Inconvenience free porn video

As usual, this is a work of fiction and fantasy. Any accidental resemblance to any actual person is entirely unintended. This is adult material. If you are not of age, find something else to read. I read every comment. Thank you so much to everyone who left one. If you want me to reply, either post on the message boards (which I regularly read) or leave an email address on your comment. If anyone wants to make derivative works of any of my stories, you have my permission. Please post any derivative works on free sites (preferably here) so that I get to enjoy it as well. If you've read any of my other stories, you will know I go extreme. If that isn't for you, stop reading before Six. Inconvenience One He stepped confidently out of the car. Shoes firmly gripped the poorly swept asphalt. The cool spring breeze had little effect against the comfortable, well-worn jeans he wore. A well-fitted flannel shirt fell comfortably across his broad shoulders. His short, dark brown hair was not bothered by the wind. He double-checked that his wallet was in his back pocket and slid his car keys into his front pocket. He could see the entrance clearly, his tall six-foot-five-inch frame providing a clear view over the parked cars. For only barely graduating high school, Regional Sales Manager was a pretty sweet gig. Bradley strode confidently toward the building. Two She could feel every rock through the soft sole of her slippers. She cursed the thin shoes for their lack of padding and support. How she wished that sneakers were acceptable footwear. These shoes are such an inconvenience. The thin dark socks she wore did little to cushion her feet. They did allow her shoes to slip on and helped prevent blisters. In that regard, they had some use. She would much rather wear nice fluffy socks with sneakers. Her simple cotton high-rise panties extended to the waist. She had tried other styles but couldn't stand the inconvenience of the lace tickling or the elastic cutting in. The flared legs of her pants swished annoyingly against her legs. The fabric was so delicate compared to jeans. She had to be careful not to snag her pants on anything. Even stepping on the cuff could damage the fabric. It was so inconvenient. She longed for durable jeans to wear. Her blouse rubbed against her meager chest. She hated wearing her A cup bra, but the blouse irritated her nipples when she didn't. The inconvenient little nubs would stand out obscenely. The discomfort, annoyance, and yes, the inconvenience was the lesser of two evils. The wind blew her dark brown collar-length hair around. She would have to take a quick trip to the ladies' room once inside to set it straight again if she didn't want to appear wind-blown. She often thought about getting a pixie cut. She supposed medium-length hair was worth an inconvenience now and then. Her hair was its natural color. Maintaining a dye job wasn't worth the inconvenience. She subconsciously licked her bottom lip once as she walked. She tasted the light pink lipstick she had applied earlier in the day. Her makeup was subtle. A bit of overall smoothing with a bit of simple foundation. A little color on her eyes. A little definition on her eyebrows. It only took a few minutes each morning, but she always wondered why women had to put up with the inconvenience and men did not. Her nails were well taken care of, with no splits or any other damage. She kept them filed short. She saw long nails as an inconvenience she didn't need. She maintained a clear coat of polish to help keep them strong and healthy. Two simple studs, one in each ear, adorned her ears. It was as much jewelry as she ever wore. A concession to the male patriarchy, she supposed. The earrings were not much of an inconvenience. Most of the time, she forgot they were there. She readjusted the wide strap of her purse on her narrow shoulder. Yes, it was a bit of an inconvenience to not have pockets. Still, she could carry everything she might need in the comfortably-sized purse. One item she wished she didn't have to carry in the large bag was sanitary pads. She hated that her period would start next week. Why did women have to bleed once a month anyway? The inconvenience was so unfair. She was doing well as Team Leader, given that she had barely managed an associate's degree in accounting. She stepped up on the sidewalk, straining to make sure she was still headed toward the entrance. With her five-foot-nine-inch frame, she could barely see over the hedge. Bradleigh continued her journey toward the entrance. Three Her ankle started to twist as the heel of her shoe landed on a rock. Stumbling, she managed to recover her balance. The heels on her sandals were modest. The heel was only two inches tall and a thick boxy heel at that. Still, she sighed at the inconvenience of the annoying footwear. Flats were so much easier to walk in. Her employer expected a certain level of dress, and flat slippers just made her stand out as too casual. She pressed on with the inconvenient footwear. Her legs swished against each other as the relatively thick tights she wore rubbed against each other. They were a constant inconvenience to avoid snagging. A snag would mean the legwear would ladder and be ruined. They did provide some warmth against the cool spring breeze that blew across the parking lot. Under her tights, she wore hipster panties that were part of her matching bra and panty set. They fit well enough, but she wished they weren't so stinking expensive. Buying them was such an inconvenient expense. Her ankle-length skirt swirled around her legs as she walked. She was always on some level aware of its presence swirling around her legs. While she could quickly move, she had to be much more careful than wearing pants. She had to sit more carefully. Keeping her knees together, she had to swing her feet out first