0 comments/ 28505 views/ 2 favorites The Headliner and the Housegirl By: Joe Average The showroom of an Ohio strip club was teeming with excitement and horniness. The headlining feature dancer had just teased the fans nearly to the breaking point with her opening number. She'd bounced her enormous implant-enhanced breasts all over the place without unveiling them ... doing some of the naughtiest things you can imagine that might involve putting things into her vast exposed cleavage. Now the men were chanting for her to come back onto the stage. "Vick-y, Vick-y, Vick-y...!" A funk number kicked off over the club's sound system. A bleached-blonde bundle of dynamite strode back onto the stage, getting her out-of-proportion breasts to jump mightily to the beat. Flashing a brilliant smile at the audience, she whipped off her pink satin panties and flung them at a patron. When the customer seemed to fumble with them, the dancer reached from the stage to his table and pushed the undergarments playfully into his nose. The other men roared their approval. Now the tantilizing busty dancer whirred her lower body around, waving her exposed genitals at the men. She knew, though, that all eyes were focused on her gigantic — and still-covered — breasts. She pretended to click her tongue and wag her finger at them in disapproval. Then she walked sexily to the short stairway at the front of the stage. Picking out the shyest-looking specimen from the crowd, she invited a mousy young man to unhook her overloaded pink satin bra. Her colossal boobs hit the air and bounced with renewed freedom. The fans went wild. The dancer continued her descent into the audience as the follow-spot tracked her every move. She locked eyes with a burly man waving a twenty-dollar bill. She arranged herself between the legs of the seated man and began writhing sexily. Her oversized casabas brushed the man's unshaven face and moist lips. The blonde reached for her pink garter belt and plucked out what looked like a satin handkerchief. She danced to one side of the man, never letting her knockers stray far from his grateful face. With a theatrical flourish, she waved the hanky through the air and plunged it downward until it was out of the audience's sight. She did everything possible with her boobs and the man's head — all three of which were roughly the same size. The man delighted in the way the dancer traced his facial features with a hard nipple ... wedged his head into her roomy cleavage ... and raised both breasts into the air and dropped them onto his shoulders like bombs. All the while she kept up her furtive manipulations below the man's waist. Finally, she raised the silky hanky skyward to display it to the audience. It was covered with unmistakable wet evidence of the customer's excitement! The audience clapped and cheered as the dancer sashayed backstage in pride and triumph. An attractive but comparatively flat-chested woman was waiting in the dressing room. Well ... perhaps it's not fair to say flat-chested. It's just that anything, no matter how lovely, would pale by comparison next to those two huge implant-emphasized sacks of sex appeal. The woman handed the dancer her street wardrobe. "Nice show, Vicky," she said. "Thanks, Karen," smiled the dancer, peeling off her garter belt and stepping out of her sky-high heels. "Shake a tit, will ya?" said Karen. "We've got to be in Pennsylvania tonight." ------------------------------- Victoria Bardenwerper opened her sleepy eyes. She'd fallen asleep in the passenger seat of the van. "Karen..." she croaked drowsily. "Where the hell are we?" "Somewhere in Pennsylvania," said the Karen, the driver. "We'll be in Wilkes-Barre soon. You can sleep in a motel bed when we get there ... 'stead of in the van." "Wilkes-Barre?" said Vicky, staring at the road ahead. "Oh, boy. A friend of mine told me that's an armpit. Actually, I think the exact term she used was 'hell-hole'." "I hope she told you wrong," said Karen. "We're booked there in three weeks. I figured we'd stop there on the way to Boston and stay overnight. Give us a chance to check out the club." "Okay, whatever," said Vicky. She wasn't crazy about this life on the road. But since Karen — who was now her manager and agent — convinced her that there was a whole lot more money in being a traveling feature dancer, than sticking around one town and one club — life on the road had become Vicky's life. "I suppose we'll have to go on the radio shows, and have the local imitation of Howard Stern leer at my tits," Vicky said, wearily. "Yep!" said Karen. "And I'll have to let any sweaty moron who wants to have a Polaroid taken with me," muttered Vicky. "Yes," said Karen. "And I'll actually have to pretend I enjoy this," said the dancer. "Yes, you will!" snapped the manager, getting a little irritated. "Vicky, nobody forced you to do this! You wanted to make more money!" "I know," said Vicky. "And aren't you?" asked Karen. "Yes. A lot more," she answered. "Well, then you forfeit your right to complain!" said Karen, hoping that would close the subject. There was a pause. Karen decided to smooth over that brief unpleasantness with some more small talk. "I never worked this club in Wilkes-Barre," she said. "Back when I was dancing. I think it's new." Vicky started to giggle. "What was your billing back then?" she asked. Karen puffed up her chest — which was now a good deal more modest than it had been in her dancing days. "Karen Kenyon — the grandest cleavage you ever saw!" Both women laughed. "You know — Grand Kenyon? I'm glad I had the implants taken out. I like being behind the scenes better!" "Well, I'm glad you took me on as a client," sighed Vicky. "Dancing for tips in that penny-ante club in the Midwest was getting me nowhere." "Right!" agreed Karen. "And with those huge sacks of saline we had put in there, you're making thousands every night! Do you like 'Vicky Syn' for an alias? I thought it was a nice change from all those titty names." "Yeah, it's good," agreed Vicky. "I was gonna use 'Vicky Voluptous' — but it sounded like some kind of joke. 