Chapter 9

Lacey Carver sat rigid in the passenger seat of Dane’s beat-up Chevy, her manicured nails digging into the hem of her skintight black dress. The fabric hugged her thirty-two-year-old curves like a second skin, her ample breasts straining against the low neckline, her rounded hips and firm ass accentuated by the short hem. Her platinum hair, styled in loose waves, shimmered under the morning sun streaming through the windshield.

Her heart raced, a nervous flutter in her stomach as she glanced at Dane, her sixteen-year-old son, behind the wheel. His six-foot-three frame dominated the driver’s seat, his muscular arms flexing as he gripped the steering wheel, his chiseled jaw set with that cocky confidence that made her both proud and weak. His tight tee clung to his sculpted chest, and his faded jeans did little to hide the bulge of his eleven-inch cock, a sight that sent a shameful heat between her thighs.

“Relax, babygirl,” Dane said, his deep voice smooth but edged with command. “Everything’s gonna be fine. Just be a good girl and do what I say.” He glanced at her, his piercing green eyes locking onto hers, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You’ve proven you’re too fucking stupid to handle big decisions like this. That’s why I’m in charge. Got it?”

Lacey swallowed hard, her doe-like blue eyes wide with anxiety. “Yes, Big Daddy,” she murmured, her voice small. His words stung, echoing the humiliation of her firing from the bank, the memory of Mr. Thompson’s degrading blowjob still raw. But Dane was right. She’d messed up too many times—lost keys, botched paperwork, burned dinners. Her ditzy brain couldn’t be trusted. She nodded meekly, her fingers twisting in her lap. “I’ll be good. I promise.”

Dane’s smirk widened, his hand reaching over to pat her thigh, his touch firm and possessive. “That’s my girl. You let me handle this, and you’ll come out looking like the hottest fuckdoll in town.” His fingers lingered, squeezing her flesh, sending a jolt of arousal through her despite her nerves. She bit her lip, her pussy tingling at his crude praise, her mind torn between shame and devotion to her dominant son.

The Chevy pulled into the parking lot of Dr. Steven Hargrove’s upscale plastic surgery clinic, a sleek building with tinted windows and a manicured lawn. Lacey’s stomach churned as Dane parked, her eyes darting to the sign: Hargrove Cosmetic Surgery. This was Sienna’s surgeon, the one who’d given the stripper her perfect fake tits. Lacey’s heart pounded at the thought of going under the knife, of Dane reshaping her body to his desires. She hesitated, her hand on the door handle, but Dane’s sharp glance prodded her.

“Move your ass,” he ordered, stepping out and slamming his door. Lacey scurried to follow, her stilettos clicking on the pavement, her dress riding up to flash her lacy thong. Dane’s eyes raked over her, approving but impatient. “Don’t make me wait, babygirl.”

Inside, the clinic’s lobby was pristine—white marble floors, plush leather chairs, and a faint scent of lavender. Behind the reception desk stood a woman in her mid-twenties, her curvaceous figure poured into a fitted white blouse with several buttons undone and a navy skirt. Her name tag read Brittany. Her long, chestnut hair fell in glossy waves, and her full lips curved into a professional smile, but it was her chest that drew the eye—large, spherical breasts that strained her blouse, clearly the work of Dr. Hargrove. Lacey’s breath caught, jealousy spiking as she noticed Dane’s gaze lock onto Brittany’s tits.

“Well, damn,” Dane said, striding to the desk with his signature swagger, his voice dripping with charm. “You must be Dr. Hargrove’s best advertisement. That chest looks fucking incredible.”

Brittany’s cheeks flushed, but her smile widened, her hazel eyes sparkling with flattered delight. “Why, thank you,” she purred, standing to give him a slow twirl, her skirt flaring to reveal toned thighs. “I’m Brittany. Dr. Hargrove does amazing work, doesn’t he?” She leaned forward, her cleavage deepening, her blouse buttons straining. “You must be Dane. Sienna mentioned you.”

Lacey’s chest tightened, a mix of pride and envy swirling in her gut. Dane’s charisma was magnetic, his broad shoulders and chiseled features making Brittany melt. But watching him flirt so openly, his eyes devouring another woman’s body, made Lacey’s heart ache. She stood silently, her platinum hair catching the light, feeling like a prop in Dane’s show.

“Fuck yeah, he does,” Dane said, leaning on the counter, his gaze fixed on Brittany’s chest. “Bet those feel as good as they look. You ever show them off?”

Brittany giggled, tossing her hair. “Maybe for the right guy.” She glanced at Lacey, her smile polite but dismissive, then back to Dane. “Your ... friend here is getting a consultation, right? For breast augmentation?”

“She’s getting fake tits,” Dane said bluntly, his hand sliding to Lacey’s lower back, his fingers grazing her ass. “Wanna make her the hottest piece of ass around. Right, baby?”

