Chloe sat in a cool corner of the wooden bar, shaded by large overhanging fronds, nursing an icy Thai beer and tapping away on her MacBook.
This was her first experience of travel writing, but she was loving it. Since leaving home a couple of months ago, packing a small backpack and a round the world ticket, she’d already had one magazine article published and had now been commissioned to write a second one. For money! Not bad for a 22-year-old who’d been struggling for a direction in life. Until very recently she’d been drifting along without any purpose. Now she was suddenly contemplating college.
She’d had chosen to write about this part of Thailand because it intrigued her and disgusted her in equal measure. It was both beguiling and repulsive.
Here’s what she’d written so far, over her first bottle of beer:
‘Visually, the island of Phuket, off the south coast of Thailand is paradise. But socially it’s quite a bit more complicated than Eden. Socially, it’s a distinctly uneasy mix of locals and foreigners. Then, within that, you have the subdivisions of locals who depend on the tourist trade for their livelihood but also resent their beautiful island being overrun by crass tourism. But it doesn’t end there. Added to this you have the split between ‘holidaymakers’ who have come on a package trip and who and want to get as much sun, sea and sex as possible, and the ‘travelers’ who naively or not, are trying to experience an authentic piece of Thailand and want to remain as true and respectful to the Thai culture as possible. (While still basically hanging out and getting a tan.) I would place myself squarely in this second category. But Phuket, like much of Thailand’s popular islands has become infamous for the flocks of fat Western men who might, let’s charitably say ‘struggle’ to get a girlfriend back home, coming over here and paying for temporary Thai girlfriends to tend to their every whim. It’s tacitly endorsed prostitution and the exploitation of poor village girls who have been forced into the sex trade just to keep their families alive.’
Damn, she thought, reading back over her work. I can really write. Who knew? She took another little sip of beer to quietly toast herself.
At home Chloe had struggled to shake off the beauty pageant image her domineering parents had pushed on her from a young age. Teachers had never really encouraged her and classmates seemed to put her on a pedastal for her looks – which actually meant nothing to her. What are looks, she thought? A freak of genetics. Personality and compassion, that’s the stuff that counts. Coming away was the best thing she’d ever done. Here, where no one knew her she was free to reinvent herself, be the person she was meant to be. And the people she was meeting out here were so much more open-minded than her peers back home. Travelers were out to discover things about the world, things about themselves, and things about each other. It was invigorating to be around. Right now she was thinking particularly of Eva and Ingrid, two lovely Danish girls who were taking time out from studying to be a doctor and an architect, respectively. They were warm funny and actually listened to what she had to say with respect and genuine interest. It was the best.
In fact, Chloe was meeting them tonight at their favourite traveler haunt, The Papaya, just along the beachfront, away from the horrible tourist drag.
Right now however, she was steeling herself to visit that exact horrible tourist drag and experience one of the many tacky Western owned bars herself. How else could she write about them with any real conviction if she hadn’t tried at least one? So yeah, okay, enough procrastination. Into the belly of the beast.
Chloe finished her beer, stowed her laptop away back at her resort and arrived at the main strip late afternoon when things were just starting to stir again after the intense midday heat. She walked along trying not to let her face register its disgust at the grossly overweight Western men parading up and down with beautiful, lissome Thai girls as if they were God’s gift to women and hadn’t just bought these poor unfortunate girls for less than a day’s wage back home.
After a few minutes, Chloe settled on Bob’s Bar. For no other reason than it was right there at the very moment she got bored of walking and seeing the exact same thing repeated up and down the drag. Bob’s Bar consisted of a bored looking Thai girl gyrating listlessly around a dance pole while the only two men in the bar sat and talked in the corner, ignoring her. It had all the glamour and of chewing gum stuck the heel of your shoe in an airport lounge.
Chloe decided to get a drink and watch the human traffic from this relatively safe vantage point. She took out her notebook and waited for a barmaid to appear. But instead one of the men at the bar shifted and came to take her order.
“Hello, little lady. How can I help you?” he said, condescendingly. Clearly the level of disrespect aimed at the girls here didn’t end with the locals.
“Mango juice, please,” Chloe said, in a clipped tone, designed to deter conversation.
“Sure you wouldn’t prefer a Slippery Nipple?” the man said, smirking at her. His beer belly nuzzling against the table edge by her right hand.
“No thank you,” she said, refusing to be drawn into his cheap joke.
“Think about it,” he said, persisting.
“No thanks.”
“Okay then, don’t think about it,” he said. “Don’t think about a Slippery Nipple. In fact, better yet, don’t think about two Slippery Nipples.”
“Okay, I won’t,” Chloe said, dryly.
“Perfect. I’ll go get you your mango juice as you don’t think about two wet slippery nipples,” he said, smirking at the young brunette, eying her up and down.
Chloe waited for her drink, trying not to think about two wet slippery nipples. She was thinking about her own nipples. All oiled up. With suntan lotion. They were all slippery from the suntan lotion which hadn’t been absorbed into her skin yet. She watched the bored dancer slip and slide around the pole.
Back behind the bar’s rainbow-coloured array of drink bottles was a corkboard full of photos from various drunken party nights here. All the lads looked red-eyed and worse for wear and all the girls looked drunk and giddy, laughing and posing for the camera. Most of them with their tops pulled up or down. Chloe tutted to herself. Why did girls do that? What was going through their heads? It was so cheap and tacky. What had happened to self-respect and dignity?
When he finally returned with her drink, a tall glass of mango juice glistening with icy condensation she smiled up at him and said, “I didn’t think about them.”
“Good,” he said. “My name’s Bob by the way. I own the bar. This is Pete,” Bob said nodding to Pete sitting in the corner of the bar.
“Hello,” Chloe said. She’d completely forgotten about the other guy, Pete, who’d been sitting behind her the whole time, as she’d tried and failed not to think about slippery nipples. Or Slippery Nipples, she corrected herself, internally – reminding herself they’d been talking about cocktails.
“I’m Chloe,” Chloe said, suddenly a bit disarmed by everything.
“Hello Chloe,” Bob said. “It’s nice to meet you. Isn’t it, Pete.”
“Yes it is,” Pete said.
“Isn’t it, Chloe.”
“Yes, it is,” Chloe said, reflexively, before wondering why she’d said it. She looked at Bob. He was absolutely typical of the men she’d been describing in her article. Overweight, with a large beer belly and an almost walrus like moustache flecked with traces of beer foam at its edges. Pete was slimmer, with beady eyes, and balding. Both seemed sleazy in a way she couldn’t define. Not exactly lecherous, but sort of interested in her in a particular way. A very focused way. She suddenly felt very self-conscious. Acutely aware of every little gesture she made, every little shift of body weight, the movement of her limbs. She didn’t even know whether to pick her pen up or not. Chloe sipped her drink through the straw and felt self conscious about that, too. When she tuned back into Bob he was still talking about slipper nipples. No wait, it was stiff nipples now she realized, feeling her own nipples stiffen.
