Victoria's Secret

Chapter 1:

Have you ever looked at yourself in the mirror who was looking back at you? Doing that right now, I stare at my reflection and wonder who the woman is looking back at me. From her soft, girl next door face and light brown eyes crop of dyed red hair sitting atop of her head, the girl staring back at me is not me.

It's not me.

Where are the long lashes and emerald green eyes? Where is the thick mane of long red hair that travels down my back? How about the pouty full lips, accentuated cheekbones and brilliantly white, perfect smile? I know this may sound petty, but what about the sharply defined black eyebrows that have the perfect little arch?

I can tell you where it is.

Looking down, I see it all sitting on the bathroom counter.

That's right..

I'm a fake beauty queen.

The stunner of Watertown has to put her face on every morning. The woman and numerous photographs going all the way back to high school is not the woman I am looking at right now. Hell, I don't even think my own mother would recognize me. I don't think she would recognize herself.

Sighing I pick up my toothbrush and toothpaste and start brushing my teeth.

Don't get me wrong, I love who I am, I love what I do. I am a successful office manager on top of being the most beautiful woman in town. Maybe it's the fact that a part of me resents having to do this every day. I don't have to, I could just leave me, but there is another part of me that gets energized and through every time I begin, every time I begin to become...

Me.

Swirling the toothbrush all around the inside of my mouth, I finish and brushing my tongue excessively. I don't like having a dirty mouth. After all the last thing I want to do still taste last night well into the morning. Rushing out my mouth one more time after rinsing off my toothbrush, I deposit it in the holder then reach for the white box that most teenagers would recognize. Popping it open, they would have a retainer, I'm putting on my veneers. Sliding them over my upper and lower teeth, I then bite down to secure them in place. When I look back into the mirror to smile, I like it, but I can't see it as well as I would like.

That's where my contacts come in. Reaching for the saline solution, I open my eyes with my finger and then add a drop to each then blink multiple times. After putting it away, I then grab the container that not only serves to sharpen my vision, but give me those penetratingly deep and beautiful emerald green eyes that I love so much. Spinning off the tops, I lean forward as I carefully place them on my eyes. Blinking again, I look at myself and everything is crisp and clear.

Surveying my bathroom counter, I look at my plethora of makeup that would rival any department store. Grabbing my exfoliating cream, I rub it deeply into my face, making sure to keep my pores nice and clean. An avid makeup wearer, I know the importance reducing blemishes cuz how much and how long I wear my face, it is far too easy for pimples and dry spots to appear. Before I begin my makeup routine, I pick up the little box that contains my false eyelashes. Carefully dabbing the glue along the back of each lash, I gently place them a top my lids and then press to secure them in place. As I wait for them to dry, I grab my primer and color corrector.

For putting on my face, I must ensure that the palate that I am to work with is even. There is a right way to put on makeup and there is a wrong way. The wrong way is adding color when the skin is clearly blotchy and it may have the reverse effect. As I brush my fingers all over my face, I watch it resemble more of a canvas than that of a person. From there it is more campus making as I apply concealer and foundation. Now comes the cultivating part. I always start with bronzer first because I use that to add shading to my cheekbones and jawline as well as touch around the bridge of my nose and above my eyebrows. Working my brush until I have the look I desire, I sometimes feel like an artist as I take that girl next door face and transform it into one of modelesque beauty. Rest is what most girls use that are far prettier than me and already have the high cheekbones and sharp jaw lines, or are happy being less than perfect. Blush, eyeliner and eyeshadow, I keep it simple and not over the top. Just a little bit of blush on my cheekbones, I don't want to look like a clown, just a rosy pink hue wild dark eyeshadow and eyeliner not only make my eyes appear larger, but really brings out the contrasting emerald green. There a pencil in my eyebrows and then crimp my now long lashes so they have that beautiful Daisy effect. Carefully applying mascara, I don't want to use too much and make it look good. It is a common mistake a lot of girls make. They put on way too much eye makeup and they walk around looking like cartoonish raccoons.

Or hookers.

Finally I apply my lipstick. Feeling it rushed along my lips, it's like a coat of wax paint at first, until I bite down hold it over toilet paper to smooth it out and take away any of the excess. Leaning away from the mirror, I look at my reflection again and smile broadly.

This is me, this is Victoria!

Still not done, but at least I now recognize the woman in the mirror. Even as I smile and enjoy my reflection, help we get a flashback face the stared back at me not that long ago and wince.

And wonder.

Would I be where I am today, would I be the same person if everybody saw me who I really was?

Turning my intention to my hair, I looked at it as I toss it into the air, unsatisfied. Grabbing my extensions and my weaves, I put them in and give a nice layer of shine and Sheen as well as give me the mane that I truly deserve. I'm sure that I could do something with a hairdresser to make what I have just as luscious and beautiful looking, but the effects for the duration of the sprays and other chemicals put in tool. Once those have worn off, what would be left?

Illusions are only as good as the effort put into them. When the cheap veneer wears off, that man you have been dancing the night away with without all of those chemicals going to find? You going to find that beautiful head of hair that you teased and taunted him with, lured him with?

No...

Which is why I have to my own so that when the effects of style wear out, I am still left with that head full of beautiful and long red hair that captured his attention.

Also but I want to see when I look in the mirror. Not cheap tricks.

That's why I put so much effort into I think that I do.

As I drop my eyes to my chest and my body as a whole, close my eyes and I did not stare at this every morning. Yet at the same time I know that it is perfect just the way it is. The moment surgery agreed to is that scars of such will forever be imprinted and can never be undone. Opening my eyes again, I stare at my chest and sigh. If anyone else saw what but I am seeing right now, they would question why I even needed to own a bra, much less in such an epic size.

