The imp looked amused. "Yeah, don't worry about it. Just send a letter to Santa Claus, North Pole and I'm sure he'll be happy to reimburse you."
Morgan gave an annoyed sigh. She was still cradling her breasts in her hands. "Remember why you're here?" She gave them a slight squeeze. "Let's just get on with it."
"Sorry there princess, I'll get right on the case." It made some vague gestures with its stumpy little arms and chanted: "Badda-bing, badda-boom, grant this bitch her shallow wish!"
Morgan scowled at the imp's crude choice of words, but the change was immediate. A warmth radiated from her chest. She could feel her breasts get fuller and heavier as she cupped them. Her flannel pajamas grew tighter across her bust, and the mother of pearl buttons struggled to hold back the soft tide of her new endowments. Small perfectly tan lobes of flesh pudged out of the spaces in between buttons and her nipples proudly asserted themselves, tenting the fabric. The warmth subsided and the change stopped.
Her hands were eagerly kneading her chest as she spoke breathily. "I'll admit I didn't really want bigger boobs. I didn't think you could improve on perfection. But these are great! The look. The feel! I can see it now. The embarrassment of my parents as they introduce me at their stuffy dinner parties. The scandalized looks of fashion designers as they take my measurements for custom blouses. The jealous look of my stupid friend with the ugly boob job." Morgan did an exploratory jumping jack. Unsupported by anything more substantial than a thin layer of flannel, her chest jiggled wildly. "I love them!"
She tore her eyes away from her new loveliness and looked at the sulky imp. A thought occurred to her. "You know, for a while there you had me worried. You talked tough, but in the end you granted my wish to the letter. That's hardly anything ironic. I guess that means you're a failure." A slight warmth awoke in her chest. "Don't worry, run back to Santa now and I won't tell him about what a slipshod operation he's running." The warming grew and her tone became angrier but frantic. The imp smiled. "Hurry, and you might be able to catch the 7:30 Suck train to Fuckupsville." The heat was unbearable.
Morgan gave an annoyed sigh. She was still cradling her breasts in her hands. "Remember why you're here?" She gave them a slight squeeze. "Let's just get on with it."
"Sorry there princess, I'll get right on the case." It made some vague gestures with its stumpy little arms and chanted: "Badda-bing, badda-boom, grant this bitch her shallow wish!"
Morgan scowled at the imp's crude choice of words, but the change was immediate. A warmth radiated from her chest. She could feel her breasts get fuller and heavier as she cupped them. Her flannel pajamas grew tighter across her bust, and the mother of pearl buttons struggled to hold back the soft tide of her new endowments. Small perfectly tan lobes of flesh pudged out of the spaces in between buttons and her nipples proudly asserted themselves, tenting the fabric. The warmth subsided and the change stopped.
Her hands were eagerly kneading her chest as she spoke breathily. "I'll admit I didn't really want bigger boobs. I didn't think you could improve on perfection. But these are great! The look. The feel! I can see it now. The embarrassment of my parents as they introduce me at their stuffy dinner parties. The scandalized looks of fashion designers as they take my measurements for custom blouses. The jealous look of my stupid friend with the ugly boob job." Morgan did an exploratory jumping jack. Unsupported by anything more substantial than a thin layer of flannel, her chest jiggled wildly. "I love them!"
She tore her eyes away from her new loveliness and looked at the sulky imp. A thought occurred to her. "You know, for a while there you had me worried. You talked tough, but in the end you granted my wish to the letter. That's hardly anything ironic. I guess that means you're a failure." A slight warmth awoke in her chest. "Don't worry, run back to Santa now and I won't tell him about what a slipshod operation he's running." The warming grew and her tone became angrier but frantic. The imp smiled. "Hurry, and you might be able to catch the 7:30 Suck train to Fuckupsville." The heat was unbearable.