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WARNING: This is a dark story featuring cheating, humiliation, and betrayal of people who probably don’t deserve it.
It also features descriptions of extreme body types that may not appeal to the average reader.
If these things do not appeal to you, I suggest you look elsewhere.
And remember: this is just a fantasy. Treat the people in your life with love and respect.
In my late twenties I ended up going back to school – my wife had convinced me that an art degree wasn’t going to make us money, so I had enrolled in a local college for a Computer Science degree. To help pay the bills, I got a job at hotel in our city. It was actually a pretty cushy job – it was an extravagant place, the kind of place I could never afford – so I got paid pretty well and all I generally had to do was check in guests and do my best to not make them angry.
On my second month there, a few weeks before classes started up, my coworker Pete sidled up to me behind the front desk.
“Hey Dan,” he said, sort of conspiratorially. “Guess who’s coming to stay at our wonderful hotel the next couple weeks?”
I shrugged. “Who?”
“Alexis Baddie,” he responded, matter-of-factly.
I shrugged again. “Am I supposed to know who that is?”
Pete laughed. “I forgot you were married, man. Do yourself a favor and look her up.”
“Uh, sure,” I answered, as he walked away.
I figured I should at least figure out who Alexis Baddie was – we had to be very mindful of celebrity guests at the hotel, lest they cause us any trouble. I didn’t have time yet to peruse the internet, though, so I sent a quick text to Lisa, my wife.
“Hey – who is ‘Alexis Baddie?'” I typed.
She responded pretty quickly. “LOL she’s one of those Instagram ladies. You know, Kim Kardashian type, half-plastic, half-facetuned.”
A few minutes later, she sent another text. “Wait why do you ask? You getting the hots for another lady? ;)”
When I had a second, I responded. “Haha, no, she’s coming to stay at the hotel. don’t have time to look her up. she doesn’t quite sound like my type.”
“OMG,” she wrote in reply. “I think she’s getting her own reality show soon. Look at you rubbing elbows with celebs. Even if they are just plastic bimbos.”
I smiled at her text, and put my phone in my pocket, forgetting about the conversation as I got inundated with guests.
A few hours later I had my mandatory break. When I opened my phone, I saw the texts from my wife and I remembered Alexis Whats-her-face was supposed to check in later.
I googled her name, and her Instagram was the first link, along with some news articles about her rising success as an “influencer” (a what?) and her newly announced TV deal. I clicked her Instagram and… honestly, I was underwhelmed.
She was beautiful, no doubt – or, at least, someone’s generic definition of beautiful. Her face definitely looked like Kim Kardashian’s – or someone with completely different bone structure trying to look like her. Her images were so heavily modified – I guess that’s what Lisa had meant by “facetuned” – that it was impossible to tell what she actually looked like.
Her body was… something else. She had giant breasts, though it was hard to tell how big as it seemed to vary image by image – another side effect of the heavy facetuning, most likely. Her waist was almost nonexistent, just a smooth curve connecting her rib-cage and hips. Speaking of her hips – they were absurd, easily twice the size of her upper body, giving her an extremely exaggerated hourglass figure.
Her feed was mostly selfies and incomprehensible inspirational quotes. Dan shrugged to himself and closed the app. When had that bottom-heavy, super-curvy look become so popular? When he was growing up, people knew what real beauty looked like: skinny. Like Lisa.
Lisa was his dream girl – smart, funny, outgoing, and a smoking hottie to boot. She looked like that girl from the OC – a show from when he was a teenager – thin and fit, with a classic beauty.
He scrolled back to his text messages and sent another to his wife. “LOL I just looked up Ms. Baddie – is she anyone’s type??”
She responded, “lol I’m sure there’s some weirdos out there, but you know what a real woman looks like ;)”
That evening, towards the end of my shift, Ms. Alexis Baddie finally arrived. At first, I wasn’t sure what was happening – suddenly a group of garishly-dressed people sauntered into the lobby like they were hot shit. There were a few women who, honestly, not to be rude, looked like street walkers, and they were flanked by a couple burly men in sunglasses, who seemed to be scanning the room.
The group stopped in the middle of the lobby, making a ton of noise – shouting, laughing. One of the sunglasses-men came to the desk.
“We’re checking in Alexis Baddie’s group,” he stated.
