The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Rebecca had drunk Kaswa with the natives of Cholibumway. She had posed as a Tibetan Monk for two months. For three she had lived in Thailand and worked as a low-income housemaid worked, all for her research. But she had never been a bimbo before.

“It’s hard to be a ditz,” Rebecca thought. She pulled her car into the gas station. The station was full of busy executives on their way to work, an assembly line of black flannel. She took a deep breath. No better time to see if this would work. If she couldn’t fool a clutch of bored male businessman, then there was no way it would work on Heather.

She opened the door, took a long step out into the lot. For a moment she simply stood, trying to keep her balance on three inch heels. Fortunately, the rest of her had the right effect. Rebecca wore a strapless black bustier intended for someone far less chesty. Down below she wore a white pencil skirt she had painstakingly altered to show off just a little more leg. Her substantial cleavage overwhelmed the stylish bow in the middle of the bustier. Overall she looked like someone too stupid to tell the difference between sexy and trashy.

It was perfect.

Now for the final piece de… piece de something something. Something French. Rebecca shook her hair over her shoulder. The stylist had protested the dye job, calling the near-platinum “a shame,” and “something those Hollywoodsluts wear.” Rebecca had ignored it. Heather was a brunette. Blonde beat brunette, just like rock beat paper. Something like that. She self-consciously giggled and tossed her hair over the shoulder.

It worked. The assembled businessmen were glued to her body. One surprised old businessman dribbled gas down the side of his car, his hand squeezing the pump. Rebecca smiled impishly. This was going far better then she had hoped.

At first she had only intended the dye job. After all, she had a decent body. A few days with the blonde routine and she could get David “taking advantage” of that dumb girl one office over. Then she would denounce him for sexual harassment, use that to destroy Heather, and show everyone who was the smartest, bestest, most fuckable girl in the whole wide worl-office!

Self-doubt had crept in. Did she really look good enough to beat Heather? Best to pick up a new outfit. A half-hour later she was admiring herself in a pleated red silk dress that hugged her like a good friend. “One outfit” turned into three, then four. Her credit card smoked.

She really should have drawn the line at the underwear. If she got David to the point where he was fumbling with her bra, it really shouldn’t matter that it was a wine red pushup that shoved both of the girls viciously upwards.

Still, whenever she started to feel doubt, she closed her eyes and imagined Heather’s self-satisfied grin. Never again. And if that meant black thigh-highs, so be it!

Rebecca felt so good about it she couldn’t resist one yummy fingerfuck right there in the mall bathroom. That’s what blondes did, right? Right! The very satisfying orgasm that had swept over her had only confirmed her way of thinking. Afterwards she had licked herself clean to keep it from getting on her dress. She tasted like strawberries. That was nice.

Clothes were only half the test. Now she had to try out the persona. It was never enough to just walk the walk. Heather would never have known the trick to let her boobs bounce so high they nearly bounced out. Or how to let her ass roll around like a ship in a storm.

The boy behind the counter was barely 16, if that, and was heavily colonized with acne. Rebecca gave him a winning smile. First she was going to—

“Um, what pump?” the boy stammered.

“What—oh. The gas! Oh, right,” Rebecca said. She hadn’t checked. “I guess it’s… that one!” she said, pointing. She jiggled. For an $80 bra, they sure didn’t hold much in. That was kind of the point.

“With the 04 Hyundai?” the boy said, craning his neck. She stooped to give him a better look at her superb chest. The boy didn’t appear to notice.

“Is that what it’s called?” she said. Rebecca turned and looked. This wasn’t going at all like she’d hoped. The boy wasn’t noticing her at all!

“Um, okay, credit card?” the boy said.

Rebecca blushed crimson. She had forgotten her purse in the car. “I forgot! Oh, let me go get it, I’m so sorry!” she said, flouncing towards the exit.

