I wrote this story about Fake Fake boobs for Las Vegas Weekly. Those are them in the top two pics. The bottom two show my roommate before and after putting them on. You can read the whole story BY CLICKING HERE, and you can read the first few paragraphs here:
My (B-cup) roommate works as a promotional model and as a go-go dancer. She regularly competes for gigs against women with augmented breasts, and she often loses out. So she wears push-up bras and “chicken cutlets” (bra inserts that resemble pieces of raw chicken in appearance and feel). But she’s never taken the plunge, driven to the plastic surgeon’s office, and had her breasts sliced open and stuffed. In other words, she’s never known what it’s like to have large breasts. Until last week. Her breasts didn’t come from the plastic surgeon’s office; they came from BreastFormShop.com, a website that sells anatomically correct external silicon breasts. They range in size from 2-inch protrusion/2 pounds all the way up to 10-inch protrusion/22 pounds. (BreastFormShop calls the 22-pounders “Juggs,” and says that if you order them, “You will have to custom order a super large bra to hold these girls.”)
My roommate’s 3.5-inch protrusion/3.5-pound breasts arrived in a plain white box, which we loaded into the back seat of my mom’s SUV. Then we drove to Wal-Mart in search of a bra that would accommodate the new breasts and the old ones.
Walking into the store, the elderly Wal-Mart greeter noticed the white box in our basket.
“Are you two returning something?” she asked.
“This is ours,” I said. “We’re just keeping it in the cart here, if that’s okay.”
We continued walking, but the greeter wasn’t through with us: “Hold on. It depends. What’s in there?”
“Medical stuff,” I improvised, which sent my roommate into a giggling fit, which definitely undercut the legitimacy of my claim.
“What kind of medical stuff?” the greeter asked—less a question, more a challenge.
“It’s really embarrassing,” I pleaded. “And if you saw, you’d understand. Is there any way we can just shop today?”
The honest approach did the trick; “Go ahead,” the greeter said.
We found the women’s undergarments section and searched the racks for the largest bras in stock. My roommate walked into the dressing room holding a trio of 38DDs in her left hand and the boob box in her right. A 10-year-old girl in the waiting area saw her do this … and then, two minutes later, the same girl saw my same roommate emerge from the dressing room looking as if a horny wizard had gone to town on her chest. I assume this traumatized the girl for life—that she went home and cried, “Mommy, I don’t want to get boobs!”