“Oh,” I responded, dumbly, and looked over to the group. As I did, one of the women moved to the side, and I finally saw her.
And casino siteleri honestly, I was horrified. She looked nothing like her pictures on Instagram – or rather, she looked like someone who had used every type of plastic surgery to make herself look like her Instagram pictures.
Her face looked like it had been injected with every known substance to fill out her cheeks and soften her jawline and – just change the entire shape, really. She had definitely had a nose job, and as her friends laughed and hollered around her, she stood impassively chewing gum. Her swollen, bee-stung lips barely moved as she did so. I had no idea what her original face could have even looked like.
But that wasn’t even the most shocking thing. It was her entire body. If her pictures made it look like she had the perfect exaggerated hourglass, her actual body looked like a broken one. Or an hourglass made by someone who had never seen one before.
She had sort of broad shoulders, and I figured she was probably originally apple-shaped, but whoever did her surgeries tried to give her more of an hourglass pear-shape by widening out her hips to an unfathomable degree. And her waist, which had been a smooth curve in her images, was actually rather straight and broad. As a result, her waist connected to her hips in the most unnatural way: a straight line down that then, at almost a 90 degree angle, jutted out into an exaggerated, surgery-enhanced orb.
And that wasn’t even mentioning her breasts – if they could even be called that any more. They were clearly fake – the thin crop-top she was wearing made it clear she wasn’t wearing a bra, and yet they stood unnaturally perky, shaped like two watermelons bolted to someone’s chest.
She had long straightened and dyed black hair that reached down to her lower back. Even her hair looked unnatural, and it was impossible to tell what it used to be.
Her eyes were incredibly bloodshot, which didn’t surprise me as the thick aroma of marijuana had wafted in with the group. As I gawked, I realized she had noticed me, and was now looking in my direction. Chewing her gum without ever fully closing her mouth, she winked at me – and even that small gesture looked fake.
“Sir? Sir!” The sunglasses-man snapped me out of my trance by tugging gently on my sleeve.
I looked back at him, and saw a slight smile. “She has that effect on people. Now, please, can you get us checked in?”
I nodded, and got everything set up. I handed them the keycards to their rooms – a set of various absurdly expensive suites – and watched as he went back to the group.
Across the room, I caught my co-worker Pete’s eyes. We looked at each other incredulously. Pete shook his head, eyes wide. I answered with a shrug.
And then I saw Ms. Alexis Baddie turn around, and head towards the elevators with her entourage. I never could have expected the sheer size of the ass on that woman as she walked away from me. It should come as no surprise that it looked fake – beyond fake. It looked like she had just stuffed two basketballs into her overstretched yoga pants. Or… maybe beach balls.
I shook my head in disgust, and looked back at Pete. He, too, was gawking as the freakishly huge butt leaving the room, his face beet red.
You sure do see some weird shit working at this place.
I had about an hour left in my shift when one of the sunglasses-men came back to the front desk. He looked at my coworker before he saw me, and walked in my direction.
“Ms. Per-” he cut himself off and cleared his throat. “Ms. BADDIE is requesting your services in her suite.”
I was confused. “Oh,” I responded. “Well, if she needs room service or a maid-“
He cut me off, holding up his hand. He had that slight smile again. “No, she is requesting your services in her suite. She will be… unhappy if you can not accommodate.”
I looked to my manager, who was at the other end of the desk. Though busy, she motioned me to follow him up to the room.
Annoyed and a little anxious, I obliged. The elevator ride was awkward, and long – her room was near the top and it was a tall building.
I tried probing for answers, asking, “Soooo… what does she need help with?” But the sunglasses-man didn’t respond.
As we reached the correct floor, we turned towards her door. The other sunglasses-man was waiting stoically outside, and the one that had been escorting me joined him, motioning me into the room.
I slowly opened the door, and was immediately blown away with the view. I had never been up here in these rooms, and the windows showed a gorgeous cityscape at night. Just being in the room made me feel more important.
“Uh… Ms. Baddie? Can I help you?” I called, walking out into the living room space of the suite. I didn’t hear a response, but I could hear the thumping bass of some rap music coming from the bedroom. I walked slowly towards it, and peered in.
There, on the bed, was Alexis Baddie, on all fours – completely naked. Her ass was canlı casino facing towards me, and she was gyrating in a strange way with the music. I think she was trying to twerk, but either she was awful at it or her obscene physique made it difficult.