when she exited her car. Everything was more inconvenient. Each step caused a barely perceptible tug as her breasts bounced in their C-cup bra. She had to keep her chest wrapped in the confining tightness to prevent distracting movement. She readjusted a shoulder strap that had twisted and was digging in--one of the necessary inconveniences of wearing a bra. The silk of her blouse quietly whispered as she walked across the parking lot. The bright colors sometimes attracted unwanted attention and inconvenient comments. She didn't usually mind a compliment. At the same time, she didn't need to spend all day being chatted up by the latest office Romeo. The wind caused her dark brown hair to annoyingly whip around her face. It usually hung between her shoulder blades. As the wind whipped it around her face, she knew it would be tangled when she tried to brush it. It was such an inconvenience to put it up. Still, it was also much more of an inconvenience now that it was whipping her face and undoubtedly developing snags. Her hair was tinged with dark red highlights, but she wasn't sure if she would get them retouched or let them grow out. She wasn't sure if the color was worth the inconvenience. She was careful not to smudge her makeup as she pushed her hair out of her face. It took her a good fifteen or twenty minutes every morning to get it right, and she didn't want the inconvenience of having to redo it. It wasn't anything overly dramatic, but it was clear she was wearing makeup. It was a relatively simple routine. Foundation, concealer, brush on some translucent powder, a slight blush, some eyeshadow, a little eyeliner, a bit of mascara, and a bit of lip color to finish things off. She wished it wasn't necessary, but everyone thought she was ill if she didn't perform this inconvenience. Her nails were short, barely extending past her fingertips. She had spent last night watching TV and carefully painting them. They were a cute pale pink. It was not highly noticeable, but clearly, she had spent the time caring for them. She felt it was worth the inconvenience, and they made her feel pretty. She brushed her wind-blown hair back with her hand. Some hair snagged in the pendant earring hanging from the lower piercings in her lobes as she did. Today she had two studs in her upper lobe piercings and a lovely pendant hanging from her lowest lobe piercing. Usually, they weren't an issue, but the wind wrapped her hair around one of them and caused her a bit of inconvenience. She pushed the narrow strap of her purse back firmly on her shoulder. She had to be a little selective about what she carried with her, but it wasn't too inconvenient to take the medium-sized purse. She wished the strap would stay on her shoulder better and wouldn't cut in so much. Among the many items in her purse were sanitary pads. She would need them next week when she hit that point in her cycle. She wasn't looking forward to the slight bloating, cramping, and bleeding. She hated the inconvenience. Her bachelor's degree in economics let her work as an accountant for a big firm. The main entrance doors seemed to tower over her five-foot-five-inch frame. She reached for the heavy glass doors and, with effort, managed to open them. Bridget walked into the building. Four The sound of her heels echoed on the granite floor with each step. She loved how they made her calves look. She also loved the height they provided but wished they weren't quite so noisy. Each step had to be carefully placed to avoid twisting an ankle with the spiky four-inch stilettos. She paused at the elevators. The elevators were so slow, and she only had two floors to ascend. However, these spikes on her feet were enough to deter her from considering the stairs. She put one hand out to steady herself as she reached down to massage her right ankle. The rock on the sidewalk earlier had strained her ankle a bit. She hated the inconveniences caused by the high-heeled shoes. She had to be careful as she rubbed her ankle. The thin, delicate tights could easily be damaged. They did nothing to warm or hide her legs. The only thing the frail legwear did was help make her legs shimmer and shine. They were such an inconvenience. She often wondered why she put up with them at all. Her bikini panties were thin and didn't show through her skirt. They gently cupped and covered her sensitive bits. She supposed they were more "cute and sexy" than practical, but it was an inconvenience that made her feel good about herself. Her skirt stretched as she carefully rubbed her ankle. Standing back upright, she tugged it back into place, falling just below her knees. It didn't restrict her movement too much for being a pencil skirt, but it did make its presence known with each step. The restriction of her midi skirt would have reduced her stride if her heels hadn't already shortened it. She certainly couldn't run in it. Another inconvenience of womanhood, she sighed to herself. She sighed as she waited for the elevator. Her ample bosom heaved in the tight embrace of her large bra. Here was another reason she wouldn't be taking the stairs. Her double D bosom would bounce uncomfortably if she ascended the stairs. The underside of her left breast itched from the light sweat she worked up walking quickly from her car. Under boob sweat was another inconvenience of her large breasts. She felt the light perspiration inside her shapewear. She wore the latex garment to help smooth out the slight bulge she perceived in her otherwise flat stomach. It too itched and uncomfortably pulled as she moved--such an inconvenience to look attractive. She couldn't wear a button-up blouse. She had worn a button-up top a few times. During one meeting, she realized to her horror that her shirt was gapping between the buttons. She was inadvertently showing off her bra. She couldn't adjust in a way that made it close