Jeanie Dreams of Boobs - 2/3 (Patreon)

Cover art by WholeLottaBlank.

Contains: Breast Expansion

------------

Jeanie Dreams of Boobs

Chapter III

Peyton and Willow arrived at Club Lavender at a quarter past eight. Peyton recognized the high-end strip club; she often drove past the place back in college. But now, her memories were full of nights inside the place—dancing on the stage. She silently wished she’d ‘wished’ for Jeanie to change her life back as she and her friend walked through the staff entrance.

The manager—Peyton remembered his name was Jace—was pacing by the door. “Where have you been? You’re supposed to go on next, and you’re not even dressed!”

“Isn’t that kinda the point?” Willow asked with a smirk.

“Don’t start with me,” Jace said. “I’ll have Nat go on early, right after Sam; then you’re up. And you,” he pointed at Peyton, “Are on after Willow. Now, both of you, go get ready.”

“Sorry, Jace…” Peyton said as Willow steered her toward the dressing room.

“Don’t let him get to you,” Willow said. “The crowd in here doubles the nights you dance. I think he’s still salty ‘cause you turned him down.”

“Thanks, –uh– babe.”

The short Asian girl looked up at her, “Are you alright? You’re not getting sick, are you?”

How could Peyton possibly explain that this wasn’t her life an hour ago? That she’d found a literal genie who’d turned her into a teenage boy’s wet dream?

“I’m fine. Just a little off, you know?”

“Mmm. Well, shake it off, yeah? There are at least thirty guys out there with their wallets in one hand and their dicks in the other, waiting just for you.” Willow reached over to give Peyton’s left breast a shove, sending her monumental melons wobbling. “And these monsters!”

Peyton was shocked at first; nobody touched her with that level of familiarity. But then memories flashed by—countless times Willow had done that much and more. The dancers at Lavender were a friendly and handsy bunch.

“Yeah, yeah,” she said. “There are plenty here to see you too.” She glanced down at her gorgeous, four-eleven Asian friend. A running joke popped into her mind, “You’re a specialty act.”

Willow fanned out her long, straight black hair and thrust her A-cup chest forward. “You bet your sweet ass, I am.”

***

Peyton stood behind the curtain, waiting for Willow to finish her song. Her friend dangled from the pole by her legs to a fusion of electric guitars and shamisen that ‘normal Peyton’ would have considered problematic for the Asian dancer. ‘New Peyton’ knew the song was one of Willow’s favorite picks. As Willow rode the pole down to rest her middle on the stage, she arched her back, pushing up with her arms to smile at the crowd. Dark nipples pointed out from her nearly flat chest, and male patrons tossed bills on the stage appreciatively.

The DJ, Dean, switched on his mic, and the gravelly voice of a chain smoker said, “Give it up one more time for Keiko!”

Willow scooped up her earnings and grabbed her kimono. Peyton tugged at the lapels of her outfit. It was a business suit that fit remarkably well, and she remembered having it custom-made.

Dean gave her cue, “Up next on the main stage; it’s the one and only Poppy!”

------------

Chapter IV

Peyton’s heart throbbed in her ears. She couldn’t do this. But a lifetime of dancing and over two years at this club told her she could. She straightened her shoulders, pushing her way through the curtain.

There was a smattering of applause and a few whistles. Peyton heard a clapping drumbeat lead into a distorted guitar riff. Arctic Monkeys, at least her taste in music hadn’t changed. She strutted to the front of the stage, feeling her body move with practiced grace as if on autopilot. She bent at the waist to touch the stage, then slid her hands slowly up her legs.

Have you got colour in your cheeks?

Do you ever get that fear that you can’t shift the tide that sticks around like summat in your teeth?

Payton flashed the blazer of her suit open, showing off how little of the bulk beneath was anything other than tits. She spun to stalk back toward the pole, tossing up the back of the blazer to show her perfect ass straining her suit skirt.

I’ve dreamt about you nearly every night this week.

How many secrets can you keep?

She grabbed the pole and swung around it, shedding her blazer in one smooth motion. Then she grabbed the pole above her head, bending her strong legs and sliding down until her ass nearly touched the stage.

‘Cause there’s this tune I found that makes me think of you somehow, an’ I play it on repeat

Until I fall asleep,

Spillin’ drinks on my settee

Peyton grabbed the waistband of her skirt. It had snaps instead of hooks or a zipper, and she teased it open a couple of times before dropping it to slide down her legs. Without looking down, she hooked the skirt on one foot, kicking it to land with the blazer. She wore red panties, and her flesh-tone stockings were clipped to garters on her upper thighs. She rode the pole again, a little faster this time.

(Baby, we both know)

That the nights were mainly made for sayin’ things that you can’t say tomorrow day

Crawlin’ back to you

Her loose necktie came off next. The shirt had normal buttons, and she took her time undoing them one by one. By the time the chorus came around a second time, Peyton had let the shirt fall open; she slid it off her arms, tossing it on the pile. Her enormous lace bra matched her panties, and she jumped onto the pole. Supporting her weight with her legs, she spun around the cold metal until she landed softly on the stage. She crawled toward the edge, her massive breasts brushing the stage, then rose to her knees, letting men stuff bills into the band of her panties.

She stood, showing the crowd her back as she undid the hooks on her bra.

