Stag Boobs
My best-man Martin had promised me that my stag-do would be absolutely brilliant, but to be honest… I was getting worried. Martin had broken up with his own girlfriend a few months back and part of the reason I’d even asked him to be the best-man out of all my many friends, was that I thought he needed something to keep him busy and occupied. I had hoped the duties of best man would keep him on track, but now only a few days before the stag-do, I had yet to hear anything about his plans.
Martin had never been that organised in the first place and he didn’t tend to look after himself that well. Since the break up he’d become even more disorganised, messy and absent minded and I wanted to make sure my friend was actually on top of his duties. I had a horrible feeling that Martin was probably not prepared for the stag-do and I was going to end up looking like an idiot. Martin often let people down.
In the end that was what had led to his own breakup. Angela had dumped Martin because he was so useless. He’d begged her to stay, but she had brushed him off. Now he was broken hearted and said he was still in love with her, but worst of all, she was one of Jenny’s friends. My future wife had even offered Angela a position as one of her bridesmaids so Martin was definitely going to see her at the wedding. They both claimed it wasn’t an issue, but I knew it was going to tear my friend up to see his ex looking amazing and enjoying the attention of other guys, as she enjoyed flaunting herself as the hot bridesmaid.
My own fiancee Jenny was the cutest, kindest girl I’d ever met. She was a total sweetheart and lovely to be around. I was madly, deeply in love with her. She was slim and slender, small breasted and petite. I couldn’t wait to make her my wife, though I sometimes wished I’d had more time to sow some wild oats. I’d only ever been with a couple of women, and once that ring was on my finger I was going to be faithful to Jenny for life.
Our wedding was now relatively imminent, but meanwhile there was still a lot of logistics left to do. I’d perhaps unwisely left the organisation of the stag-do entirely up to Martin whilst I got on with the main event, and now it had crept up on me.
Deciding I better check in and make sure everything was going smoothly, I decided to stop off at his small apartment and find out the arrangements from the man himself. Martin lived on the fourth floor of an apartment block, so I buzzed up and he told me to come up. I preferred living in a house, but I guessed his small four bedroom apartment was the perfect size for a childless couple and I understood why he liked it so much. The apartment had a nice view of the nearby park and river and it was nicely furnished and a reasonable rent.
Entering the apartment through the unlocked front door, I heard Martin calling me in from the back. As usual his apartment was a bomb site. Empty pizza boxes and unwashed dishes littered the surfaces. The floor was a mess of discarded cans and lazily hurled magazines and books. What would have been a clean and airy apartment had a tinge of the dishevelled bachelor. Martin lived like a bum and it was a constant source of irritation to me.
Entering the living space at the back of the apartment, I found Martin busying himself with a couple of boxes that had been delivered but not yet opened. “Oh hey Dude,” he grinned as he cut a box apart with a pair of kitchen scissors. “You’re just in time for the grand reveal.”
I asked him what he was doing and how things were going with the stag-do prep and he just grinned. “Pretty good, I booked the hotel and the flights. We’re having a nice little cheap trip to a sunny little island in Greece. Plenty of cheap beer, hot women and in the best traditions of a stag do… fake boobs!”
Laughing he ripped the box he was fiddling with open and pulled out a pair of fake plastic joke breasts, the kind you could always buy from a cheap costume store. Each was a cup of hard moulded plastic, with thin clear plastic shoulder straps and a hookable back strap in order to wear it, a bit like a bra. There was something… strange about the breasts. I found my gaze being drawn back to them repeatedly and a strange and increasingly insistent urge to try them on.
“Damn it, where are the rest? They only sent me one! Cheap bloody online shopping company, I needed a pair for all of us,” cursed Martin. “No stag-do is complete without some dress up for the lads.”
My hand had begun to reach out almost without thinking and I had a suddenly vision of slipping the breasts on and wearing them. My desire to try them on grew and grew. I had always liked boobs, it was my one regret about Jenny. She was so flat-chested. I imagined her with a big round pair of tits like these fake ones and felt my cock twitch in appreciation.
Put them on. You like tits. You need tits. You WANT tits.
Yes I did like tits. I wanted to feel them on my chest. I wondered what it would feel like to look down and see breasts, to feel them jutting off my chest. I wondered how it felt to be a busty girl, the centre of attention always getting what she wanted due to her impressive assets.
My hand crept forward even further. I couldn’t wait to claim the tits, to put them on and feel them on my chest.
Yesssss. Take me. Take me now.
Suddenly Martin picked up the fake breasts and the spell was instantly broken. I blinked in embarrassment.
