A long time ago, Carol had to choose between two job offers with comparable starting wages. One was a coffee shop, which opened early but also closed early. The other was a waitressing job, which started later in the day, but could keep her out until ten o'clock, eleven... sometimes past midnight. Carol had never been much of a morning person, and she didn't personally drink coffee. So she took the waitressing job.
That was a long time ago. She wondered how things would be different if she had taken the coffee shop job. Maybe she would have been surrounded by liberal pseudo-intellectuals rather than men in cowboy boots who endeavored to make their cars less fuel efficient, for whatever reason. Maybe she wouldn't still be in this line of work if she had to keep getting up early, calling on the brown brew to drag herself out of her bed. Driving out here could be a drag... but she at least had enough time to have a nice breakfast before getting here.
Carol parked behind the building and entered through the back entrance into the kitchen. She passed some of the staff getting some ingredients ready for opening as she went through the kitchen, out past the many empty tables and to the employee-only section beyond the lavatories. She cut through the tiny break room and into the locker room.
It seemed like a waste of a padlock to lock up her waitressing belt pouch, but Carol certainly never needed this device at home. She had a few extras she could switch through if it got stained or otherwise besmirched. She also had spare pens and some ibuprofen hidden in here, though the latter was technically against the rules. She'd have to take it home before her bosses did a locker check. Generally, her direct supervisors didn't care, but the area manager was always hungry to find any perceived infraction to ding them on.
Carol hung her coat on a hanger, already wearing her white tank-top with the restaurant's logo emblazoned on it. She slipped off her shoes and dropped her pants, rolling them up and putting them in her locker. She slipped off her panties and rested them on top of the rolled pants in a neat little pile.
Then the door to the locker room opened.
Her coworker, Anne, had barged in without knocking, leaving Carol in a bit of a compromised position. She had no pants on, which left her large cock hanging freely between her legs.
Anne gasped. "Oh! Oh my goodness!" She said, staring with goggle-eyed shock. "You're... you're a..."
"Anne..." Carol said, not moving her hands to cover herself.
"No, it's nothing to be ashamed of!" Anne insisted. "In fact... I... I should show you something. You might... even like it."
"Anne." Carol repeated with a hint of annoyance, one hand folded shut and falling onto her hip.
Anne reached into the waistband of her pants and pulled something out: her own large cock and balls. "See? You're not the only one. Nothing to be ashamed of... but my God, yours is nice and big. Can I..."
Carol moved over to Anne, put one hand behind her head and pulled her in for a long kiss. "Why do you do this every time you walk in on me when I'm changing?"
"Because it's hot." She cooed, taking another kiss from her as she advanced, pushing Carol into the lockers.
"If you're already this horny, you're going to be out of control today once you wear the implant." Carol grinned.
"I can't help it. We haven't done it in like two months."
"We can't do it while we're here." Carol said. "And we're both almost always here. We might find more time if you moved in with me."
"Nah. Making it official takes all the fun out of it." Anne said. "It's only fun if we're not supposed to be doing it."
"It'd still be fun either way."
They shared one last kiss before they separated. Anne found her own locker and started to change.
"How was your week?" Anne asked. Weekends were invariably filled with work in the restaurant business, so Anne always asked what people got up to on whatever weekday they had away from here.
"Fine." Carol said. "I cleaned up my place, so it wasn't very relaxing. I only did it because I lost something and tore the place apart looking for it. How about you?"
"My only day off was Sunday, because I had a pedicure scheduled. There's lots of open appointments if you can get up early on Sunday mornings around here, because everyone else is still in church."
Carol had heard from other waitresses in less-niche restaurants that the worst tippers of the entire week appeared right after church services ended. Once they leave the church filled with self-satisfied virtue, they would come visit all the unfortunates who had to work on the Sabbath and refuse to compensate them with an appropriate tip. Thank goodness the wage here was generous enough so that they didn't rely on tips here.
Even if her job hadn't needed her on Sundays... Carol hadn't found herself in a church in quite a while. She didn't want to have to repent for working on the Sabbath... or the self-gratification... or all that homosexual sex out of wedlock. That was a big one.
Carol pulled out the required booty shorts from her bag and slipped them on. Some restaurants with attractive waitresses had orange shorts, but this place had a dull green spotted with uneven beige diamonds. There was also a button fly in the front that was almost always worn open to comfortably rest the scrotum upon. The back of the shorts had a hole that thankfully did not facilitate the obvious function. She slipped back on her comfortable sneakers and checked her appearance in the full-length mirror.