Crawlin’ back to you

When she tossed the bra to her pile and turned around, several patrons cheered. More bills flew onto the stage as she bent forward, letting her bare breasts dangle. She returned to the pole, wrapping her boobs around it with both arms. After tit-fucking the pole a few times, she bent forward and swung her legs up, repeating her spin move upside-down. Her breasts fell into her face as she swung around the pole and descended to rest her back on the stage.

As the final chorus thrummed from the speakers, Peyton rolled over and crawled across the stage again. She took another round of panty bills, then finished by resting on one knee, running a hand along her other leg as she leaned back, thrusting her chest forward.

Do you want me crawlin’ back to you?

Whistles and cheers accompanied a shower of cash.

***

Carrying her clothes back to the dressing room, Peyton counted the wad of bills in her hand. She’d made over three hundred dollars! For one dance! Even after paying the club their cut, she’d make enough tonight to pay her back rent and still have cash left over.

A tiny voice in her head said she should feel ashamed of herself, but as the fugue state of her performance wore off, Peyton found herself reveling in it. She felt strong, confident, and powerful. The changes Jeanie made had turned her into someone else. No, that wasn’t right. She was still her, deep down. But she’d become so much more.

------------

Chapter V

At the start of the night, Peyton was working up a good long rant to give the capricious blonde for changing her whole life. But between the hours on stage soaking up the admiration of her fans and time backstage laughing and hanging out with her fellow dancers, she just didn’t have it in her. All her anger and frustration were gone. She felt emotionally satisfied from a work experience that was, surprisingly, far less toxic than restaurant work. She felt physically exhausted from dancing but in a good way. Waiting tables was far from a sedentary job, but being able to really push her body, to stretch her capabilities to their limit, was rewarding in a way she hadn’t expected.

When Peyton returned to her apartment a few hours before dawn, Jeanie was nowhere to be found. Assuming the genie was back in her bottle, Peyton changed for bed. In the drawer that had once held a pile of boy shorts and tees with the printing flaking off, she found neatly folded pajama sets, every last one made of silk or satin. Realizing that she was wearing makeup and covered in layers of candy-scented body spray, Peyton decided she should shower before bed.

Stripping down while she waited for the water to heat up, Peyton washed the makeup off her face. Of course, she’d seen herself topless in the club’s dressing room, but now that she was alone, she could take all of herself in.

Her breasts were topped by dark pink nipples that puffed up in the open air. They bobbed and rippled every time she moved but stood high on her chest, full and firm. Her butt formed two perfectly round cheeks that were even more firm. Every inch of her skin was smooth and clear, and her arms and legs were well-toned without being overly muscular. Despite being in her mid-twenties, she had the healthy glow of a teenager. When her face was clean, she saw that she’d only worn makeup to compensate for the stage lights at the club. Her lips were plump and pink, and the contour of her cheeks showed flawlessly. Her lashes were long and thick, and her eyelids were naturally a shade darker.

Peyton grinned at her reflection. For all the liberties Jeanie had taken with her wish, she certainly didn’t miss any details.

The shower stall was larger than Peyton remembered, and as she stepped into the steaming water, she remembered picking the apartment for its big shower—though it still felt a little cramped. As the water splashed onto the tops of her bare breasts, Peyton felt every drop send a spark of pleasure through her body. Her shower had a fixed head and a detachable handle, so she leaned into the luxurious spray, grabbed the handheld, and let a second jet of hot water push her over the edge. She muffled her ecstatic cries to avoid waking grumpy Katelyn downstairs.

***

When Peyton woke early in the afternoon, she felt warm breath on her breasts. The top few buttons of her silk pajamas were undone, and when she opened her eyes, Peyton saw a blonde head and pink headscarf nestled into her cleavage. At first, she was annoyed that Jeanie had crawled into bed with her without asking, but as she felt the warmth of the genie’s large breasts smooshed against her huge ones, Peyton felt soothed. It reminded her of being a little girl again, letting the family dog sleep on her bed.

They lay together like that until the change in Peyton’s breathing made Jeanie open her eyes.

“Good morning, Mistress. Did you sleep well?”

Peyton murmured in agreement.

“Sorry for sleeping in your bed. You just looked so warm and soft I couldn’t help myself.”

Peyton stroked the genie’s hair. “It’s fine.”

Jeanie tilted her head into Peyton’s touch, arching her back and hugging herself into her mistress’ enormous breasts. “Are you hungry? Do you want some breakfast?”

“Is it gonna cost me a wish?”

Jeanie laughed into Peyton’s chest. “No, of course not! Using a whole wish just for some pancakes would be pretty silly.” She looked thoughtful. “Though I did do that once. But that Master was really dumb. Not smart like you, Mistress.” She cuddled tighter into Peyton.”

“Okay, then.”

“Yay!”

Jeanie jumped out of bed. “You wait here; I’ll be right back.”

As she bounded out to the kitchen, Peyton smiled. It was kind of like having a pet. A cute, sexy pet who’d changed her whole life with a snap of her fingers.

Jeanie returned a few minutes later with a tray. It held a stack of six perfectly golden pancakes on a plate, a steaming mug of coffee, and a tall glass of orange juice. Peyton wondered if she’d cooked the food or made it using magic.

She sat up in bed while Jeanie positioned the tray over her lap. “This is –um– a lot of food…”

Jeanie beamed. “It’s alright, Mistress. You burn way more calories now than you used to. I wouldn’t overfeed you.”

Peyton did feel famished after a night of intense dancing, so she shrugged and dug in.

------------