without drawing even more attention to the problem. She swore she wouldn't do that again. So, she put up with the inconvenience of finding tops that don't button up the front. For that matter, most "trendy" clothing didn't fit right either. It was a continual struggle to find clothes that flattered but don't leave her boobs sticking out. She shifted on her heels. Unfortunately, that was the last straw for her underwire. It broke in her left cup and started poking her in the breast. Another sigh escaped her pink coated lips. This was starting out to be a long day. Who carries an extra bra anyway? She would have to bear the inconvenience of being poked in the boob by her bra all day. Maybe she could run out at lunch and get a new one. Her golden-brown hair hung to the middle of her back. She had it under control today with a loose braid. It was inconvenient to spend all the time braiding her hair every morning, but it kept it out of the way and under control. She was so well practiced at weaving it, she didn't think about it much. It was just another thing to do in the morning. Muscle memory just kind of took over. She would zone out or read her social media. Every once in a while pausing her task to scroll the screen again. Before long, it was done. Her hair was close enough to her natural dark brown color that she only needed to have her color retouched every couple of months. Salon trips weren't overly inconvenient. Her makeup was noticeable but not too heavy. She tried to keep it stylish and attractive. It was a bit of work each morning. She admitted that she could probably get away with less, but she put up with the inconvenience of looking attractive. In addition to the basics, she kept her eyebrows plucked to clean lines and colored in a bit darker than natural. Her lips were outlined in lip liner before coloring them in with dark pink. She spent more time with eyeshadow getting the gradient just right. She spent the time curling her eyelashes before thickening them with mascara. She also took care of her nails. Her nicely oval-shaped nail tips extended nearly a half-inch past the tips of her fingers. She went to the salon every other week to maintain her acrylics. Without regular visits, as her natural nails grew, the acrylics would gap at her cuticle. The gap was very tacky in her eyes, making the regular visits worth the inconvenience. She had stayed up late last night waiting for the pastel pink polish to dry on her nails. It was an inconvenience, but they looked great today. Clearly painted, but nothing ostentatious. She hadn't woken up early enough today to get her hair braided, makeup applied, and breakfast. It hadn't helped that she was up so late waiting for her nails to dry. She carried a bagel she picked up at the drive-through on her way to work. It would have to suffice for breakfast. She didn't have time to pick up anything more. Inconvenient, but such was life. She would have to be careful as she ate. Crumbs tended to fall down her cleavage. The last thing she needed this morning was half her breakfast hiding between her breasts and in the folds of her bra. She idly fingered the chandelier earring in her left lobe. She had a matching one in her right ear. She also had two small rings through higher holes in both ear lobes. In her right ear, she also has a small helix ring. She knows it isn't the most professional, but she likes them. She has a tiny stud in her nose as well. It's a bit of an inconvenience whenever she has to blow her nose, but she feels it looks cute. It is small enough she can get away with it. She has a larger stud in her belly button under her shapewear. She doesn't get to show that one off very often, but it makes her feel very flirty when it isn't snagging on clothing. She readjusted the thin strap of her purse as the elevator doors opened. She had to be selective about what she could carry in the trendy bag. She could only carry the essentials: a nail file, her keys, her phone, some tissues, a menstrual pad, a little makeup for repairs, some money, her credit cards, and her identification. It was inconvenient not to carry more, but it was a cute purse. She would need the pad next week. She would need to add several more when her monthly visitor arrived. She was thankful that she didn't cramp or bloat too severely. Her flow was enough that she would need to replace it several times a day. This was exasperated due to the narrow pads necessitated by her skimpy underwear. Despite her bachelor's degree in computer science, she could only find work as a graphic designer. Actually, that made her job sound way more prestigious than it really was. She retouched photos of models for a living. People crowded into the elevator with her. Even standing in her heels, she couldn't see the door through the crowd with her small five-foot- two-inch frame. Was her left breast being groped deliberately, or were people just crowding into the elevator? She couldn't tell. One of many times, she cursed being so small. Top shelves were inaccessible. Working at "normal" counter heights always felt too tall for her. She supposed that was why she put up with heels so often. In heels, she was a more "normal" five-foot-five. Barbara made her way through the crowd, out of the elevator when it got to her floor. Five She slowly made her way down the hall. Each step was carefully placed in front of the other. Her movements quick and precise, but her progress slow. They were quite an inconvenience, but you could only go so fast with six-inch stiletto heels. She could feel the eyes on her backside as she passed. She was all too aware of how much hip swivel had to go into walking in the challenging and inconvenient shoes. She felt her garters pull at her delicate stocking tops with each step. It was a constant reminder of the sheer stockings encasing her legs. She occasionally wished that she had