Bacondude77

At 26, Isabella Costa was the youngest Latina to ever become a correspondent on the NBC Nightly News. The secrets of her success were not hard to fathom: she had looks, brains, and a killer ass that she made sure to put on display whenever she could get herself on camera. Indeed, while every other newscaster either read the news from behind a table or while facing directly at the viewer, Isabella always found a pretext for aiming her behind right at the camera and turning her head to read the teleprompter. All in all, her big booty was becoming so famous there were whispers around the newsroom that it was Isabella’s sex appeal, not her talents as a newswoman, that led to her getting promotion after promotion. One of her colleagues in particular, a rival of hers named Hannah James, eventually broached the subject after too many lunchtime martinis. Isabella just sighed dramatically. “Chica, ever since I was a teenager, people have been saying things like that. Do you know how hard it is to go through life always being noticed more for your ass than for your intelligence? I would much rather have a flat white-girl butt, like you, but I’m stuck with what I got.” Even if she didn’t choose her body, Isabella would have had to admit that the way she walked and dressed only highlighted this feature of hers. When Isabella sashayed through the hallways of NBC on her ultra-tall heels, she always seemed to be dressed in a sleek bodycon dress that clung seductively to her jiggling buttcheeks. While her colleagues dressed conservatively, Isabella never left anything to the imagination. Despite everything she had going for her, though, the sexy Latina was incredibly unhappy when the first Friday in June rolled around. She’d started the day bubbling with excitement, because that was the day when the new Washington correspondent would be announced. She was sure that her “talent” would get her job, and she couldn’t wait to rub it in Hannah’s face. So when Chuck Darden, her boss, called Isabella into his office that afternoon, she was over the moon. That feeling quickly dissipated when she saw the look on his face and heard what he had to say. “Are you telling me,” she said, barely holding back her fury, “that that *bitch* is getting *my* job?” Chuck sighed, fighting the urge to steal a glance at Isabella’s ass, which she had instinctively turned toward him when she entered the room. “The hiring committee felt that Ms. James was a better fit for the position.” Isabella snorted. “What, is the Washington job reserved for flat white girls who suck? That bimbo doesn’t have a tenth of my viewership. Who’s on the hiring committee anyway?” “I’d be fired if I told you,” he said, but hastened to add “Listen, I think it was her connections that got her the job. Lots of the higher-ups belong to the Carrington Country Club, and her dad’s a member.” Isabella absorbed this information in uncharacteristic silence. A very obvious plan had occurred to her. “Well, I’ll see you, Chuck,” she said abruptly, and then flounced out of the room. The next day, as you probably guessed, found Isabella at the Carrington Country Club, talking to the club’s director of membership (who, incidentally, figured he was one more booty-jiggle away from a heart attack). Isabella produced her sterling resume, flaunted her high-society connections, and happened to drop a pen midway through the conversation. This apparently required her to get fully out of her chair, turn around, and bend down with her quivering buns almost resting on the director’s desk. Needless to say, she was immediately approved for a probationary membership. Word immediately got around the country club; given that the members were largely old white people, the sight of a Latina in itself was enough to cause a sensation. Isabella’s ass, though, put the thing on a whole new level; sex appeal like hers hadn’t been seen at the club since Marilyn Monroe played a round on the course in the 50s. The men tried and failed not to ogle her, and the women fumed, although of course they played nice when Isabella talked to them. This being the case, it didn’t take long for news of Isabella’s arrival to reach Vanessa English, the club’s resident queen bee. In many ways, Vanessa was everything Isabella was not. She was conservative, classy, and she’d never worked a day in her life. Whereas Isabella took great pains to highlight her assets, Vanessa pointedly did not wear revealing clothes and looked down on women who did. Despite this outward modesty, though, she did have one big thing in common with Isabella: she loved male attention, and would do anything to get it. Accordingly, while her dresses were always conservatively cut, they always highlighted her enormous bosom and her curvy body. In fact, up until her new rival showed up at the club, she had been considered Carrington’s resident hotty. Now, however, she was in danger of being eclipsed, and that was something she absolutely could not stand. Even before she heard about Isabella, Vanessa had been in a bad mood. Newly returned from a vacation at her family’s private beach on the French Riviera, she had been looking forward to making a splash when she made her grand return to the Carrington. She’d even specially selected a dress to wear on that wonderful day: a vintage Dior gown, size 4. The problem was it wasn’t fitting. In a certain sense, this was unsurprising; Vanessa was definitely *not* a size 4. While Vanessa liked to pretend that she had a small waist and big boobs and a shapely butt, it was all a big lie, one that she told herself as well as others. Because without her giant bra pads, corset, and booty-padded girdle, Vanessa was a titless fatty who couldn’t squeeze into a size 14 dress on a good day. Only one person in the world knew what she looked like naked, and that was her boyfriend, Danny. Really, even Vanessa didn’t know what she looked like nude, because she had gone six years without ever looking in the mirror without