At some point, Carol had stopped taking many selfies when she discovered the 'beauty' button in the corner of her phone's photo app. There were options to smooth out skin tone... but also ones to gently increase eye size and narrow the chin. (This wasn't a special beauty app on the phone. This was the phone's native camera app offering these suggestions! It was like a tax preparation program that suggested ways to launder money.)
Carol avoided selfies since that date, so the only time she really checked her full appearance was in this mirror... in uniform.
Her hair was thick and attractively cut at the shoulder, but her dark roots were showing again past the dusty blonde. She used to wear a belly shirt, but her gently expanding waist led her to switching out to a full-length tank top. None of the regular customers seemed to care about her rear getting bigger, but she had gone up a size a few years ago.
The only part of her that had stayed a consistent size... was her cock. Her weight gain had not yet robbed her of any of that. That could maybe get her back to the gym... if she could summon any energy after over forty hours perpetually on her feet. She even resented having to spend the effort to go to the grocery store on her day off. Maybe she'd try dieting... but she was at the restaurant so often, she quite often found herself eating mozzarella sticks or whatever fried treat she could muster. (All for free, which was amazingly generous of the management... but was sometimes too tempting.)
Carol still knew she was attractive, maybe even more than the average thirty-three year old. And even if she had let her looks slip a bit, who cared? She was much better looking than almost all those dudes who made their money based on their large dicks. And she was bigger than almost all of them, rocking eleven and a half inches. Maybe she had lost a quarter-inch from her encroaching muffin-top.
Anne slid into frame, wrapping one arm around Carol's shoulder and leaning into her. Anne was still about the same weight she was when she started, but she was a naturally petite woman with a slightly less impressive erection. Her hair was a little messier, dark straight hair that frizzed out a bit as the day went on. Her nose was a little bigger, and she had some crowding in her lower teeth that she wished she could fix without having to wear braces into adulthood.
But she knew she looked good, and so did her friend. She quickly kissed Carol on her cheek and returned her gaze to the mirror, and their twin erections.
The logo on their tank-tops were reversed, but they knew what the said: Pythons. The S was even a cartoon snake that didn't really resemble any extant species of Pythonidae, but it did look like an S. (In the old logo, there used to be a rattle on the snake's tail, which makes no sense, because rattlesnakes are vipers, not pythons. Who would want to compare their cock to a spitting cobra? That wasn't appetizing at all.)
"You're looking especially good today." Anne said, running the tip of her nose on Carol's neck.
"Stop. You always say that. It's not special if it's every day." Carol slipped out of Anne's grip and left the locker room. She looked at the printed schedule for this week. Her specific instructions for this shift said, 'training Belle.'
"Who's Belle?" She asked.
A woman entered the break room. Not immediately after Carol said this; it was maybe forty seconds later, thus squandering what would have been perfect sitcom timing. This woman was really something, with perfect wavy brown hair, shocking blue eyes perfectly accented with a bit of eyeshadow and mascara, strong cheekbones, beautiful pouty lips... she looked like a model. She was wrapped up in a dark brown coat, so the bystanders couldn't appraise any other part of her.
The woman looked around and saw Carol, and her name tag. "You're Carol! Hello, I'm Belle! It's nice to meet you." She stuck out her hand for a shake.
Carol accepted it, still shocked at what she was seeing. "You're the new waitress?" She asked.
"Yeah, and I'm really excited to be here!" She bubbled, putting her hands together in front of her. "This is such a cool opportunity!"
Carol wondered if she had ever faced front-facing food service with such unrestrained optimism, even in her youth. "Well, we're happy to have you on board. Let's get ready you and I'll show you the ropes."
"That sounds amazing. Thank you so much!" Belle opened her coat and moved into the locker room.
Anne's mouth fell open, as it often did when she saw something that both surprised and delighted her. She silently mouthed "oh my god" to Carol.
The pair stood in the doorway of the locker room, where Belle had found the strongest-looking hangar to hold up her coat. Belle had the standard issue crop-top, but the logo was somewhat distorted from being stretched over Belle's enormous breasts. At least double-Ds or Fs, packed into a bra that must have been designed by NASA, floating over a perfectly flat and narrow waist. The combination didn't seem possible. There may have been surgical intervention somewhere.
Belle saw the pair staring. She chuckled. "I guess you've met the girls." She pulled her upper arms in to deepen the already large line of cleavage peeking over the V-neck of the crop-top.
