He Heads To A Bar

About a ten minute drive away, Rob arrived at his neighbourhood bar, not really sure what to expect, but he figured it was all worth a shot, given what he had wished into existence.

Inside, the bar was sparsely populated, with only a few tables occupied that night, and another handful at the bartop. But it was the sight behind the bar that quickly drew his eye and immediately sent him all the way to heaven.

Rob wasn't super familiar with the staff at his local bar, but he was pretty sure their two regular bartenders weren't a busty thief and navigator with long orange hair dressed in a skimpy bikini top and low-rider jeans, or an equally busty raven-haired freedom fighter and martial artist clad in a thin tanktop and short leather skirt.

There, clear as day for anyone to see, were Nami of the Straw Hat Pirates and Tifa Lockhart working behind the bar, none of the customers acting as if anything were out of the ordinary, save for the few stealing glances at the bodies of the two gorgeous young ladies. And, honestly, who could blame them?

Not Rob, who spent his fair share drooling and gawking over the two women he wished into existence, his pants suddenly quite uncomfortable, before he staggered his way to the bar, finding a length of bar he could have to himself, and doing his best not to be too much of an overt voyeur when face to face with the two. When Tifa approached him and made casual conversation like any restaurant professional would, Rob kept stumbling over his words, blushing intensely as he tried too hard not to stare at her deep, wine-red eyes, the silky locks of her long hair, her flat stomach and taut abs, or her long muscular legs.

Or her massive, absurdly gigantic tits, straining against sports bra and thin cotton imprisonment. Seriously, they must have been bigger than his head! And the funny/scary/sexy part was, he couldn't tell which of the two had the bigger tits.

Eventually he sputtered out his order, Tifa replying with a gracious smile. Rob chugged the beer down in record time and quickly ordered another, doing his best not to sweat in fear, stare in longing, or shiver in anticipation and fear.

Because now Rob was faced with a dilemma; what next? Where did he go from here? He had wished these two women(and undoubtedly, countless more) into existence with the intent and expression to build a harem, but how did he accomplish that? He didn't think he was unattractive or anything, but he certainly would be punching above wait if he pursued Tifa, Nami, or any of the other girls on his list. Furthermore, most women wouldn't freely come along to be a man's ****, to be part of a harem.

So Rob sat there, thinking, drinking, stealing looks at his dream women, trying to ignore the painful erection in his pants, recalling the wording of his wish. Specifically, he had wished "the world will conspire for us to meet" and that "their fate is to become my loving, obedient slaves". Vague, but still enough to go on. All he had to do was take a leap of faith.

Feeling slightly calmer and much more looser due to the **** in his system, Rob rolled the dice, taking out his wallet and placing a couple of hundred dollar bills on the wooded countertop, which to him was now chump change. Rob had to suppress a laugh that, when the first bill silently touched wood, Nami immediately perked up and looked his way, as if the greedy cat burglar could sense his newfound riches.

"Pardon me, ladies." Rob said, trying his best not to sound nervous. "I know how much bartender's rely on tips for income, and I wanted to let you know I've been really enjoying the service tonight, but was wondering just how much I should give. If there anything else you could do that could justify a bigger tip..."

Tifa flashed him a skeptical and wary look, but Nami dived headlong into the opportunity for more cash, bending over the bar towards Rob, giving him an impressive impression of the massive valleys of cleavage her bikini barely contained. "Well, what were we thinking Mister Big Spender?" Nami tittered flirtatiously, batting her eyes and pouting her lips together.

Rob took a breath. Here we go.

He slid two Ben Franklins forward, one to each girl.

"Well, why don't we start by having you two lift up your tops?"

Nami's greed turned to disgust and Tifa's suspicion turned to anger, scowls forming on their lips, but Rob wasn't watching their faces. Unbeknownst to either girl, their hands were working at their shirts, seemingly without input from the brain, as they continued to give him dirty looks.

"Listen buddy," Tifa started, a weariness suggesting she had given this speech before, "I don't know what kind of place you think this is, or what kind of girls you think we are, but I think you should just - HEY!"

All of sudden, Tifa and Nami's phantom arms ripped away the tops in one fluid motion, Tifa's tanktop going over her head and revealing a trendy sports bra that bulged at it's limit containing her tits, while Nami's bikini revealed she had (naturally) nothing underneath, allowing her massive breasts to swing freely, showing off her huge, circular, pale nipples.

Both women gasped in shock, holding onto their own clothes dumbly, trying to figure out what just happened, or maybe even will their arms to answer their commands. Rob actually let out a snort of laughter in surprise. Holy crap, it was working. Now, emboldened by a small victory, he began to push it.

He slid two more bills on the table. "Give me your shirts, ladies." He ordered, and Nami and Tifa - or, more accurately, their bodies - quickly complied, thrusting hands out for Rob to take the bikini and tank. He threw them over his shoulder as a trophy.

"What the fuck? What the fuck is going on?" Nami babbled, in shock at her body's betrayal, eyes wide, her whole frame paralyzed. She didn't even have the sense to cover her breasts, allowing the whole bar to gawk at her.

Tifa, however, found the strength and wherewithal to act, face screwing up in anger, hand curling into a fist. "I don't know." She answered her coworker. "But I know what's about to happen next."