Lacey nodded, her cheeks burning. “Yes, Big Daddy,” she whispered, her voice trembling. Brittany’s eyebrows rose slightly, but she didn’t comment, her attention fixed on Dane.

“The exam room’s ready,” Brittany said, stepping around the desk, her hips swaying as she led them down a hallway. Her skirt hugged her round ass, and Dane’s eyes followed every step. “I’ll show you back.”

As they walked, Dane kept up the flirtation, his voice low and teasing. “Bet you don’t even need a bra with those, huh? They sit up all perfect on their own.”

Brittany laughed, pausing outside the exam room to face him. “You’re bad,” she said, her fingers playing with her blouse’s top button. “But you’re right. Wanna see?” Before Lacey could process it, Brittany unbuttoned her blouse, revealing a lacy, front-hook bra. With a coy smile, she unhooked it, letting the cups fall away. Her large, firm tits bounced free, perfectly round, her pink nipples hard under Dane’s stare.

“Goddamn,” Dane growled, reaching out without hesitation. His hands cupped Brittany’s tits, squeezing their firm weight, his thumbs brushing her nipples. She moaned softly, her eyes fluttering, clearly smitten by his bold touch. “These are fucking perfect. Doc’s a genius, don’t you think, babygirl?”

Lacey’s stomach twisted, jealousy flaring as she watched Dane grope another woman. But pride surged too—her son’s game was unmatched, his raw masculinity reducing Brittany to a whimpering mess. “They’re ... nice,” Lacey managed, her voice small, her pussy tingling despite herself.

Brittany giggled, stepping back to rehook her bra and button her blouse. “Thanks for the compliment, Dane. If you wanna talk more about the procedure—or anything else—find me later.” She winked, her hips swaying as she left, leaving Lacey feeling invisible.

In the exam room, Lacey sat on the paper-covered table, her dress riding up her thighs, her nerves jangling. Dane lounged in a chair, his legs spread wide, his bulge obscene in his jeans. The door opened, and Dr. Hargrove entered, a trim man in his fifties with silver hair and a professional smile. “Ms. Carver, I presume?” he said, shaking her hand, then Dane’s. “I understand you’re considering breast augmentation.”

Lacey nodded, her hands clasped tightly. “Yes, doctor. I ... I want to look better. For, um, my boyfriend.” She glanced at Dane, her cheeks flushing at the lie.

Dr. Hargrove pulled up a stool, his demeanor calm. “Let’s start with a quick exam.” He checked her vitals, his hands professional as he palpated her chest through her dress, confirming her health. “You’re in excellent shape, Mrs. Carver. Now, let’s discuss your goals.” He opened a binder of before-and-after photos, glossy images of women with enhanced breasts. “What size are you thinking?”

Lacey hesitated, her eyes darting to Dane. “I ... I don’t know. Maybe a little bigger? Like a D cup?” Her voice was uncertain, her nerves fraying under Dane’s intense gaze.

Dr. Hargrove nodded, flipping to photos of modest enhancements. “A D cup would suit your frame nicely. It’s a popular choice—natural-looking, minimal strain on your back. Here’s an example.” He showed her a photo of a woman with pert, balanced D-cups, her smile radiant.

Dane scoffed, leaning forward. “Nah, doc. That’s too small. She needs something way bigger. Double-E cups, minimum. I want her tits to stop traffic.”

Lacey’s breath caught, panic rising. “Big Daddy, that’s ... that’s really big. I’m not sure—” Her words faltered as Dane’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening.

“Don’t argue with me,” he snapped, his voice low and dangerous. “You’ve fucked up enough decisions. I’m telling you, Double-E cups. You wanna be fucking perfect for me, don’t you?”

Lacey’s cheeks burned, her eyes dropping to her lap. “Yes, Big Daddy,” she whispered, her voice trembling. The doctor’s eyebrows rose, but he stayed professional, his pen tapping his clipboard.

“Mrs. Carver, I’d advise caution,” Dr. Hargrove said, his tone gentle but firm. “Double-E cups are significantly larger. They can cause back pain, posture issues, and higher surgical risks—hematomas, implant rupture, even nerve damage. A D cup would be safer and still enhance your figure beautifully.”

Dane leaned back, his smirk cold. “Doc, we’ve made our decision. Double-E cups. She’s doing it for me, and I know what I want. Right, baby?”

Lacey’s heart pounded, her mind racing with fear—pain, complications, the sheer size. But Dane’s commanding stare silenced her doubts. He was right; she couldn’t be trusted to decide. “Yes, Big Daddy,” she said softly, her voice barely audible. “Double-E cups.”

Dr. Hargrove sighed, making a note. “If you’re certain, I can schedule the surgery for early next week—Tuesday morning. We’ll go over pre-op instructions and recovery plans.” He handed Lacey a pamphlet, his eyes sympathetic. “Take some time to think it over. You can still change your mind.”