her enhancements on. Anyway, that afternoon, Vanessa was trying desperately to fit into her fancy new dress, but after an hour of pulling and pulling at the strings of her corset, she still couldn’t cinch her waist down to 26”. The best she could do was 29, which was in itself a huge improvement since her natural waist was 36”. “I’m never going to fit into that dress!” She wailed, throwing herself on the bed, pounding her fists on the pillows and sobbing. So, when Danny walked in a minute later, he found his glamorous girlfriend throwing a temper tantrum. She did not, at that moment, look her best; her fat belly was creating an unsightly muffin top over her girdle, and her bra was half-empty because one of her fake boobs had fallen out. Danny, on the other hand, was looking as suave and handsome as usual. He was tall, with thick dark hair and a slim athletic body. A noticeable bulge filled out the crotch of his tailored pants. Just like Vanessa was (or had been until recently) the queen bee of the club, Danny was the alpha male. All the ladies wanted him, although WASPy propriety prevented them from being too forward. At the boozier parties, though, there were always women around Danny, laughing at his jokes and just barely resisting the urge to feel his muscles (not to mention his crotch). He heaved a dramatic sigh when he saw the mess he’d walked into. Although he enjoyed most aspects of being Vanessa’s boyfriend, looking at her without her corset on was not one of them. “Hello, sweetie,” he said, averting his eyes from his girlfriend’s torso and concentrating on her spanxed and padded ass. “Everything okay?” Vanessa flashed him a death stare. “Everything is not okay. My-my …” she paused for a moment, trying to find a less humiliating word than ‘girdle,’ “stomach wrap isn’t working. The stupid dress must have shrunk in the wash or something and now it’s too small.” Danny bit back a smile. They both knew damn well that that dress had never been washed at all. One of the funniest things about Vanessa was that, although she knew her boyfriend knew she needed a tight corset to squeeze into the dress, she would never admit it. “Well, let me see what I can do,” Danny said, wrapping the corset around her stomach. Seizing both of the tightening cords, he yanked as hard as he could, but even his unpracticed eye knew that her waist still wasn’t small enough for the dress. There was only one thing to do. “Maria!” He yelled into the hallway. Vanessa turned to him, shock written across her overly made-up face. “You’re bringing the maid in here? I can’t be seen like this!” She scrambled to cover herself with the blankets, but Danny stopped her. “Come on, Vanny. Maria knows all about your secrets. Who do you think cleans your girdles? All I’m saying, darling, is that this is a two-person job.” “Yes?” Maria came in, did a double take at the strange scene in front of her, and then studiously pretended not to notice how ridiculous her boss looked. “How can I help?” “Well, I just need you to take one of these cords here,” he handed her one of the ties, “and we’re both going to pull with all our might. Ready?” Maria nodded, trying desperately not to laugh. “Alright, suck in, Vanny!” Danny said with a smile. Not that she needed to be told; despite appearances, she had been ‘sucking it in’ as best she could ever since her boyfriend had walked in the room. After a minute or so, they finally succeeded. Vanessa put on her slinky new dress and, with a shriek of joy, saw that it fit. Indeed, her whole midriff had been transformed: where once there had been soft, doughy fat, now there were only hard, smooth curves and a 26” waist. Combined with her tight-looking butt and her round, perky boobs, Vanessa looked for all the world like the skinny but voluptuous woman she pretended to be. Fully restored to her curvy glory, the country club queen ordered her maid out without a word of thanks, and then ran to embrace her savior. Danny had been on the point of breaking the news about Isabella, but decided instead to go to the club and check things out before reporting back. There was no use, he figured, in getting Vanessa all worked up without having seen if there was a basis for the rumors. Accordingly, that afternoon found him at the club, brooding in the paneled library. He still hadn’t seen Isabella in the flesh, but the rumor was that Vanessa didn’t hold a candle to her. It was bad enough to date a girl who only pretended to have an attractive figure; it was worse if, even with all her fakery, she still wasn’t the prettiest girl. Danny imagined, for a moment, seducing this unknown woman … but no, that wasn’t realistic. If he ever broke up with Vanessa, there would be hell to pay. Better, then, to try and compromise Isabella in some way and force her out of the club. Even if she was more attractive than Vanessa appeared to be, if she couldn’t enter the premises, there would never be any comparison in the first place. All his fears were confirmed when Isabella Costa walked into the room. Maybe “walked” isn’t the right word. In fact, under the pretense of continuing to talk to a waiter, she *backed* into the room, making sure that everyone got a good look at her enormous booty before she turned around. Despite everything, Danny felt himself get hard. After so many years of dating a fraud, it was overwhelming to be confronted with the real thing. He found himself sidling up to her. “Hey, muchacha,” he said, remembering some High School Spanish. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.” Isabella looked at him appraisingly, tossed her head back, and laughed derisively at him. “Nice try,” she said, catching her breath and shoving him out of the way, “but I think I can do a little better than you.” With that, she sashayed away, making sure to show off her ass as much as possible in the process. Danny was stunned. No woman had ever behaved like that with him before. Who was this bitch to think she could talk to him like that?