Chapter 40: At the Mall VI

Boob Party Part One: Kalee's Story

From the moment they made their spectacular entrance, the dozen women seated at the makeshift banquet table had every eye, male and female, in Applebee's turned on them. And we wouldn't have it any other way, Renee Simmons thought to herself.

Renee was wearing a maroon halter dress, a chain across the back required to keep her pendulous boobs from busting loose. Anywhere else, the plunge of her cleavage would be considered excessive; here, she could get away with calling it "dramatic."

Her companions consisted of 10 fellow employees from the only female-run Hooters in California (thanks to Michael's tinkering). One of their own, Kalee Carter, was being honored this particular afternoon as she'd celebrated her 21st birthday by undergoing the Silly String procedure on her already adequate boobs. But the tiny (don't call her petite, thought Renee), tanned blonde was sitting at the head of the table sporting a set of GGG boobs on her 5-foot-2 frame. And while every tit on every female in the room had been thoroughly scrutinized as they'd made their way back to the banquet room, Kalee's new boobs were the primary source of interest among her beautiful and busty co-workers.

As they should be, Renee thought as she sipped her iced tea. While chatter was nonstop around the room, Renee was mostly silent. At the moment she was enjoying being nuzzled by Heather Wilkes, a longtime friend and occasional companion since the Sunny Tropic contest.

Heather, a little tipsy even at this early hour, cupped one of Renee's boobs to turn her closer in order for a peck on the cheek and a quick, studded tongue-touch.

"Chat later, ladies!" bellowed co-manger Darcy Banks, a brassy blonde whose body permitted her to put the uniform on during busy hours despite being on the far side of 30. Her ass arguably topped her 20-year-old co-workers', and her skin-tight jeans provided ample evidence.

Renee nodded with a small smile. Her fluctuating hot flashes and cold chills told her she was radiating Meredith's power throughout this enclosed room.

"Ladies! Sorry I'm late," came a veddy high voice from behind Renee. She didn't have to turn around to know that Kyla Edgerton, a highly improper Brit, had made her deliberately timely arrival – late, very theatrical and totally expected by everyone else in the room. Dark haired and owner of two of the bluest eyes in captivity, Kyla became the perfect Hooters girl once she was coached to mask her very English bad breath and do more than trim her armpit hair. Walking one step behind her and looking more than a little sheepish about the loud entrance was Tamara Winstead.

An expatriate English lass herself, the redhead had broken out, turning her stint at the restaurant into a job at KDTV, where (it turned out) an English accent was golden for commercials and promotional spots. Ironically enough, Tamara was discovered at Hooters three years before, before Kyla was a member in good standing – but Brits of a feather, hung together and Tamara was still a welcome member of this elite gathering. Even though she was the only one present wearing a proper bra.

"She couldn't find a close enough parking place," Tamara told Renee and Heather as she sat on the other side.

"In this mall?" scoffed Heather.

Tamara nodded, "She can't walk on those ridiculous heels and drove around until she found one practically at the curb."

"You try and walk on these monstrosities," Kyla explained, lifting a leg and propping an extreme black stiletto on the tabletop – still attached to her foot. Renee could not help but notice, thanks to the splay of her legs, that Kyla preferred olde English bush to the current Daytown trim.

"Renee, your mother looks amazing," Tamara whispered as she leaned in on the opposite side of Heather. "She told me to give you a message."

"What on earth? I saw her this morning," Renee said, planning on keeping her family's gameplan under wraps.

At that point, the redhead leaned over and, using one of Renee's booster boobs as leverage, planted a full-on smoldering kiss on her co-worker's daughter. Renee got the message: the TV station had been brought into the fold – just as this gathering would.

"Hey! I thought I was the guest of honor," pouted Kalee. "At least, I thought these were."

Kalee pulled away her top with ease, revealing her surgically boosted boobs and signaling the official start of the party. The tradition of these boob-job gatherings – as Renee knew firsthand – was for the guest(s) of honor to be on full display all night.

With a couple of the seats still empty, Renee looked about in admiration of the pussy already on the scene.