Dane stood, towering over the doctor, his presence intimidating. “She won’t. Book it.” He grabbed Lacey’s arm, pulling her to her feet. “Let’s go, baby. You did good.”

As they left the exam room, Lacey’s legs wobbled, her stilettos clicking unevenly. Dane’s hand on her ass was both possessive and reassuring, his approval warming her despite her fear. In the lobby, Brittany caught Dane’s eye again, her smile flirty. “Everything go okay?” she asked, her blouse still tight, her tits a silent taunt.

“Perfect,” Dane said, winking. “Gonna make her tits even better than yours. No offense.”

Brittany laughed, tossing her hair. “None taken. Call me if you need ... anything.” She handed him a business card, her fingers brushing his.

Lacey stumbled out of the clinic, her stilettos wobbling on the pavement, her skintight black dress clinging to her curves. Her platinum hair swayed, catching the late morning sun, but her heart raced with a mix of fear and exhilaration from the consultation.

Dane’s firm grip on her arm guided her to the Chevy, parked in the clinic’s lot, his six-foot-three frame towering over her. His green eyes gleamed with predatory satisfaction, his tight tee and jeans barely containing his muscular bulk and the obscene bulge of his eleven-inch cock. Lacey’s pussy tingled, her nerves about the Double-E-cup implants warring with the thrill of his approval.

“Get in the backseat, baby,” Dane growled, yanking open the rear door of the Chevy and shoving her inside. The worn leather creaked as Lacey scrambled onto the seat, her dress riding up to expose her lacy thong. Dane climbed in after her, slamming the door, his massive frame filling the cramped space. “You did so fucking good in there, listening to me like a good little slut.” His voice was thick with lust, his hand already unzipping his jeans, freeing his rock-hard cock. It sprang out, thick and veined, the head glistening with precum.

Lacey’s breath hitched, her doe-like blue eyes wide as she stared at his massive shaft. “Thank you, Big Daddy,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need. She leaned forward, her full lips parting, eager to please him. Dane grabbed a fistful of her platinum hair, guiding her mouth to his cock, the head brushing her lips.

“Suck it, baby,” he ordered, his tone commanding. “Show me how much you love being my perfect fuckdoll.”

Lacey moaned, her lips stretching wide as she took his cock into her mouth, the thick shaft filling her, stretching her jaw. The musky taste of him flooded her senses, her tongue swirling around the head, savoring his heat. She bobbed her head, her moans muffled, her hands braced on his muscular thighs. The feel of his massive cock stretching her mouth sent a shameful thrill through her, her pussy soaking her thong as she sucked eagerly, desperate to please her dominant son.

Dane groaned, his hand stroking her hair, his fingers tightening. “Fuck, baby, you’re so goddamn good at this. Look at you, slurping my cock like a hungry little whore.” His words dripped with misogynistic praise, each one stoking Lacey’s arousal. “You’re gonna look so fucking hot with those EE-cup tits. Big, fake pornstar tits bouncing for me, making every guy in town hard as fuck. You’re gonna be my perfect slut, aren’t you?”

Lacey’s cheeks flushed, her heart swelling with twisted pride. She nodded around his cock, her lips stretched tight, her moans vibrating against his shaft. The image of herself with huge, fake tits—round, obscene, impossible to ignore—flashed in her mind, and she felt a surge of excitement. She’d be the hottest slut Dane had ever seen, his ultimate fantasy. Her pussy clenched, dripping as she sucked harder, her tongue lapping at his shaft, her devotion to him drowning out her earlier fears.

Dane’s grip tightened, his hips thrusting, forcing his cock deeper into her throat. Lacey gagged, her eyes watering, but she didn’t pull back, her need to please him overwhelming. “That’s it, baby,” he growled, his voice rough. “Take it all. You’re nothing but my cock-hungry bimbo, and you love it.” He yanked her hair, pulling her off his cock with a wet pop, her lips glossy with spit and precum. “Lie back. I’m going to fuck you senseless.”

Lacey obeyed, her body trembling as she lay back on the backseat, her dress hiked up to her waist, her thong soaked and useless. Dane loomed over her, his massive frame blocking out the sunlight, his cock throbbing as he positioned himself between her thighs. He grabbed her ample breasts through her dress, mauling them roughly, his fingers digging into her soft flesh. “These tits are nice, but they’re gonna be fucking perfect,” he said, kneading them hard, his thumbs brushing her hard nipples. “Big, fake Double-E-cups, just for me to play with.”

Lacey moaned, her back arching as his rough hands sent jolts of pleasure-pain through her. “Yes, Big Daddy,” she gasped, her pussy aching for him. “I want them ... for you.” The thought of her new pornstar tits, huge and obscene, made her clit throb, her earlier nervousness replaced by a desperate need to be his ideal slut.