Outside the bar a gang of American boys and English girls went past laughing and giggling. The boys with lean, tanned torsos and the girls wearing next to nothing. Just skimpy bikinis and short skirts. All in bright colours.
“I take it you’re a backpacker,” Bob said, registering the look of disdain Chloe was giving the gang of rowdy holidaymakers as they headed down the drag.
“A traveler,” Pete interjected, with a smirk.
“She doesn’t look like a traveler,” Bob said. “Aren’t they supposed to have dirty blonde dreads and armpit hair? And smell.”
“Yeah, but look at the way she dresses,” Pete answered him. Both of them now talking as if Chloe wasn’t even there. “She’s dressed like a traveler. Those long baggy pants and loose, shapeless top. I mean you almost can’t tell she’s got pretty huge tits for a stuck-up little college girl.”
“Excuse me,” Chloe said, tiring of their boorish conversation. “I am here you know. And I’m not stuck and I didn’t go to college.”
“But you do admit you’ve got huge tits then,” Bob laughed.
“No I don’t,” she fired back.
“So you haven’t got huge tits, Slippery Nipples?” Bob asked her.
“Well…” Chloe paused. She didn’t know what to say. Finally she said, “I don’t have huge tits, I have huge.. I mean large breasts.”
“Large breasts,” Bob repeated, poking fun at the way she said it. “How very formal. Sure you don’t mean generously proportioned mammary glands?”
Pete laughed.
“Call a spade a spade. You’ve got huge tits.”
Chloe didn’t know what to say again. I mean, she did have huge breasts. And they were the bane of her life. Everyone always telling her how lucky she was. Girl friends saying they wished they had boobs like hers. People would tell her that some girls pay thousands to have boobs like hers, and she had them naturally. Boys somehow thought they were paying her a compliment when they drunkenly told her she had big tits – as if she didn’t know. And yes, okay, it’s not all bad when you get compliments on how you look. Everyone wants that deep down. But she’d much rather get compliments on her travel writing and her blog. And it also meant most fashions weren’t tailored to top heavy girls which meant it was harder to just go out and shop for a nice new top, or any non plain-utilitarian-bras. Plus, even in this day and age people still seemed to think it gave them the right to talk openly about them in front of her, as if their size somehow made them public consumption. She was a 34G cup. Which meant a slim back and these really big boobs out front. It put a real strain on her back and had stopped her from playing sports, which she’d loved, when she’d shot out to a double E cup at 14. At one point she’d almost spent the money she’d saved to go traveling on breast reduction surgery. But the operation scared her, and she figured this was more important right now.
“Another Slippery Nipple?” Bob asked her out of nowhere.
“How can I have another? I haven’t even had one yet,” Chloe said.
“That’s right, but a girl needs two slippery nipples,” Bob said.
“Otherwise one feels left out,” Pete said.
“Right,” Bob nodded.
Chloe was feeling very uncomfortable. She didn’t like the way these guys were looking at her. Or their sleazy innuendo. Not only was she weirdly aware of every little movement she made, but she was now very aware that she was on her own, on the other side of the world from home, and no one knew exactly where she was. The last text she’d sent from her phone simply said, ‘Hi. Arrived in Phuket. Speak soon. Love Chloe xoxo’ She hadn’t updated anyone on her exact whereabouts and even Eva and Ingrid only knew she’d be at the Papaya tonight at about 7. Chloe went to stand up but felt Pete’s hand on her shoulder. It was the lightest possible touch but it instantly anchored her in her seat.
Her heart started to hammer violently in her chest.
The strange thing was her nipples really were feeling just so incredibly stiff. So stiff they were almost buzzing. And she couldn’t quite clear her head of the thought of her slippery nipples being tweaked and teased with suntan lotion. In fact she hadn’t been able to clear her head of that same image ever since Bob had told her not to think of it as he went away to fix her first drink.
Chloe went to stand up again, but couldn’t. She looked around for Pete’s hand on either of her shoulders but it wasn’t there. In fact how could it be? Both Pete and Bob were standing in front of her now, smiling smugly down at her.
“Don’t mind us. We’re just teasing you,” Pete said. “We’ve both dabbled in amateur hypnosis. Bob’s better than I am, but I do okay, too.”
“We’re just playing,” Bob nodded. “No harm done, right?”
Chloe nodded because Bob was nodding.
“To show you how safe you are I’m going to show you how easy it is for you to move your own limbs. For example, you can move your right hand, hold the glass and take a nice cold relaxing sip of your mango juice. Good. Now you can tap three times with your index finger of your left hand. Tap three times on the wooden table top now.” Chloe did. “Good. See, if we were in control of you you wouldn’t be able to do what we told you to do, now would you?”
“Um, no,” Chloe said, before she’d really had time to process Bob’s last statement.
“That’s right. And if we controlled you you wouldn’t be able to.. stand up now and take a nice lovely long relaxing stretch, tingling all over.
Chloe stood up and stretched, tingles radiating out from the centre of her spine. She smiled, realising Pete hadn’t anchored her to her seat after all.
“Now then, Chloe,” Pete said. “What are you wearing under that loose, shapeless, unflattering, ugly cotton top of yours?”
“My bikini top,” Chloe said, dreamily.
“So prove you can do whatever you want and take it off,” Bob said.
“Okay,” Chloe nodded, and lifted the dark red cotton top off over her head to reavel her firm large breasts in her chocolate brown bikini top.
“Holy shit,” Pete said.
Bob shot him a look to get a hold of himself and moderate his tone. All this was still very much in the balance and relied on keeping this girl within a carefully calibrated mood they’d been building up ever since she first sat down. They did this as a double act. What they said, where they stood in relation to the subject, everything was carefully codified and worked out in advance. But at the same time, Bob understood where Pete was coming from. This girl had fucking unbelievable tits. They had everything. Huge, young, firm. It’s not often tits that big are that buoyant. Even on nubile twenty-year-olds. Her dark brown bikini top was straining to contain them and her nipples, which were the first part of her to be hypnotized, were sticking out obediently.
Holy shit, indeed.
Bob studied Chloe. She was showing all the right signs. Large dilated pupils, heavy-lidded eyes, flushed cheeks and a slightly slack jaw. She was primed, but this was still tricky. Anything rushed or jarring would snap her out of her revelry and would probably result in a police matter – not that the Thai police here weren’t above being bribed, but it’s better not to run into that in the first place. Not if you want to keep your bar license ticking over smoothly.
