Chapter 1:

She'd been talking about doing it for a long time. Any time the conversation came up at a party, Molly would join in, talking about where she was going to do it, even the guy that she'd picked out. But it was one of those things that she never really thought would ever happen.

Until last night.

She'd had a few drinks and been on her way home, when she'd passed a small, dingy shop with a sign on the window: "Bubba's Late Night Specials"

"Screw it," had Molly thought to herself. It was time to stop dreaming about the day when she finally summoned up the courage to take a risk like that. It was time to stop pretending that she was just waiting for the perfect guy to do it at the perfect time in the perfect place. It was time to go for it.

And so last night, Molly had gotten a tattoo.

She had awoken with two pains - one in her head, from the drinks, and one on the small of her back, just above her arse. Within a few seconds, everything had come flooding back to her - the neon "tattoo" sign that had lured her in, the brief explanation of the tattoo that she'd been planning of for half her life, and the pain of getting the tattoo applied.

The tattoo "artist", if one was feeling generous enough to call him that, had been called Bubba, and he put one more in mind of a gorilla than someone to be trusted with a needle and the ability to permanently mark one's skin. He was short and hairy, but he'd seemed to perfectly understand her description of what she wanted for the tattoo, and had set to work on it immediately.

Molly worked in graphic design, which had been an obsession of hers for years, and she'd wanted a tattoo to celebrate her passion. It had started as a discussion when she was a teenager - "What tattoo would you get to sum you up?" - Molly had thought about it for months, and when she'd found the answer she knew she had to make it a reality. She had to have it.

When Milton Glaser designed the "I Love New York" logo in 1977, ten years before Molly's birth, he'd only expected it to be used for a few months. He could never have foreseen the design becoming an internationally-recognised symbol for New York, and he would never have guessed that anyone would use it as the basis of a tattoo.

But Molly did love New York - she'd moved there as soon as she'd finished high-school. She'd studied there, she worked there, she'd lived there for years. New York was where she'd met her boyfriend, John, and when John inevitably proposed, New York was where she wanted to get married.

She didn't want to get the entire logo, just the distinctive love heart. To anyone who didn't understand graphic design, it would just look like Molly's tattoo was celebrating love, and that was fine with her too. It was ideal - to the untrained eye, it represented love, but to her it was a tribute to the city she lived in, and the field she worked in. It was the perfect tattoo.

Unfortunately, it wasn't what Bubba had given her.

Molly had a glass of water and some aspirin before she thought to check out her new ink in the mirror; she lifted her shirt, swivelled to get a good view, and dropped the glass in shock when she saw her new tattoo.

It was printed in a font that wasn't easy to read in the mirror, designed to look like spray-painted graffiti, but after a few seconds of squinting, Molly saw what her new "tramp stamp" read.

"Big Butt Slut"

Molly's apartment was suddenly a flurry of activity as she grabbed her bag and her keys, got dressed (her headache forgotten, flushed away by her fury) and left. She was going to find "Bubba", and she was going to give him a piece of her mind. How dare he? How dare he deface her body like this?

It was...well, it was definitely illegal, she knew that. It was a breach of contract, false advertising...libel! Bubba wouldn't know what hit him.

As Molly stormed down the street, retracing her steps from last night, she attracted more than a few glances. She was an attractive woman - standing just over five feet, she had generous curves and a face that was impossible to ignore. When she smiled, she could light up a room, but even with her face in a scowl and her eyes shooting daggers, she was still attractive, in a dangerous kind of way. Dressed up, she could stop traffic, but even with her long brown hair tied back in a ponytail and wearing whatever casual clothes had been closest as she'd stormed out of her apartment, guys noticed her. Hell, girls noticed her.

After half an hour of stomping around New York, trying to recall where her and the girls had stopped for a drink and how she'd found her way home from there, Molly found the place. It was simply called "Bubba's", but when she entered, the gorilla-like man of the previous night wasn't there. A tall, well-dressed man man with glasses smiled at her as she entered.