'Syn' is nice. Kind of elegant." "We've got to keep working on your table and lap dance technique," said Karen. "Every feature dancer has to have her own little style." "Well, hey," said Vicky. "I'm just using all those gimmicks you used to use, Karen." "If you're gonna steal, steal from the best!" laughed Karen. "I think your price will go up now that we got you in some of the titty mags. The video coming out will help, too." "Yeah, probably," agreed Vicky. "I can just see the guys coming to the club, holding their magazines, to get Vicky Syn herself to autograph them!" There was an uncomfortable silence. "Do you think he'll come to the club?" asked Karen, finally. "That guy who's been trying to follow me from town to town? He might," said Vicky softly. "I hope not." "I've told you before, Vicky, stop chatting with guys on the Web!" scolded Karen. "You're just asking for trouble." "Maybe you're right," said Vicky. "It was harmless 'I love you, I love you' stuff at first. Lots of guys like to say that kind of thing in the chat rooms. But then it turned to 'I've got to have you, we were meant for each other' kind of stuff. It got a little bit more ominous." Vicky shifted in her seat. Her upper body bulk was still a little new to her. "Oh, let's talk about something else!" "Okay!" said Karen. "Do your mom and dad know that their precious little girl, Victoria Bardenwerper, is now sex star Vicky Syn?" Vicky laughed again. "Boy, I sure hope not!" ---------------------------------------------- Susan was doing a table dance for one of her favorite regular customers at THE SHOWROOM in Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania. The sweaty laborer smiled up at the lithe, young dancer. She smiled back and was giving him her all. She did pretty well in this town. Sure, there wasn't a lot of money, but being a housegirl in a strip joint had its rewards. The guys were friendly, mostly. They treated her okay. And they didn't seem to mind that Susan didn't have the over-inflated boobies that seemed to be so popular in the magazines. They liked her slim, toned, and flat-chested form just fine. She collected her tip at the song's end and went back into the dressing room. Some of the other girls were talking. "Susan, did you hear?" said one girl. "They've booked a feature dancer in a couple weeks." "Oh, no," said Susan, beginning to get dressed. "A feature dancer? Shit!" "Stinks, doesn't it?" said another. "They always take my regulars away." "Mine, too," said Susan. "Is this going to be one of those big-boob girls?" "They all are," said the first girl, with a sardonic sneer. Susan sighed. "Which one?" "Vicky Syn," said the second girl. "Real big fake titties. I seen her in the magazines." "Shit, you know what that means," said Susan as she stepped into her heels, ready to go into the bar and mingle. "They'll ask me to go on right before her. Because my little bitty tits will make hers look that much bigger." "That sucks," said the first girl. "I know, but that's what will happen," said Susan. She headed into the bar to try and sell the guys overpriced champagne. She looked down at the modest swells her breasts made in her tight dress. "I mean, I don't think these things are that bad-looking. But would they make a guy pay forty bucks for a split of champagne?" Susan sashayed out of the dressing room "Probably not!" --------------------------------------------- Vicky and Karen arrived at the Howard Johnson's a little after midnight. They could see THE SHOWROOM, the club they were booked at, right across the street. It looked a little sleazy, but not too bad. "Should we go look at it now?" asked Vicky. "Nah," said Karen. "Plenty of time in the morning. We don't open in Boston for another couple days, so we can take our time." Karen opened the door to room 204. "Get some sleep, okay?" "I will," said Vicky, going into room 205, across the hall. Another faceless town, another identical motel room. She stopped. "Karen?" "Yeah?" Karen said, whirling around. "Is it worth it?" Vicky asked with a depressed sigh. Karen smiled. "Check your bank balance. See you in the A-M!" She closed her room door behind her. Vicky undressed and took a shower, taking extra time for her frontal real estate. After all, it was her livelihood. She crawled into bed, musing about her new life. Sure, the money was amazing, but was she missing something? She thought about what it would be like to have a regular job — like bank teller or waitress. She closed her eyes and smiled. Imagine a bank teller with these big moneybags on her chest! Or a waitress carting around these milk jugs! She almost laughed out loud as she drifted off to sleep. The silence of Vicky's restful night was shattered by the ringing of her bedside phone. She reached for it, expecting to hear Karen's voice. "Hello?" "I know where you are," said a male voice. Vicky snapped awake. "Who's this?" "You know," he said, in a voice that sounded like the kind of person who could easily confuse a promise with a threat. "I'm on my way..." There was a click. Shit, thought Vicky. That might be the guy who'd been following her! To Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania? How would he know? she wondered. Even if he got her touring schedule from her web site, she wasn't supposed to be there for another three weeks! She shot out of bed and dressed in a hurry. She pulled the plainest sweater she had over her overblown bustline, and tucked her curvy ass into jeans. And even though she was trying her best to be unobtrusive, she just couldn't bring herself to wear flats or sneakers. She stepped into her usual sky high fuck-me pumps. Worried that the maybe stalker really was on his way to the motel, she ran to the front lobby. She walked up to the first man she saw. "Hi. Buy me breakfast?" she said to a startled fellow, grabbing his arm and walking him to the coffee shop. "Uh ... sure!" said an ordinary-looking young man, dressed in plain corduroys and a plaid flannel shirt. They sat in a corner booth