“Now relax, honey,” Bob said as he leaned very slowly, very carefully over the table, and, as gently as possible took both her nipples between thumb and forefingers and tweaked them, softly, carefully, coaxingly, watching her pretty vacant face register first confusion, then a tingly kind of bliss flooding her brain.
“That’s it,” Bob coaxed. “It’s so wonderful at Bob’s bar. Everyone is SO welcoming. Everyone is just there to relax and have a wonderful time.”
Chloe smiled and nodded as she felt herself being led into the back of the bar by her nipples. Everyone here was SO welcoming, she thought absently.
Pt.2
When Chloe finally met up with Eva and Ingrid, running about half an hour late, she felt wonderfully relaxed but a little distracted. Both Eva and Ingrid were both sipping their Thai beers, which seemed a little unladylike. So when the barman came over, Chloe asked him if he had a Slippery Nipple. When everyone at the table clearly looked a little confused, Chloe explained that it was a cocktail. The Danish girls laughed and the barman shook his head.
“Nevermind. I’ll have a mango juice, with vodka, then.” Yet inside Chloe thought, What a terrible bar. How could they not even know what a Slippery Nipple is? Bob’s bar on the strip served Slippery Nipples. Anyway. Didn’t matter. Whatever. It was good to see her friends. Pretty good anyway.
“Just been swimming?” Ingrid asked. Her polite way of pointing out that Chloe still hadn’t put her cotton top back on and that maybe she should. Out of respect for the locals and the very sweet, rather shy barman.
Neither of the Danish girls were thrown by the size of Chloe’s breasts, however. Scandinavian girls tended to be pretty well endowed on the whole themselves and neither Eva nor Ingrid were exactly flat-chested. But this shift in her behaviour, however slight, did seem rather out of character. Chloe had struck them as a kindred spirit. Someone who respected the fact that there was a larger, gentler culture in Thailand, beyond the short-sighted hedonism that too many people seemed to be here to exploit. This was a Buddhist country after all. Every young Thai man had to spend two years as a monk, for example. And Chloe knew this. They’d chatted about it at their resort. So it was just strange. Especially when Chloe showed no signs of acting on their hints.
For her part Chloe was enjoying the warm sun on her big boobs. She’d been covering up ever since she got here and what was the point of coming all this way to a tropical island paradise like this if you couldn’t get a bit of air to your boobs. How terrible to go back home without a nice, deep, golden tan. But slowly she started to feel a bit weird, sitting here in her bikini top while these two uptight Danish girls sat there priggishly in their loose cotton tops. So in the end she put her top back on, but couldn’t help feeling a little riled that these two right-on girls were trying to control the way she dressed around them.
Maybe because of this the conversation didn’t really flow as easily as it had on previous nights at the Papaya, and the laughs seemed a little more forced than before. As the night went on, Chloe found herself absent-mindedly longing for a bit more fun. Maybe hanging out again with Bob and Pete at Bob’s bar. They’d been a lot of fun. Teasing her about how huge her boobs were and trying to talk her into doing some pole dancing for them. She didn’t of course. But it was fun to be asked. It made her feel like a big sexy tittyboo – their word, not hers. At first it had sounded like the more stupid thing ever – Tittyboo. Typical of that misogynist strain of inadequate men who like to infantilise women to make them safe and containable, rather than complex and adult. But now, sitting here, with time to think about it it was kind of fun, in a way.
Chloe giggled to herself, fiddling with her straw and noting that Pete was right... Even her loose cotton top couldn’t quite disguise the size of her huge tittyboos. They gave the top a very pronounced slope. Then suddenly she had an image of Bob circling her hard nipples round and round as Pete fucked her from behind. Then it went away again, just as quickly as it had appeared.
The bar started to fill up with lots of travelers, Chloe noticed looking around her for signs of fun. Everyone was very relaxed though. And friendly. Lots of talk about books. There was a bookshelf over in the corner where you could trade your old books in for new ones. That was great. Chloe had read more books since she’d been here than she probably had in the last year back at home. The bar was going to show a film later. They showed the latest DVD releases from America and Europe along. Tonight’s was the indie hit, The American. Chloe settled back, feeling good, but also just sort of naggingly not quite as easy in this bohemian company as she had the previous few nights.
Chloe sat through The American, unable to quite put her finger on why she felt conflicted about this crowd tonight. She’d been so looking forward to it, too.
But god this film was BORING. The only highlight a couple of scenes in an Italian brothel – one in particular when a beautiful prostitute with boobs almost as big as hers bounces sexily downstairs. Her face a mask of lurid makeup.
Apart from that it was just about the most boring film Chloe had ever seen.
Pete had mentioned they showed films at Bob’s Bar most nights. She bet for sure they wouldn’t be the terrible yawnfests this place like to show.
In fact the best thing to do would have been gone to see what Bob’s Bar was like in the evening, instead of getting involved in a game of Scrabble with Eva and Ingrid and some other guys here that Chloe lost by about a gazillion points while dreaming of a stranger tweaking her slippery in the back room of a bar.
Pt.3
The next day Chloe decided to try a different part of the beach. As ever, she had no plans for the day, except a few vague ideas about meeting up again at the Papaya for food and a few drinks. Until then her day was completely her own. She thought briefly about getting her laptop out and continuing with her article. But maybe she hadn’t really experienced enough of the tourist part to really write authoritatively about it yet. She’d read somewhere that you have to immerse yourself in anything you’re writing about or it won’t be authentic. That’s why she decided to go and sunbathe along the touristy part today.
It was a slow, hot, uneventful day. She bought some fried bananas from a man walking up and down the beach who cooked them fresh in front of you. And she turned down endless cheap massage offers from strong boned Thai women. So a lazy nothing kind of day. Until, that is, she felt a gentle tap on her shoulder. She opened her eyes. It was Bob. Chloe went to sit up and found that she could. Half expecting the tap to have rooted her to the spot the way Pete’s seemed to yesterday. She smiled at Bob. Unsure why she was so pleased to see him. But it just was. It was just really good to see him.
Bob smiled down at the nubile, heavy-titted brunette. Yesterday had worked perfectly. She’d put her towel down at the exact spot he’d told her to be. She was lying there, propping herself up on her elbows with her big tits bulging out around the twin triangles of her bikini top. Her skin glistening from lotion and sweat.
“Stand up,” Bob said, in a tone that was gentle and yet left no room for objections. “I’m going to show you a nice secluded spot on the beach.”
Chloe stood up and packed her bag up without even really thinking about it.
As they walked along the beach lots of the young Thai girls waved at Bob and blew him kisses. Chloe smiled. She felt proud to be with someone so popular. Who owned his own bar. She wondered if maybe in a way this was the real Thailand. Big confident Western men and pretty Thai girls. After all, places change, identities change, so maybe the old Buddhist one was just a relic. Maybe her article should at least address those changes.