some seamless hosiery. It was such an inconvenience to keep the shiny delicate seam straight as the day went on. She felt the thin strap of her g-string floss her bubble butt. She always wore the tiniest wisps of cloth she could find to prevent visible panty lines (VPL). She didn't own any panties other than the skimpy garments. Her tight silk skirt restricted her stride almost as much as her heels did. The tight hobble skirt didn't quite make it to her knees. The silk garment was restricting enough that she could scarcely move her knees apart. When she had the opportunity to carefully sit, she could only cross her legs at her ankles. The skirt was too tight and unyielding for any other options. It severely hobbled her movements as she made her way down the hall. Another inconvenience she endured. She felt her breasts bounce with each step. Each breast massive in the heavy-duty bra that supported and lifted her ample bosom. The bra was substantial and nearly the largest she could find. H cups were hard to find. They were boring given their expense. Couldn't someone make something cute and supportive? Far too much of her income had to be spent on holsters for her udders. With the broken wire on her underwire bra, she would have to buy yet another one. If only they didn't take so long to arrive. She hoped that the one spare she had at home would last until new ones could come. Her large nipples were visible through the heavy-duty bra. They were just too large to entirely hide. Men were always talking to her stiff nipples instead of her face. She couldn't remember the last time a man held eye contact with her. The exertion of the journey was working up a light sweat. Her bra chafed on the lower half of her breasts. Why did the underside of her boobs always sweat? It was such an inconvenience. Her bra straps dug painfully into her shoulders. She tried to casually readjust one, but it continued to make itself known. She gave a little sigh. It was as much as she could with her reduced lung capacity. Her tight corset held her posture rigid but gave her very little room to breathe. The inconvenience was worth it for the slender twenty-two-inch waist she proudly displayed. Everything she tried to wear over her bosom immediately looked slutty. Clothes that looked nice and professional on normal-sized women looked obscene as soon as she put them on. Slight cleavage showing on the model? It showed miles of boob on her. She had to resort to turtlenecks to try to stay even somewhat professional-looking. Unfortunately, the high-necked sweater caused her to perspire even more when walking. This, in turn, made the underside of her breasts and the inside of her corset more uncomfortable. She tried to maintain a professional demeanor as she tossed her long hair back over her shoulder. Today she had tried to keep her golden- blonde, waist-length hair under control with a crown braid. It had taken quite some time to braid. It did help restrain her long hair and control the softly cascading curls down her back. Even so, it still often caught in her many earrings or got tangled in her purse strap. She had to be constantly careful not to snag her hair. Every month or so, she had to take a trip to a salon to get her dark brown roots touched back up. It was a bit of an inconvenience. Her makeup wasn't subtle. It was almost too strong for a professional environment. Some might even say it was too striking. Her makeup was more like what someone would wear at a club. Her eyeshadow was just a bit too heavy, the blush on her cheeks just a bit too bold. Her lips were outlined just a little too large and colored a stunning dark red. This morning, she had spent the time carefully gluing on eyelashes that were long, full, and thick. It wasn't enough to get her any disciplinary action. Still, it did help fuel inconvenient rumors that sex rather than merit earned her current position. It was ironic given how overqualified she was for the job. She never thought she would be stuck as a secretary given her master's degree in aerospace engineering. Nobody would give her any higher role. The most technical position she was offered was as a receptionist for an architectural firm. Her long red nails flashed as she walked. They were the same dark red as her lips but covered in gloss. They took lots of care to keep. She had to take the time to go to the salon nearly every week to maintain her sharply tapered nails. They extended to a point just a bit over one full inch past the tips of her fingers. They were long enough to make simple things inconvenient. She had to learn to type using the tips of her nails instead of the pads of her fingers. Picking up coins off tables was difficult. Using the credit card reader at the gas station or ATM was nearly impossible. Once inserted, she couldn't grip the card to pull it back out. Getting her earrings in was another challenge with long nails. This is why most of the six piercings in her left ear and eight in her right were semi-permanent. She would change the earrings in the bottom hole in her ear lobes, but the rest would stay. Today she had two-inch hoops adorning the lowest spots in her ears. They clattered a bit with her other rings as she walked. She could also feel the small barbells in her nipples rub against her bra as her breasts bounced in their cups. The small septum ring in her nose and the two small eyebrow rings challenged her employer's dress code. She could get in trouble for the new barbell in her tongue if she wasn't careful how she talked. She had to keep it hidden if she wanted to get away with it. It was inconvenient to always be careful how she spoke, but she really needed this job. She readjusted the spaghetti strap of her handbag. It insisted on sliding off her shoulder as she walked. She couldn't carry much in her small purse. She could only have the essentials: a nail file, her