while Vicky ordered two coffees. "Sorry about that," she apologized. "I thought I saw my ex-husband in the lobby, and I didn't want him to see me. Do you mind?" "No!" said the man. "Not at all. But ... uh ... just who are you?" "My name's Vic..." she stopped herself. "Victoria. My friends call me Tori." "I'm Dave," said the man, extending his hand. They shook. Vicky was charmed to see how hard he was working at not staring her in the bust. "What do you do, Dave?" Vicky asked, now ordering some bacon and eggs for them both. "I run a video store," he said. "I'm here to attend a seminar. Making Your Small Business Pay. I have a sneaking suspicion that they're going to tell me the only small business that pays is holding seminars about Making Your Small Business Pay!" Vicky laughed. "Probably. Do you and your wife live here in town?" she asked, fishing for information. "Oh ... I'm not married," said Dave. "Running the store takes so much of my time, I never get the chance to meet anyone nice." "That's too bad," mused Vicky, deliberately pulling the fabric of her sweater closer to her bust to emphasize its immense size and shape. She was pleased at the effect all this was having on Dave. He thought he was being calm and cool, but he was sweating and staring something awful. "It is, isn't it?" said Dave, noticing the way his breakfast companion was pushing her colossal breasts onto the table top, actually sliding the dishes toward the center of the table. He worked at looking her in the eye. "What do you do, Tori?" "Oh ... I don't want to talk about it," she said, having a forkful of scrambled eggs. "I don't think I want to do it anymore, anyway." "Was it something directly related to your great beauty?" asked Dave, shyly. Vicky found herself blushing a little. "You're very sweet, Dave," she said. "Say — how important is this seminar to you? Could you bag it?" Dave was surprised to hear the way he answered. "I ... I guess so," said Dave. "I haven't sent them the check yet!" He'd been planning on attending this seminar for months. Apparently his business sense wasn't as strong as his loneliness, his desire for female companionship ... and his long-standing love of great big titties. "You won't learn anything that's not common sense," said Vicky, grabbing Dave's arm and pressing it against her forty-eight inch lovelies as she led Dave out. Dave tried to be nonchalant about the exquisite sensation of such bouncy, pliant, and gorgeous flesh in such close proximity. "I suppose not," he said, almost in feverish whisper. The couple walked past the front registration desk. Vicky overheard a man asking a question of the clerk. "Do you have a ... Vicky Syn staying here?" said a familiar male voice. "No, sir," said the hotel clerk. "No one by that name..." Vicky realized what was happening. She had to get out, and fast. She just moved Dave along. "I'd like to see your video store, Dave! Let's go." "Okay," said Dave, confused but happy ... and unspeakably hard and horny. He couldn't wait to see what this unexpected vision of desire had in mind. --------------------------------- Karen walked into THE SHOWROOM, the club she had Vicky Syn booked at in three weeks. She'd talked to the owner and told him that she needed to see the club to figure out a few details of lighting and presentation. She didn't mention that as of this morning, she didn't know where her client was. Karen asked the bartender for a cup of coffee, and sat down at one of the tables near the stage. A slim, pretty young girl was dancing for the sparse but appreciative crowd of industrial workers. Karen wondered what the hell she was going to do. It looked like Vicky was gone for good. Apparently, she'd bolted from the motel room without checking out. The clerk said she'd seen Vicky leaving with a guy in a minivan. What was happening here? The dancer looked at Karen with questioning eyes. Female fans weren't unheard of, but they were a little unusual this early on a weekday. Karen smiled weakly at the undulating dishwater blonde, but the feature dancer's manager found she couldn't get her problem off her mind. Sure, she was concerned about her friend Vicky, but more than that, she was pissed at her walking out on her like that! Who the hell did she think she was? Six months' worth of bookings down the drain! A rising star feature dancer walking off with a guy wearing a flannel shirt in Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania! Karen thought about the fact that Vicky had broken her contract ... but realized you can't sue someone you can't find. Karen was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't realize the set had ended until she heard the dancer's voice at her side. "Buy a girl a cup of coffee, sweetheart?" asked the trim young stripper. Karen looked up. "Sure!" she said. "Nice work up there." "Thanks," said the dancer. "My name's Susan. What brings you around, not that it matters?" "No, no, that's okay," said Karen. "I'm in the business. I manage the feature dancer who's booked here in a few weeks, and I was checking out the club." Susan rose, her voice icy. "Then we have nothing to talk about," she said, taking her coffee and heading toward the dressing room. "No, c'mon! Sit down!" urged Karen. "What's the problem?" Susan took her seat again. "Feature dancers ruin it for the housegirls," she told Karen. "They take away our regulars ... and they insult us." "Insult you? How?" Karen asked. "They always ask me to come on right before the headliner," whined Susan. "To make her breasts look bigger! I hate it!" Karen smiled. "Sorry about that, Susan," she said. "It's nothing personal. It's just ... well, showmanship, I guess." "Well, it bugs me!" said the dancer. "Oh, I guess it's not your fault. You don't make the rules. You just rake in the money, don't you? Tell me ... how is the big-titty dancer biz these days?" "Not so good," mumbled Karen. "Why?" asked Susan. Karen looked up. She looked long and hard at Susan's face. "Susan ... I have an idea," she said finally. "I have a problem that you