In a panic, as the muscular bartender began to move, Rob slammed more money on the counter, more than just singular bills. "N-now hold up there! Freeze!" He blurted, fight-or-flight clearly leaning to flight. As he cringed away, much to his surprise, Tifa did not pursue. She didn't do anything, actually. Her whole body was caught, mid-step, one foot off the floor, hand in mid-punch. Only her eyes moved, wine-red eyes darting about in panic, feebly trying to understand what was happening.

And then Rob realized that he was in total control here. Whatever power was fueling the wish decided that paying Nami and Tifa would be trigger their fate. That they were little more than whores for him to play with.

A devious smile spread on Rob's face as he got out two more bills. "Tifa, start posing for everyone. Show off that sexy body." He ordered in a firm, commanding voice. "Nami, bounce up and down, slapping your tits and saying 'I'm a busty, horny slut' over and over."

The fear in their eyes spread and grew, as Nami and Tifa's bodies reacted, like puppets on a string. Tifa unfroze, her body moving fluidly without her in the driver's seat. She took a step back, threw her arms up to full length and stretched, standing on the balls of her feet, chest thrust out, giving everyone a good look at her muscular back and shoulders, her flat, sculpted tummy and, of course, her titanic titties which bounced and strained against the bra with every movement. Then, she quickly began to strike bodybuilder poses, flexing her biceps, letting Rob admire her beautiful musculature, then throwing a leg up on the bartop, hands sensually running down the flawless ivory flesh, before she bent at the waist, face and shoulder touching the leg.

Right next to her, Nami was nearly moved to tears, but her body helpless obeyed, too. The orange-haired temptress began to rock on her feet, body bouncing up and down, no moreso than her breasts, which heaved liked buoys on a rising tide. She then roughly slapped them on the side with her palms, the bouncing bozangas clapping against on another, causing them to jiggled and wobble even more. "I'm a horny, busty slut..." Nami croaked out, trying to keep her voice down, but the same **** puppetting her caused it to rise in volume and tone "I'm horny, busty slut! I'm a horny, bust slut! Look everyone, look at the horny, busty slut!"

Rob took them moment to observe how the rest of the bar was reacting to the two bartenders being humiliated and exposing themselves like this. Much to his surprise, there wasn't much of a reaction. Sure, some of the patrons were engrossed by the show he started, oogling and drooling, hooting and catcalling, but for the most part, there should have been more. People protesting or leaving in disgust, white knights stepping into to intervene, staff coming to eject him or call the cops, but there was none of that. The rest of the staff seemed to regard Nami and Tifa with utter indifference, as if this were a regular occurrence.

The world would conspire for his sake, and these girls were fated to be his. Armed with this understanding of his new life, Rob's confidence grew even more, but he was broken out of the reverie when he caught sight of Tifa's **** glare.

"I don't how you're doing this," she seethed in between poses, from sexy to seductive to athletic, "But when I get free, when I get my hands on you-"

"You're being a bad server there, Tifa," Rob cut her off in a bored tone, putting another bill on the counter. "Show me your ass, expose yourself and tell me you need to be spanked as punishment."

"No, no!" Tifa protested, even as her body betrayed her. Bracing herself against the opposite counter, Tifa bent over and hiked her skirt up, showing Rob the skimpy thong in between those big, pillowy ass-cheeks, mound of white flesh and muscle taunting him. "I-I've been a bad girl and need a spanking..." Tifa stammered out in embarrassment.

Another bill came out. "You heard her, Nami. Give her a good spanking."

Nami stopped and turned, going from slapping her tits to slapping Tifa's fat ass, big, meaty open-handed, full-palmed slaps. The sound of flesh on flesh resonated through the bare, followed by Tifa's yelps and squeals. At this point, Nami had a defeated look in her eyes, puffy lips turned downcast and sad, her body moving robotically as it repeatedly slapped Tifa's bottom. Soon, a red palm print began to form on the supple pale flesh.

More cash came flying. "Now, put on a show! Hug and make out."

Tifa's body jerked up right and she soon found herself face-to-face with the pirate girl, the two locked in a lover's embrace, critical masses of titflesh squashing together as they made out. Tongues danced about madly, wet and slobbering, as their hands explore each other without restraint, rubbing and pinching and touching and caressing and squeezing every part of their companion. The only part of the girl's not invested were their eyes, wide open in shock and darting about, looking for salvation, but the two were locked in their makeout session, only able to whimper feebly against each other's lips.

Rob chuckled to himself and finished his beer, dumping some more cash on the bar. "Alright, that's enough, time to hit the road. Ladies, you're coming home with me tonight."

Soon, Rob was leaving with a busty beauty on each arm, both thoroughly humiliated and defeated. He enjoyed the warmth of their bodies, Tifa's hard and supple musculature, and Nami's bouncy, soft curves. Tifa smelt of dark spices, clove and cinnamon and coffee and wine. Nami's scent was of citrus fruits and the open sea air on a sunny day. One hand of Rob's slipped under Tifa's bra, squeezing those heavy tits and playing with a small, hard nipple, while other disappeared beneath the waist of Nami's low-ride jeans, cupping her fat, plush ass.

He was in heaven.

"C'mon girls, we're gonna have lots of fun tonight!"

"Sure... whatever you say..." Tifa and Nami mumbled, minds and spirits slowly succumbing to his power and authority.