Morning

The next morning, as I was sitting in the tub, I couldn't help but look down at my chest, where my breasts swelled up above the water’s surface. With a sigh, I tried to examine just why the show last night had affected me so viscerally. The conclusion that I drew, was that my experience with cosmetic surgery felt more like something I was being subjected to at The Asshole’s insistence, rather than something I had chosen to do. I thanked God that I was locked in some strange room, lost somewhere in Mexico, rather than on The Asshole’s arm, and felt significantly better as I laughed at the absurdity of the change.

Getting out of the tub and drying off, I headed over the wardrobe and decided to once again put on the slinky dress from the auction. And, after spending an unnecessary amount of time putting on makeup that I wouldn't show to anyone{if bedroomCam1==1} except the hidden camera{endif}, I posed before the mirror. And, I liked what I saw, well as much as any woman can. The **** diet and hours of boredom exercise had played off and, much as I hated to admit it, my surgically augmented boobs looked great in the dress.

With a sigh, I spoke to my reflection, “Okay, Alex, it's time to move on. Yes, what The Asshole did sucked, but that's in the past. Move forward,” which sounded great, except that it left me confused as to what to do next.

In a moment of desperation, I went over to slot in the wall and called out, “What do you want from me? Why are you keeping me here alone?”

There was no response.

Shaking my head and running my fingers through my hair, I decided to change things up a bit and do the stretches now and worry about bike riding later.