Yes

Shaving away a hefty chunk of her self-respect, Cindy quickly grabbed, and pulled up her top, plucking the edges of the garment between her plastic talons, exposing her bare tits underneath. She didn't wore a bra, because of course she didn't - she was home. She felt her cheeks warm up in response to the rush of hormones that permeated her bloodstream, in sharp contrast to her now-stiffening nipples, licked by the cool ambient air currents. Her obscene silicone-enhanced fuckbags jutted out of her chest as if pneumatically pressurized, round and spherical to an outrageously pornographic degree.

These weren't just the kind of tits you'd expect from someone who just wanted bigger tits - these were big enough, and fake enough, that only a certain kind of girl would want to get them. The kind of girl who wanted everyone to know how fake they were, who wanted people to see her as a sex-object, who wanted her tits to be what people noticed about her first and foremost. She had what could only be described as tits. Fuckpillows. Mammaries made them sound much more natural. Beach balls was an acceptable term. They certainly shared the shape.

"Woah, these are MASSIVE...", he mumbled. Cindy couldn't bring herself to look him in the eyes. Her gaze was pointed down, shame saturating the spaces between her neurons.

She felt warmth return to one of her nipples, as the palm of the stranger at the door pressed up against the exposed silicone-enhanced titflesh, giving it a tentative squeeze - which made Cindy let out an involuntary groan of pleasure.

"Uh, thanks...", she mumbled. He liked her titties. That was important. She knew that much. It made her happy. It made her feel just a bit less shame than she had a moment ago, even if it did feel like she was on a slip-and-slide towards contently regarding herself as the sex object her tits made her seem to be.

In a brief moment of clarity, she managed to wrestle control from her fogged-over mind, and took a sudden step back.

"I lost a bet.", Cindy quickly clarified, hastily pulling down her top, restoring her modesty. Her phone had been buzzing at some point in the interim, but she was a bit too busy to pay much attention to it.

"Aha, sure thing, doll. Same bet that's gives you easy access?", he asked in response, gesturing with one hand towards her flimsy, barely-there cotton microskirt.

Oh god. Cindy wanted to die. She could noclip through the floor here and now and she'd be okay with it.

"I- Uhm.", she mumbled, momentarily losing control again. "Yeah~? You like?", she cooed.

"You can say that..", he answered, acting like the lead on a porn movie, guiding his palm between her legs, pressing up against the wet, warm-

Cindy cleared her throat, taking another step back before producing the aforementioned charger. "Your, uh, charger. I mean, mine, but you're borrowing it, so you know-"

"Woah, chill babe.", he chuckled, plucking the little piece of technology out of her hand. "I'll come by later, how's that sound? You can tell me more about this, uh, bet of yours."

Oh god. No. No no no no no NO-

"Great! I'll be, uh, here.", Cindy chirped in response, almost automatically. It felt so important to give him the answer he wanted to hear - if that bulge was anything to judge by, at least.

Woah, what? Cindy blinked, snapping herself out of it. She was feeling less and less like herself for every moment that passed. He excused himself, which let Cindy close the door - fast - only to check her phone. That fucking app better be happy.

[Challenge Completed! Reward: +5% Good Girl!]

[10% Threshold Reached: Click To Resolve]

Cindy couldn't possibly have tapped the screen faster. Finally something was going her way...

A small textbox appeared on the screen.

Perk Unlocked! [In A Flash]: Earn a permanent 1 second addition to the timer for every new person you show your breasts.

Cindy's heart dropped. You're kidding. How's that supposed to be a _perk?! _Was the game expecting her to go waltz around presenting her tits to-

Of course it was. It made perfect sense, considering all the other shit it'd done to her already. Cindy didn't need to apply a heavy amount of deduction in order to conclude that earning Good Girl points was the game's way of enabling you to become more of the walking wet dream it tried to turn you into. By that logic, of course, Bad Girl points wouldn't leave you much choice. For fuck's sake. Cindy was back to being lived. Feeling - feeling trapped in this vicious cycle where the only logical step forward, seemingly, was to play again. For there was no-way-in-hell that she would prance around topless. For just half a minute she'd have to showcase her plastic-ass tits to the whole fucking building, and the one next door! No way!

... But a voice in the back of her head couldn't help but whisper and wonder...

Maybe the higher thresholds give better rewards?

She shouldn’t listen to it. She knew she shouldn’t. But she felt… compelled. Drawn to it. Pulled towards believing it, despite her better judgement. It made sense, didn’t it? Maybe getting to 100% was the -real- way of winning the game? Maybe the gem-matching game wasn’t actually something you could win?

She’d need to play another game. She was sure of it. She didn’t know why, but - she felt like she -had- to.

The pixel-Cindy smirked, and the real Cindy picked up her phone again, starting a new game. She wasn’t sure of how to summon the game’s challenges- yet - but playing felt like a good thing.

Good girls played Gem Girls, a distant voice in the back of her head informed her.

So she got to it, matching gems, earning points to the rhythmic clacking of her acrylics bumping against her phone screen. The point tracker went up steadily, whilst the timer ticked down; informing her that she currently has a +1 Second to her playtime, which felt like -nothing-.

Doubly so when the timer ran out, and the buzzer arrived once more.

[Choose a punishment]

Nymphomania

Arousing Accidents

Exhibitionistic Tendencies