"Hello! Welcome to Bubba's. My name is Mitchell - how can I help you today?"

Molly stared at his glasses. There was something slightly strange about them - the glass was slightly too thin, or too thick. Light didn't reflect off them the way that it should. When she stared at his glasses, it looked...it almost looked like she could see rain behind them.

Mitchell didn't say a word as the busty young lady entered his shop and stared at him. He knew that she would speak when she was ready, and that whatever problem she had, he would be able to solve it.

After staring at the rain for a few minutes, Molly remembered why she was here. It was odd...she wasn't angry any more. It was if all her anger had simply been washed away.

"I'm sorry to bother you," she started apologetically. "I was here last night, and the man..."

"Ah yes, you must be one of Bubba's late-night specials. What can I do for you?"

"Well, I was here to get a tattoo of a love-heart, and...instead, he gave me this."

Molly turned around, and pulled up her shirt. To make sure that he could see the results of Bubba's work, she wiggled slightly and lowered her pants as well. Not a lot, just so that the top of her crack was showing. She wanted to make sure that he could read what that fool of a man had done to her.

"Big...butt...slut." Mitchell read the tattoo slowly, letting each word roll around his mouth before continuing onto the next one. His words seemed to echo around the small shop, bouncing off the walls until they settled firmly into Molly's head.

"What seems to be the problem?" he continued.

Molly turned around sharply, prepared to snap back and tell the man exactly what the problem was, but before she could, she caught a glimpse of his glasses again. Her entire body went slack, and when she remembered what she was saying, she noticed some drool had dried on the side of her mouth. How long had she been standing there?

"Well," Molly replied, suddenly demure once more. "You must see...that's not what I was after. I wanted the heart from the New York logo. The one that...if you put it upside-down, it looks a bit like a butt."

Why had she described it like that? Everyone knew what the logo looked like. Before she could apologise for her strange choice of words, Mitchell had replied, and she found herself staring at his glasses once more as he did.

"And that's how you put it to Bubba."

Molly couldn't remember, but she supposed that made sense. She'd been drunk, and it had probably seemed like the most obvious way to describe the symbol. She nodded, wondering how the man's glasses seemed to reflect the bright, glaring sun, even though it was overcast outside.

"Well, that's probably the problem. Bubba is an amazing artist, but he sometimes gets confused about words. When you told him it looked like a butt, he must have thought you wanted it to say the word 'butt'."

That didn't seem to make much sense to Molly, but she nodded along, not wanting to be rude and interrupt. Mitchell continued.

"And you probably told him that you wanted a large tattoo, a big heart that took up half of your back. Is that right?"

Molly's dream tattoo was about the size of a quarter, so that it could easily be hidden in the workplace. The tattoo was for her and anyone she wanted to share it with, not for the world to see. She started to disagree, but Mitchell kept talking before she could.

"We have a unique pricing system here - we price based not on size, but on design. Bubba would probably have mentioned that, maybe he would have convinced you to get a big one."

That made a lot of sense. Molly wasn't a scrooge, but she didn't make a huge amount of money, and she knew a bargain when she saw it. Once Bubba explained the pricing scheme, of course she would have wanted a big tattoo. Why wouldn't she?

"So when you said 'big', Bubba probably added that to the tattoo."

Molly nodded once more. Poor Bubba, she must have really confused him, saying 'big' and 'butt' like that, over and over again. That explained the...wait, no.

"Then why does it say 'slut'?" she asked, frowning slightly.

The man lowered his glasses, and Molly had to take a step backwards when the full force of his gaze hit her. It wasn't the glasses reflecting light, it was the man's eyes - it was as if there was a storm inside his head, and his eyes were windows, protecting the world from the rain and the lighting and the thunder...

After what could have been seconds or years, the man spoke.

"What were you wearing when you visited?"

Molly felt her cheeks burn up as she realised what he was saying. She thought she'd been dressed quite conservatively, having just gone out with some friends from work, but now she remembered - she'd been wearing a miniskirt that she didn't even realise she owned, no bra...her tits had probably been on the verge of falling out the entire time she'd been talking to Bubba.

