Fuck with Choice Girl 1

"Hey there lovely assistant, I guess we owe you some choices too, don't we?" Applause backs you up and the spotlights center on the leggy blonde. "Did you get what you wanted?"

She pulls the ten dollar bill out of her cleavage and flutters it at the cameras.

"Well I guess if you already have perfectly perky little tits..."you taunt her. It feels off being so lewd and rude on live television in front of such a massive audience, but it also felt kinda off for a hot minute when you first found your power that morning so long ago, and that feeling didn't slow you down much.

Choice Girl 2 shoots a look at her comrade, prompting the nervous blonde to tentatively bounce her own titties, grabbing them and looking hopefully at the cameras. Her lovely, slightly distraught face looms titanic on the jumboscreen, and the crowd claps in support.

Then the slow motion replay of her bouncing halter top, her chest rising frame by frame to the top of its arc and then squishing flat under her hands as she interrupts the bounce. The crowd can't stop laughing, and Choice Girl 1's cheeks blush pink as roses.

"Soooooo, would you rather have titties that change their size and shape every morning with the sunrise..." The spotlights swirl around and land dramatically on her pretty face. Her wide-eyed terror at this question you've begun is shown a hundred times larger on the jumboscreen for everyone's enjoyment.

"...or titties that bounce around on their own every time you hear somebody snap their fingers?"

"Nooooooooooo! What the fuck, the snapping one! What?!" She's shocked at the question, but double takes when she hears herself answer. "This power can't be real!"

*SNAP*

BOOM! Cue the fire, the lights, the dramatic crescendo from the DJ. The jumboscreen's camera is zoomed way in on the bouncing.

"Here's another one, Would you rather...."

"No no no no no no nooooo" her tits are flying around wildly under her tight costume, the audience consisting mostly of hurried snappers at this point.

"...spend the rest of the night walking around the superstadium stands with your tits out, or go perform sexual favors for all the tech crew of tonight's world premier!?" You gesture grandiosely in a random direction behind you.

BOOM! Fireworks and a marching orchestra. It all makes sense, why the production crew had you make that phone call last week.

The beautiful blonde pulls her little top up over her head and her crazily bouncing breasts spring around as much as they can. She clamps down on them and sulks off to walk the endless rows of snapping spectators.

On the ground by her top you see the ten dollar bill. You pick it up and consider it for a second, while the camera finds you. You hold the ten dollar bill in the air above your head to the chorus of snaps. Your announcer croons JOOOOHHHHHHHNNNNNNNNNY DEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeee and you tear the money in half.

The snapping dies and in its place is a 360 degree wall of stomping, clapping, screaming, chanting like you never could have imagined.

The audience doesn't give a fuck what you do.