Work Text:
“Hey babe! Can you hear me?”
“Loud and clear. Better yet, I can see how much cuter you’ve gotten.”
“You saw me last weekend,” Stacey scoffed. “And I’ll look the same as I did then when you get here today.”
Stacey’s boyfriend, Greg, chuckled into his phone and moved his eyes back to the road. He was always making bad jokes like this, but was sweet enough that they were usually endearing, in their own way. And because Greg was sweet, Stacey very much enjoyed their video calls when they weren’t together, even if she didn’t like him making them while driving.
“But I don’t want to wait that long to see my perfect girl,” he argued.
“Nice try. I’m not flashing you while you’re driving.”
“Tease,” he playfully pouted.
Stacey didn’t have much in the tits department to flash. She had been described as tomboyish in every sense of the word — for as long as she could remember. Her hair was short and brown, carved into a pixie cut around her thin features. That same slimness was currently wrapped in a pair of denim overalls and a raggedy T-shirt. Her breasts didn’t stand a chance against the thick fabric. But it was perfect gear for painting. It was also good for moving the heavy package Stacey had just received.
“What is that thing anyway,” Greg asked. “Looks heavy.”
“Eyes on the road,” Stacey commanded. “And it’s something my parents bought. They won it at auction, but didn’t have anywhere to put it. Thought I might want it.”
“Did they even ask if you had room for it?”
“What do you think?”
Stacey tore away the paper wrapping to reveal an ornate full, length mirror. It positively dwarfed her easel, where she currently had her phone propped up for the video call. Like most of her art supplies, she kept in her bedroom so she could paint whenever inspiration struck.
“How’s it look?”
“Ancient,” Stacey said. “But usable. Mom and dad said it might be good for figure drawings and self-portraits. For once they might actually be righ- Fuck, ow!”
“What happened?!”
“Nothing… Just pricked my finger. There’s like a nail sticking out of the side, or something.”
Stacey sucked her affected finger, but didn’t taste anything. The mirror was also unblemished. That was odd. The poke definitely felt sharp enough to break skin. But she supposed that was fine. The last thing she needed was to get blood on the expensive stacks of canvas littered on her floor, or one of her own paintings hanging from the walls.
“That’s good,” Greg sighed. “Wouldn’t want my perfect girl getting a nasty scar.”
“Har har har,” Stacey replied. “But okay, since you keep bringing it up, what is your perfect girl anyway?”
“What?”
“Your ideal woman! Thou dost protest too much, methinks, and this mirror has me all self-conscious.”
She said it as a joke, but there was a hint of truth beneath Stacey’s words. She stood profile before the antique and examined her flat chest. She knew Greg didn’t mean to make her worry, but calling her “perfect” always invited doubt. She knew she wasn’t perfect. There was always so much she wanted to change about herself. Maybe Greg felt the same.
“Would she have bigger boobs?” She gave her bumps a light squeeze when she was sure her boyfriend wasn’t looking. There wasn’t much to grab.
“Who?”
“Your ideal woman! Or if you could change anything about me, what would you do? Just humor me.”
“Okay,” Greg finally sneered. “Sure! I wish you had big, round supermodel tits.”
A rosy glow slowly spun around the outer edges of the mirror’s silver sheen. It was subtle enough that even Stacey wouldn’t notice without pressing right up against the glass to inspect. If she did, she might have recognized it as the same tint that flushed through her vision for just an instant as Greg spoke. Though the color was gone so fast her conscious mind didn’t have much time to register it. Besides which, she was busy inspecting herself.
Stacey had been big in the bust for as long as she could remember — an early bloomer from a young age. It was really a huge hassle. Two huge hassles! She tried to play them down and support them with her overalls, but flesh rounded against the corners nonetheless. Even her T-shirt rode up high and exposed the small of her back, stretched as it was against her upper bodyweight.
“I’m pretty big already you know,” Stacey contested. She leaned toward the mirror to get a better look at her small line of cleavage flanked between neighboring straps. “Honestly I’ve thought about getting them reduced.”
“Oh no,” Greg chided. “My ideal woman loves her big, sensitive naturals. She loves it when people ogle them so much that she never wears a normal shirt. She can’t imagine life without people appreciating her monster knockers.”