She'd been dressed like a complete slut. She'd probably been coming onto him, begging him for sex, trying to show off her tight little arse, her big round tits. She'd probably been boasting about how much cock she could take down her throat, and how many guys she'd slept with. She'd probably told him about her earlier conquest, the guy she'd blown in the bar that night...

It was all coming flooding back to her. It had been her turn to buy a round of drinks, and she'd been standing at the bar, considering lifting up her shirt just to attract the bartender's attention. There had been a guy standing next to her, checking her out.

After a few drinks, Molly didn't just find it hard to say no, she found it hard to resist sucking every cock within a few feet of her. She'd grabbed the man's tie, dragged him into the men's bathroom, and practically ripped his pants off.

When she'd emerged a few minutes later and sat back down with her friends, her lipstick smeared, they hadn't said anything. Molly's friends knew that she was incapable of going out for a few drinks without forgetting she had a boyfriend and gobbling down at least one cock for each bar they went to. They'd just laughed, and reminded her that it was still her turn to get drinks.

Fortunately, that time there hadn't been anyone else waiting to be served.

No wonder Bubba's tattoo had contained the word 'slut' - it had probably been every second word out of Molly's mouth.

Mitchell raised his glasses again, and Molly felt like she'd just escaped a cyclone, and come inside to a calm, secure building. What had they been talking about?

"Now, I understand that you're not happy with the tattoo you got..." Mitchell continued, as Molly caught up with the conversation. They'd been saying something about her tattoo. "So of course, I'll issue you a complete refund.

"The register is empty at the moment, but if you come back in - oh, let's say two week's time - I'll be able to give you the cash then."

"Thank you," Molly replied, slightly dazed. She felt as though she'd just won, but she wasn't quite sure what, or how. She started to leave, but turned back as soon as the man resumed speaking.

"And besides," the man replied, "now that you've got a new tattoo, you may as well enjoy it."

He lowered his glasses once more, and looked Molly straight in the eyes.

"Embrace it."

Chapter 2:

Molly decided not to mention the tattoo to her boyfriend, John. She felt as though he wouldn't understand that it had been a simple mistake on the artist's half. It was something she didn't fully understand herself, actually, but there was no sense in making a big deal out of something that no one was to blame for. After all, she'd gotten her money back, and a free tattoo as well.

It wasn't the tattoo she'd always wanted, but Molly prided herself on being able to make the most out of any bad situation. She stood in the mirror and looked at the new addition to her skin for the umpteenth time.

It was...well, it was crisp, that was for sure. The words practically jumped out at you; it was as if they burned themselves into your brain. Even as Molly stared into the mirror, she caught herself mouthing them over and over again - "Big butt slut, big butt slut..."

Its colours complemented her own - it seemed to bring out the pink in her lips, the red in her cheeks. It emphasised her rich brown eyes, and when she grinned, it somehow seemed to make her teeth appear more white.

Of course, the wording of the tattoo brought undue attention to her ass - Molly knew that she had a great body with many strengths, but her behind was not one of them. Her breasts ensured that men rarely looked at her face while talking to her, and the miniskirt that she'd worn last night (but, strangely, been unable to find that morning) showed off her long, toned legs, but Molly's butt was nothing to write home about.

She shook her head - she was trying to focus on the upside of the situation. Like the size of the tattoo - it was perfect. Large enough that it was easily readable, even if one was standing halfway across the room. Of course, that was going to make it that much more difficult to cover up - Molly definitely didn't want anyone at her work to see it.

Molly shut her eyes, and breathed heavily. Positive. Think positive. When she closed her eyes, she felt like she could feel rain, washing away all her negative thoughts, cleansing her of all of her worries and doubts about the new tattoo.

If she had to cover up the tattoo, she wouldn't be able to wear her usual combination of jeans and a shirt - any time she bent over, she risked showing off even a hint of her back, and as soon as anyone saw that she had a tattoo, they'd want to read what it said.

