Chapter 2: Surgery Day
"John did you take out the trash yet?!" shouted Audrey, John's bitchy wife, whose egalitarian ideals bordered on misandry. But John sat silent on the couch, still in awe after watching Trump's first telecast. He felt inspired, and reveled in the idea of the utopian society promised by the populist leader. A smirk traced his lips as he fantasized about his Audrey succumbing to his every beck and call. She was very pretty and skinny, but her chest was lacking. She had promised to get a boobjob after getting married, but forwent the idea, claiming it was "degrading to women." Like hell it was. On a surface level he would describe himself as a feminist, but inside the thought of having a bimbo trophy wife was the epitome of his sexual fantasies. I mean, what man wouldn't want a big titted slam piece as a wife? He couldn't help but stare at Audrey's modest chest, yearning for more with each passing day. As Trump's words lingered in the air, John felt a renewed vigor through every artery in his body. The opportunity he had been waiting for all his married life was finally on the horizon.
Audrey, who had been on edge since Trump was elected, crossed her arms, and glared icily at John.
"Did you hear me, John, or do you need to be reminded again?"
"Oh, uh, that. Yeah, I heard you," John said nonchalantly, as if just waking up from deep thought. "I just saw something on TV."
It was time for John to take action. The Project 8008ies had planted a seed in his brain: he would no longer be ashamed of his beliefs. "I think it's time we go to the doctor," John announced.
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Dr. Chad Deal's office was bustling after Trump's announcement of Project 8008ies. The hallways were filled with the chatter of young, impressionable women and lecherous but hard working men.
John Smith had finally pulled Audrey into Dr. Deal's office for her surgery consultation. It would have been hard to convince her to come otherwise, as Audrey had always regarded plastic surgery as misogynistic and superficial, but the new policy was covertly advertised as a vaccination program which Audrey, like many other liberal women, was naive to believe.
While they waited in the lobby, John eyed the other women who filled the room: nubile girls in tight, revealing clothes that left their ample chests on full display. Many men looked giddy, reveling in the new world order. The words "surgery" and "re-education" tossed around like candy from a piñata. Around the room, posters depicting women with cartoonishly large breasts, with slogans like "Your body, our choice" and "bigger is better" plastered every square inch of the walls.
A large breasted receptionist called them into Dr. Deal's office, which looked like a cross between a playboy mansion and a fetish dungeon, complete with marble floors, red velvet curtains, and shelves filled with oversized breasts implants. John's eyes sparkled with excitement while Audrey's heart sank.
Dr. Deal greeted the couple warmly, and motioned for Audrey to sign a consent form. "It's for the vaccines" he claimed with a wicked grin.
Audrey, never one to question governmental authority, signed the form without hesitation. Immediately after, a nurse came by and gave her a jab. She started to interrupt, "oh aren't you going to give John one too-" before she immediately fell faint.
Dr. Deal, pleased with her obedience, turned to John, saying "Don't worry, this is the first part of our reeducation program. Congratulations on being part of the first cohort of Project 8008ies. So tell me, John, how can I upgrade Audrey to your liking?"
John, who thought this visit couldn't get any better, said "Dr. Deal, thank you so much. I've been dreaming about this for so long. Audrey has been so good to me, and she wasn't always skiddish about plastic surgery but-"
Dr. Deal interrupted, "but she changed her mind after a few protests and feminist rallys. Now she parrots fake news she read on the FDA website. It's like there's all this leftist propaganda that teaches women it's okay to be ugly and fat. A sad tale that I've heard far too many times. Fear not John. That's why I'm here. Now tell me your most wildest fantasies and I'll make them a reality."
Do you want her to have melons for breasts? Or something more subtle, like enhancing what she already has? The world is our oyster, John."
John, now growing more animated, replied, "I've never admitted this. But I'm a tit man. I love big boobs. Audrey would give me shit, saying it's superficial, but I can't help what I like." With lust beginning to swell inside him, said savagely, "Give her the biggest pair imaginable. At least 500 CC's. I don't care if it looks obvious. Actually I want them to be as perfect looking as possible. Like perfect orbs that are impossibly perky and firm. So firm that I can stick my penis in between them whenever I want." Dr. Deal's grin widened as John's true intentions came to the surface. He couldn't resist licking his lips at the thought of Audrey's new silicone breasts bouncing on his dick.
"Now, it appears you are a man of fine taste," chuckled Dr. Deal, stroking his chin thoughtfully. He continued, "And good news, I think we should be able to start off with 800 CC's. And as for implant style? I'm thinking "ultra high profile." They hold their shape incredibly well. You'll never have to worry about having a wife with ugly, saggy, or deflated tits."
John nodded eagerly, his eyes gleaming with excitement as Dr. Deal spoke. "I think she'll look just fantastic with those."
Dr. Deal, whose perversion seemed to have no bounds, went a step further. "How about we install a little something extra, a surprise if you will?"
"What do you mean?" John asked, curious.
The two lecherous alpha males continued their discussion as Audrey was taken into the operating room.
Dr. Deal, with a gleam in his eye, said, "I've been working on a new innovation, a little something to make our bimbos even more... accommodating."
John raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
Dr. Deal leaned in, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Imagine this: a tiny, discreet remote control, no bigger than a matchstick, that can stimulate your wife's... pleasure centers, if you will."
John's eyes widened with excitement. "You mean, like a vibrator?"
"Exactly!" Dr. Deal exclaimed, clapping his hands together. "But this one is special.
It's not just a vibrator. It's a... a... remote control for her pleasure. You can control it from your phone, or even a dedicated remote. You can make her come, or keep her on the edge for as long as you want."
John's imagination ran wild. He could see Audrey, her new, massive breasts bouncing as she writhed in ecstasy, all under his control. He could make her beg for more, or deny her release until she was a quivering mess. The thought sent a shiver down his spine.
"Sounds like a dream come true," John said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Dr. Deal chuckled, "It's not just a dream, John.
It's a reality. And it's all yours. For free, Thanks to president Trump."
John realized that maybe republicans weren't so bad. He was tired of feeling guilty for liking white women with huge fake boobs . He had always been a tit man, but his wife Audrey had always shamed him for it. She was a feminist, and she thought that liking big tits was a sign of male oppression. But now, with the new administration in power, John felt like he could finally embrace his true desires without shame.
Audrey was still asleep on the couch, her chest rising and falling with each breath. John couldn't help but stare at her small breasts, imagining what they would look like with a pair of big, fake tits. He had always wanted her to get a boobjob, but she had always refused, saying it was degrading to women.
John couldn’t help but stare at her small breasts, imagining what they would look like with a pair of big, fake tits. He reached out, cupping one in his hand, feeling the softness of her natural flesh. It was nice, but it wasn’t enough.