The pink glow flared.
Stacey laughed. That was true. Her big, beautiful boobies looked amazing smooshed naked against — and barely covered by — her denims. She couldn’t bring herself to think of such huge hooters as breasts. Knockers was a much better word. Melons. Jugs. Milkers!
Her tatas positively bulged around the straps, covering her nipples, but leaving most of the meat free for all the world to see without a shirt to speak of beneath. Of course this meant her back was almost totally naked, too, but it was a small price to pay for letting everyone and anyone enjoy her sweater puppies from a distance. Stacey fondled them — just a bit — to marvel at how sensitive they still were at that size.
“Nothing wrong with big titties,” she admitted. “What else?”
“You know those sexy sweaters? The turtleneck kind, with the hole in the front and nothing in the back?”
“A virgin killer?”
“Yeah. She definitely wears stuff like that. Let’s say… pink ones.”
Stacey could easily picture the exact style he meant. She was wearing her favorite one just then! She had demanded one for her birthday a few years back. It was just the thing to display her chest and a happy helping of sideboob for strangers, family, and Greg alike. It didn’t matter who saw as long as everyone did. She was so proud of her enormous bazooms!
Her panties were always visible where the garment rode low in the back, but she couldn’t help it. She just loved her skimpy sweater. She had a closet full of them and things like them: tight sundresses, barely-there halter tops, zippered rompers that let her big titties breathe and her legs free.
“Of course she needs sexy underwear, too. If you wear something like that, you want to show off everything in the best possible light.”
And what was wrong with showing off her lacy, cutout thong, anyway? It arched out of Stacey’s backless top — enough to let each peach cheek peek above the dip.
If she wasn’t careful, people could also see the undergarment over her crotch when she crossed her skinny thighs. Stacey made a point not to be careful.
She wasn’t being careful then, either. Stacey sat on her bed and spread her legs wide for the mirror and her phone to see — daring Greg to notice. But he was being a good boy, and kept his eyes on the road, missing out on the unannounced show his girlfriend was giving him.
She giggled and crossed her bare legs again before he did look. Stacey wanted him to appreciate her body in the best possible light. That didn’t include their grainy video calls! He’d see plenty of her when he arrived, though. She always made sure of it.
“Wow,” Stacey said. “You’ve really thought this through.”
“Oh I’m not even remotely done,” her boyfriend replied, really getting into the game. “She needs long, wavy hair.”
”I see,” Stacey agreed, twirling her own waist-length locks around a finger. “That’s fun.”
“So is she.”
“Huh? What do you mean?”
“Obviously this girl is a complete nymphomaniac. Nobody else would dress that way, or be so obsessed with showing off their body.”
“Uhhh…”
“She gives head like she breathes air and puts out like a machine. I’m thinking she has some submissive kinda tendency, where she gets off on the idea of men using her mouth like a sex toy.”
“Nympho,” Stacey breathed. “Submissive... Sex toy...”
“That extends to cooking, cleaning, doing chores, that sort of thing. Anything to be of service. If she can keep her mind out of the gutter that is. She can only hope her man takes the initiative for so long before she finally takes matters into her own horny hands. Bouncing around in sexy clothes while she serves gets her too worked up otherwise.”
Stacey bit a lip and nodded, thinking about all the times she used to dress up for Greg and offer to pick up around his apartment. She always managed to drop something in front of him — bending over to pick it up with her bottomless outfits and present a wet, waiting cooch beneath her panties.
Other times she’d stick her ass out by the sink as she did his dishes, waiting for him to perform a sneak attack on her rear. Or she might work herself into a sweat, cooking him meals in nothing but an apron. Anything she could think of to play the submissive, domestic little house servant that couldn’t wait for her man to reward with a nice, long fuck. Since she could paint from home, it left her plenty of time to take care of her big, strapping boyfriend.
Getting him to fill her mouth was a little trickier. Stacey was so easy, since well before the two ever met. When she couldn’t say no to a cock in her cunt, men didn’t always settle for a blowjob, no matter how much she wanted to get facefucked like some silent plaything.