But she could easily find the positive in this - she had a handful of dresses in her closet that she never wore. John loved them, but she'd always felt that they were unprofessional - this was a perfect opportunity to bring them out, start wearing something a little more light, a bit more 'fun' to work.

Molly opened her eyes with a big smile on her face, and checked herself out in the mirror once more. Yes, if she wore dresses, she'd be able to hide the tattoo (almost a pity - it somehow set off her hair, making it seem longer, thicker...) and show off her legs at the same time. It was a win-win situation.

The man with the glasses would be so proud.

*

The weekend flew past. On her usual Saturday night date with John, Molly managed to avoid bringing up the tattoo. It came close when he noticed her wince in pain as she sat down, but she simply claimed that she'd fallen over and injured herself last night, while out drinking with the girls. This also served as an excuse not to go home with him (as she normally would.) She knew that if she ended up back at his apartment, there was no way she'd be able to resist his advances, and she'd inevitably end up disrobing and showing him the tattoo.

Sunday, Molly found herself antsy, pacing the apartment. She saw John more than once a week, but Saturday was typically the only night she was able to stay over, and without her weekly release, she was filled with an unexpected energy. While walking to let off some steam, she passed a gym just a block away, and joined on a whim - it would be a great way to get rid of her energy. And besides, if she was going to start wearing dresses to work, she wanted to make sure her legs looked their best...

Reactions around the office on Monday morning when Molly turned up wearing a dress were mixed. The men said nothing, but provided a steady supply of appreciative looks, and the women complimented her and asked where she'd bought it from (except a rare jealous few who simply glared at her as she walked past.)

The male attention did nothing but increase her restlessness, and by the end of the day Molly was going out of her way to show off her assets. When Ben from accounting checked her out as she leaned over the photocopier, she made a point of pulling out some paper from the bottom tray, just to make sure that he got the best possible view. When she noticed the new intern, Luke, peeking down her top, she started toying with her necklace, dipping it in and out of her plentiful cleavage, just to watch the embarrassed look on her face.

The more Molly tempted the men, the wetter she got. By the time work finished, she was seriously considering calling John that night and seeing if he was able to come around and scratch her itch, but when she remembered that she had to keep her tattoo a secret, that plan went out the window. Instead, she made another visit to her gym, conveniently open twenty-four hours a day.

This late at night, the gym was full of men. The population of Molly's neighbourhood was predominantly black, and this was reflected in the gym - as she ran on the treadmill, Molly was acutely aware of the big black men behind her, lifting weights and bulking up.

She wondered if they were checking her out. If so, it would be a disappointing view. Molly had dressed in typical gym clothes: sweatpants, an old college top with stains on it. They couldn't even see her legs that she was working so hard to tone up...but on the plus side, the pants were so baggy, they'd have to imagine what her ass looked like, and anything they could dream would be more appealing than reality.

Molly ran for hours longer than she'd intended to, until the last man left from behind her, and there was no one left to watch her as they worked out. Next time, she mused, she would have to wear something a bit more fun to watch - perhaps some skin-tight pants, a shorter top...maybe something that showed off her tattoo.

The tattoo dominated her dreams that night - she imagined herself stripped naked, bent over a weight machine while all the men at her gym came up and inspected her tattoo, one after another. Each man stroked the tattoo, tracing the words with their fingers from top to bottom, until their hand reached her ass - at that point, they spanked her, punishing her for being such a slut.

As she felt each hand connect with her ass, it grew. Smack by smack, her ass grew larger, rounder, bouncier...by the time all the men in the gym had had their turn, it was a perfect specimen, a large, round, heart-shaped beauty. In her dream, Molly collapsed onto the machine, her ass throbbing, proud of her magnificent behind, proud of the tattoo that announced to the world what she was, her purpose in life.

Molly woke up in the middle of the night to a tremendous wetness between her legs. Molly had never masturbated before - she'd been in relationships since puberty had hit, and had always had a guy on hand when she needed one. That night, for the first time, she pleasured herself before drifting off to sleep once more.