Flanking the guest of honor, whose boobs were almost absurdly out of proportion to her tiny, fit body, were the franchise's other co-owners, Glory McDonald and Cass (do not call her Cassie) McCallister. Glory was the divorced (or course) trophy wife of a former real estate mogul, who split his asset with her during the boom years – and which she sold just before the collapse, leaving her as the far wealthier spouse. Cass was a dark-haired, serious-looking woman, had come into millions through the wrongful death of her late husband. She and her daughter, Cassie (OK for her name), were set for life 10 times over, but she was not the type to sit idle.

Cassie, 15, sat to her mother's left, looking no less amazing. Cassie had been home-schooled due to the (very) premature arrival of her (very) large boobs at age 11. She currently worked at Hooters as a hostess and would begin taking a regular shift upon her next birthday. Mother and daughter were known to travel the world pretending they were sisters. Renee wondered what they might pretend now.

Sitting next to Cassie were the two girls closest to her in age. Former tomboy Angie Briscoe was 18 but looked 16 (in the face) and a "10" in the body, while former Carson High cheerleader Heather was the golden goddess rock star of the night shift, having appeared in both the corporate calendar and national magazine.

On the other side, Darcy was seated next to Glory, and sitting silently next to Darcy was part-Arab Eufrat (who everyone called Effie to her unspoken displeasure) Patel. Her silence was largely because her long tongue was currently jammed down the throat of her soulmate and life partner, all-American girl-turned-Sunny Tropic winner Jackie Townsend.

Their striking beauty (Eufrat each Halloween was a letter-perfect Cleopatra) made their oral passes at one another a favorite spectator sport among her co-workers.

Tamara had found her seat, and promptly used her napkin to wipe off her lipstick in anticipation of the orgy to come. Besides, the food had begun to arrive – delivered by two specially requested servers who would keep what they saw in the room to themselves in return for a massive tip.

By now, the women seated closest to Renee (Heather, Tamara) were fully feeling the effect of their altered pheromones. Meaningful glances, bit lower lips and discrete fingering had taken over from public decorum and Heather's thong was already discarded. Because of her head start at the station, Tamara's was in a trash can back in a hallway at the TV station. But by mere touching, they passed the infection around the table in both directions, neighbor to neighbor. Before the hour had passed, the table was populated by a dozen unapologetic femme lesbians who were deeply into one another.

Renee complete the circle by quietly and efficiently fist-fucking each one. Even the teens were not difficult to bring off this way, she found.

Boss Darcy, the loudest, took things to the next level. Her sharp whistle brought all conversation to an abrupt end.

"Finish eating," she shouted. "Dessert is spoiling – between my legs!" She grabbed her crotch under her skirt, bringing out two dripping fingers that went into an eagerly accepting mouth of the guest of honor. Of all the women in the room, Kalee's life was changing the most. In fact, she could see it slip away and was powerless to do anything about it.

Kalee was used to being the center of attention. An only child, she was raised to expect, if not accept, the flash of a camera was as common to her as breathing.

A striking mix of Hawaiian and Caucasian, she was always "cute," "adorable," "darling" or some such, and she gamely learned the fake but oh-so-adorable smile was all anyone required. The growing cynicism, much of it dark or outrageous, was never voiced.

Kalee pushed the boundaries of what she knew to be acceptable. When she asked to have a thong bikini at age 6, her mother took her shopping. And when nothing suited her boyish figure, she made her one by hand. Likewise, Kalee got a deep tan when such a look was considered more than a little perverse.

At home, she was allowed to frolic around the house and their remote property naked her entire life. Daddy's camera was never far away – but the photos were strictly family property, never to see the light of the Internet. As a result, her exhibitionist streak never became a legal matter or part of her reputation.

But Kalee loved those photos. She would often sneak them into her room and look at herself for hours. Her intent gaze could have easily been misinterpreted – she usually found herself critiquing her own body, and she never really liked what she saw.

Other times, she masturbated, cumming for the first time to a tastefully nude photo of herself as a 12-year-old.

Because of her growing fondness to remain naked whenever possible, the Carter family learned the wisdom of home-schooling their precocious girl. And, indeed, she spent a great deal of her "classroom" time learning her ABCs in the nude. But Kalee was brilliant; a natural a learning photography and the digital technology that was overtaking the industry at that time. But while she was actually laying the groundwork for a career in the high fashion industry from either end of the camera, to her it was just a way to kill time until she could get herself off again.