But she wasn’t above begging when she needed the sensation of a hot, thick rod between her lips. It had worked on all her previous boyfriends (and there had been so many), even when each of them knew they could use her pussy at a moment’s notice.
Stacey had also gotten very good at blowjobs to sweeten the deal compared to her honeypot. She gave head like she breathed air!
“Mmm!” Stacey shoved her finger back in her mouth over all the happy memories. It wasn’t as good as a man’s shaft, but it was something. And Greg would be there soon. “Sho’ gud…!”
“What was that, babe?”
“Nothing,” she repeated reluctantly, removing the digit with a wet pop. Greg wanted to talk and it simply wouldn’t do to disobey her man. “Just thinking about how good I’ll feel once you’re here again.”
“Where were we?”
“Fucking,” she blurted. “I mean, you mentioned your ideal girl is your own little slut who gobbles dick and does your bidding and loves every second of it.”
“I don’t think I was that colorful,” Greg laughed. “But yeah, now that you mention it, she might as well have soft, full lips for all that ‘gobbling’ you mentioned.”
Stacey licked her own beestung spout. This so-called ideal woman didn’t have anything on those cock pillows. Greg had told her many times how they perfectly softened the blow of his balls slapping her face. She was always so pleased at the compliment that she didn’t slow down her suction until he came… came… where?
“Darling,” she asked. “Um, does this girl… swallow, do you think?”
“Obviously,” Greg replied. “She loves the taste and feel of my cum. It’s her nectar. The only thing she likes more than letting it mark her ridiculous rack and pretty little face is feeling it pour down her eager throat.”
“God yes,” Stacey agreed. “It’s so good!”
“Damn, babe. You’re the one always telling me not to get distracted on the road. Now you’re into foreplay before I’m even in the driveway. You really have changed!”
“Don’t be silly,” she interjected. “I’m the same as when we first met.”
Stacey vividly recalled sucking Greg off on their very first night together — letting his cum wash over her tits and chin. But the best part was when he aimed for her mouth and let the warm, wet reward slide down her esophagus. She had known then and there that she had to keep this boy and his wonderful dick happy as their subservient little slut.
There was no more heavenly taste in the world, and she could get it any time she wanted! She just had to be the big, submissive whore she always had been. Her family never really understood Stacey’s lascivious obsessions. Though they clearly did their best. Otherwise they never would have sent such a gorgeous mirror for her to play with herself in front of, like she was doing then.
“For the finishing touches,” Greg continued. “Hmm… I’d say her one and only hobby is making herself look good. Her bimbo body is the canvas, and all the world is her audience! Most importantly me, though.”
Stacey nodded. The baby blue hoops in her ears jangled. They matched her cotton candy makeup: light blue eyeshadow and bright pink lipstick. Her long nails alternated between both colors. The layout was pitch perfect and exactly the way her favorite video tutorials instructed her each and every day.
Just to be sure, she looked at herself in the makeup station where her phone was balanced. The full length mirror was nice, but it couldn’t house the tools of her trade: lipstick, eyeshadow, blush, and so forth. Not to mention a dildo or three she kept to use whenever inspiration struck!
Greg still had his eyes on the road. Good boy… Stacey couldn’t wait to reward him. She could never resist fucking his brains out regardless, but a little extra motivation here and there kept things interesting.
Her big lips looked particularly fuckable just then in their expensive new gloss. The cost was worth it. Sometimes you had to invest in your materials and Stacey’s subscribers appreciated the effort. At least they appreciated everything she did on camera for them in the sexy makeup.
Greg was like her patron. Or maybe her muse. And the more she satisfied him — the more she honed her art of arousal — the more she received her yummy commission of creamy cum. It was experience she always took with her on camera, both alone and with friends!
Through her webcam, viewers always saw lewd posters of women, people, and a few men she looked to for inspiration. The models and porn stars gazed hungrily from their airbrushed pedestals, giving Stacey more completely unattainable goals she loved to strive for.
“Bimbo, huh.”
Stacey wondered if Greg felt threatened by her intelligence. She had always gotten better grades in college. Eventually that IQ led her to realize she could make more shaking her ass and swallowing cum on video than whatever job her career counselor suggested.
