I’ll admit to not quite understanding the male preoccupation with lady funbags. Seriously, they’ll stop whatever they’re doing for a chance to admire the view (that generalisation is based pretty much on popular culture combined with an admittedly puny sample size for real life evidence. Nevertheless, the observation holds up. Straight boys like honkers). While I have as much of an appreciation for the male body as the next gal I can’t exactly lay claim to a similar preference for any particular portion of anatomy.
I may have already distracted myself from the point. As far as I’m concerned, chest hills serve a particular function and are largely decorative before and after this point. Once out of commission as a milking station they lie dormant, some even laying in wait to spring just a little bit of cancer on you. If someone else can put them to better use then why not put yourself in a position to donate them? It’s not weird, honest. All they do is slice your woman knackers off, hand them over to a grateful recipient and the space left behind gets filled with industrial mattress stuffing. Or similar.
They’re the kidneys of the new millennium. In fact, they’re far better. For one, while it’s perfectly possible to keep functioning on just the one kidney, neither breast is critical for everyday living. Plus, for hijackers there are all sorts of savings. Such as, you won’t have to fill the bathtub all the way to the brim with ice. Just enough to dunk her in chest first.
Of course, systems like this are surprisingly ripe for exploitation. The hijackers are only the beginning of the potential problems on the table. It’s a lot easier than you might think to recruit susceptible ladies and fill their pretty but not entirely smart little heads with all sorts of nonsense and worries regarding their futures and how on earth they’ll support themselves during retirement. That’s when you steal their tits in exchange for an oddly generous pension pot.