Clean

Three days before the race and I was incredibly nervous as I stood with the other unhired racers in a row, hoping to be hired. My black rubber gas suit bore my pressure stat “425” in large proud white letters across my swollen belly as I stood with my hands behind my back. Problem was, so were my other eight competitors, six women and two men. Women had more natural adaptability for this than men did; among men, I was a minor celebrity. The crowds were still milling around as a young debutante—tight sweater, tight jeans--strolled up to me, all hips and lips and boobs.

Or, “Brainy Beauties Blow the Biggest Balloons”

As Katie walked across the gym floor, her breasts bounced ever so slightly with each step. “Everyone knows her tits are fake,” Sarah thought to herself, “nobody can grow a set of double D cups like that in one summer.”

Sarah hated Katie, and she had good reason to. Katie was a bitch, she took any chance she could to humiliate Sarah for her obesity, and she truly made her life miserable. She was also everything Sarah was not, skinny, busty, tan, beautiful, popular, and of course, a cheerleader. She was the girl all the guys lusted after.

or, "Another Story Idea I Stole from a Cartoon"