might be able to help me with. Will ... will anyone overhear us out here?" "Well, we could go to the V-I-P Room," said Susan. "It's private. But people might get the wrong idea." "I don't give a fuck," said Karen. "Let's go." "Give me some money, so it looks normal," whispered Susan. Karen handed over a twenty. Susan made a show of tucking it into the waist of her G-string and started swiveling her hips toward the back room. Karen followed. They walked into a private room with one table, two chairs, a stereo speaker, and a black light. "Have a seat," said Susan. "I just want to talk," explained Karen. "I know, but I have to give you a lap dance in case the boss comes in," said Susan. "Don't worry, you paid for it." "Well ... okay," agreed Karen, as Susan began sensually grinding her lower body. "Um ... Susan? My client, Vicky Syn? It seems she's disappeared." "Disappeared?" sneered Susan. "All that fake tit, she'd be hard to hide." "Well, she's run away," said Karen, as Susan's ass cheeks bumped her face while she talked. "Walked out on me. Left me high and dry. I went to her room this morning to bring her over here, and she was gone. I don't know why." The wisp Susan was wearing as a G-string draped itself over Karen's left ear. "So..." asked Susan, peeling off her bra-like top. "What are you going to do?" Karen laid out her plan. "You look a lot like her ... in the face. Let's dye your hair, give you some new makeup ... and get you a huge boob job. You'll be Vicky Syn. No one will ever know." Susan laughed out loud. "C'mon! Are you kidding? Her fans would notice that we don't have the same face." The Headliner and the Housegirl "Her fans never even look at her face," said Karen. "Well ... I don't really like the idea of altering my body that way," said Susan. "It's show biz," said Karen. "After a few years, you can have your boobs cut down again. I did." "Well ... I kinda like my life here," said Susan. "I have my regular customers, the money is okay..." Karen met Susan's gaze with steely eyes. "You'd have at least two thousand in your pocket every single night. That's before you count what you'd get for a lap dance like this ... and it'd be a lot more than that twenty I gave you." Susan stopped dancing. She sat down across from Karen. Finally, she spoke. "Where do I sign?" ------------------------------- "Dave, watch the road," said Vicky, teasing him. "If you don't stop trying to steal looks at my chest, you're going to plow into a parked car." "Was I that obvious?" Dave asked, blushing. "You'd be obvious to a blind man," smiled Vicky. She enjoyed being appreciated like this by an avid tit-man. It was much nicer than letting a gaggle of guys gawk at you in a sweaty, smelly strip joint. "Is your video store a Blockbuster?" "Nope!" said Dave, with pride. "I can't stand those damn national chain stores." "Why?" asked Vicky. "Because they crush the little guy?" "No," said Dave. "What bugs me is all that 'family-friendly' bullshit. Who are they trying to kid? Being able to watch dirty movies in your own home is what put video on the map. Sure, I have the new releases and the cartoons and the exercise videos and all that stuff. But I like having my back room, where guys — and girls — know they can get some real old-fashioned heavy breathing entertainment." "Good for you!" said Vicky. "Yeah, those holier-than-thou types give me a pain, too! I have an idea." "What?" asked Dave. "Why don't I be the back room hostess?" asked Vicky, leaning forward. "Don't you think that would bring some of those lonely guys in on a Saturday night?" "You bet it would!" called Dave. "It's a hell of an idea. Tori, come with me and let's open up the store early. I think we're going to do us some business today!" Vicky laughed. This could be fun. It had to beat shaking what you got in front of paying customers. And risking some slimy guy following you around. And this Dave was nice. Sure, he leered at her, but he liked her. A lot. Vicky decided this guy might be worth further exploration. Starting with what he had in his pants. ------------------------------------- Karen brought Susan her dinner as she lay in what had been Vicky's room at the Howard Johnson. The implant surgery had gone well, the doctor said. But since so much saline had been added to each breast — more than 500cc — he suggested that Susan stay in bed for at least a week. After that, he told her, she'd have to have help learning to walk with her new center of gravity. Karen hoped in that two weeks, she could also learn to dance like a big titty feature dancer! But right now, Susan couldn't even think about that. "This must be costing you a fortune!" said Susan, after thanking her new manager for the meal. "Not as much as it'd cost me to lose Vicky Syn!" she smiled. "How do you feel?" "Okay, I guess," said Susan. She looked at her bandaged chest. "It's hard to believe that's all gonna be me." "It is gonna be you, and you're gonna learn how to use it!" laughed Karen. "Susan, I have to ask you something. I've invested in you. You're looking at that investment right now. I have to know that you're going to stick with it, and not waltz out of here on a whim. I want to be assured that you're ready to be Vicky Syn." "I signed the contract, didn't I?" said Susan. "Yes, you did," agreed Karen. "But so did Vicky. I need to hear it from you." "I am going to be Vicky Syn," said Susan. "I promise." "Good," answered Karen. "I'm glad to hear it." "Hey, Karen..." said Susan, almost in a whisper. "What do I say ... when guys ask if they're real?" "You say sure, they're real," said Karen. "Real expensive! Come on, eat. Then get some sleep. I'll tell you about the things Vicky was known for. It'll help you be her." "You still don't know where she is?" asked Susan. "I don't," said Karen. "Aren't you worried?" said Susan. "Maybe a little," said Karen. "But hell, she made her bed. She can lie it. After all, she can take care of herself! She's a big girl." "She sure is," agreed Susan. "And now — so am I!" "See you in the morning," said Karen on her