Tia's Bucket List Visuals Chapter 01

 

Tia’s Bucket List

Chapter 01

© Cathartico

---The Brestie and the Blog---

Tia tells it like it is

Theme: College cutie testing the waters!

Basics: This is a NSFW blog with adult content, so it’s 18+ only (if you’re under, please politely fuck off until you’re at least 18). None of the pictures are mine unless otherwise stated. All the stories are mine and told from my perspective (so if you’re looking for an objective description fuck off, too).

Personal info: I’m a 21-year-old female with blonde hair and big bust (5’2”, 105lbs, 32DD-22-34). I’m a sophomore fashion design major currently taking a semester off to work at a clothing brand. Beyond gaining work experience, I’m using the practical term to do all the crazy, wild, daring, and impulsive things I’ve never done before. And this is the place where I write about it. 

Tia takes the gloves off

Tia kicks off her career as a blogger by planting a big fat 'NO BULLSHIT' sign on the internet. Unlike Holly’s blog there's no artsy fashion rambling. This is big‑tits, big‑mouth frontline reporting from the trenches of small‑town fashion hell - with zero filter and maximum collateral damage. 

College said, 'Pay 50 grand to grind yourself into corporate paste'. Tia replied, 'How about I take a semester off, get paid in cash, and treat the fashion internship like a side quest while I cure my FOMO doing all the wild and daring things I’ve always dreamed about?' 

During the internship, Tia’s back in her parents’ conservo bunker, surrounded by boyband posters and disapproval, plotting how to check off her bucket list on the family Wi‑Fi. Her parents wanted a nice little good‑girl cheerleader, and instead they got a busty blonde bombshell with 32DD headlights and zero respect for curfews, class expectations, or goddamn rent prices. 

Tia gets to know professional life

Tia and Holly are the definition of a dynamic duo: One’s a social‑butterfly saboteur in a busty blonde barbie body, the other’s a hot‑blooded fashion flamethrower with the looks of a Roman diva rebel. Together - the buzzerfly and the passionista - they’re clocking in at Vonderstone, tailor-made to take the fashion world by storm. 

Only problem? Vonderstone is a fast fashion store and they’re bargain‑bin salesgirls in a dying ‘80s mall. The store’s split like a failed divorce, men’s and women’s sections glaring at each other. And in each section stands a fierce fashionista like a luxury mannequin, praying someone walks in so they can upsell them socks. Nothing says ‘glamorous fashion career’ like folding discount chinos in a mall old enough to remember cassette tapes. 

Vonderstone's got a special treat for the salesgirls: the uniform aka the final boss of ‘no kid gloves’. Dark‑green camisole, black leggings - skintight and deep cut. On the very first day, Holly’s having a fashion stroke while Tia’s focus already shifts to her bucket list. 

Tia gets to know her boss

Two weeks of boring retail hell, and out of a sudden, a walking 'Axe‑body‑spray ad' struts in late. Pink collar popped, spraying frat boy one‑liners like cheap cologne. He calls the place his kingdom, talks about 'beef‑o‑meters', and somehow doesn’t get fired on sight. Every store’s got a manager and Vonderstone got a frat house mascot with a name tag.

Break time: Tia just wants caffeine and silence. Instead, she gets Matty‑the‑Frattie hot‑boxing the service alley with cigarette smoke and tall tales. Turns out the jackass is a Yamos bro - or rather, an ex-bro because he left college before graduating. The bro-bragging bullshit becomes bigger and bigger until Tia’s blogger brain smells a story - and a challenge. 

Tia controls the narrative

Lunch breaks with frat tales becomes a routine and the frat-boy fever dreams become macho fanfiction - cougar boss, office bike, frat party stripper, the whole bullshit highlight reel. Tia’s poking holes in his script, and he’s patching them with swagger. Somewhere between insults and sarcasm, their banter flips from annoying to addictive and bragging becomes flirting.

The bigger the douche tale, the bigger the challenge for Tia. Time to kick the tires and see how much of that bullshit’s actually got some muscle behind it. She steps in close, shoving her boobs in his personal space, and waits to see if he bites. He grabs, she blocks - game on. Next thing you know, she’s strutting that filthy alley like it’s Paris Fashion Week, flashing half an ass‑cheek at her boss… and the bastard just walks away. Biggest disrespect since dial‑up.

Tia becomes the narrative

Tia spends the next break alone, replaying that alley‑runway humiliation on loop. No Matt, no banter, just her brain doom‑scrolling its own pride. She thought she was running the tease, but it turns out she’s the unpaid intern in his social sexperiment. And that pisses her off. 

After the break, Tia’s on stockroom shift: one second she’s bent over boxes, next she gets patted-down my Mattie-the-Frattie. Plastered against the wall, tits mashed into brick, hair in his fist and his hand on her pussy. The queen bee suddenly finds herself the bug, stuck under Matty’s microscope, and her body is betraying her louder than her mouth. 