Seeing her naked ass for the first time was… repulsive. It was massive – absolutely massive – and misshapen. It wasn’t at all like the smooth, tight little butt my wife had, and it wasn’t even like the few fatter butts I’d seen. Each cheek was bulbous and the curves were not gentle or smooth, but harsh and unnatural. You could tell it was man-made, and not just from the thick, poorly healed surgical scars where her ass met her legs.
Her hips didn’t taper naturally into her thighs at all – instead, it looked like two peas wiggling atop a pair of chopsticks.
She looked over her shoulder back at me, and she winked again. Suddenly it hit me – I hadn’t walked in on something here – she was doing this for me. To seduce me?
I stumbled back out of the room, past the two sunglasses-men. I avoided eye contact, but I could hear them snickering behind me.
I rode the elevator back to the lobby, and back behind the counter. My manager, now free, looked over at me.
“Jesus,” she said, “you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Much worse,” I responded, making a horrified face at her.
She chuckled and went back to work.
I was incredibly happy to end my shift and leave the hotel that night.
When I got home, my wife had just finished cooking dinner. We ate, and watched some tv. As we did, she cuddled up close to me, and started grabbing my crotch. Soon, she was taking my hand and leading me upstairs to the bedroom. As we climbed the stairs, I admired my wife’s ass – always my favorite feature. And as I watched that tiny, pert little butt sway, the obscene image of Alexis Baddie’s surgical beach ball ass popped into my head. I shook my head, and gave my wife a quick spank.
A few minutes later, she was on all fours in front of me. I was slamming my 8-inch dick as deep as I could inside of her, while she howled like a banshee.
“Babe! OH FUCK! Ba- Babe! You feel so – OH – SO good tonight!” She gasped between moans. “Yes! FUCK ME!”
I barely noticed, though. Instead, I was lost in the image of that thick, misshapen, gigantic ass I had seen wobbling in front of me earlier today.
Soon after, we collapsed, sweaty, back into bed. “Damn babe,” Lisa whispered, gently playing with my chest hair. “What came over you tonight? I mean, you’re always good, but you really put on the works this time.”
I smiled at her. “You’re just so damn sexy,” I answered – thoughts still on the absurd body of Alexis Baddie.
My shift was earlier the next morning, and I showed up feeling groggy and confused. I had dreamt about women with bizarre body shapes and the feeling of pure pleasure as I was lost in them.
A few minutes after I got set up at the front desk, I saw Pete sheepishly try to hurry past me.
“Hey, man,” I called out. “Thought you were off today! Who you covering?”
He stopped dead in his tracks and turned towards me, trying not to look me in the eye. Our manager strolled over, and leaned on the desk next to me.
“Oh, Pete’s not filling in for anyone today” She said, in a coy tone.
Pete started to blush. I was confused. “What’s going on man, everything alright?” I asked.
He didn’t answer.
“Pete here stayed with one of our guests last night, didn’t he?” Our manager teased.
“Oh.” I responded. “Oh! Who was it? Did a babe come in after I left, or…” I trailed off as I saw the embarrassed look on his face.
It was Alexis Baddie. “You slept with Alexis-” I blurted out before he cut me off.
“Yes! Yes, keep it down will you? I’m not proud of it,” he responded. “Okay, I’m not NOT proud of it,” he said as he regained a little composure.
“How was it, Petey?” our manager asked. “I don’t know why you guys go for those surgically-enhanced bimbos, but…”
Pete laughed. “It was honestly… amazing. I have no idea if she was good in bed, but it was like living a porno…” he answered, before clearing his throat and remembering he was talking to his boss.
She nudged him on the shoulder. “Don’t sweat it, Petey. Everyone’s got a story like that if you work in a hotel long enough. Don’t be shy.”
Pete looked at her skeptically, then continued. “Well, listen, I may not go for… ‘surgically enhanced bimbos’ or whatever normally, but goddamn is it hot being with someone who has built their own body entirely for sex.”
“That is pretty hot…” the manager responded, then laughed.
“But like… what happened?” I asked. “How did you… is she nice?”
Pete almost burst out laughing. “Nice? I don’t know, man, I don’t think there’s enough going on upstairs for her to really be much of anything, if you catch my drift. And how did it happen? I know for a fact she called you up there before me – don’t pretend like she didn’t.”
