Don't worry, almost done, Jon texted out. Something about that felt wrong though, incomplete. It felt rude, almost. Biff and the rest of the team were waiting for him downstairs, and they were being very patient. He tried a smile emoji to lighten the tone. That was nice, but too basic. A wink emoji seemed more personal, but then he seemed too desperate for attention. Finally, a flash of inspiration. Turning on the camera function, he held out his arm and made a quick face to emphasize his dramatic makeup. With his free hand, he tugged the hem low, showing off some of the cleave of his pale skin beneath. Your shirt doesn't fit me too well, though!
Jon started as he finished the text. He hadn't realized it was Biff's shirt. Though in retrospect, it seemed obvious. The shirt looked like nothing else in the rest of his room here, it was way too big on him, it rubbed against his nipples awfully in the way guy shirts always did. Really, he had no idea how Biff dealt with stuff like this. Beside, it was all about wanting a goth girlfriend with big tits, and Jon certainly didn't have one of those. Did Biff? Jon couldn't seem to remember, but something about thinking about that made a grin slide over his dark, full lips, made him rub his legs together in delight.
But he was getting ahead of himself. First, he needed a new top. He needed to give Biff back his shirt, after all. And maybe put on something instead that the boys downstairs would want to see, as a thank you for being so patient. Jon stepped through the drawers and closet of his room, wondering what he should go with. He was so busy deciding he didn't notice that he was bending too far over a hamper until he heard a distinct tearing sound come from his pantyhose. Straightening up and checking the damage in the mirror, Jon saw a noticeable tear in the fabric, revealing the white flesh underneath. Jon also realized that he kind of liked how it looked. Experimentally, he crouched and stretched and twisted his legs, tearing more holes up and down around his thighs and abdomen. It was pretty easy, actually. Given how he'd managed to cram all his thighs, hips, and ass in, the stretchy fabric was more than ready to burst here and there.
But Jon was getting distracted. He was looking for a top, not trying to make his bottoms more fashionable! Not long after resuming his search, he found just the thing. A dark corset, matching the highlights on his gloves and makeup, with strings in the back to pull it tight, a fishnet top above the low hem for the shoulders, even a short skirt dangling out the bottom hem. Best of all, there were cups in the front, for supporting a pair of large, heavy breasts. Perfect!
Pulling off Biff's shirt and carefully folding it onto the bed, Jon took the corset and pulled it on, careful not to tear the fishnet mesh over the shoulders. It was a perfect fit. The fishnet stretched over his shoulders and back, emphasizing the pale, smooth flesh there, while the corset itself started low, showing plenty of that valley of flesh Jon so enjoyed showing Biff on his phone. The corset curved in at the waist to make a lovely hourglass shape, and the skirt hem on the bottom gave the illusion of a tattered skirt coming down to cover his modesty, while even bending slightly would flash the torn pantyhose around his ample ass beneath.
Jon smiled again, tucking a length of his shoulder black length hair behind an ear. He liked thinking about that. Liked thinking about his butt as an ass. It reminded him of its lovely shape and size, how much Zoe and the girls at school envied Jon for having it. How much Biff and the boys like to watch it when he arrived in something flattering like this. With that same profane pride, Jon glanced at his chest, his breasts. By that logic, he had such big, lovely...
Jon shook his head, feeling like he had forgotten something. After a moment, it came to him. The corset! He had pulled it on, but hadn't pulled the laces tight yet! And while he could try to pull them tight himself, that would be awkward at this angle. Not to mention his flimsy arms couldn't quite pull it to the tightness he loved with these kind of corsets, that constriction of breath that drove his voice up and narrowed his waist delightfully for all to see. Wanting that, craving that, and maybe craving something else besides, Jon picked up his phone, snapped a picture of his back, typed out a fresh message to Biff.
Hey, think you could help me out here? Sure would appreciate the help...and the company.