After the pat-down comes the kneel-down. The machofucker gives her merch a test drive while pitching her on some fake-ass top model show like it’s her one-way ticket from trailer park princess to trash queen. She answers by turning the stockroom into Cannes — except the only award anybody’s handing out is the Hot d’Or, not the Palme d’Or.

Just when Tia’s about to choose between cum or victory, the jackass chooses door number three: zips up and walks out, leaving her kneeling, tits slick, pussy throbbing, surrounded by boxes like a horny hussy in an empty club after closing. No orgasm, no closure - just rage, frustration and horniness. 

Tia lives in a goldfish bowl

New day, new break. This time, Matty strolls in like a one‑man podcast of testosterone fairy tales. He’s narrating Tia's sex life like a sports recap, while she’s stuck playing the highlight reel and the punchline. But then he tells her - to her face - how he told his bros about 'Walking Tits' failing to make him cum. She wants to slap him, but instead she giggles like a bimbo while her ego bleeds out in the alley. 

Enter the fratboys: Matt parades two Yamos bros through Vonderstone like it’s a zoo exhibit. And just to make the whole thing even more obnoxious, he narrates the whole circus like a smug little documentary director: “And here we have Walking Tits in her natural habitat.” She’s climbing ladders, bending over shelves, and the dudes are rating her ass like produce. Apples, pears, and one hell of a visible cameltoe special. 

Holly’s about to go nuclear on the bros, so Tia flips the safety off her inner bimbo. Playing along, she giggles and smiles, saying stuff like, “I’m just a silly salesgirl, boys.” It defuses the scene, feeds Matt’s ego, and lets her upsell two horny idiots from one pair of jeans to full overpriced outfits. She hates sounding like a bimbo, but if giggling sells belts at full price, that’s just capitalism with extra cleavage. Weaponized ditz-with-tits for the win! 

Tia on the runway
Tia’s out for revenche. So she calls her shot during the next break: last chance to see the best breasts in the west work a runway in a bikini. Invite only or lose your VIP access forever. 

Lunch break turns into Tia’s private Victoria’s Secret show in the dressing room: floral bikini, tie‑dye trikini - she struts that narrow aisle like it’s Miami Swim Week. Meanwhile, Matt plays fashion photographer and fake performance‑reviewer all in one, taking selfies for the Yamos archive. 

Final boss fight: metallic gold microkini two sizes too small. Lower lips peeking, upper lips pouting, tits threatening nip slips with every move. Tia twerks while Matt snaps pictures. And then he tosses her a reward - douche edition: a skin‑tight shirt reading 'Tits 4 Brains' - in pink of all colors.

In that 'Tits 4 Brains' top, Matt hands Tia an ultimatum: either ‚bless' her new gift with some drool or parade it in front of her coworkers. Still high on her runway rush, she’s desperate to prove she’s more than just a pair of heavy hitters, so she decides to go all-in on the one thing she can control and give herself the biggest, most shameless crowd-pleasing throatfuck of her life.

Tia takes a test

Matt wasn’t even close to done bossing Tia around. Her performance review? Still wide open. He sends her to the stockroom, telling her to wait 'in position', which he didn’t even need to explain. And of course, she’s stuck wearing that new, crowd-pleasing, upgraded 'gift' like it’s her new uniform.

Bending over like a cheap whore, Tia waits in the stockroom. When Mattie-the-Frattie finally arrives, she strips down, spreading her juicy ass cheeks wide open just begging for dick. Meanwhile, the machofucker casually eats a fucking sandwich like he’s on a picnic.

Matt finally stops playing with his food and starts playing with his pet, finger-fucking the living shit out of Tia’s sloppy cunt while making her count out loud! Officially, the douche is testing how many strokes it takes for a greedy gash to cum. Inofficially, he makes her shake, moan, and drip all over the dirty floor until she’s a brainless bimbo mess. 

After getting edged and denied one too many times, Tia drops to all fours like a bitch in heat and crawls across the dirty floor straight to Matt’s cock. The former queen bee is reduced to desperately wiggling her juicy apple bottom and drooling for dick while the machofucker sits there like a king on his throne.

Matt finally mounts Tia like a goddamn stallion and rails her pussy so hard her massive tits are slapping the filthy floor! She’s cumming her brains out, shaking like a broken washing machine while he slaps her ass red. This bitch is getting absolutely destroyed and loving every second!

Matt finishes by using Tia’s juicy buns for target practice, glazing them like two glazed donuts. Then he immediately dips, ghosting her in true douchebag style. Meanwhile, Tia’s lying there covered in cum, twitching from multiple orgasms, already horny for round two. She just got turned into a complete cock-addicted wreck and she’s thrilled about it.

Tia makes a stand

On the way home, Tia’s bestie Holly goes full moral police. Apparently, she watched the whole scene in the stockroom. And now, she’s screaming about betrayal. But Tia’s firing back hard, defending her new slut era like it’s her goddamn civil right! Nothing screams ‘complicated friendship’ like your bestie catching you spreading your pussy for your boss and then getting mad about it.