“Here,” Bob said.
It was a spot between two palm trees that had grown almost horizontally out towards the sea, creating a little arboreal cove, shrouded by fronds. It wasn’t actually that secluded but it did provide a little privacy from anyone further along the beach. To enter it they had to skirt the tips of the trees, dipping their feet into the surf. For some reason it felt very romantic. Bob was a big man. Well over six foot. In his early fifties, Chloe guessed. He was solidly built with a big beer belly, straggly, unkempt hair and a moustache. As he led the way Chloe noticed he also had a hairy back and his large swimming trunks were faded around the band where the sweat and oil had aged them. Bob took them deep into the shaded groin of the cove and stopped, looking Chloe in the eyes.
Chloe felt the world blur outside of Bob’s steady gaze. He had such an intense stare. It was all she could do to stand upright, with her chest pushed out.
Bob put his hands on her slender shoulders then slowly let them slide down and over the huge soft jut of her massive tits. Then, just like yesterday, he took her nipples gently between thumb and forefinger and began to twist them softly. Chloe felt her knees weaken as she gazed up towards Bob, her eyes fluttering as she reflexively arched her back, pushing herself towards him. Then without saying anything, Bob untied her bikini top, pushed it into Chloe’s hand, reached into her bag and pulled out the suntan lotion. He put a large dollop into his palms and rubbed them together. “Time for your Slippery Nipples,” he said gently, as he started massaging the oil into her amazing tits. Fuck, he thought, they’d really struck gold this time. Her tits were huge and firm and buoyant. The kind of big, pendulous tits that are almost solid. Bob started to run his fingers around and around her nipples in circles. Round and a round and a round. Watching with satisfaction as her eyes started to roll back into her head and the full, wet lips of her pretty little mouth started to part.
Chloe closed her eyes. Her buzzing nipples felt as hard as bullets. After a while, with her nipples clamped gently but firmly between his fingers, she felt Bob gently tugging downwards. Chloe, in another world now, followed the wordless direction of the tugging and found herself kneeling in the wet sand. When she opened her eyes she was confronted by Bob’s huge, hard cock, right in front of her eyes. Instinctively Chloe opened her mouth and began to suck. Loving the feel of his big cock in her mouth. Her brain already flooded with the endorphins flowing outwards from her hard, hypnotized, slippery nipples. She could hear splashes and noises from somewhere on the beach, but she was too engrossed to feel self-conscious. Too lost in the moment to remember that this cove was only hidden from people down along the beach. If someone walked past now they would see exactly what she was doing. They would see a young, dark-haired girl with huge tits sucking off a fat middle-aged man with a hairy back and old, faded blue swimming trunks down around his knees. Then they would see the fat man slide out of her mouth and start to slap her face with his big, turgid cock. Softly at first. Then a bit harder. Not enough to bring her out of her reverie, but enough to let her know what she was there for, what she was good for, what her role was around him. Just enough to continue the conditioning of Chloe Anderson that had started yesterday at the bar.
Then, with his hands still oily from the lotion, Bob wanked himself off onto the girl’s massive tits. Gripping her long dark hair as he shot thick pearly ropes of cum all over her huge firm jugs. Spattering her dark, hard nipples.
Easing his grip on her hair until he was cradling the back of her head, Bob said, “Now then, Chloe, when you open your eyes you’re big tits are going to feel so good in the sun. You love to feel the heat of the sun on your big naked tits. And you hate tan lines. Tan lines are the worst. So it’s going to make perfect sense to sunbathe topless and get rid of those nasty, yucky tan marks. Isn’t it?”
Chloe nodded.
“Now then, when I count to five you will wake up, feeling warm and giggly and perfectly happy to be topless on this beautiful public beach. Understand?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, Bob,” Bob corrected firmly.
“Yes, Bob,” Chloe repeated.
“And another thing, when you wake up you’ll think that my cum dripping down your nice big tits is simply suntan lotion. You’ll wake and think that I’ve just arrived and interrupted you oiling up your big tits with your regular suncream. It will seem perfectly natural and you’ll even giggle that Bob has turned up right when you’ve got slippery nipples. Because slippery nipples remind you of Bob.”
“Yes, Bob,” was all Chloe could manage again.
“Good girl. Now then… One.. Two.. Three.. Four.. Five.” On five Bob snapped his fingers and watched Chloe’s pretty eyes flutter open.
Chloe smiled and said hello to Bob as if he’d just arrived and surprised her and then began to rub Bob’s cum into her heavy tits until her skin had absorbed it all. Then she put a dollop of actual suntan lotion into her palm and oiled up her big tits again until they were shiny and glistening in the afternoon sun.
“Now then Chloe. I’m going to my bar. You can come with me or you can stay here and sunbathe. Those are your options. What are you going to do?”
“Um..”
Bob smiled as Chloe stood there frowning with the effort it was taking her to answer. He hadn’t told her to wake fully, so the big titted traveler girl was still dazed and suggestible and making decisions like this would be impossible.
“Stay where you are. Work on your tan. Then come find me later.”
“Okay,” Chloe said, smiling dreamily. Thankful that Bob had relieved of the big burden of responsibility. Yes, work on her tan. Get rid of those horrid strap lines she got from wearing her bikini top. That sounded right. Chloe lay back and closed her eyes. Loving the feeling of the warm sun beating down on her naked boobs. Making them feel so good and tingly and nice. As Chloe began to doze contentedly in the afternoon heat she found herself daydreaming about blow-jobs. The dreamy thought was so strangely vivid she could almost taste it in her mouth. It was funny because a) she hadn’t been thinking about sex at all much lately, and b) she was never a big fan of blow-jobs even when she did.
When Chloe woke the sun was low on the horizon and the temperature had dropped slightly. Hot but not too hot. She remembered Bob’s instruction to come find him so she put her bikini top back on and set off along the beach. It felt good to walk along the beach like this. She felt liberated somehow. She caught sight of people looking at her and it made her smile to herself. Why couldn’t traveling feel like a holiday, too? I mean of course it could. Traveling is one big extended holiday. Yes, of course you do the cultural stuff, but you can also do sun, sand, sea and get a couple of Slippery Nipples at Bob’s Bar, too.
It was only when Chloe got to the strip of road beyond the beach that she reluctantly decided to put her top back on. Observe local customs and all that.
Pt.4
The bar was much more crowded than she’d seen it before, Chloe thought, before realizing that actually she’d only been here once before and that was in the afternoon. The sleepiest time of day. Strange, coming back here felt like coming back to an old friend. No sign of Bob or Pete right now. Just two busy looking bar babes. Both Western girls who’d also been dealt a pretty big hand in the chest department, Chloe thought, feeling an immediate connection to them.
