Fake Boobs

by Ryan Ringbloom

  We leaned over the sink fighting for mirror space applying the pretty to our faces. Hair was next. Our blonde hair was scrunched and tousled into bedhead sexiness and we were ready to go.

  Kenna stood back and clapped. “You’re getting laid tonight.”

  I slid a big hoop earring through my newly pierced ear. “I’m not. First, because I don’t want to ‘get laid’ and second, even if I did, then what, he undoes my bra and two globs fall out. Call me crazy, but that might scare a guy off.”

  “Yeah, I suppose that’s the one problem when you buy your tits off Amazon.” Kenna chuckled and grabbed her clutch. “Let’s go get this night started.”

  A wave of nausea settled into my gut. My face flushed. Instead of grabbing my purse and following her, I put the toilet cover down and took a seat. “I changed my mind.”

  Kenna dropped her head back and groaned. “I hate you. I knew you would pull this shit.”

  “What if we go out and it’s like last time and some guy has to take one for the team and he tells me I’m ugly or asks if I’m a dude?” I put my hand up to my chest and struggled to pull in breaths.

  Kenna knelt down in front of me. “That won’t happen. We fixed you. You can have confidence. You’re beautiful now. You’re hot. I’ll stay with you all night. No guys will be mean to you. I promise.”

  “But if someone…” I started.

  “If anyone even looks at you funny, you tell me and we leave. We can even slash their tires on the way out.”

  I laughed nervously and let her drag me by the shaky hand out of our apartment. The club wasn’t far away, but she called a cab so we wouldn’t have to walk four blocks in six-inch heels. It was well worth the seven bucks. Kenna told me my “heel muscles” would build up soon enough. But for now, every time I wore heels, I was sore and walking with a slight limp within an hour.

  There was a long line at the door to get in which Kenna ignored, walking right up to the intimidating man at the entrance.

  “Hey, Tony.” She leaned forward to kiss the oversized guy, giving him a peck on the cheek. He stepped back to let her pass and I followed.

  “Hold up.” Tony held his massive arm out preventing me from going any farther.

  Oh no, he was letting Kenna in and not me. My knees shook. It was no big deal; I could wait in the line or better yet, just go back home.

  “Who’s your friend?” Tony’s eyes roamed down my body landing on my chest with an approving grin.

  “This is Tori. You like?” Kenna put her hand around my waist and smushed her cheek into mine. “She’s my roommate.”

  “Welcome, Tori.” Tony nodded. “Any time you come here, you make sure you come say hi to me. I’ll let you right in.”

  I smiled. I waved…I don’t know, I did something. Holy crap. What was that?

  “I told you, girl, you are hot. Welcome to the club,” Kenna shouted into my ear over the pulsing music blaring from a dark booth in the corner. “All right, now stick out that new chest and smile; we need drinks.”

  Every guy I passed from the doorway to the bar looked at us. Most of them gave us a smile or a wink. We squeezed into an open space by the bar and immediately the guy next to us said hello. I followed Kenna’s lead giggling back a hello and leaning in to whisper my name in his ear. Two minutes later, pink cosmos were being placed in our hands. Kenna thanked him and then she dragged me away.

  “Oh, my God, he bought us these drinks and now we’re walking away? That’s so rude of us.”

  “No, it was nice of us. We’re way out of his league. We flirted with him. He bought us drinks…we’re even.”

  It didn’t feel even.

  The crowd of moving people, high heels and balancing a drink made walking in a straight line impossible. Pink liquid swished from my glass onto the floor and anyone else I came in contact with. “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” I apologized, making my way through the club. I spotted an empty table filled with dirty glasses and added mine to the collection. “I don’t even want this. I’m a sticky mess.”

  Kenna drained her cup and placed the empty glass next to mine. “Let’s go dance.” She pulled my hand and we shimmied our way into the center of the dance floor. Her hands went up over her head and her hips swung taking her down low to the ground.

  I just stood there.