keys, her phone, a condom, her credit cards, and her identification. It was inconvenient not to carry more, but it was a hot little purse. Next week, she would have to fill any remaining space in her tiny bag with panty liners. Thong panty liners just didn't absorb much. They had to be changed frequently with her heavy flow. She hated the inconvenience of her period. She probably needed to fit a few Midol in as well. She wasn't looking forward to the cramping or the bloating. The door to the office stood large in front of her tiny five-foot- nothing frame. The door was too heavy, and she had too little leverage. Making use of the handicap button, the door opened for her. Barbie walked into the office. Six Her practiced skill was evident as she teetered into the room. Obviously, "ease" would never describe her walk, given her body and how she was attired. Each step had to be placed carefully in front of the previous step. Each quick step brought her only slightly closer to her goal. The narrow, slender heel held her feet pointed straight down. She walked on her toes like a ballet dancer--the challenging shoes enforcing each tiny step en pointe. Small locks swung in their places on her ankles with each step. Even if she bent to reach the buckles, the shoes were locked on her feet. Crossing the room was an inconvenient ballet of dainty steps, gyrating hips, and heaving breasts. Everything bounced or jiggled due to each step in the punishing footwear. She briefly wondered why she conceded this much inconvenience for merely walking across a room. She knew the truth was, she could no longer walk without the challenging shoes. Her ankles had been surgically altered--she couldn't walk in flats anymore if she wanted to. With each step, she felt the eight garters at each leg stretch and relax. Her legs itched in the shiny, glittery, seamed stockings delicately encasing her shapely legs. She had to take care not to rub her leg against anything lest she damage the delicate stockings. It was another inconvenience to bear. Her tight leather skirt squeaked softly with each step. Her knees were practically welded together by the unforgiving tightness of the leather. Her skirt's hem barely covered the garters that were clearly visible through the skintight leather. Her stocking tops showed below its hem. The punishing shiny black garment held her rigidly erect in its grasp. Each step was a fight against the leather to move her legs. Each step was an inconvenience. The skirt was clearly custom-made for her. The skintight garment was taut over her enormous bubble butt. It closely followed her curves to barely close around her tiny waist. With a slight lean forward, her massive ass could easily be used as a small table. She had to be constantly aware of how she moved to keep from knocking things over with her gyrating and pillowy posterior. Each step was a battle of balance. Her enormous breasts wobbled and swayed with each step. She didn't think they could be inflated much further and still allow her to walk. The inconvenience didn't seem to matter. Each enormous tit was filled with thousands of cubic centimeters of implants. Each breast tugged heavily on her chest. There wasn't a bra big enough or strong enough to carry the massive orbs. Instead, her rigid steel-boned corset's enormous custom cups lifted and supported her breasts sufficiently for her to get around. Seeming to enjoy inconvenience, the cups of her corset stopped just short of her surgically enhanced and permanently engorged nipples. When she wasn't excited (as if that ever occurred), her nipples only stuck out two inches. The three large-gage rings adorning each one were clearly visible through her tight top. The smallest was only two inches in diameter. It dangled from the tip of her nipples. The small bell swinging from the ring was temporarily stilled by her tight top. The medium one, a four-inch circle, pierced the middle of her swollen, engorged nipple. The biggest of the three didn't technically penetrate her nipple. It passed through her areola just behind her nipple. The heavy six-inch ring was unmistakable through any clothes. She could easily be restrained by slipping her hands through the large rings and joining her wrist cuffs. If she needed additional humiliation and inconvenience. Her breasts constantly trembled as she panted for air. The tight circumference of her fifteen-inch corset with its four-inch pipestem didn't allow her lungs much. The thick red leather and heavy steel corset held her torso rigid. Secured in place with a series of small locks, a thin flap covered the laces in the back. Even breathing was an inconvenience. She wore a latex halter top. It was backless, only thin ties holding the material over her protruding tits. A spaghetti strap tied behind her neck barely kept the fabric over her tits. An equally narrow band attached just below her breasts and tied behind her back. The thin garment left nothing to the imagination. Her shoulders and arms were fully exposed, and her corset was on full display. The corset and top were both fire engine red. If one didn't look too closely, they could be mistaken for the same garment. The skimpy clothing left her arms and shoulders cold while her breasts sweated under the latex. It was a very inconvenient combination of sensations. Thick black leather cuffs adorned her ankles, wrists, and neck. The cuffs on her wrists and ankles were three inches wide. Each featured conspicuous locks keeping the cuffs tight around her limbs. A posture collar gripped her neck. Her long platinum blonde hair was meticulously and severely braided in a tight french braid. As the braid reached the top of her head, three red parachute chords were added, one to each section of hair. Her hair fell naturally to the middle of her shapely ass. Even braided, her hair ended just as her tiny waist began to flare into her wide hips. The braided parachute cord continued on further. The parachute cord was tied to a ring at the end of a metal rod. The rod ended in an anal hook deeply embedded between her shapely butt cheeks. The cord was whip tight between the metal and mane. It dragged her head back and kept her from turning her head. The tall, tight leather collar around her neck also locked her head in position and kept tension on her hair and anal hook. The large lock on her collar was clearly visible behind her braid. Her head and torso were held erect, rigid, and unmoving by her hair, collar, and corset. Looking around was a nearly impossible inconvenience. Maintaining her hair took frequent trips to a salon. Naturally dark brown, she now shimmered a platinum blonde with hot pink streaks. With her long nails, caring for this much hair was impossible. Her only option was regular salon visits to keep her roots from showing. Her frequent trips also including washing, conditioning, and braiding her long shiny locks. Every outing was an inconvenience for her; numerous necessary trips were even more so. Her eyes were adorned with extra long, extra thick eyelash implants. She kept them at least two inches long on both the top and bottom lid. She felt the cosmetic surgeon had gone overboard in the number of hair follicles used because they were ridiculously dense. They grew so much she had them trimmed nearly every week. It was another inconvenience. Mascara was part of her morning routine even though they were already quite full and heavy. The added cosmetics dramatically expanded and thickened her already dense eyelashes. Her eyelashes and hair were thick, unlike that on the rest of her body. Other than the hair on her head, there wasn't a living follicle to be found. Many long, inconvenient sessions with a laser had removed every other strand from her body. She even had an experimental procedure performed that had eliminated much of her skin pigment. It left her skin a pale pinkish color. In the sun, she burned very quickly and had to limit her exposure. It looked like she never got out during the day. Matching her skin tone for makeup was inconvenient. Concealer and foundation had to be much lighter than most normal shades. It did make any colors she applied stand out even more. Her eyes were tattooed in dark outlines. She filled in these frameworks with eyeliner every day. The dark perpetual edges meant that she couldn't wear subtle colors. Her eyebrows were surgically moved higher. The hairs were shaped into high, thin, narrow arches that made her look forever surprised. Her eyebrows were further outlined with tattoos requiring her to fill in the contour every morning. It was challenging to color around the four soldered shut rings in each brow. Her lips were forever plumped with silicone lip implants to ridiculous proportions. The way people usually described them was dick-sucking lips. The outline of her lips was tattooed in rich fire engine red lip liner. Every morning she colors them in with three coats of fire engine red lipstick and two layers of wet look gloss. She found the task very inconvenient, working around the five permanent rings in each lip. After applying the shiny top coat, she carefully cleaned each hoop to ensure no lipstick remained. This is made even more inconvenient due to her long nails. She must carefully hold her large septum ring out of the way as she applies lip color. Her septum ring constantly interferes as the bottom of the loop rests right where her lips part. It is also a constant inconvenience whenever she tried to eat. Overall, bold is the polite way to describe her makeup. It takes her a long time every morning to get right. Just another inconvenience she goes through. Adding to the challenge of doing her makeup are her long stiletto nails. Each nail extends a full four inches past the tip of her fingers and narrows to a sharp point. Having long nails changed so much about everyday life. Zippers became nearly impossible. Touch screens required rolling her fingers and touching with the side. As if her long nails were not challenging enough, a small hole was melted near the tip of each. Through each hole, a one-inch ring was installed. A thin chain connected each adjacent hoop and provided only a tiny amount of slack. Each finger can move independently a little, but the effect is like wearing mittens. Before this additional modification, she could type adequately with the ends of her nails. Now the hoops roll unpredictably, and the chain restrains her fingers, making most things nearly impossible. Long, beautiful, but completely impractical. A total inconvenience. Her ears are just as adorned with piercings as her face. She has thirteen permanent rings of varying sizes in her left ear and fifteen in her right. The most oversized ring in each ear nearly touches her shoulders. Inside this large ring is a hoop half its size, but hanging from the bottom of this is a real silver bell. It rings almost constantly as she moves. She also has a smaller bell hanging from her tragus and forward helix rings. Every slight movement of her head nearly deafens her with ringing in her ears. Her tongue is adorned with a huge stud. Once the stud had healed, the large balls at the ends were removed. The stud was slipped into the ends of a thick U shackle. The keeper balls' threads were coated in epoxy and screwed back onto the tongue stud. Hanging from the shackle is about six inches of slender but sturdy chain. At the end of the chain is a one-inch diameter ring fastened to another bell. She usually keeps the loop and chain carefully tucked in her cheek so that it isn't literally hanging from her mouth. Inconvenient but better than hanging out. You may think that all this metal in her mouth would damage her teeth. You would be correct if her teeth weren't all removed. Her regular everyday routine involves pasting rigid rubber dentures into her mouth. This allows some fraction of normalcy while still allowing her teeth to be easily removed. When desired, it is a simple matter to remove dentures. Her soft, warm, inviting mouth can be enjoyed without feeling teeth. Without the fake teeth, the stares and even more incredible difficulty in speaking make dentures worth the inconvenience. Just as jewelry hangs from her mouth, a thin chain is visible hanging below her skirt. At the end of the chain is another hoop. This ring is about two inches in diameter and has another bell hanging from it. Every movement of her legs bumps the jewelry and sets the bell ringing anew. Fluid seems to be regularly running down the chain and dripping from the metal. Unseen by others, the top of the chain is anchored through her flesh. She feels every moment at the top where a small soldered shut ring pierces her clitoris. Her outer labia is perforated ten times on each side. Steel grommets maintain each hole permanently open. Ten small locks connect each pair of holes and lock her dripping cunt shut. The locks also retain the large dildo in her snatch. The dildo has a heavy weight suspended in it. With each step, the weight bounces up and down and provides the sensation of thrusting into her. She doesn't have the keys to any of the locks. Any relief will have to wait. It is no surprise her cunt is constantly leaking. Nobody would believe that a doctorate in theoretical mathematics lurked under all the silicone and makeup. Certainly, nobody would take her breathless squeaky voice seriously in any scholarly discussion now. She had found another way to use her mouth to make money. She was even more proficient at it than she had been at math. She can't remember the last time she wore any sort of panty. She gets to experience every stray draft of air blowing up her skirt and across her wet lower lips. All of these sensations are a significant inconvenience, but one she must bear. Next week when her period starts, the heavy dildo will be replaced by a thick tampon. Without panties, pantyliners are not possible. Instead, she must regularly replace the tampon to manage her heavy flow. The cramping, bloating, and tampons are certainly an inconvenience she wished she could avoid. She looked up through thick eyelashes. If she could even stand flat- footed anymore, she would stand four-foot-nine-inch tall. Her frame is that of a frail waif. In her eight-inch heels, she teetered in front of the desk at five-foot-three-inch tall. Everything was intimidatingly large. She peered up through her enhanced lashes at the receptionist standing behind the counter. The lady behind the counter wasn't overly tall. Still, she towered over the frail plastic creation on the other side of the counter. "Name?" the receptionist asked. "Bimbo," she squeaked out in a high-pitched, breathy whisper. "What?" "Bimbo," she repeated no louder than the first time. Speaking in such a tight corset, with such plumped lips, and the massive piercing in her tongue was a complete inconvenience. She couldn't talk any louder if she wanted to. She simply could not get more air past her ridiculously tightened vocal cords. "Oh yes, I have your appointment right here," the receptionist said. "It looks like everything is already filled out and paid for. You just have to sign this sheet that you agree to have the procedure." She transferred the small clutch she carried from her right hand to her left to pick up the pen. She couldn't have much in the tiny red pouch. She could only take the essentials: a single key to her door, a bus pass, and her identification. It was inconvenient not to carry more, but it was all that would fit in the tiny pouch. Her identification was simple. She couldn't drive, but it had her picture and her full designation. "Bimbo," it simply read. It was inconvenient not to have a full name. It made many awkward situations. She had exchanged her name, and that was her complete identity now. The bus pass was understandable. With Bimbo's many modifications and wardrobe, she was incapable of driving. Public transportation was the only way she could get anywhere. Living nearly a half-mile from the nearest bus stop made travel anywhere very inconvenient. Particularly with her slow pace, she had to leave very early to arrive on time. Fortunately, the busses in her town were handicap accessible. If they weren't, she would never be able to climb the steps to board the bus. Unfortunately, she couldn't sit securely on the bus. She had to stand wrapped around the pole like a dancer as the bus navigated the busy streets. She had tried to sit but couldn't brace well enough with her legs held tightly together. She ended up being flung onto the floor in short order. Using the bus pass was always very inconvenient for her. It was hard to fit through the door with enormous boobs. Once through the door, she couldn't see the card reader past her tits. She had to find the slot by feel. Finally, inserting the card, she couldn't get enough purchase with her long and ringed nails to pull the card free. Bus drivers who were familiar with her took the pass from her and inserted it themselves to stay on schedule. Making her way down the narrow bus aisle without tit smacking anyone was another challenge. Usually, she just repeatedly squeaked breathless apologies and hoped nobody got too mad about being struck by her colossal rack. Women could be especially bitchy. Men usually didn't mind much. The counter was inconveniently high for her short frame. She reached for the pen, but her massive tits swept the clipboard and pen off the countertop. Fortunately for her, they cleared everything forward toward the receptionist's desk. The receptionist sighed and handed her the pen. She delicately held the pen far enough from the tip so that her thumb's nail would not scrape the paper. The