“Kinda misogynist, don’t you think?” She teased her eraser-stiff nipples through the fabric of her sweater, enjoying the semicircles of bliss that ricocheted down to her groin. “Girls can be sex-crazed hotties and smart, you know!”
“Sure they can,” Greg allotted. “But not my girl. She’s a little dim.”
“Dim...” Stacey giggled again and turned the word over slowly in her head. “Oh! You mean stupid. Like a bimbo!”
“Yeah,” her boyfriend conceded. “A bimbo. Very stupid and very horny. She still thinks, sure, but only about the important things, like taking care of my needs and being sexy all the time.”
“Stupid,” Stacey intoned. “Horny… All the time...”
Those were very important things to think about, she agreed. The most important. They got a bimbo like Stacey everything she needed: cock and money to buy sexy stuff to get more cock. That was so much more fun than normal jobs! In a way that made bimbos smarter than smart girls, since they had so much more fun.
When Stacey’s grades got so bad that she had to retake her entire first year of college, lotsa guys had offered to tutor the hot little slut with such interesting theories. She had thanked them all the best way a nympho like her knew: by sucking them off until her empty head felt full.
None of them had actually improved her grades. A few even invited trouble when their significant others found out they had let Stacey whore herself out to them for help. That’s when Stacey had stopped understanding smart girls. If they simply obeyed and put out for their men more, they wouldn’t need Stacey to do it. It was so simple, even a bimbo could understand it!
Greg was different. Greg actually tried to help Stacey.. She still paid him in blowjobs and so, so much more, of course, but they also developed a genuine connection that went beyond her incessant carnal needs that anyone could fill.
That didn’t stop Stacey from letting her professors gang bang her. It was such a smart solution that made everyone happy that it proved she deserved to graduate anyway.
The bimbo sucked her finger a third time and snaked it between her panties and sweater. Completely forgetting Greg might see, she absentmindedly teased her soaking clit at the memory of all those smart dicks emptying their wisdom into her holes, between her tits, onto her arched back…
“Oh no,” Greg finally added.
“What!?” Concern popped the pink bubble forming in Stacey’s clouded mind. She didn’t stop masturbating, however, as that would have required her to think two things at the same time. “What happened?”
“We almost forgot the bleach blonde hair,” he explained. “It’s the bimbo’s proudest feature! It symbolizes to the whole world that she’s easy, she’s dumb, she knows it, and she loves it.”
Stacey was so relieved she had a man to remember such important details for her. And she was glad for all the compliments! She twirled her free forefinger around a blonde coil in admiration. With her hand so close to her face again, she instinctively stuck her pinky in her mouth, fiddling with her hair while she pretended a tiny cock filled her face.
It reminded her of the little dick she’d sucked the night she decided to go blonde. It was just some random guy — the sort she always picked up at clubs before meeting Greg — but enveloping his pecker, balls and all, felt especially special! It was the perfect commem… common… condom… the perfect way to remember her first step toward showing the world what a big, dumb bimbo she had always been inside.
“Mmmmm,” she mustered into the camera. The pinky was small enough to talk around — not at all like Greg’s fully erect member. “I think I’m, like, close baby!”
“Close? Yeah, I’m almost there.”
She giggled without correcting him. Stacey liked it when Greg was close: close to her, close to cumming, close to realizing she was diddling herself silly on their call. Two more fingers had found their way into her cunt. She didn’t even need to wet them! Her sex was already drenched thinking about past escapades and reliving some of that glory with Greg soon.
“Hurry,” she panted. “I totally need you right now.”
Stacey got on her knees and crawled closer to the big mirror, hands still firmly feeling up her holes. She giggled at the sight of her huge melons jiggling as she bounced awkwardly forward. Her bare legs quivered as she rested them on her equally naked heels.
Outside the house, she wore actual heels, shaking her ass on stilettos or platform sandals. Inside, when she existed to do her man’s bidding, she went barefoot.
“Everything okay, baby? I can’t see you on the call.”
“Nooo,” Stacey excitedly admitted. “I need you, Greg! I need a big, fat, real dick! Wanna fuck right now!”
“Damn,” he chortled. “I didn’t think you enjoyed this kinda thing. Maybe we should try role-playing for real sometime.”
