#8: Nice Bathroom
Krysta woke up at 7:28 AM, giving her just over fifteen minutes until Alicia returned from her jog and needed the shower...badly. Mutual respect for daily routines was one of few things she and Alicia had in common. Krysta still felt optimistic about Whitley moving in, but she had concerns about how the introduction of this new element might disrupt the rhythm of the household. Her first and most immediate concern, however, was fighting her hangover from last night's 'wine & weed'—a phrase she'd found gut-bustingly hilarious seven hours ago—and getting a decent morning selfie posted before breakfast.
By 7:30 Krysta had rolled out of bed and was sifting through her dedicated drawer of photogenic lingerie, which she kept separate from her faded cotton underwear and full-coverage bras intended for everyday use. She settled on a pair of new-ish purple panties and a black and purple 34G plunge bra. Krysta had not been a 34G since college and had not stayed one for very long, but she kept the old bra around for the way it hoisted her assets into a veritable cleavage feast. She would just have to take it off before it left marks on her skin.
At 7:34, Krysta flicked on the lights and stepped into what Alicia called the 'bathroom studio.' Krysta's parents—who had encouraged her to buy while housing prices in her area were low—put up the cash for the bathroom renovation as a gift not long after she'd moved in. It was a bright and open space with granite tile walls, faux-marble counters, and horizontal wood blinds over the window. She'd told her parents she'd invest in improving the rest of the house but had yet to pull together the surplus cash needed to make it happen. In the meantime, she enjoyed the occasional 'nice bathroom!' comment on Instagram, which broke up the monotony of 'nice tits!'
Before she could even think about pictures, she needed to tidy up. She cleared the counter and sink of extraneous items to minimize distractions. She then hung an unused towel on the rack behind her and placed a brush and a handful of bobby pins next to the sink to give the setting a more lived-in look. As a finishing touch, she ever-so-slightly peeked open the shower curtains to bring the chrome shower head partially into view.
Krysta caught her phone clock turn to 7:37 as she assessed her appearance in the mirror. Whatever genetic anomaly had given her fifteen pounds of breasts had thus far kept them remarkably round and full. The undersized cups created the overflowing aesthetic her fans expressed such fondness for, and she gave her chest a proud pat before moving on to her face. She needed only a light layer of foundation and a few dabs of concealer to brighten her complexion and take care of the dark rings under her eyes from the late night. Lastly, she combed her hair just enough to clean it up, while still leaving it stylishly unkempt.
By 7:42 Krysta had finished her hair, but the combination of the lights and morning sunlight had grown too harsh. She adjusted the blinds to temper the brightness some, which took a little trial and error and ate up another couple minutes. Finally satisfied, she put her toes at the edge of red tape she left on the floor, which created the proper amount of asymmetry between her and the background. Happy with the light and the background, she held up her phone, only to drop it down seconds later.
Shit.
Her slightly undersized underwear did not feel uncomfortable, but they dug into her waist unflatteringly. She'd gotten them as part of a discount lot though, unfortunately, not everything fit. No wonder she had not worn them. With a frustrated groan, she headed back to her room and swapped them out for an old reliable black pair that matched her bra well-enough.
Hearing voices from the street, Krysta glanced out her bedroom window in time to see Whitley and Alicia round the corner. She chuckled at the sight of Whitley's towering form inelegantly collapsing into the grass, followed by Alicia's enthusiastic demand for a high five. When Alicia dropped down into the grass as well, Krysta thanked her lucky stars, realizing it would buy her another few minutes. Thank you, Whitley!
For the next several minutes, Krysta blasted through a series of selfies. She leaned in, going for deep cleavage, and then straightened up and arched her back. She tried several looks: giddy, pouty, tired, demure, contemplative, indecisive, flat, silly, and eventually an exasperated expression that came naturally. Lastly, she tousled her hair, letting some errant strands fall on her face and rolled her eyes dramatically. It did not have the sexy effect she intended; if anything, she felt she looked haggard and mildly irritated. Having exhausted her stock looks and poses, she gave up, praying one of the previous two dozen shots would be usable.
With the photos done, Krysta freed herself from the bra and tossed it towards her room, where it hit the door with a loud thunk. She reached the top of the stairs when she realized she had not yet put on any clothes—a habit she was trying to break. Despite being behind schedule, she hurried to her room and emerged a minute later wearing her comfort clothes: baggy sweats, soft slippers, and her formerly-oversized robotics club t-shirt from high school that she had grown well into.
Seated at the kitchen table, Krysta put the hot water on for tea (Assam, this particular weekday morning) and rubbed her shoulders as she swiped through her various shots. She did not love any of them, but she wanted to post while it was still morning in most of America. She heard the front door and Alicia entered moments later, heading straight to the fridge for a protein shake. She'd entered just in time to catch Krysta's frustrated growl, and she paused to look down at Krysta's small phone screen.
"I know you don't like it," Alicia said, "but the messy hair one is good."
"It sucks, and it's not remotely natural."
"It's different from what you normally do. Your people will like it. Trust me."
"Alicia, I do not think—"
Alicia snatched Krysta's phone from her, and—after a quick flurry of thumb-taps—placed it on the table. "All done. Yer welcome," Alicia took a drink of her protein shake. "I'll move that stuff out of the webcam room after my shower," she said, leaving the kitchen and jogging up the stairs. Krysta studied the posted photo; it was one of the last ones, where she had mostly given up. The picture caught her mid-sigh, with her hair partially obscuring her face and her hand on her forehead. As usual, her breasts looked fantastically huge. She read the caption: