On the House

The bartender I’d been admired finally made her way back to where I was sitting. I was already a drink or three in, so I no longer had the willpower to pry my eyes away from her stunning cleavage.

“So, what’ll it be? You want another drink, or do you want to star at my tits some more?”

“Both, please” I said with a sigh. I thought it was pretty funny. As I said, I was a little drunk. I would have liked to know if she smiled at the joke, but I still wasn’t looking at her face.

“Alright, smart guy. It’s been a long week, and I’m losing my patience with you. So I’m going to give you a very special treat.”

It took me a moment to process how much sense that didn’t make, and by then she had turned away to fetch a box from under the counter. She started making a whiskey sour, or at least I thought so, given that’s what I’d been drinking all evening. But then she added a few unfamiliar ingredients from the box she’d taken out. She put the box back before shaking up the drink in front of me. I once again admired the jiggly view.

She poured the drink into a glass and pushed it towards me. “This one’s on the house.” In retrospect, she was probably giving me an ominous glare or mischievous wink, but as established, I was not looking at her face at any point.

I mumbled a thank you as she walked away. I took a sip. It was my whiskey sour, but with a kind of flowery aroma to it. It was delicious, actually. I drank it even quicker than I’d downed the previous ones, and was disappointed when it was gone.

“Hey, thank–” I called to the bartender to give her a real thank you, but my voice cut out mid sentence. I couldn’t speak. Then my voice suddenly came back. “Excuse me–” that time I stopped talking, because my voice was much higher pitch than it should have been. I cleared my through . “Excuse–” it was still higher. I noticed the bartender had turned to watch me from further down the bar. She folded her arms across her chest, incidentally pressing her breasts together in a pleasing fashion. At this distance, my peripheral visual could detect that she did have a triumphant smirk on her face this time.

I grabbed my throat as I tried to diagnose my voice problems, then noticed a tingling in my hand. The tingling spread all across my body, and I felt like I was getting lifted up into the air. I could swear I was hovering a few inches above the barstool, then I suddenly dropped back down with a pronounced FLOP.

I noticed several things about my fall. One, was that my landing was somehow much cushier than my takeoff. I felt hair bounce onto my shoulders and in front of my face, impossible since I kept my hair short, like most guys. And finally there was a weighted jiggling sensation on my chest that persisted for a few moments after I landed.

I looked down, and saw the most beautiful cavernous cleavage I’ve ever laid eyes upon. From a very surprising angle. My hands, the feeling of my thighs rubbing each other, the golden locks I could see to the sides of my vision, the little black dress wrapped around my curvy body, and the bra pushing up my significant breasts to the best viewing position possible. I was definitely a woman. I lifted my hands to touch them, and was thrilled. They felt good, soft, warm, and I could move them however I wanted. They were all mine.

I heard the bartender approaching. “You like tits? Fine. You’ve got tits. Now stop bothering me.”

I didn’t see the expression on her face as she turned to walk away. I was too busy looking straight down.


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