way out. "Call me if you need anything. I'm just across the hall." Susan smiled a little wistfully. "What I need is fucking," she said. "You can't help me there, can you?" "Nope. Sorry," said Karen. "Wrong equipment. But, Susan ... when those titties heal? Can I ... try them out?" Susan was at first a little shocked ... then a little turned on. "Okay," she said finally. ------------------------------- Victoria opened the front door to Dave's video store. "'Morning!" she chirped. "Hey, where you been?" Dave asked. "I was worried. You'd already left when I got up." Tori smiled. "Last night put you out of comission, did it?" she teased. "Here you go," she said, handing him a bag. "What's this?" Dave asked. "Oh, just your favorite," said Tori. "Vanilla frosted long john, from the bakery, not the donut shop." "And a large coffee, one shot of cream, no sugar?" asked Dave, digging in. "Right," said Tori. "And the coffee is from the donut shop. Theirs is the best." "You know, I think the coffee from the donut sh..." Dave stopped. "Did you just say that?" "I think so," said Tori. "You know ... Tori," stammered Dave. "I think you and I are starting to ... to..." The bell indicating the entrance of a customer interrupted Dave. Tori looked at the man who came in and walked behind the counter to whisper in Dave's ear. "I remember this guy from last Friday," she told him. "He likes the porn tapes with anal themes ... but he's embarassed. He'll ask me to help him." The well-dressed man walked up to the counter and cleared his throat. "Can I..." Dave began. Tori elbowed him in the stomach, and spoke up. "Yes?" The man just gestured toward the back room. Tori bounced through the door, the customer following. Minutes later, he emerged with copies of Ass The World Turns, A Little Behind In Her Work, and Butt Noooo! Dave checked him out and he went home happy. Tori walked back to the front room. "You really make them feel at ease, don't you?" said Dave, with admiration. "A few popped buttons and a lean forward goes a long way," said Tori, with a sexy smirk. "You know, this is some business relationship we've got here, you and me," said Dave. "Yeah," agreed Tori. "But it could be a lot more, Dave..." Dave practically jumped. "Tori, I have to call the distributor for that new line of big bust tapes. I gotta go." He retreated to his office. Tori sighed. Her sorrow was interrupted by the entrance of another customer. "Could you show me something specific ... in the back room?" he asked. "I think you've got what I need." "Oh, I know I do," said Tori, holding her chest high. "Come with me," she said, wiggling her way into the back room. ------------------------------ Susan took a few steps, hesitatingly — across the stage of the club. "That's it," encouraged Karen. "You look good, baby." "Yeah?" Susan asked, getting a little more confident. On her next few steps, she gave her new boobs a few preliminary shakes. "Oooh!" cried Karen. "That's gonna make the tit men creammmmm." "They ain't seen nothin' yet!" called Susan, starting to sway her hips, too. "Gimme some music!" Karen put on a funk selection with a strong beat. Susan's movements became even more sensual. "I should warn you, Karen," she said as she moved. "I was never much of a dancer." "That's okay," smiled the manager. "Neither was Vicky. But when you've got gallon-size milk jugs like that, all you have to be able to do is walk upright and count to eight!" "I can do that. Watch this!" said Susan. "Five! Six! Seven! Eight!" She swayed in time nicely and kept counting out loud. Soon she was able to bounce her left tit on "six", and her right tit on "eight"! "Very nice," said Karen. "It's too bad we had to cancel the Boston bookings — but I know you're going to be Vicky Syn in time to open here!" Susan experimented with leaning forward while she danced without falling over. Karen kept talking. "Listen a minute and keep dancing. I want to tell you what Vicky did for lap dances in the V.I.P. room. Look at this." Karen got what looked like a silk handkerchief out of her purse. "Wow," marveled Susan. "Looks expensive." "It's not," said Karen. "Imitation." "But what about the embroidery?" said Susan, stopping her tentative dance to get a closer look. "It's got 'Vicky Syn' and a pair of red lips embroidered on black silk." "Nah, that's stamped on, or silk-screened, or something," said Karen. "I'm sure because I've got millions of them. Every time Vicky does a lap dance, she will — you will — discreetly get the man's cock out of his pants..." "Uh-huh..." said Susan, starting to sway sexily again. "Take one of these handkerchiefs and jerk him off," whispered Karen. "Discreetly. It's not legal in every city." "Yes," said Susan. "After he comes, give it to him," said Karen. "A souvenir take-home Vicky Syn silk handkerchief. With his very own milky white cum showing up against the black material!" "Oh, that's good," said Susan. "Can you do it?" asked Karen. "I can," said Susan. "I can be Vicky Syn. You just watch me..." Her dancing became less like musical performance and more like simulated sex. God, she will be a magnificent Vicky Syn, Karen thought. Look at her. So young, so sexy ... so busty. Karen thought Susan's brand-new forty-eight-inch, permanently hard-nippled models were even more enticing than the real Vicky's mammary monsters. Karen reached to the corners of her mouth and wiped away a bit of spittle. My god, thought Karen. Those tits on that girl are making my mouth water. Karen stepped onto the edge of the stage of THE SHOWROOM. "Hey, Susan," said Karen. "Come here." "What is it?" said Susan, nearly mesmerizing herself with the constant motion of her new boobs. She shimmied as she approached her manager. When they were nearly tit to tit, Karen put her hands up and hefted the impressive weight of Susan's big new titties. "One thing you should always do," whispered Karen, "is make sure the nipples are their maximum length..." She practically vacuumed one into her mouth. "...And prime hardness. Adds to the aesthetics of the dance." Karen