bigger rack would look nice on her; as she was thin, it wouldn’t have to be too big to really stand out on her slim frame.
She began to rationalize it to herself and me as an investment: a larger chest would mean larger tips at work. Though I feigned playing the voice of reason, the devil’s advocate, I was secretly ecstatic that she seemed to have already made up her mind. I have always had a hidden breast fetish, and couldn’t have hoped for anything better. Whatever her reasoning for the surgery, after a few months of saving, she went in for the D-cups she had always wanted. I do have to admit she looked great. Her new bust complemented her curvy hips perfectly. Her old clothes were now tight in all the right places, and the new pieces she added to her wardrobe all accentuated her now hourglass figure.
I can still remember the first day I saw her, after her week or so of recuperation at her parents’ place in the country, in a clingy, white turtleneck sweater and tight, grey wool pants. Her eyes glittered with shy pride as I looked her up and down, stunned at her new look. And, when finally we were in bed together again, when I finally saw her new breasts for myself, I was nearly speechless. She was right; on her thin frame, they looked enormous. Almost double-d’s, she told me, bigger than she had originally planned. Did I like them? She asked, watching my rapt attention study her new curves as I lay on the bed, she sitting next to me. Are they too much? She wondered, a mischievous glint in her eye. Too much, I remember saying, joking with her, is never enough. I think it was somewhere around this point where she started to get a hint of my secret obsession for large breasts; I don’t think I hid my awe too well at all. But, she seemed tickled pink at my reaction. They were just so perfect, so big and firm, so round.
Proud of her new body, she was excited to return to work. She walked with new confidence, loving all the attention and stares she received. You see, living in the small Midwestern city as we did, plastic surgery was not commonplace, and her new figure was not one that often came by naturally. So, she turned a lot of heads and she loved it. She loved being the prettiest girl in the room, the girl at the bar that all the guys would steal glances of, trying to go unnoticed by their wives or girlfriends. She also loved the unabashed admiration in the way I looked at her - as she changed clothes, as we lay bed – and she loved to just let me look. Though it gave her a rush, she was pretty level-headed about the whole thing, her new effect on men, and seemed actually amused by it all.
Besides my own barely contained glee, I was happy for her; she seemed so happy herself, had been wanting to do this for a long time. She smiled more, had more energy, just seemed like all in all a happier person. And, to my relief, she still liked hanging around with me. In fact, rather than having all this attention blow up her ego, make her wonder if she could find a cooler guy, she seemed more committed to our relationship than ever. I think her new confidence in her appearance settled her as a person, and she took her most honest pleasures in just seeing me happy.
And so, when I had the offer through work to move to Miami – setting up and managing a small IT department at the new office – I asked her to come with me. She jumped at the chance, thrilled as I was to get out of our cold city to a more tropical climate. It would be an adventure for the both of us. My new position allowed us the opportunity to buy a little apartment a couple of blocks from the water in Miami Beach. Not big, but heavenly to us, accustomed as we were to the dull grey monotony of the north. Living together was new to us also, but we adapted to that surprisingly easily as well.
My job started well, allowing me a good amount of free time to spend with Jessica exploring our new city. She was, for her part, surprised at how easily she found a position with a small catering business; she had about a half-dozen offers from which to choose. Looks count for a lot in this town, and every place wants the hottest waitresses to work for them, I guess.
Jessica took to her new job, our new life, with vigor. She was intent on throwing herself into South Beach culture head on, seeming almost to remake herself day-to-day. Not that I was complaining: her new wardrobe, her rigorous regimen of diet, exercise and tanning were all intent on sculpting a newer, hotter Jessica. But, despite all her efforts, despite all her astounding results (you should see the rear view of this chick now, after so much time in the gym…talk about being able to stop a truck), I started to get the feeling that she thought something was…missing. She never seemed quite satisfied, and I could sense the tension and frustration slowly building in her.
Up north, you see, she could generally count on always being the hottest thing around, the girl with the best figure in the place - certainly since her surgery. But, down here in Miami Beach, trim, young, busty waitresses were basically commonplace. Sure, Jessica was more attractive, even by Miami standards, than most, but she didn’t stick out the way she used to back home. Everyone here, it seemed, was some sort of model. Everyone had a great body.
[I might post part 2 soon...I have off tonight, so as a result, lots of free time to contemplate exactly where I'm destined to go in this. I know how it will end...it's the finer details when approaching the end that need to be thought out with a bit more effort.]
Jessica and I had been dating for about five months when she decided to get her first set of breast implants. Though she had a nice, slim, curvy figure to begin with, she was always someone who absolutely craved the feeling of all eyes in the room turning to her when she walked in. She had always liked how men would watch her as she served tables at the sports bar at which she worked, walking about in her tight, khaki shorts that she used as a uniform. She knew she was pretty, that she had nice, athletic legs, a trim waist, shapely hips. A touch taller than average, but by no means gawky. Her long, straight blond hair attracted looks. And she had always been known for her fantastic rear back in high school. But she knew that the real way to draw men’s’ attention was with a big chest. She thought a bigger rack would look nice on her; as she was thin, it wouldn’t have to be too big to really stand out on her slim frame.
She began to rationalize it to herself and me as an investment: a larger chest would mean larger tips at work. Though I feigned playing the voice of reason, the devil’s advocate, I was secretly ecstatic that she seemed to have already made up her mind. I have always had a hidden breast fetish, and couldn’t have hoped for anything better. Whatever her reasoning for the surgery, after a few months of saving, she went in for the D-cups she had always wanted. I do have to admit she looked great. Her new bust complemented her curvy hips perfectly. Her old clothes were now tight in all the right places, and the new pieces she added to her wardrobe all accentuated her now hourglass figure.