The next day, Molly wore another dress to work. This one was longer, reaching her knees, but made up for that with the amount of cleavage it revealed - feeling mischievous, she decided to forego a bra as well...a decision she quickly regretted. Molly spent most of the day trying to hide her ever-erect nipples, and making sure that she didn't lean over too far and expose an entire breast.
It was difficult to resist the temptation, however - on an average work-day, Molly would get maybe two, three people coming by her office to request an update on whatever images she was working on, or to see if she could help out with a new project that was being launched. Today, however, she barely got anything done - she was too busy accommodating the non-stop rush of people who needed help with the simplest tasks.

Ben from accounting stopped by on three separate occasions, just to ask Molly's advice on which font he should use on the quarterly budget. By the second visit, she was starting to suspect that her expertise wasn't really what he was after...and once the idea of exposing a breast to him came into her head, making it worth the trip all the way over the other side of the office just to see her, it was hard to get rid of.

She managed to work the thought out of her mind with a series of internal compromises - when Luke, the intern, came by to see if she needed to borrow a pen, she made a point of admiring his tie, leaning forward to inspect it until her breasts were right on the verge of popping out. When her boss came by to make sure she was on-target for the new website launch next week, she spent half an hour discussing his newborn child - specifically, the details of his wife's breastfeeding.

Molly tried to make sure that every man who left her area would be thinking about her generous curves for the rest of the day...the visible erections that they sported as they left was a good indication that she was doing well. She talked abstractly about sex and breasts in every way she could, and had never been so happy to go a whole day without a single male making eye contact with her.

Five o'clock came and went; somehow, Molly had talked Luke into letting her show him the ins and outs of InDesign, but the conversation kept changing subject and so far all she'd managed to do was open the program up and teach him how to turn off 'hyphenate'. She'd been learning a lot about Luke, as he willingly mumbled answers to her questions, staring at her cleavage all the while. He was 19, had just finished high-school, and was currently single.

Inevitably, the conversation had turned from this to sex, and Molly found herself growing increasingly wet as details of Luke's inexperience tumbled from his mouth. He told her of the first awkward fumblings he'd had in the back seat of his Dad's car, the first time he'd undone a bra, the first time he'd seen a girl topless, the first time he'd sucked on a nipple...Molly was fidgeting in her chair and losing track of the conversation as the images flashed through her mind of being on the receiving end of all of Luke's administrations.

She was remembering her own teenage years, what a young harlot she'd been. Her boobs had grown in early, and she hadn't been shy about using them to get what she wanted. As a teenager, she'd had a type - tall, thin boys with glasses, who would seduce her with their words and their eyes, who would convince her to do naughty things far beyond what she'd intended, who would be fucking her on the first date, if not within a few minutes of when she got in the car...

Luke was still talking, and his words suddenly brought her back to reality.

"What!?" she cried loudly. Fortunately by this point, it was getting close to six, and the office had long been emptied.

"I just said that I've never...y'know, done that with a girl."

"Never??"

"No...no girl has wanted to."

For some reason that she couldn't quite explain, the fact that Luke had never put his cock between a girl's tits before was doing all sorts of things to Molly's brain. She forgot the fact that she'd only done it herself once or twice (and never even particularly liked it) - in her head, it was an unforgivable travesty, and one that she wanted - no, needed - to fix.

Her pussy was dripping at the idea.

Luke, too, was mostly thinking with his genitals at this point. He had no idea why the usually friendly-but-professional graphic design girl had arrived at work in rocking outfits for the last two days, and spent most of today talking with him about boobs, but he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Her shock and seeming outrage when he'd mentioned titty-fucking had caused him to worry that he'd stepped over the line, but her next actions just solidified his decision not to mess with a good thing...

Molly leaned forward, until her face was only a few inches from Luke's. For the first time in the last few hours, he tore his eyes away from her magnificent bosom (even though her pose gave him a good chance of seeing one of her nipples) and looked her in the eye. She looked concerned.

"Luke," she said simply. "would you like to try it with me?"