  Kenna gave me a knowing look. She stood behind me, placed her hands on my hips and forced them to move, swinging along with hers. The strobe light gave us the illusion of slow sexual movements. Girl-on-girl dancing. After that, we were swarmed with guys.

  I danced.

  With guys.

  So many guys.

  It was hard to keep up. I lost track of their names. I didn’t want any of them, but it seemed like they all wanted me. Compliments, promises, invitations came at me in droves. It felt amazing.

  By the time we left, I had the business cards of three very hot guys who were among the many to tell me how beautiful I was. The numbers I was given, I would never call and I managed to keep my cell number a secret no matter how many guys asked. One even pretended to beg.

  We left the club around one. My beaming smile answered Kenna’s question if I was happy. I was really freaking happy.

  I shifted, adjusting the chicken cutlet boobs tucked into the black lacy bra. They’d worked. All of it had worked, the hair, make-up, clothes, and the insertable boobs. They gave me the control. As long as I wore this armor, no one would ever use me again.

  Imagine what I could do with more.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  My finger stretched out straight in front of me. It was so small. Practically nothing. I needed to stop being a wimp and just do it. The pointer finger and thumb on my free hand pried my eye open and I went for it.

  Blink, blink, blink ending with a squeal. I did it. I looked into the mirror. My brown eye transformed to blue. Well, a blue-ish. Perfect. Blonde hair needed blue eyes.

  The new attention I was receiving was a drug. And I was hooked.

  I placed the other contact lens in and admired myself. Kenna would be shocked. She didn’t even know about this. I’d done it all on my own. I was definitely catching on.

  My new life was nonstop. Going to school and waitressing three nights a week at a local diner, plus hitting the hottest clubs, and bars was time consuming. My new look took a whole lot of time and effort as well. But I managed. I think I was able to do it all because there was no boyfriend. I didn’t want one.

  A couple times, I thought I might. I gave it a try. I went on a few dates. Fancy restaurants, forced small talk, kissing that made me feel nothing. My chicken cutlets even got a few awkward grabs through my shirt. One time I felt one slip mid make-out session with a bartender. I momentarily panicked, but he didn’t even notice. I wondered if I took out the fake boobs and handed them to him, if he’d have just as much fun even if I wasn’t there.

  The guys worked really hard to impress. It was a whole new experience for me. I just wasn’t feeling it with any of them. I wasn’t sure why.

  The bracelet on my wrist snagged on my shirt and I carefully untangled it. My shirt got a small tear, but the bracelet was fine. I exhaled, relieved, adjusting the one dangling charm so it faced up. Phew.

  I paid the optometrist for my latest appearance enhancing upgrade. Not cheap. Maintaining beauty was pricey. Diner tips were chintzy, although since the cutlets, the tips had picked up. I gave my eyes a few more minutes to adjust to the new lenses and admired the new look in my rearview mirror. Once I felt comfortable enough, I raced off so I could drop in on Kenna at work and show off my new baby blues.

  The parking lot at Backsides was jammed for a Wednesday afternoon, although it was always jammed at the local hotspot of half-naked, beautiful barmaids. I circled twice before finding a spot.

  Kenna was bent over in her black skintight boy shorts and red bustier taking an order from a table full of businessmen in expensive suits. She used her upper arms to push her breasts together and they spilled from the red lace. I
watched carefully as a hint of dark pink came into sight. She pulled her top up apologizing for the accidental nip slip. They accepted her apology with a bunch of dumbass grins spread across their faces. The tip she was sure to receive from these guys would be obscene.

  I waited until she walked away, ran up behind her and grabbed her ass. “You forgot my order,” I said in a husky voice.

  She turned around laughing and then screamed. “Oh, my God. Your eyes. I fucking hate you. They look amazing!”

  “Do they look fake?” I leaned in closer and opened my eyes wide for her to examine.

  “Not at all. I’m so getting them. Maybe I can get green. Where did you go?” She didn’t wait for me to answer, pulling me with her into the kitchen. “You can tell me later. I’m so glad you’re here. I have great news.”

  “What?”

  “I can get you a job here.”