used her tongue to twirl the other nipple 'til it tingled. "God, Karen, that's marvelous!" said Susan. "Do some more." Karen obliged. "You'll learn," said Karen, in between slurps, "that the more you get in tune with your tits ... the more you start to enjoy your endowments..." Karen's teeth gently teased Susan's still hardening nips. "The more you'll start to feel everything that's happening to your boobies right between your legs." Karen's strong hand covered Susan's pussy. She wiped it from bottom to top and raised the now soaking hand up to both's girls' mouths — and noses. "Oh, my God," said Susan. "It smells, doesn't it?" "Yes, isn't it marvelous?" purred Karen, now lowering her face to her protege's cunt and opening wide. Karen continued to work Susan's nipples with the thumbs and forefingers of each hand and she drank deeply at the well of Susan's womanhood. Susan rumbled with the beginnings of a juicy orgasm. It nearly knocked her off her feet. Both women settled down comfortably on the carpeted stage. "Vicky," whispered Karen. Susan was thrilled that her manager was calling her Vicky. It made her feel like a goddess of sex. "Yes, baby?" answered Susan. "Take your nipple and make it dance on my clit ... will you?" Karen said dreamily. "Oh, yeah," said Susan, lustily. When the bartender arrived to open the club, Susan was lying on the floor, while Karen sat up, bucking her body against Susan's tit, which was buried among her manager's private parts. Karen was practically singing "Boom! Titty, boom! Titty, boom!" as she rode Susan's knocker. "'Scuse us," explained Karen, as she wiggled past the bartender, who had taken a seat near the stage for the best view. "Just checking out my investment. Need help with that so it doesn't bump into the bar while you work?" she offered, pointing at the bartender's crotch. Karen and the bartender disappeared into a storage room while Susan went to the dressing room to change! ------------------------------- "New stuff comin' in!" hollered the delivery man as he pushed open the door to Dave's video store. He had to holler — the audio from a promotional tape showing previews of upcoming releases filled the room. 'If you see only one film this year...' said the tape's breathless announcer, 'make it this one!' The delivery man brought the cardboard box to the counter where Dave and Victoria were gazing at each other. "Anybody home?" he joked when no one seemed to notice him. "Oh! Sorry, pal. What is it?" asked Dave. "Back-room stuff," said the delivery man, confidentially. "Ah. Tori, show him where it goes," said Dave, and Victoria led the man back. In a minute, the delivery man emerged. "Dave, you got it bad for this girl," he commented on his way out. "Why do you say that?" Dave wanted to know. "Because you were staring at her eyes," teased the man. "Not her tits! See ya next week." And he was off. Dave thought about what he'd said. Maybe he was right. Maybe he was! Maybe the time had come to tell Tori just how he felt! He strode into the back room. 'Explore new worlds! Study new life forms!' hyped the preview tape announcer, in praise of a space epic. Victoria was taking VHS tapes from the carton that had just been delivered. Dave spoke up. "Tori! I have something to tell you!" "No, Dave," said Tori. "I think I have something to tell you." She held up the tape cover. There was a magnificently endowed blonde, gazing into the camera and licking her lips. The tape's title was Original Syn. Dave knew immediately. His eyes went from the tape case to Tori's eyes. "You?" he asked. Victoria nodded. "Victoria's my real name. Victoria Bardenwerper, but I used Vicky Syn professionally. My God, you must hate me!" She couldn't meet his eyes. Dave bolted from the back room. Vicky's eyes filled with tears. She had lost him for sure. In what must have been fifteen seconds, Dave ran back into the back room. "What's going on?" Vicky asked. "I just put up the 'CLOSED FOR LUNCH' sign and locked the door," said Dave. "Tori — Vicky — I gotta have you. Here! Now!" Dave didn't even stop to turn off the preview tape. 'More action than ever before!' called the announcer, with an excitement that rivaled Dave's. Dave pulled Victoria's thin T-shirt out of the waistband of her tight jeans. He tore the garment from her with almost enough force to cause severe neck injury. Fortunately, Vicky was as eager as he. She was topless in no time. Dave lifted both breasts to experience their lovely weight, and poked at their realistic softness. 'You'll feel like you're really there,' said the tape's announcer. "My God," Dave said in a reverent whisper. "You'd think these were really yours!" "They are really mine," she snapped good-naturedly. "In a way. But right now, baby..." She eased his widening mouth over her hardening nipple. "...they're yours!" "Mmmmmmm," said Dave. At least, that was all that came out. He sucked her hard, thoughtfully alternating attention between her two nipples. They were chillingly accurate arousal gauges. When they were hard enough to poke someone's eye out, Vicky grabbed Dave forcefully at the crotch. Dave fell back against a rack of video tapes — where a sign helpfully pointed out to customers that this section was devoted to Boobs And Buns. "Keep sucking, sweety," she cooed, easing the pants off her hips — and her lovers'. "But jam that thing in me. I need it. I'll give you what you need." 