receptionist placed the clipboard back on the counter. Bimbo quickly signed the document and pushed it back across the counter. "If you just have a seat, we'll call you when we are ready," the receptionist said. She turned from the counter, but her massive tits swept the small vase and fake flowers from the counter. With a clatter, they landed on the floor. She couldn't bend over. Her corset and hair tied to her anal hook wouldn't allow it. She squatted down, carefully holding one hand on the wall to stabilize herself while teetering on her challenging shoes. She couldn't see past her own tits. Crouching down pulled her hair, forcing her to tilt her head even further up. Feeling around, trying not to snag her fingernails in the carpet, she searched for the vase. Her search was futile. Her breathing became more labored. Squatting further compressed her already tight torso inside the crushing corset. Finally, someone else nearby had mercy. The young woman, not much older than Bimbo, came over. She huffed, picked up the vase and flowers, and put them back on the counter. She turned her heel and stalked back to her chair. With great effort, Bimbo stood back up. She tugged on the hem of her skirt. It felt like it had ridden up, but her efforts seemed ineffectual. She carefully walked away from the counter. She struggled to see past her enormous breasts to prevent another accident. She faced another inconvenience. Between the tight skirt, high heels, and tight corset, she couldn't sit. If she did sit, she would be unable to stand on her own. The best she could do is squat awkwardly on the edge of a chair. As she crouched, her hair pulled back, which forced her to look even more upward. She waited while staring at the ceiling. At least this briefly relieved most of the weight from her poor abused feet. Eventually, her wait was over, and she was called. She struggled back to standing. She slowly made her way through the door the nurse was holding for her. Her wobbling bosom accidentally smacked the nurse as she passed. Gradually she made her way into the exam room. With help, she laid down on the exam bed. Each breath required lifting her heavy breasts with her lungs. Each breath was an inconvenient struggle against gravity. After an extended wait, the doctor came in. He got right to work. The doctor removed thick barbells from five conch piercings in each of Bimbo's ears. A gaudy device covered in faux diamonds was attached behind each ear. The device was anchored to each ear through the pierced holes. Her ears will be more adorned than ever. He carefully coated the threads with glue and screwed a large ball on each stud through her ear. Whatever new torture the doctor was attaching was never intended to be removed. Some fine wire ran through one of the hollow studs to something small that the doctor slipped down her ear canal. He packed in material that slowly hardened in her ears. As he worked, the sounds of his humming and the rest of the ambient noise faded away. She could no longer hear anything. With a burst of static, she could suddenly hear again. "Your hearing is now discretionary. It can be remotely controlled," the doctor said. "One last thing, and you can go." He pulled out a giant syringe filled with yellowish milky fluid. He carefully felt for the small port hidden in Bimbo's armpits. "Don't worry, this is only a thousand cc more each side," he said. "It will only add about four pounds total, which is nothing compared to the fifty pounds you already have." Before any augmentation, she felt her 36H breasts were quite large. Together they weighed somewhere near five and a half pounds. Unique expander implants were placed deep in her breasts. Over the last several months, they were slowly filled. Where they had been significant, they became enormous. Twenty-five and a half pounds, twelve thousand cubic centimeters had already been added to each breast. Today would bring her to a staggering twenty-six thousand cubic centimeters in all. Each breast would weigh over thirty pounds. Her swollen breasts throbbed as they swelled, lifted by the confines of her corset cups. Her breathing slowly grew more challenging as added weight was piled on her already heavy chest and her jugs stiffened. Each breath heaved her titanic tits upward. Finally, the doctor finished one side and moved to the other side. She panted for breath by the time he finished both sides. Together the doctor and his nurse managed to hoist the inflated plastic creature back to her feet. She had to lean back more than ever to counter the weight of her melons. Even standing took a minor miracle. If not for her prodigious backside somewhat offsetting her tremendous tits, she would have never been able to balance on her pointed toes. She looked up through long thick lashes at the faces of the doctor and nurse towering over her as she gasped for air. "There you are!" the doctor said, too pleased with himself for her taste. "Now just totter along home." He gave her a firm smack on her leather-clad ass and strolled to the door whistling to himself. He just reached the door when he stopped. "Oops, I almost forgot," he said. He pulled out a small device. "This is both a digital audio player and remote control." He clipped the device to the back of Bimbo's corset. Suddenly everything in her world went mute. Well, not entirely soundless. She could hear just barely audible whispers. "Every step you take will make your mouth water for cock. Every bounce of your breasts will make your snatch drip for dick." Lost in her growing lust-filled haze, she proceeded slowly to the door. She could scarcely balance. She couldn't hear a word from the doctor or his nurse. Being deafened is very inconvenient. With each jiggle and bounce, a haze of desire grew within her brain. Each movement meant an inconvenient struggle against gravity. It would be a long trip home.