  I stopped walking, pulling my hand back. “I can’t work here.”

  I wanted to. Lord knew the money was way better than the diner. You couldn’t even compare the two places. But the uniform at Backsides was noncompliant with my lack of genuine cleavage.

  “A hostess job opened up. A different uniform. One you can pull off. It’s not as much as the waitresses make, but it’s way more than you make now at that rat hole you’re working at.”

  “What do I have to do?”

  “Flirt with people who come in and ask how many in their party. Seat them when the table is ready while shaking your ass.” She shook hers for effect. “Come, all you gotta do is meet Jay, impress him and the job is yours.”

  I followed Kenna through the kitchen and she knocked on a door hidden in the back.

  “Come in,” a voice beckoned. Behind the desk sat one extremely sexy guy. He was blond, with a nice build and a confident grin that made my insides bubble. He looked me up and down then smiled at Kenna, who smiled back. He opened a drawer and a black and red sequined garment was placed on his desk. “Tomorrow, eight o’clock.”

  Kenna swiped the garment from his desk and we exited just as quickly as we came in.

  “Was that it? What just happened?” I asked in a loud whisper.

  “You got the job.”

  “I did.” I hopped excitedly. Getting a job at Backsides was based completely on looks. That meant I was hot. I’d made it.

  “Oh, and relax, he’s gay. So you can put that lady boner away.”

  I blushed, trying to protest. “He’s just all right.”

  “Bullshit, he’s gorgeous and so are we. If he wasn’t gay, this place would never be a success. We’d all be clawing each other’s eyes out to see who gets to fuck him first.”

  That made sense. “Do you think I’ll be good?”

  “Yes, I think you’ll do great and make a shitload of money in no time. Then you can become a waitress and make the big bucks. Forget our crappy apartment. We could finish out the next two years of school living in a penthouse.”

  “Let’s not get crazy and jump ahead. We both know I can’t be a waitress here.”

  “Soon enough you’ll be able to.”

  “How?” I rolled my eyes.

  “Take the money from being a hostess, tuck it away and then do it.” She looked down and raised her eyebrows. “Swap those cutlets out for the real deal. You know you want to,” Kenna quipped.

  I bit my lip. Implants. I’d definitely thought about it. Actually, I’d done way more than think about it. I did all the research. I was educated on the risks, expenses, and best doctors in the area. If needed, I could pick the boobs in the before and after pictures out of a lineup. But still? Fake boobs? Like real, fake boobs? I wasn’t so sure.

  “I’m nervous.”

  “Why are you nervous?’ Kenna questioned, tipping her head to the side.

  I’d been nervous about wearing make-up. That was silly.

  I’d been nervous about having my eyebrows waxed. Geez, I waxed everything now.

  I’d been nervous about going blonde. Best decision I ever made.

  I’d been nervous about the blue eyes. Ten minutes later, I got a new job making great money at Backsides.

  Breast implants? Could I?

  Breast implants. I could.

  “Actually, Kenna,” I relaxed into a chuckle, “I’m not nervous at all.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  My brand new boobs had every guy at the table’s attention. I wanted attention from guys, but not from these guys.

  My father, my brother, and my three-year-old nephew were all zeroed in on my newly acquired D cups.

  It took years of saving and an enormous waiting list to have them done by the best plastic surgeon around, but I finally got them. Unfortunately, I’d done it without sharing this big decision with anyone in my family. Walking into the house for a quiet family dinner to celebrate my father’s sixtieth birthday and taking off my coat revealing my brand new genuine cleavage, made the dinner anything but quiet.

  “You need a psychiatrist.” My brother pointed his finger at me. “She needs a psychiatrist.” He turned and informed my parents as well.

  “I’m twenty-two. Newsflash. I can do whatever the fuck I want.”

  My mother gasped and Jeanie covered my nephew’s ears steering his head away from my enlarged breasts.

  “When she came home with the hair and the make-up and those fake as hell eyes, I said to everyone ‘she needs help’.” My brother was hollering. He slammed his hand down on the table. “No one listened to me. No one took what she was doing seriously and now look.”