I can still remember the first day I saw her, after her week or so of recuperation at her parents’ place in the country, in a clingy, white turtleneck sweater and tight, grey wool pants. Her eyes glittered with shy pride as I looked her up and down, stunned at her new look. And, when finally we were in bed together again, when I finally saw her new breasts for myself, I was nearly speechless. She was right; on her thin frame, they looked enormous. Almost double-d’s, she told me, bigger than she had originally planned. Did I like them? She asked, watching my rapt attention study her new curves as I lay on the bed, she sitting next to me. Are they too much? She wondered, a mischievous glint in her eye. Too much, I remember saying, joking with her, is never enough. I think it was somewhere around this point where she started to get a hint of my secret obsession for large breasts; I don’t think I hid my awe too well at all. But, she seemed tickled pink at my reaction. They were just so perfect, so big and firm, so round.
Proud of her new body, she was excited to return to work. She walked with new confidence, loving all the attention and stares she received. You see, living in the small Midwestern city as we did, plastic surgery was not commonplace, and her new figure was not one that often came by naturally. So, she turned a lot of heads and she loved it. She loved being the prettiest girl in the room, the girl at the bar that all the guys would steal glances of, trying to go unnoticed by their wives or girlfriends. She also loved the unabashed admiration in the way I looked at her - as she changed clothes, as we lay bed – and she loved to just let me look. Though it gave her a rush, she was pretty level-headed about the whole thing, her new effect on men, and seemed actually amused by it all.
Besides my own barely contained glee, I was happy for her; she seemed so happy herself, had been wanting to do this for a long time. She smiled more, had more energy, just seemed like all in all a happier person. And, to my relief, she still liked hanging around with me. In fact, rather than having all this attention blow up her ego, make her wonder if she could find a cooler guy, she seemed more committed to our relationship than ever. I think her new confidence in her appearance settled her as a person, and she took her most honest pleasures in just seeing me happy.
And so, when I had the offer through work to move to Miami – setting up and managing a small IT department at the new office – I asked her to come with me. She jumped at the chance, thrilled as I was to get out of our cold city to a more tropical climate. It would be an adventure for the both of us. My new position allowed us the opportunity to buy a little apartment a couple of blocks from the water in Miami Beach. Not big, but heavenly to us, accustomed as we were to the dull grey monotony of the north. Living together was new to us also, but we adapted to that surprisingly easily as well.
My job started well, allowing me a good amount of free time to spend with Jessica exploring our new city. She was, for her part, surprised at how easily she found a position with a small catering business; she had about a half-dozen offers from which to choose. Looks count for a lot in this town, and every place wants the hottest waitresses to work for them, I guess.
Jessica took to her new job, our new life, with vigor. She was intent on throwing herself into South Beach culture head on, seeming almost to remake herself day-to-day. Not that I was complaining: her new wardrobe, her rigorous regimen of diet, exercise and tanning were all intent on sculpting a newer, hotter Jessica. But, despite all her efforts, despite all her astounding results (you should see the rear view of this chick now, after so much time in the gym…talk about being able to stop a truck), I started to get the feeling that she thought something was…missing. She never seemed quite satisfied, and I could sense the tension and frustration slowly building in her.
Up north, you see, she could generally count on always being the hottest thing around, the girl with the best figure in the place - certainly since her surgery. But, down here in Miami Beach, trim, young, busty waitresses were basically commonplace. Sure, Jessica was more attractive, even by Miami standards, than most, but she didn’t stick out the way she used to back home. Everyone here, it seemed, was some sort of model. Everyone had a great body.
[I might post part 2 soon...I have off tonight, so as a result, lots of free time to contemplate exactly where I'm destined to go in this. I know how it will end...it's the finer details when approaching the end that need to be thought out with a bit more effort.]
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Did you end up buying MQ2? I've been looking for a free copy forever, being the cheapo bastard I am. If none can be found I suppose I'll just fork up the cash for it, but still.
Surprised to see another story so soon after your last release, be careful not to burn yourself out! I like where you're going so far, though from the looks of it things are gonna get pretty nasty in the next chapter.
Surprised to see another story so soon after your last release, be careful not to burn yourself out! I like where you're going so far, though from the looks of it things are gonna get pretty nasty in the next chapter.
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oneshott wrote...
Did you end up buying MQ2? I've been looking for a free copy forever, being the cheapo bastard I am. If none can be found I suppose I'll just fork up the cash for it, but still.Surprised to see another story so soon after your last release, be careful not to burn yourself out! I like where you're going so far, though from the looks of it things are gonna get pretty nasty in the next chapter.
Actually after posting this part I'm probably not going to post another part until Friday, because I've...kind of run into a road block.
As far as a place to dl it, I don't know where to get it for free, but you can dl it here for a fee: http://www.dlsite.com/ecchi-eng/work/=/product_id/RE087736.html
I personally enjoy the game, so for me it logically follows that I should support the people who spent inordinate amounts of time putting it together by paying for their product BUT, I understand many Fakku'ers are Po' ass sum bitches that can't afford to buy all the things they want, so there's also the option of waiting around for it to get posted on a torrent site.
And there's currently only a 66% English patch for it, which gets you up to and past the succubus village that you can find in the free demo here:
http://www.mediafire.com/download.php?2pkxdixfwnbnz53
If you decide to buy it instead of waiting half a year for it to be put on a torrent site(which is about how long it took Fakku to upload it) then just lemme know if you need to English patch, and I'll either post it here or PM you. :)