Stacey giggled into her reflection: “I dunno if I’m smart enough for that! But I’ll try anything. Just gimme your tasty cum and your stupid cockslut will do anything!”
“Already starting, huh? Okay! If that’s what my good little bimbo wants, that’s what she gets. You sound especially needy today, so I’ll forgive you for making demands of your man.”
“Oh thank you,” Stacey squealed in earnest. “You’re totally right. I shouldn’t be, like, giving orders. I wanna take them. I wanna take you. I wanna take cock wherever you put it!”
Stacey thought long and hard about that.
“As long as it’s, like, inside me!”
The mirror was fogging up with her breath, and she pouted as she could no longer watch her jelly-boobs bobble. Stacey quickly lost that train of thought, however, as she always did when something didn’t make her happy.
She had another idea. She removed her upper hand from her mouth and signed her name in the condensation: Staci. It was so much cuter that way. It let her dot the eye with a heart and had fewer letters to remember! Staci had no trouble thinking about important things like that.
“I’m here,” Greg finally said. “Just pulling into the driveway now.”
Staci rushed down the stairs as quickly as her wobbly body would carry her — not bothering to hang up the call. She giggled while her boobies continued to jounce the whole way, threatening to pop out and slap her in the face. That might be fun! She wondered if she could suck her own nipples like that.
The door handle began to jiggle, too, and Staci’s limited brain capacity turned back to Greg. He was almost inside! Staci loved having him inside. It was frustrating how good it felt to have his fat dick pistoning in and out of her. It meant she couldn’t just be full of Greg all the time. Not if she wanted the both to cum lots and lots!
“Hey baby, I’m- Whoa!”
Staci was on her bare knees. Her treasured chest stuck forward, torso at attention, while her jello rear was too big not to jut out in the opposite direction. Pussy juices already pooled on the floor out of her wool wrapper and through her soaked thong.
“Welcome back,” she cooed. “It feels like you’ve been gone forever and ever!”
“Stacey,” Greg breathed. “What the heck happened? Did you, you know… do something different with your hair?”
She giggled at his super funny joke. Though she didn’t quite understand it. Everything was funny to Staci!
“No silly. Your little bimboslut kept it just the way you like it! She always gives you exactly what you want.”
Staci licked her cocksucking lips as she noticed the bulge forming in her boyfriend's jeans, in spite of his awkward behavior. Greg was so much smarter than her, and smart people could be so difficult to understand! But Staci understood the universal language of a happy dick. She smiled a broad, painted smile and looked up at her meal ticket with adoration.
“Sure…” Greg was calculating the situation.
His head swam as blood rushed down to meet his once proud, tomboyish girlfriend, reduced as she was to a bubbly sex pet.
Was this all some big surprise for him? Or had Staci… Stacey… always been like this?
Upstairs the antique mirror glowed faintly with yet more pink power. Greg felt it. Though he didn’t realize.
No… Staci had been like this as long as anyone could remember. It was endearing! She needed help navigating the world, and was only too happy to pay for it with her body. Looking good and fucking well were her art. Sluttiness was what she provided in exchange for never needing to think. She was the ideal girl. The perfect bimbo.
“Now that you’re here,” Staci started. “Do you wanna cum?”
The play on words wasn’t intentional. Staci didn’t have the IQ points for that. But Greg chuckled nonetheless. Staci giggled, too, realizing something was funny again and that you laughed when something was funny.
“Sure babe,” Greg said. “No hands this time.”
“Yessir!”
Staci forced her teeth past cushioned lips enough to grab his zipper. It always took a second with her soft mouth getting in the way, but once she found her target, she undid his fly with practiced ease.
“Ooh,” the bimbo moaned. “Want you in my mouth. In my pussy. Up my ass. Between my titties!”
“We’ve got all weekend,” Greg assured her, stroking her untamed hair. “Just focus on one thing at a time. You know you’ll overheat your tiny little brain otherwise.”
Staci willed herself to concentrate on his words, rather than the veiny, pulsing member rising to meet her uppermost cockhole. He was right. She did feel hot!
There was an unbearable warmth knotted in her belly, shooting flares into her crotch, butt, and boobies. Her body was too thick not to quiver at the best of times. Now she turned to jelly in the presence of almighty cock.