Kalee's sex drive began to be a concern, but her parents' nontraditional solution – largely mandated by her father, Jackson -- was to buy the near-teen a vibrator, all the batteries she could burn out and a prescription to the latest, safest birth control pill on the market. They even provided her with a fake ID, so that with her exotic look, she was able to get hired at Hooters despite being considerably underage.

But she was a very legal 19 when she confided in her bosses about the deception; her work record was spotless, so Darcy and Glory agreed to leave the incorrect age on the record for corporate satisfaction. Despite her popularity and a strict workout regimen, Kalee was still the insecure kid about her body's perceived flaws. She had turned (in real life) 20 when she'd saved enough to be one of the first Daytown girls to line up for Dr. Lou's Silly String procedure. Her level of physical fitness enabled her to go to the max – from a small C to GGG.

A full chest would, in her mind, add much to her deep, tanned look and provide the clinic an eyeful as a spokesmodel, as it were. While having major reservations, her mother Lelani, agreed to support her adult daughter.

Hooters employees have been getting boob jobs since Day One, but the arrival of Louise Janikowski's Mega-Boob clinic in their backyard caused more than a ripple of excitement. It only grew when Renee Simmons debuted her new chest after her sudden departure and equally unexpected return from the Caymans.

Kalee, unknowingly, had been under Michael's control since her nearly successful run at the Sunny Tropic title, and had she known, she might have brought another person along as her second. The specially fitted waiting room outside of Dr. Lou's office made sure all questions were answered or unasked when the final decision on size was rendered.

"I want them filled to the largest size my body can hold, then let them adjust as they grow," she declared as she sat topless on the examination table.

"You're a fairly small girl," said Lou, who always did these consultations topless beneath her open lab coat. "Five foot?"

"Just under five-two," Kalee corrected. "Maybe 90 pounds?"

"Eighty-eight on our scale," said the the tanned, blonde doctor was quite the sensation upon her triumphant arrival from the Caymans clinic.

"You're very pretty," Kalee said. "Weren't you in the Sunny Tropic contest, too?"

Lou nodded.

"You know what that means, don't you?" she said, setting her chart on a work table and folding her arms underneath her own super-sized boobs.

"Well, I learned that I like girls OK," Kalee shrugged. "Was there something else special about that week? I don't really remember everything."

"Really? You haven't had any time with Michael?" Lou asked softly, moving closer.

"Michael who?" she asked. "Really, I don't know anyone by that name."

"Oh, but you do," Lou said. "Close you eyes, look deep inside yourself, your memory. I bet you'll find him."

Confused, Kalee still complied, closing her eyes and explored her memory for anyone by that name. One at a time, recollections came – the roll call, the pairing off of roommates (which she'd remembered), her brief but unmistakable encounter with ... her master. Master!

"I belong to Michael!" she exclaimed as she opened her eyes.

Lou smiled broadly.

"We all do," she nodded. "All of us, that weekend. How do you feel about that?"

"For the first time in my life, I know I belong somewhere, to someone," she said, eyes welling with tears. "I grew up alone. I mean, I fucked guys all the time, but never cared about them or anything. But Michael cares for me!"

"He's a wonderful master," Lou said. "He made me become a doctor and set me up here with this clinic."

"So if I do my boobs, it ... it will please him?" she asked, glancing down at her Cs.

"Oh, yes. The man loves big boobs," Lou affirmed. "I did mine for him."

She pulled her lab coat open and offered one of the soft, pliable mams to Kalee, who eagerly sucked it into her mouth. But after a moment, she pulled away.

"My mom, Lelani, is outside," she said. "She doesn't know about any of this."

Lou knew that Lelani was being subjected to Michael's compound and his commands while she sat, but elected not to share that right away.

"Bring Mrs. Carter to this examination room," Lou told one of her busty aides.

As soon as the aide left, Lou shed her coat and both women were topless. Lou thrust her chest out as if to offer her breasts, and Kalee eagerly accepted. They were kissing and undoing one another's pants when Mrs. Carter peeked inside the door. In Michael's thrall, the Hawaiian native was immediately captivated. The aide gently led her to a chair, where she said, legs akimbo.

At one point, Kalee noticed her mother's discomfort and despite now being totally naked, she knelt down by her mother's side. She noticed she had been crying.