Chloe walked up to the bar and ordered a pink Slippery Nipple. Why did she want to order two together? She didn’t though. She ordered one.
“You must be Chloe,” the barmaid said, smiling at her.
“Um. Yes. I am,” Chloe said, a little perplexed. “How did you know?”
“Easy,” the barmaid smiled. “Only Bob’s girls order Slippery Nipples. You wanted to order two, right? You wanted to say, Can I have two pink slippery nipples, please. Didn’t you,” the girl said sweetly as she fixed Chloe her drink.
“Um. Well. Yes.”
“See. I’m Anna, by the way. Anna Ample. You’ll probably be Chloe Cupcake or something. Here you are, one pink Slippery Nipple. Specialty of the house.”
“Thanks…” What did she mean she’d probably be Chloe Cupcake? Chloe thought, sipping her lurid pink drink through its candy cane straw.
“Hey, honey,” Pete said, appearing behind her.
“Oh, hey Pete,” Chloe said.
“Chloe, do you think you could me a huge favour?” Pete asked.
“Um. What?”
“One of the bar girls hasn’t turned up. We need your help.”
“Behind the bar?”
“Right.”
“Um. I don’t know how to mix cocktails.”
“Oh that’s okay, Anna is our mixologist. You just have to open the beers and collect the empties and have big boobs. And you’re more than capable of that. Right?”
“Um. Right. Wait.. what do you mean, have big boobs?”
“All barmaids have big boobs. Well, all the best ones anyway,” Pete said smiling a disarming smile. Well, really, it was kind of a sleazy smile, but Chloe liked it, and she found her nipples buzzing and sending tingles up into her head. Signals that seemed to say, I bet Pete has a big cock too. Just like Bob’s.
“Well, yeah, okay, sure.”
“Great.”
“Just for tonight though, right?”
“Oh, no, wrong. You work here now, but we’ll talk about that later. Be a good girl and go fetch those empties before the natives get restless will you.”
As Chloe furrowed her brow, about to question how she could possibly work here now, but Pete’s smack on her arse stop that and sent her on her way.
When she got back to the bar Anna and the other barmaid were enjoying a moment of rest, chatting and flirting with the guys sitting at the bar.
Ah, here’s the new girl,” Anna said. “Chloe, this is Nina. Nina, Chloe.”
“Hi Chloe,” Nina, smiled sweetly.
“Hi.”
Anna and Nina both had the same kind of happy, slightly blank look in their eyes. It felt strangely familiar to Chloe but she couldn’t quite explain why.
It was funny, Chloe couldn’t quite work out how she’d ended up in this in this position – working behind the bar at a place she’d only dropped into yesterday as kind of a sociological experiment for her article – her article, wow she’d almost forgotten about that.. better get back to that tomorrow. And now here she was on first name terms with the owners and their staff and… she hadn’t even negotiated how much she’d be getting paid.. It felt like she’d sort of been railroaded into this, except at no point when she thought back over the last two days could she pick out a point when any railroading had happened. The whole thing felt as fluid as a dream. One thing blurring into the next until here she was.
Chloe noticed that the two other barmaids’ expressions gone even more starry and she turned to see what they were gazing at. It was Bob. He’d taken up his spot inside the horseshoe of the bar’s wooden counter and was holding court. Chloe found herself smiling, too. Wasn’t it amazing how this, to put it coldly for a moment, big, fat, walrus of a man, in fading shapeless t-shirts, Bermuda shots and old dusty sandals could inspire such devotion in people around him. It’s so nice that people here can see beyond looks, she thought.
Chloe found herself being drawn towards Bob. By his wonderful charisma and understated authority. Bob was talking to one of the patrons while almost absent-mindedly massaging Nina’s buttocks through her short skirt.
Nina wasn’t batting an eyelid.
“Chloe,” Bob said, “Go over to that table over there and get them to buy some more drinks. They’re drinking too slowly.” He nodded over at a group of young men, probably over here for as much debauchery as they could get.
“Um. How?”
“How?” Bob said. “How do you think? Use your God given charms, dumbie.”
Chloe couldn’t help noticing that Bob’s tone had changed with her. It wasn’t as soft or coaxing or flattering. It was as if he was already seeing her as ‘staff.’ As someone there to work for him and be ordered about to suit his needs. Again, Chloe had that funny feeling of things snowballing out of her control. But she didn’t know how to break the weird invisible momentum that seemed to be operating here. She was a strong, independent young woman. She’d traveled here on her own and she’d sold her first piece of travel journalism on her own, too. But right now she was feeling more like a little girl, out of her depth, all alone on the other side of the world from home and no one to talk to or share her fears with. Suddenly she realized she was intimidated by Bob. But she was also desperate to receive his approval. All these thoughts at once were making her head spin as Anna came up and calmly cut off the bottom of her Thai blouse, so that it tented out at her big, firm breasts, and then ended.
Now would be the time to object, she thought with a strange sense of dislocation from everything going on around her. Now would be the time to say, No way, or This is going too far, or even Hey, I don’t even really work for you.
But instead she said nothing. Nothing at all.
“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” Bob asked, coldly.
“Um. No.”
“Okay then. So go over there and get them to order some more drinks. It’s not rocket science. Just point your big tits at them and smile. Oh, and think about giving each and every one of them a blow job as you ask them.”
Chloe blushed, but as if compelled by some outside force, she turned on her heels and walked over to the table of raucous lads and did exactly what she was told. She smiled and said, “Would you like some more drinks.. boys?” and as she said it her head filled with images of giving them blow jobs, right there in the bar, as they calmly drank their beers and carried on talking.
“Yeah, sure, tits. Get us another round of beers would you.”
“Sure,” Chloe smiled, amazed and relieved at how easy that was. She hadn’t had to flirt or talk them into it or anything. Wow, that was so easy.
“And hurry up,” another of the boys said.
“I will,” Chloe replied, still smiling at how simple everything seemed suddenly.
Back at the bar, Chloe smiled and said, “Another round of beers, please.”
“Atta girl,” Bob said. “Who’s my clever little cupcake then.”
“I am,” Chloe said, just happy to be back in Bob’s good books.
“Told you,” Anna smiled. “You’re Chloe Cupcake now.”
“Oh yes,” Bob said, as if this was the first time he’d heard it. “So you are. You’re our latest edition: Chloe Cupcake, the Ditz with the Tits.”
Chloe found herself letting out a happy giggle. Just so pleased to stop feeling all alone suddenly. To feel welcomed into a new surrogate family.
“So, um, if I’m Chloe Cupcake and you’re Anna Ample, what’s Nina?”
“You can’t guess?” Anna smiled.
“Um. No,” she said, on the back foot again.
“It’s simple. Think…” Bob said.
“Um..” Chloe stumbled.