'Enter a world you won't believe!' encouraged the preview tape. "Mmmm? Mmmmm!" agreed Dave, happily. Vicky pushed the vast acreage of her bosom all around Dave's face, emphasizing all that made Vicky so sexy to him. She pushed her comfortable cushions together to allow him to snag both of her nipples in his mouth at the same time. And she pummeled their pubic bones together with wild abandon until Dave unleashed a major load inside her. "Oh, my God," sighed Dave, finally letting Vicky's still-hard nipples fall free. "That was fantastic." Vicky stood up and scampered to the next video shelf, her vast bosom leading the way. Small movements from Vicky yielded big movement on her torso. She lay on the floor in between the rack labeled OF INTEREST TO COUPLES and another labeled HOT AND HEAVY. "C'mere!" she teased. "Any little-titted girl could do that. I want to show you things that only big bombastic babies like these can do!" She slammed her enhanced sex-symbols together with an audible 'clap'. Dave ran over, his flaccid member waving in the breeze. "I'm ready!" he called, taking it in his own hands like a weapon. "Oh, look!" she laughed, "It deserves a round of applause," she teased, continuing to 'clap' her big breasts together. "Let's bring it back for an encore!" "I'll show you just where it wants to go," called Dave. "I'll bet I know," smiled Vicky. 'He's back,' the tape announcer was heard to say. 'And this time it's personal.' Dave dropped his rod between Vicky's exaggerated boobs. Vicky purred like a predator capturing its prey, and pushed their royal hugeness around his cock. It became hard even before contact — as though triggered by the very idea of being caught in such a soft and sexy trap. Dave raised himself onto his knees and began sawing back and forth. Vicky had a hilarious time trying to capture the head in her mouth on every upstroke. "Here it comes," bellowed Dave. "Don't drink it," he advised. "Decorate yourself with it!" Vicky raised her upper body on one elbow and grabbed Dave's cock with her other hand. She cooed and slurped at it as she glided it over every sexy inch of her expanded acreage. "Do you think my nipples are hard enough, lover?" she teased. "Only one way to tell," said Dave. "Right," said Vicky. "I'll check 'em with the head of your cock!" she called. One poke unleashed what seemed like a gallon on her left boob, and then a gallon on her right. Dave collapsed, totally spent. Vicky rubbed it in like so much Jergen's hand lotion. '...Coming soon to video and DVD,' commented the announcer. "Wow," said Dave finally. "This keeps them soft and manageable," joked Vicky. Dave sat up with a start. "Try something?" he asked Vicky eagerly. "I've never had a girl big-busted enough ... or wild enough ... to try this. But I always wondered if it were possible." "Sure! What?" Vicky asked. "Come here," he said, leading her to a rack of tapes. "Stand up." Vicky did, with the expected bounce such a sudden action was likely to cause. "Here," said Dave, clearing out all the tapes on one side of the rack at tit-level. "Hold on." He walked to the other aisle and cleared out the tapes in the same spot on the other side. "Now!" he said, sticking his face through the resulting opening. "Stick them in here. I want a taste!" 'There's nothing quite like an evening at the movies!' said the preview tape's announcer, warmly. Vicky laughed and obeyed. Dave payed avid oral attention to her titties through the video rack for several more minutes. Finally, they leaned against the shipment of Vicky's Original Syn and necked like two high-school lovers. The Headliner and the Housegirl "I guess this means you don't hate me, huh?" asked Vicky when they came up for air. "You could say that," smiled Dave as he resumed searching the inside of her mouth with his tongue. The only sound in the back room was the liquid sound of two tongues intertwining ... and audio static as the preview tape rewound itself. ------------------------------ Karen was pleased with her protege. Here it was, Vicky Syn's opening night at THE SHOWROOM in Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania — and Susan was ready. She had Vicky Syn's teased bleached-blonde hair, Vicky Syn's deliberately overdone makeup, Vicky Syn's enormous breasts — and most importantly, Vicky Syn's lascivious and flirtatious style. In fact, thought Karen, Susan was Vicky Syn! Now, anyway. "I'd better start calling you Vicky! Out loud, I mean," said Karen to Susan as they arranged Vicky's costumes in the dressing room. "It'll help keep our deception from getting out!" "Did you see the ad in the paper?" Susan asked. "I don't remember ... is that her or me in the photo?" "It's her, but who cares?" laughed Karen. "No one will know. Even her most avid fans will swear you're Vicky Syn." Karen's cell phone in her purse began ringing. She took it off the dressing room table and answered it. "She's there, isn't she?" said a familiar ominous voice. Karen knew at once it was the man who'd been obsessing over Vicky Syn. She'd foolishly hoped that the few weeks off would have distracted him enough to make him go away. "I came to Boston ... no one was there," continued the voice. "I'm not pleased. And I'm not going to let some dyke manager stand in the way of Vicky and my happiness." Karen put her hand over the receiver. "Ummm ... Vicky? Excuse me a moment," she said. "This is private." "Okay!" said Susan, happily arranging her show wardrobe. Karen stepped into the hall and closed the dressing room door behind her. "Now, listen, mister," snapped Karen to the caller. "It's no use," he said. "I'm on my way." "You're what?" panicked Karen. "Wait. Um..." "It's destiny," he said before hanging up. "Vicky and me. Nothing will stand in our way..." The line went dead. Before Karen could think what to do next, the phone rang again. "Hello?" "Hey, listen — Grand Kenyon! What are you trying to pull?" said a laughing female voice on the other end of the line. "Vicky!" Karen almost shouted in the solitude of the corridor. "You've got your nerve calling here! You know you've violated a legal and binding contract, don't you? Where are you?" "Right here in Wilkes-Barre. I'm kinda hiding out," said Vicky. "I saw the ad in the paper. How is that I'm opening tonight?" "You're not," Karen quickly explained. "I hired a new Vicky. Vicky, listen to me. We've got trouble..." Vicky didn't even seem to hear. "A new Vicky? Well, why not? Good luck to you and the new girl, kid!" "Wait a minute, wait a minute, Vicky. This is serious," said Karen. "Vicky ... he's calling. He's coming here. And I have an idea how you can help trap the fucker." "Oh, no. The guy? Shit. He scared me. He really did," said