Everyone I know and everyone who sees me thinks I have these big and luscious breasts, but the reality so stark, it is a laughable. Staring directly at my flat chest, I don't even have the beginnings of boobs. I am so less than adequate, that even my nipples are ashamed to be seen. My areolas no bigger than a pair of dimes, the little nubs sticking out are just as laughable. Pulling open the drawer, I watch has two giant melons slowly appear as the light illuminates the shadows.

My epic breasts, my sweater bombs, the biggest tits in town are nothing more than a pair of prosthetics that I bought when I was 30 years old. Unlike my breast forms, these give me the appearance of something that I have long sought since my high school days.

Cleavage.

Picking up the chest piece, the giant boobs feel heavy as I set them down on the counter. Enormous and bulbous, they are even topped with a pair of thick and turgid brown nipples and areolas the size of half dollars. These are my boobs, these are my weapons of mass destruction, my dirigibles, my blimps, my bazookas, bazoombas, whatever people call them it does not matter. These represent my endowments, an endowment that I have been faking since I was 12 years old. Starting out with the old time standby of toilet paper and kleenex, I graduated to socks and then to foam and finally to silicone my senior year. It took me 10 years before I finally dropped down the cash to buy a pair a prosthetic tits. With the newfound freedom of prosthetics, I can wear low-cut tops and they teeny tiny polka dot bikini if I so choose. I don't have to worry about down blouses or making sure work that my silicone monsters aren't peeking out from my full coverage bras anymore. It's liberating and when I wear them they look completely natural.

Turning the big torpedoes over, I pull out the tape and start applying it the the broad chest plate made of silicone. To seal the edges I use temporary glue. Picking it back up, I tilt back as I lay it on top of my chest, pushing and rubbing it all over until about a minute has passed. It is an arduous task putting on my tits every morning but when they are adhered, I can smile and stick them out proudly.

My juggernauts.

Staring at the massive swells that completely dominate my torso, they are so large that there is barely any room in between. Shaped like torpedoes, they tilt down just a little bit as they stick out far and even give me plenty of side boob. However realistic they may be, they are still not ready for presentation. Going back to my makeup box, I now have to doll them up and color match them to my skin. The last thing I want is for anyone to know that my big and luscious breasts are not really mine. By the time I am done and walk out of the bathroom I am nearly there. As I walk into my bedroom, I catch sight of my reflection in the full length mirror.

Top heavy, huge, busty. My tits gently bouncing up and down as I walk with my chest pushed out. It definitely makes me feel more womanly and mature and developed seeing those cantankerously large boobs. They even makes my lack of hips and bony butt look sexier. As it stands right now, coming to a stop in front of my mirror as I place my hands on my little waist and stick out my leg, I know that men want to do me. What man can say no to such a top-heavy diva? One as pretty as me? So what if my butt is deflated and my pussy rivals the Amazon jungle, I have big boobs.

Melons.

Hindenburgs.

Again, they have so many names, but it is these back breaking milk jugs that reel them in. But a girl like me isn't just happy with being excessively top-heavy. I need to have a little bit of junk in my trunk as well as a noticeable hoof between these thin and sexy thighs. I need to be the dream from head to toe.

Ignoring the slight jiggle to my flat and shrunken ass, I will soon make that go away but I put on my panties. Opening the drawer, I pull out my panty shorts. As I lift them up, staring back at me are two big bulbs complete with adequate flare to the hips and when I turn them around, I get to stare at my full camel toe complete with a mound on top. Bending over, I relish the feel of the heavyweights pulling on my chest, helping to pull me down as I lower my silicone enhanced underwear to the floor. Lifting one foot and then the other, I step into them and then pull them up my legs nice and slow. Feeling the silicone bubbles and cup press against my ass and into my excited pussy, I allow my fingers to explore, gently prodding and pushing into my mound before joining my other hand to feel the fullness and firmness of my bulbous, bubble butt.

"OoOOooOo..."

And then comes my favorite part, putting on my bra. Opening that drawer, I soft through them all until I find just the right one. Unfurling hit with a dramatic flair, I hold it up by the bra straps and stare at the empty and crumpled cups with pride. My bras have always been stunning and perfect to me. Huge in the cups and small in the straps, I look at the crumpled satin and cannot wait to put it on. Just sliding the straps up my arms and over my shoulders is euphoric and as I grab the underwire and maneuver it over my enormous breasts, it sends a shiver up and down my spine and they tickle through my fingertips as I feel those marvelous mountains sliding along. Finding the straps, I stretch them around and clip them behind my back then grab my big bra cups again and start jiggling shaking, even enjoying having to dig my hand in and scoop at my titty towers until they are sitting properly and perfectly. Even though they may be fake and they aren't mine, I can still feel the movement as they lift and push in together, creating that bubble of long and beautiful cleavage that pucker perfectly against my chest.

Returning to my mirror, I pose as I look at my reflection. With my hands on my waisy and my feet spread perfectly apart, I arch my back as I turn my torso.

"Good morning gorgeous..."

Purring softly as I bring my feet together, I pivot and turn and then twist so I can look at myself from behind.

"How many men are going to grovel at your feet today? How many women are you going to piss off again? Mmmmmm..."

Staring at my luscious round ass and then to the giant tits sticking out like bullets from my chest, I don't need to see my pussy because I can already feel it bulging against the top of my thighs.

"Women like you deserve men like Clark. So sexy and handsome. A man of a man..."

Smiling as I say this, I also feel a pang of anxiety constrict my throat. Turning away as I cough into my hand, I proceed to my closet where I pick out my outfit for the day.