  Jeanie picked Isaac up and left the room.

  “This is why I didn’t even want to come home. I knew you guys would over react.” I folded my arms across my stomach, under the boobs. I couldn’t really cross them over my chest anymore.

  “Sweetheart, they’re just so big for your little frame. I wish you’d talked to us about this before doing something so drastic.” My mom rang her hands nervously.

  “Are you stripping? You are. I know it,” my brother accused. I watched my father slip off his glasses and rub his tired eyes.

  “I’m not stripping. I’m about to graduate. I still plan on teaching.” I brought my voice back down to a calm level.

  “Teaching what? Pole dancing 101 to stripper wannabes.”

  “That’s nice coming from the guy who married his eight-month pregnant wife one month after college graduation.” Low blow. I went there. Jim’s face was purple.

  “Okay, enough. This dinner is over.” My father stood up and encouraged my brother to come with him before he blew a gasket.

  My mom picked up her napkin and dabbed at her eyes. “Is this our fault?”

  “Is what your fault?” I asked flabbergasted. “That I made a few changes? That I’m pretty now? I thought you guys would be happy for me. I’m happy.”

  “Are you?” My mom sniffed. “Are you really happy?”

  I twisted the bracelet on my wrist to remind me of how sad I felt way back before this all started. “Yes, I am.” I pushed my chair back and left the table. Wasn’t it obvious I was happier now? Didn’t I look happier? Why would she ask me that?

  I’d barely been home over the last few years, but my old room was set up as if I still lived there. By the time I reached the top of the stairs and locked myself away from the hoard of judgmental family members, I cried. It wasn’t because of the things my brother said, or the way everyone looked at me like I lost my mind. It was my mother’s ridiculous question that sent me over the edge.

  Of course, I was happy. Look at me. I faced the mirror. I was beautiful.

  I had the attention of every guy I encountered, yet still managed to avoid heartbreak for almost four years now. My heart was completely protected. I had never let anyone back into it and because of that, no one had ever broken it again.

  Yes, I was happy.

  I controlled my life. No one used me. No one made me think I was loved and then left me.

  That meant I was happy.

  There was a kno
ck on my door and I wiped away the tears, taking a few quick sniffs before answering the door to my brother whose skin had returned to its normal coloring.

  “Jeanie took Isaac home. Mom and Dad went out to a movie to try and salvage what’s left of his birthday and I think it’s time we talk.”

  “Do you want to talk or yell? Because I’m done with the yelling.”

  “I’ve calmed down.” I opened the door wider and let him in. Jim took a seat on the edge of my bed and folded his hands giving me his full attention. “I want to listen. I want you to tell me how this all started.”

  “Fine, it’s simple.” I paced the small length of my old room. It had been almost four years since we had a serious discussion. And even that lasted all of two minutes. He had to remember how this all started. I guess he needed a reminder. “I was ugly.”

  “No. You weren’t.”

  “I was. I knew it. You knew it. Your friends knew it…everyone knew it. I was about to leave for college without even being kissed.” I had to sit, my back hurt. It was spasming in the center. I pulled the chair away from the desk and sat.

  “No one thought you were ugly. You were the only one who thought that.” Jim shook his head. “In fact, I was starting to freak out over the way my friends were looking at you. Then Kyle went and snuck up to your room right under my nose and I didn’t even get the full story from you about it until that night when I called you and you started crying.”

  “Yes, but you went to Kyle and told him everything I said to you including how I would say yes to anyone and let guys use me,” I reminded him. “And I can’t even be mad, because that is exactly what I was doing. I was ugly and desperate.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to tell Kyle what you told me, but you’re my sister and I was pissed. My friend tried taking advantage of my little sister. I had to say something. And yes, I worried about you being taken advantage of, but not because you were ugly. It was because you were so naïve and lacked so much confidence. I was afraid the guys would see a pretty,” he emphasized, “girl and feed off those insecurities. Maybe I shouldn’t have worded those things the way I did. I didn’t realize. I never meant to make you feel ugly.”