“Oh dear, seems we’ve found our dumbest barmaid yet. Tell her Anna.”
“Nina Knockers, of course.”
“Oh yes,” Chloe blushed, not wanting to look dumb. “Of course.”
“Makes sense, right?” Pete said, joining the gang.
“Cos all three of you have got huge fucking tits,” Bob laughed.
Anna and Nina giggled while Chloe stood there a little dazed.
“I mean really it should be Chloe Cupps,” Pete said. “But Chloe Cupcake is cuter. More in keeping with your cute little mushy brain. Don’t you think?”
“Yes,” Chloe agreed. It was true, they all had huge boobs.
“Okay, Cupcake,” Bob said. “Table 4 need some attention.”
“Oh yes, sorry,” Chloe said and trotted off to take their drink orders.
The rest of the night past in a kind of blur. It got so busy that Chloe had absolutely no time to herself, to stop and take stock of the situation. She was rushed off her feet taking drink orders and collecting empties and Anna and Nina were equally busy behind the bar opening bottles and mixing drinks.
Only Bob and Pete had time to sit back and watch events unfold with a certain satisfaction (smugness, someone passing might have said, looking in at them sitting at the end of the bar watching the three girls run around for them). Chloe was probably the prettiest of their barmaids, probably had the best tits and had virtually handed herself to them on a plate. It would have been criminal to waste an opportunity like that. You don’t’ just pass up that kind of luck. And really, if you think about it, it was her own fault for having those massive tits. Bob and Pete were only really interested in young women with huge natural melons, so if she’d had small tits or even just medium sized tits she’d have been fine and would still be hanging out with her hippy traveler friends, devouring guide books on the cultural gems of Thailand and discussing the merits of sucking tofu cock. But no the girl had absolutely fucking huge fun bags. So really, with tits like that, she was pretty much asking for it.
“Right, Juggs?” Bob said.
“Huh?” Chloe replied, trotting back to the bar with another drink order.
Pt.5
The next day, Chloe woke up back at her little wooden resort feeling spacey and cotton-headed. Her brain felt foggy and she couldn’t seem to focus on reading her biography of Lee Miller – one of the unsung women of the Twentieth Century. People were sitting about in hammocks, drinking coffee and easing into the day. But to Chloe they all seemed kind of affected and she hated how so many of the white girls had those pretentious blonde dreadlocks. Eva and Ingrid weren’t much better. Okay they didn’t have dreadlocks but they were sitting reading. How dumb to come somewhere sunny like this and then sit in the shade the whole time with your head in a book. It was Ingrid who’d leant her this book. Typical traveler, trying to push her views on everyone else, Chloe thought, putting the book down and firing up her laptop.
She stared at the opening paragraph of her article. This was no better. Her head couldn’t seem to retain more than two sentences at a time. She needed a change of scenery. A walk would clear her head.
Hey yeah, great idea. Why didn’t she take her laptop down to Bob’s bar and write her article there? That way, when she needed a break from all the taxing brain stuff, she could chat to Bob and Pete or go down to the beach and sunbathe. And a couple of Slippery Nipples couldn’t hurt either…
Chloe arrived at the bar and, after helping to clear up the stray bottles, sweeping the floor, and giving Bob a blowjob, she opened her laptop and found her mind going over and over the last few lines of the opening paragraph:
‘Phuket, like much of Thailand’s popular islands has become infamous for the flocks of fat Western men who might, let’s charitably say ‘struggle’ to get a girlfriend back home, coming over here and paying for temporary Thai girlfriends to tend to their every whim. It’s tacitly endorsed prostitution and the exploitation of poor village girls who have been forced into the sex trade just to keep their families alive.’
For a start, it no longer sounded like her own voice. That was kind of weird in itself – the fact that what she’d written only a couple of days ago no longer seemed to chime with her own internal monologue. But beyond that there was something else. Something that her mind was struggling to grasp. She could actually feel her brain wrestling with something. Only she didn’t quite know what.
Fat Western men … struggle to get a girlfriend … prostitution … sex trade.
These were key emotive phrases that her brain kept bumping up against and then not knowing how to process. Why did the tone she’d written this in seem so different to her now? It was almost as if it had been written by someone else. And yet it she’d only started it three days ago. It didn’t make sense. Fat Western men, she read again. That could easily apply to Bob. He was Western. He was certainly a man. And yes, he was on the heavy side of things. But why was it written.. in… with.. pejorative was the word she finally dredged up from some numbed region of her brain’s language centre. Just then San, the Thai stripper, turned up, dumped her bag down by the counter and wandered up to the pole. San was wearing deep purple lipstick and gold eye-shadow. Her young nubile body glistened and lacked any kind of luster at the same time. She seemed like a shell of a person. A ghost in her own skin. Sex trade. Surely that didn’t apply here though. Not in Bob’s Bar. Sex trade, she repeated to herself. The term felt both familiar and difficult at the same time.
“Hey Cupcake, what are you doing?” Bob said. His big beer belly looming into view above her computer screen, directly in her eyeline.
“Writing this article,” Chloe said. “Except I can’t seem to—”
“Do that later,” Bob said, dismissively closing the laptop for her.
“I was—”
“Later,” Bob reiterated. “Anna and Nina are here and I’ve decided to do something a little different today. A little creative roleplaying for you all.”
“What do you mean?”
“Come with me.”
Chloe followed. Her eyes dragging on San up by the pole for a few seconds. Trying to make sense of something that felt just beyond her reach.
“Girls,” Bob said, being joined by Pete. “We’re going to mix things up a bit today. Have a bit of fun. How does that sound?”
“Fun,” Anna and Nina said, reflexively. Chloe didn’t say anything. At the back of her head a voice was telling her something was actually deeply wrong here. But as hard as she tried she just couldn’t bring it into focus. What was it…?
“Today,” Pete said smiling darkly, “Chloe’s going to work behind the bar, Nina’s going to mix the drinks and Anna’s going to wait tables. The only thing is…”
“The only thing is,” Bob said. “Chloe’s still going to be waiting tables, Anna’s still going to be mixing the drinks and Nina’s still going to be working the bar.”
“Huh?” the girls chorused.
“I don’t understand,” Chloe said.
“It’s simple, Cupcake,” Pete said. “You’re going to be Nina for the day. Nina’s going to be Anna and Anna’s going to be Nina.”
“Huh?”
“Nina,” Bob said, “tell me your full name.”
“Nina Pearson.”
“And where to you come from?”
“San Diego.”
“Great. And what’s your favourite colour?”
“Dark blue.”
“Wonderful,” Bob said, and repeated this with Chloe and Anna.
Anna was Anna Lauriston. She came from Brooklyn and her favourite colour was fire engine red.