She grabbed Greg’s knees for support. That didn’t seem to break the handsfree rule. Then Staci stained her lipstick up and down his shaft, hardening him to the fullest right there in the entryway, without a bit of subtlety.
That did nothing to cool her down. His heat warmed her wet mouth with every stroke and continued melting her brain from below. She couldn’t help but siphon faster, faster, and faster around the fully erect meat. She was focused on one thing, yes: swallowing several strong spurts of her most favorite, most gooiest prize!
Greg pushed her away instead. Staci whimpered. Tears of exertion beaded at the corners of her eyes, but she almost felt like crying for real, separated from Greg’s hot rod.
“Not so fast,” he commanded. Staci obeyed. Reluctantly. “That’s a good start, but this time I wanna use your real cocksleeve first.”
Staci giggled. Now that was funny! Every part of her was a cocksleeve. She was a cocksleeve. But she knew what he meant as Greg continued pushing her forehead until she bent over backwards onto the floor, thighs down like tank treads, hips not flexible enough to keep her aching crotch from rising into the air.
Greg gripped a handful of exposed, soaking panties from beneath her sweater. He yanked them down to her knees to reveal a sloppy, welcoming cunt that poured more freely onto the floor than ever.
He was clearly still allowed to use his hands. He slid them farther up her wool and fondled the already easily accessible tips of Staci’s melons. They were small compared to her stretched areola, but rock hard and sensitive enough that she yelped and came at the sudden, rough contact — squirting a bit in Greg’s direction.
Greg took that as a sign to press his weight down on her… and his dick inside her.
The pussy was perfectly shaped to accept his mass and still clamp down around it with hungry need. All the lubrication would have made it impossible to resist, even if the phrase “hard to get” wasn’t too “hard to understand” for an idiot like Staci.
Staci arched her soft belly to take the heat ever deeper, and the most bittersweet part ensued. Greg pumped in and out of her cunt, stretching against her walls with vein and muscle, giving the slut mind blowing bliss and unforgivable moments of emptiness.
The void spread to her head, however, as Stacey’s few synapses devoted themselves to enjoy the pumping. The bimbo waned and the nympho waxed as she orgasmed over and over again without the ability to savor it for more than an instant at a time.
Greg didn’t mind. Every time her breath caught in ecstasy, her pussy clenched and twitched in kind, bringing him off intentionally even as he took Staci like prey.
She loved this. He loved her for it. It was the perfect balance. She was his ideal woman.
The realization shattered in Greg’s mind as he felt himself getting close, too. The pounding improved as he focused, focused… and finally jerked forward in brainless satisfaction.
His cum erupted into Staci, who was more than happy for the extra, consistent fullness. She came harder than ever at that familiar pressure — finally allowed to enjoy it at length as Greg grunted over her.
He didn’t stop there. Staci wouldn’t let him. She hugged his broad shoulders and pressed him into her waiting titflesh. He was locked in as they both continued at a slower rhythm.
Afterspurts of hot jism finally pushed Staci’s cavern to its limit. Ooze escaped the seal of her snatch and Greg’s admiral. It joined the juices on the floor. Whenever she regained her limited wits, it was a mess Staci would be all too happy to clean! By whatever means Greg ordered...
The pair breathed heavily in their heap for a bit after that. Staci took longer to recover.
“Wow,” Greg panted. “That was… feels like… we’ve never done it like this. But…”
He let the idea hang there. Of course they had done it like this! Staci was his personal, stay-at-home cumdump. He used her like his every week, and she reveled in every second of it.
Staci smiled into the air from the floor. Her ravaged tits had popped well free from their windows. A line of drool dripped down her cheek amidst her dull expression.
“Never… never done…”
The gears of her brain turned through their customary molasses.
“Know what… we’ve never actually… done before?”
“What’s that?” Greg was genuinely curious.
“Done it in front of a big mirror,” she explained. “Now we can try that!”
“Mmm,” Greg agreed. It didn’t take much to get him ready for round two around his fuckservant. “That does sound fun. I can see even more of my perfect girl that way.”
“Yeah,” Staci giggled. “You could totally talk dirty to me, too. Tell me what you really think of me...”