Our kaçak casino manager nodded, barely containing her laughter. “Looks like you missed out Danny. How’s it feel being someone’s second choice, Pete?” She asked.
He shrugged. “I’ll be someone’s fifty-third choice if it means I get to fu- if I get to do what I did last night. Anyways, I gotta get home and clean up. Hey uh, don’t mention this around my girlfriend, okay?”
With that, he left. My manager shook her head again and got back to work. I had honestly forgotten he even had a girlfriend.
I couldn’t focus the rest of the day. I kept thinking of the jiggling monstrosity from yesterday, when I went up to Alexis’s room. Pete was a jokester, sure, but he was a respectable guy. He had always seemed to really love his nice, quiet, bookish girlfriend. But he had still fucked Alexis Baddie when given the chance. Was it really that worth it?
My heart actually skipped a beat when she left the elevator into the lobby later that morning. I watched her walk past – first, watching her fake boobs completely fail to bounce or jiggle as she moved, and then the two beach balls in her leggings as she left the hotel with some of her entourage. She still reeked of weed and I wondered how she had found the time to have already smoked that much today.
She didn’t look my way at all as she left the hotel, and weirdly… I felt disappointed. I realized it had made me feel genuine pride that I was her first choice at the hotel. This was someone famous, and she wanted to sleep with me!
Then I remembered that horrifying plastic mess she called her body – or maybe it wasn’t horrifying? What had Pete said? “She built her own body solely for sex,” or something like that. That was pretty sexy…
I did my best to snap out of it, and towards the end of my shift I was able to calm down a bit and focus on my work.
And then she walked back in. She had what seemed like a million bags from various designer boutiques throughout the city, and a couple of the sunglasses-men carried more. I had no idea how she could afford that – I mean, I knew she had a tv deal but there’s no way they gave her that much in advance.
I watched her strut to the elevators, admiring the sway in her plastic ass. When she got to them, she carelessly handed her bags to the sunglasses-men and strutted back over… right to me.
She stood in front of me for a few seconds, just looking at me, chewing away at her bubblegum. Her eyes looked so vacant, but it was hard to tell if that was just because they were so glassy and bloodshot.
“Uh… hi,” I managed to mumble.
“Hey,” she responded. A weird charge hung in the air between us despite neither of us having said anything substantial.
She kept smacking away at her gum. Normally I couldn’t stand when someone chewed loudly, but there was something driving me crazy about this. Crazy in a good way.
I looked at her botoxed face, and before I could even think about what I was saying, I blurted out “My shift is over in five minutes… do you want to… hang out? Afterwards?”
She kept chewing. Her face didn’t shift or react at all. “Yeah. Cool,” she finally responded. She gave me another wink and sauntered over to a couch set up by the elevators, and made a show of bending over to sit down in it. She waved away the sunglasses-men. I guess she was waiting for my shift to end.
The last five minutes of work passed by unbearably slowly – and when they finally ended, I saw a text from my wife. I didn’t even read it before I send my own text back. “Hey babe sorry going out with the boys for a bit”
I shoved the phone back in my pocket and didn’t think twice about the lie I had just sent to my wife. The wife I was… pretty sure I loved.
“Hey daddy,” Alexis said, as I walked towards her. I blushed and looked around to make sure no one had heard. She held out her hand so I could help her off the couch.
We immediately went to the elevators and back up to her room. I don’t think it even occurred to me that we would go anywhere else. As we walked through the hallways, my eyes were glued to her massive fake ass. With every shift and jiggle and sway I realized what a work of art it was, and how boring the average butt is in comparison. Had I really turned this down last night?
We were only about two steps into her room, the door barely closed, when Alexis bent down and peeled off her skin-tight leggings. I felt like I was going to have a heart attack right there. This was unfamiliar territory for me – I had never even had a one night stand, and this lady was stripping down when we’d only said about four words to each other.
As her leggings slid off, I realized beneath it she was wearing a lacy thong. Well, I think it was a thong – but I suppose almost anything would be, between those massive, misshapen cheeks. I had always figured that fancy lingerie was uncomfortable to wear all day, but she’d been out for hours in it.
She turned around and pulled off her crop top, immediately revealing her fake tits. They stood firm and spherical with no support. Her nipples were slightly too high on the breasts, and, given how much they had to have been enlarged, they somewhat pointed away from each other.
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