Chloe was Chloe Anderson. She came from London and her favourite colour was emerald green.
“Now then Chloe,” Bob said, looking into her eyes, “your name is Nina Pearson, you come from San Diego and your favourite colour is dark blue.”
“Hello Nina,” Pete said to Chloe.
“Um. Hello,” Chloe said.
“So Nina, tell me about yourself.”
“Um,” Chloe stumbled, her head swimming now. “My name is Nina Pearson, I come from San Diego and my favourite colour is dark blue.”
“Again.”
“My name is Nina Pearson, I come from San Diego and my favourite colour is dark blue.”
“Again.”
“My name is Nina Pearson, I come from San Diego and my favourite colour is dark blue.”
“No, I’ve changed my mind,” Bob said, suddenly, looking at Chloe. “You’re Anna. No wait, Nina. No, Anna. No actually you can be Chloe for a change.”
“Uh?”
“Or is that too weird? You’re nothing like Chloe are you,” Bob said to Chloe. “No we want this to be believeable, let’s make you Nina.”
“Nina, tell me about yourself.”
“My name is Nina Pearson, I come from San Diego and my favourite colour is dark blue,” Chloe said automatically, glad that she’d been given an easy one. But also totally confused. She was pretty sure she was Anna and not Nina, but she wasn’t sure, and maybe Bob and played a trick on her and she was Nina after all. She was fairly certain she wasn’t Chloe though as Chloe was from London and she was from San Diego. Oh shit, she’d forgotten what her favourite colour was supposed to be. Was it dark blue, emerald green or fire engine red? She couldn’t actually remember what it was in real life. Let alone as Nina or Anna or Chloe or whatever. Her head was still spinning when Bob came up behind her and started gently twisting her nipples. She felt herself lean back into his embrace—his big manly stomach and strong supporting chest. Pete started to take pictures. Warm tingles rushed outwards from her nipples covering her thoughts in a sugaring of fuzzy sticky warm syrupyness.
Chloe closed her eyes. When she opened them again Anna and Chloe had taken over from San on the pole and San polishing the tables in her pink bikini.
Bob and Pete were scrolling through photos on the back of Pete’s camera.
“That’s a nice one,” Pete said.
“Yeah,” Bob said. “Nina come and have a look.”
Chloe walked over to them. They turned the back of the camera round to show her the screen. It was a photo of her with her top off, blank-eyed, smiling vacantly, squeezing her huge tits with her hands and licking her lips. She had absolutely no memory of doing that at all. Pete clicked to the next one. There she was again. This time with her legs wide open, and her hands on the inside of her thighs, pushing her massive tits together with the insides of her arms. It was like they’d done a soft porn shoot, here in the bar, during the day, and she couldn’t recall a single minute. Not one. Something was definitely strange here, Chloe thought. Maybe she should say something to Chloe and Anna. Or call home. But then when she tried to think what she’d say she realized that she had no memory of San Diego either. What did San Diego even look like? It was on the coast wasn’t it? Or on the border with Mexico? She couldn’t picture her home there, growing up or anything. Suddenly Chloe felt very weird. Very frightened. It felt like someone had slipped her the most powerful and most realistic psychoactive thought drug you could imagine. Like being in one of those Hollywood movies where reality turns in on itself and nothing is real.
Pete walked over to Chloe and clapped a hand down firmly on her shoulder and Chloe crumpled into his arms like a ragdoll.
Pt.6
Chloe woke the next day later than usual. The sun streaming through the slats in her beach hut. She’d slept in her bikini, so she kept that on without bothering to throw anything over it. She was only getting breakfast after all. Ingrid and Eva, the Danish doctor and architect joined her again, but conversation between them seemed to be even more stilted than ever.
“It’s really annoying,” Chloe was saying, twisting to exam the faint strap marks on her back, “because I started this trip wearing a bikini top I’m always going to have this like these really annoying marks. I mean they’re getting browner but then so is the rest of me so they’re not catching up. You know?”
“Yes,” Ingrid said, politely.
“It’s going to take ages,” Chloe sulked. “Look,” she said, shifting the triangle of bikini material on one breast so you could almost see nipple.
“Yes, I see,” Eva said, looking uncomfortably over at the Thai family who ran this place. Why was the English girl behaving so oddly? She seemed to be completely unaware of how inappropriately she was acting.
“Anyway, it’s really annoying,” Chloe went on, like a stuck record.
“Um, we were thinking of going snorkeling today. Do you want to come with us?” Ingrid asked her, still puzzled by Chloe’s apparent change in personality. When they’d met she’d seemed so lovely and completely in sync with them. Here for a little relaxation before moving on to explore the historic wonders of South East Asia. But now she was acting like one of those horrible package holidaymakers who couldn’t give a damn about the indigenous culture.
Had they really got her so wrong?
“Um, yeah, sure,” Chloe said, reluctantly. Fish were boring. All they did was swimin around. Pretty colours though. And she could tan at least.
The three of them finished their breakfast and met up again at the reception.
The Danish girls both seemed to do a double-take at the same time. Chloe was waiting for them in high-wedged cork heels and her bikini.
“Hi Chloe,” Ingrid said. “Do you want us to wait for you while you get a top?”
“Hmm?” Chloe said. “Oh no, it’s okay. Gotta tan remember.”
“Yes, but we go through the old part of the island. Not just the touristy part.”
“Oh that’s okay, I don’t mind.”
The girls looked at Chloe. How wasn’t she getting this? It was like there was a void there where there where there used to be knowledge about the cultural nuances of the area. Like that information had been erased. Her dark irises seemed almost burnt out, vacant, like all the light had fused behind them.
The three girls were walking along the main drag, with Ingrid and Eva trying to focus the easily distracted Chloe on telling them about her magazine article. But each time she turned her attention to it she frowned and seemed to get stuck.
Then out of nowhere someone called out, “Hey, Big Tits.”
“Bob!” Chloe let out with a girly shriek, and, with a almost Pavlovian response, ran up to him, jumping up into his arms and wrapping her legs around his wide middle. Bob chuckled. The height she was in his arms meant her huge melons were almost in his face. “Hey, Slippery Nipples,” he whispered into her ear.
“This is Ingrid and Eva,” Chloe told Bob as he put her down.
“Hello girls,” Bob said, casting an eye over the pair of them. They were pretty, he thought, but not busty enough to make it worth his while. Brainwashing unsuspecting girls isn’t without its risks. It doesn’t always take and if it only half works it can bring a lot of unwanted attention onto his set-up here with Pete. I mean, it’s basically a subtle form of kidnapping. And that sort of thing doesn’t go down too well with the authorities. Bribes or no bribes.
“Hey you two,” Chloe said. “You go on ahead. I’m going to stay here with Bob Bob.”
