Silicone Safari

The blazing African sun beat down on the rust-colored earth of the Masai Mara as Farrah adjusted the straps of her khaki vest, struggling to find a comfortable position for the twin masses occupying the front of her shirt. At 5’2” and 105 pounds, Farrah had never anticipated that her petite frame would end up supporting over seven pounds of saline on her chest. 

Yet here she was, guiding a jeep full of tourists on a Kenyan safari, her 4,200cc implants straining the fabric of her vest and threatening to burst from their confines with every bump in the road. Farrah glanced down at her cartoonishly swollen chest and sighed, remembering how she had ended up in this predicament. 

Six months ago, Farrah had been struggling to build her new safari tour company. Despite being a skilled guide, she had trouble attracting clients to her solo operation. In a moment of desperation, she had accepted an offer from a rival company, Safari Expeditions Unlimited, to star in their new ad campaign promoting glamorous and thrilling African adventures. However, there was a catch: they wanted Farrah to get breast implants to give her a more voluptuous and exotic image.

At first, Farrah had balked at the idea. Her B-cup breasts had never bothered her before. But the money and exposure were too good to pass up. She agreed to get a modest boob job, expecting to go up just a cup size or two. 

To her shock, when the bandages came off a week after her surgery, Farrah found herself with a pair of massive, swollen DD-cup implants. They ballooned from her chest like overinflated grapefruits, impossibly huge on her tiny frame. The doctor had made a “slight error” in the operating room and overfilled her implants, but insisted they would settle into a more natural shape over time.

Farrah had no choice but to accept her new, exaggerated figure as she starred in the ad campaign that saved her business. Soon, clients were pouring in, thrilled at the prospect of going on safari with the now-famous “Busty Bush Guide.” Farrah’s implants had become her trademark, and the bigger they got, the more popular her tours became. 

At the companies urging, Farrah returned for three more surgeries over the next few years, pumping her implants up to an unheard of 4,200cc. They dominated her small torso, swollen orbs of saline that bounced and swayed ponderously with every step she took. After each surgery, it took weeks to adjust to the increased weight and rebuild her balance. But the rewards of fame and fortune made it worthwhile. 

Now, Farrah’s implausibly huge implants and sexy, exotic image meant her tours were constantly booked. She had gone from struggling entrepreneur to successful businesswoman, all thanks to a “little” boob job that got hugely out of hand. 

As the jeep bounced down a dirt road, Farrah’s monumental chest heaved and shifted under her vest. She saw her customers, three men and two women, sneaking admiring glances at the twin globes that seemed ready to burst from their confines at any moment. Farrah couldn’t help laughing, remembering how shocked her friends and family had been by her transformation into a cartoon caricature over the past few months. But out here, leading her overfilled body and awestruck clientele through the African bush, Farrah finally felt at home.  

The jeep rattled to a stop under an acacia tree, and Farrah hauled her ponderous chest out of the driver’s seat. “If we’re quiet, we may spot some elephant or wildebeest nearby,” she said, adjusting her vest over her balloon-like implants. Her customers eagerly followed, cameras at the ready.