The Object of His Affection

The Object of His Affection – Modification

 

 

 

 

They were laying on the couch on a lazy Saturday afternoon. The sun shone through the trees outside, casting shadows that moved with the light breeze. As usual, she was naked but for her cuffs, collar and stilettos. Half asleep, she wrested on his lap, her arms wrapped around him, secure and comfortable.

 

She looked up at him and smiled. "What do you want for your birthday?"

 

"You know what I want", he told her.

 

She furrowed her brows quizzically, nodding her head to the negative.

 

"Right now, I would enjoy seeing your wonderful breasts enhanced a bit", he told her. "Remember when I mentioned it before?"

 

She clamped her lips tightly, considering his comment. For a long time she stared at him, not making a sound. She had all but forgotten his request, having received no further comments on the matter since declining his initial request.

 

"How big do you want them?" she inquired.

 

"Doesn't matter. That is, it shouldn't matter to you."

 

"Of course, it matters. I have to work and live with them", she said. "And I would have to deal with the people at work. What would they think if I got my breasts - already a thirty-six "DD", I might add - enlarged? What kind of a narcissist would they think I am?"

 

"Quit."

 

"My job?"

 

He tilted his head to look at her. "Yeah. I have plenty of money. Or haven't you noticed?"

 

"How big?" she asked, her voice trailing into a higher octave.

 

"I don't know", he said. "I'll know when I talk to the doctor."

 

"But I can quit work and not have to worry about being ogled and ridiculed by anyone?"

 

"Yup."

 

In the past, she had considered having her breasts reduced somewhat, if anything. The notion of enlarging them further had never entered her mind until he had mentioned it.

 

She looked up at him, thinking about his request; wondering what he had in mind. She loved him so much and longed to please him, always feeling as if she had committed a terrible crime if she failed him in any way. What was she to do, she wondered.

 

“You really want me bigger?” She was hopeful of a change.

 

“Yes,” he said. “I want you bigger.”

 

She thought of the possibilities. Maybe he only wanted her a little bigger, she thought – hoped. Then again, he might want her breasts to be as big as basketballs or bigger. How could she deal with something like that?

 

“I can’t,” she thought. “How can I? I’m already too big.”

 

She was suddenly sad, imagining the look in his eyes when she told him “No”. How could she disappoint him again? Especially after showing her who she really was? Especially after teaching her not to fight herself.

 

“I can’t disappoint him again,” she reasoned. “I can’t. I can’t…but I have to.”

 

She made to answer and then stopped, open-mouthed. She started again and then faltered. She gulped air, preparing for his disappointment. Then, she blurted out the words that surprised even her; “I’ll do it.”

 

The rest of the week was a blur for her. Often times she would stare at her bare breasts in the bathroom mirror, imagining how they would look after her impending surgery. One day, while she contemplated her future bra size, she heard his voice calling to her. It was time.

 

The drive to the "Facility" was a long one. During the journey he explained that the doctor he was taking her to see was a friend of his.

 

"His name is Jerry and he specializes is this sort of thing", he told her. "Actually, he does far more extreme things for people than breast enlargements. Anyway, he is good. The best, in fact."

 

Upon arrival to the "Facility" she got an odd feel about it. It was clean and sterile, just like any other doctors office. However, the air about the place seemed rather cold and lifeless, as if something horrible lurked about.

 

They were ushered into Jerry's office almost immediately. James and Jerry shook hands and engaged in a brief moment of small talk and catching up. Then they got down to the business at hand.

 

"So, you say you want to increase your bust size?"

 

"Well, yes. That is…er…James wants me to get it done and I want to do it for him", Debbie replied.

 

"Have you decided on a size?"

 

"Yes, I have,” James interjected. “So, if you can get her prepped, I can tell you what I want."

 

Jerry looked to Debbie smiling. "I see. Well then, give me about an hour and we will get her prepped." He then excused himself and departed.

 

“You decided?” Debbie whispered to James.

 

He smiled, nodding his head.

 

“How big?” she demanded.

 

“Does it matter?”

 

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” Debbie was flustered now. “No. I don’t think it does. But it does…and it doesn’t.

 

James smiled and pulled her to him, assuring her.

 

What about if I scare?” she asked, hoping to find a way out.

 

“Don’t worry,” interjected Jerry, “I go in through the naval. It’s called a TUBA. You won’t have to worry about scarring.”

 

The moment when she was called away came all too soon for her.

 

After the surgery, Jerry had offered to administer a mild sedative for the ride home. There would be residual pain and swelling for the next few weeks but there was no reason she should suffer the long ride and its many road hazards. James agreed and accepted the offer.

 

Debbie slept through the night. When she awoke the next morning, it was to see the friendly confines of their bedroom. Initially, she thought it had been a dream, having no remembrances of the return trip. Upon rising, she realized that it had not been a dream.

 

A loud "Oh, my God!" brought James to his feet. She was awake and, obviously, a bit surprised at her enhancements.

 

"How fucking big are my tits?" she demanded as he entered the room. "I'm fucking huge! What the fuck did you do to me?"

 

James said nothing. Her reaction was not a surprise to him. Instead, he sat on the bed and listened to her as spoke. She was not angry. Instead there was an accepting sadness as she spoke.

 

“This makes you happy?” she asked. “Is this what you wanted?”

 

“Yes, my love, it makes me happy. Part of what you see is swelling, though.” He reached forward and wiped a tear from her eye. “You need to keep this bra on for the next few weeks, by the way.”

 

For several hours after her awakening, they would lay together. Sometimes her speech would be fast and nervous and others slow and melancholy. As the hours passed she asked, repeatedly, if he “really and truly” liked her new “soccer ball tits”.

 

Of all the things she had experienced it was, in fact, the most difficult thing she had been forced to come to grips with. Daily, it seemed, she would decide to tell James she wanted her implants removed. However, each time she faced him she failed to tell him her wishes, imagining his disappointment. After a few months of inner turmoil, she came to accept her new breasts.