Sensing something was strange here, the girls told Chloe they though she should go with them. But Chloe did what Bob told her to now and Bob told her to run along inside like a good little girl. Gloating at the way she obeyed.
Pt.7
The next time the two Danish girls saw Chloe was nearly two weeks later, when they were sitting around the main part of town, waiting for their ferry. Chloe didn’t even seem to recognize them. The girl was so rude, they thought. They had got her all wrong. They’d thought she was a nice, interesting traveler. But she wasn’t. She was just another one of those tacky Brits over here to get drunk and have sex. I mean, look at her. No respect for the culture. She was dressed in a pair of cut-off denim hotpants and a string bikini top that barely held her large breasts in. And it was see-through enough that you could make out her large, dark areolae. And what was worse, she was with that horrible fat man again, and she was letting him grope her in public. She was just standing there, going through a railing of cheap, skimpy little tops and he was cupping her bosoms and whisptering into her ear like they were in a private room together. The two girls grimaced and shot her a look that was both accusatory and sad. But Chloe seemed oblivious to the world. Like she was under the spell of that disgusting fat man. It was exactly the same relationship as if Chloe was a Thai prostitute – but at least those girls had the excuse that they desperately needed the money. What was her excuse? Nothing. She was just trampy. They really didn’t know how they’d gotten her so wrong.
Chloe giggled at the way Bob was groping her. She had stopped even pretending to squirm away when he did it in public. She loved it now and he knew she loved it so what was the point of pretending she didn’t? It was the best fun to be groped by the sexiest man on the island. Who wouldn’t want that? She wanted everyone to know that she belonged to Bob Court, owner of Bob’s bar – the best bar in Thailand. So what if the locals frowned on this kind of thing? It’s just a bit of fun. That’s all it was.. fun stuff. That’s what you do on holiday.. you have fun, you have a good time. And anyway it’s not like the Thais are in any position to talk. Half of the Thai women are prostitutes for God’s sake. At least she wasn’t a prostitute. She just loved Bob, and loved Bob fucking her brains out. And he totally must have done that to her, because Bob said she was just about the dumbest girl on the island. But he also said that was okay because she also had pretty much the biggest tittyboos on the island and that’s way more important than remembering stuff or doing sums.
Her tittyboos looked so great now, too. Totally all over tan. No stupid tan lines anymore. Just lovely big goldeny juggs the size of her head. Heh.
Bob didn’t exactly give her time off work. She was one of his bar bimbo, after all. Just like Anna and Nina. They were important. It was their job to entice men in to spend their money on beer and lap dances. So they put on loads of makeup and sat there with their big fat boobaloos almost totally out of their tops and smiled at anyone passing by. As Bob said, Just how a booby bimbo’s brain works anyways. But yeah so anyway… Um, Bob couldn’t afford for her to take time off work. But because he was so nice he had made getting a good all over tan part of their job. So every afternoon for two hours between 3pm and 5pm their job was to go down to the beach and sunbathe topless in tiny little thongs. How cool is that? Getting paid to get your tittyboos all lovely and brown!
Bob recognised the two Danish girls shooting him daggers from over by the jetty, but he didn’t bother saying anything. He knew Chloe wouldn’t recognize them. Fuck, she barely recognised herself anymore. He’d rechristened her Cherry – which she’d even used to sign off on postcards back home a couple of times now. Wonder what they make of that back home? he thought, chuckling to herself. “Hi Mum, Hi Dad. The whether is fab. Wish u were here. Cherry xxx.”
Bob laughed. He never failed to get a kick out of stuff like that. Turning stuck-up girls into tittyboo bimbos was the funniest thing in the world. Even funnier was they called THEMSELVES tittyboo bimbos now. It was hilarious. How can you ever tire of watching grown women reduced to using words a three-year-old would find embarrassing? he thought to himself, watching them chit chat now.
In fact, just then three American boys walked past the bar and with near-Pavlovian conditioning Nina, Cherry and Anna jumped up and waved them over.
“Hey boys,” they beamed, bouncing in their little tops.
“Come in. Cold beers. Great cocktails.”
“COCK-tails,” Nina smiled.
“Mm, we’ve got the best COCK-tails on the island,” Anna chirped.
“Yeah, come in and try our Slippery Nipples,” Cherry chimed in, giggling.
The boys, entertained but maybe not drunk enough yet to deal with these three giggling bimbos waved and said maybe later.
“What?” Cherry said. “No come in now. Where else you gonna get three gorgeous bar bunnies with hugey-wugey tittyboos like these.”
The girls shook their hugey-wugey tittyboos at the boys and pouted when the boys headed off down the drag. Programmed, they simply couldn’t understand anyone man that would pass up giggly girls with massive boobies. What else could they want to do with their nights? Silly strange funny boys….
Bob never knew why those stuck-up travelers came away to ‘try and find themselves.’ As if life was a spiritual quest. As if there was any such thing as a higher calling. He didn’t give a shit that Thailand had a Buddhist history. Or that Indian was an ancient land of magical histories. Life is about money and fucking wherever you go, whatever history the country you’re in has.
He’d helped his girls find themselves. He’d just helped them find it in the size of their tits and in the hot cum jizzed over their faces down on their knees.
His eyes swept across the massive heaving chests of his flirty beach bar bunnies and then stopped on the rows of snapshots stuck up on the board behind them. Now if you scanned the the hundreds of party photos behind the optics, you’d be hard pressed to find any of the bar girls with their tops on. All three of them had been hypnotized and trained by Bob and Pete to be perfect bimbos. The kind of bimbos that respond instinctively to having a camera pointed at them. The kind of bimbos that value the size of their tits above the size of their IQ. The kind of bimbos that define themselves by how big and heavy their melons are and assume everyone else does, too. Point any kind of camera at any one of these girls now and they’ll reflexively flash their tits for you.
However, if you hunted long enough and knew what you were looking for, you would eventually find one photo of Chloe with her top on tucked away in amongst all the others. The photo Pete took of her on her first night at the bar. Just the one. A rare photo of ‘Chloe’ looking slightly bashful and awkward in front of the camera in a loose, creamy white blouse. It’s a sweet photo. No one except Bob or Pete would ever connect that one photo with the scores of other ones of a brash, glassy-eyed bimbo flashing her massive juggs for the camera as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Which of course it was now. After all of her intense conditioning. But then again she isn’t Chloe anymore. She’s Cherry. And this is what she wrote in the end for her travel article:
‘Hey if u eva come to Phuket u should totally come to Bob’s Bar. It’s the coolest most funnest place in the whole island. Ask for Cherry. That’s me! I’ll give u the best Slippery Nipples u’ve eva had. And a drink too! LOL! Cherry xxx’
That was the entire article she submitted to the travel magazine.
It was never published.
Obviously.
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