Vicky. "He's probably just lovesick and ridiculous, but what if he's not? Wait ... did you say trap him? Me? What am I, Cagney and Lacey?" asked Vicky. "Listen, missy ... I could sue you for walking out of your contract," said Karen forcefully, "or you could help me and we'll forget the whole unpleasant episode. You got us into this with all that Internet chatting shit. You can get us out." There was a short silence. Then Vicky spoke. "What do you want me to do?" "First, call the cops. Have them meet us at THE SHOWROOM. I'll tell security here at the club to hang back. You come here and slip back into the dressing room. Put on that tight leopard-skin number ... we've got two of those..." Karen outlined an elaborate plan. Vicky listened carefully, agreed, and hung up. Dave wanted to know what was going on. "Dave, Karen's hired a new Vicky, but the stalker, this guy who was following me? Remember the time I grabbed you in the hotel lobby? I was getting away from this guy, and now I'm going to go down there and help them catch him — I've got to hurry!" Dave stopped her. "I can't believe it, but I followed most of that," he said to his sweetheart. "I'll call the police. But you are not going all by yourself! I'm coming with you. Let's go." Dave and Vicky closed the store, jumped in a car, and raced to THE SHOWROOM. --------------------------- In the club, the lights began to dim. An announcer's voice was heard over the P.A. "And now, gentlemen, THE SHOWROOM would like to welcome an exciting performer — an enticing performer — an enormous performer, up front where it counts — let's have a really big welcome for Vicky Syn!" The crowd erupted in applause, as Susan took the stage, throwing her big, bought-and-paid-for boobs around so violently they jumped out of the tight low-cut animal print body stocking she was wearing. The crowd hooted and hollered. Karen would have been proud. But Karen wasn't in the house, watching. She was out front, waiting for Vicky. Vicky and Dave clambored out of their car. Karen waved them down. "Is he here?" she asked Karen. "I think so," Karen said. "Front row, average height, thinning hair. Skinny." "Got it," said Vicky. "I'm suiting up now." Vicky slipped in the back entrance and ran to the dressing room. "I'm Dave," he said, by way of introduction. "Hi, Dave," said Karen, shaking his hand. "That's a brave girl you've got there." "I know," he agreed. "All we can do is go sit in the back of the house and watch," said Karen. "Come on in." On the stage, Susan was displaying her skill at bouncing each big breast in turn. A weaselly-looking man with thinning hair began to stand up. "Hey, down in front!" shouted a customer. The man ignored him. He leaned forward to try to speak to the dancer. "I'm finally here," he said. Susan tried to dance to another part of the stage. The man reached forward and directed her back in front of him. "It's time. You and I will go home now," said the man. Susan looked terrified. "It was meant to be," he said in his soft but threatening manner. "Yoo-hoo!" came a girlish squeal from the back of the barroom. The follow spot settled on an identical big breasted blonde with teased hair, exposed chest, and tight animal print body stocking. "Over here!" she called in a sexy singsong voice. The balding man's head snapped around. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. "Vicky!" he cried. Then her turned his head toward the stage. "Vicky?" he asked. As he kept looking from one girl to the other, police calmly walked up to him and slapped on handcuffs. The lights in THE SHOWROOM were abruptly turned up full. The officers led the man away. Nearly all of the customers left then, too. Perhaps they wouldn't want their wives to know where they'd been. Susan ran off the stage and ran to Vicky, hugging her gratefully. "Thank you! Thank you," she kept saying. "I was so scared! Weren't you?" "Sure I was," said Vicky. "But I thought it would work. I'd listened to this guy on the phone for awhile now. Threatening, yes. Smart, no." Karen smiled broadly at her friend. "Thanks, Vicky. You saved us. Damn! This is weird. It's like ... Cathy and Patty Lane, you know? Or Samantha and Serena!" The two Vickys started to laugh. "Maybe we should do a double act, huh?" said Susan. "Nah, they wouldn't pay double!" said Karen, ever the pragmatist when it came to money. Dave emerged from the back row. He handed Vicky a napkin he'd been writing something on. It showed a crude map of the U.S., divided into six areas. On the side were columns of figures, adding up to big money. "Sweetie, what is this?" Vicky asked. "What do you know..." said Dave, "...about franchising?" ------------------------------- Dave took a look at the calendar in his office. Right now, Susan should be arriving in Massachusetts where she was booked for the next three weeks as Vicky Syn. Karen was in Daytona, Florida, looking for a dancer to be Vicky Syn for the Southeastern United States. Vicky had suggested one of her ex-coworkers in Illinois get the augmentation surgery and start working as Vicky Syn Midwest. And a friend of Dave's was going from strip joint to strip joint in the Northwest, looking for a Vicky Syn to work out of Seattle. He'd be calling in from Tacoma any minute. Dave chuckled to himself. He had something in common with Colonel Sanders. Both of them started a huge franchise business involving breasts! Actually, it was more like what they'd done years ago with Bozo the Clown. The original Bozo had other clowns play the part of "Bozo" all over the country. Almost every city had its very own "Bozo". The more Dave thought about it, the more he realized that their "Vicky Syn" arrangement was just like Bozo! Think of how much Bozo and Vicky had in common: the red lips, the teased hair, the makeup, and two oversize body parts. Of course, with Bozo — it was his feet. Suddenly, Dave felt those two oversize body parts covering his eyes. "Guess who?" said Vicky. Dave reached up for a couple of handfuls of tit. That phone call from Tacoma would have to wait.