First Rebecca dropped her keys. They slid across the floor. She bent to pick them up, feet together, at the waist. The sudden chill made her realize that she was flashing her panties to the pimply boy, along with everyone else in the store. That included the highly embarrassing wet spot that had simply shown up this morning.

She shrieked, high-pitched, and rose suddenly, turning on her heels. That caused both boobs to hop out of the bra, squeezing her bustier to a tiny circle around her waist. She stared at the pimply boy, his eyes fixed on her aureolae as they bounced around, free and unconstrained. “Don’t look,” she squeaked, backing up. Her backside ended up in one of the businessmen’s pants, as he walked through the door. She groaned, closed her eyes. The businessman grabbed her waist reflexively, and for one confused moment Rebecca grinded backwards against a growing erection. She shook herself. What was she doing?

“Forget the gas!” Rebecca panted, walking as fast as she could in a tight skirt and high heels to her car. At least, she noted, the businessmen were paying rapt attention to the big-boobed blonde stuffing her chest back into her bra. She drove off in a huff, nearly hitting an SUV in the process.

That was a disaster, she thought. When was she going to practice acting dumb if she had slipups like that? And why was she so powerfully turned on? She could still feel the hot eyes on her boobs. She fought the urge to finger them. “You’re driving, dummy!” she told herself, looking eagerly for a parking spot. Time for a quick get-off. Her pussy ached. She could still feel the businessman’s confused erection pressing back against her. Her wet spot grew.

Then she ran out of gas.

Heather slid noiselessly out of bed at 6:30. Her dreams had been vivid. In several of them, she was dressed in a full maid’s uniform, dusting around a mouthful of cock. Another time David had her taped to the—it had been vivid.

Today she had a goal. Heather was going to be at work at 8am. No excuses. No lazy sex sessions with David, admiring her growing boobs in the mirror while he pumped her from behind. No marathon sessions watching old episodes of Sex and the City, admiring the outfits. Certainly no long bathroom breaks, getting off while David recharged.

Heather slipped into the bathroom, turned the light on. She wasted a few minutes admiring herself in the mirror. Intellectually she knew that big boobs were a woman’s curse, pointless ornamentation that led to back problems. But her amazing and expanding chest never seemed to sag. They were tipped with fun little pleasure points that lit up when she wore more then a t-shirt. Her complexion had cleared up entirely, and her thick red lips crowned a face that asked for a good long pounding.

Heather looked down. Her hands were already kneading her boobs. “Fortunately,” she thought smugly, “I budgeted time for this.” AND she could take a shower while playing with her amazing tits. Then it counted as cleaning.

The hair she had shaved off still hadn’t returned. Any excess padding had just sloughed off. Excepting her butt, which was pert and welcoming.

It was okay when one hand slowly crept down into her folds of her pussy and started to play around. It was amazing that she wasn’t sore down there.

It was LESS okay when she ended up pressing her boobs against the shower wall, bent over as she imagined David ramming her from behind. Her hands worked furiously. Now she was ten minutes late.

After the shower Heather arranged her hair and tossed on a whisper-thin t-shirt and plain khaki shorts. David was awake, and had arranged himself at his computer desk with a cup of coffee.

“Morning,” he said, admiring her.

“Hey babe,” she said.

“Can we talk about something?” he asked. Inwardly, Heather groaned. This could throw her off schedule. Again.

“It’s about all the fucking,” David said, carefully.

“I can’t really talk right now. I’m busy.” she said.

David looked surprised. “Oh!” he said. “Wow. I was actually wondering if you could say no to me. Things have been sort of intense.”

Men were weird sometimes. “So you’re having great sex with your girlfriend, who also enjoys sex, and you’re worried about it?” Heather said.

David shrugged haplessly. “I got the idea late last night when you had me screw you. Against the wall. While I held you up. I just didn’t see you saying no to me.”

“We have sex when we want to,” Heather said. “It’s just part of our healthy, supportive relationship. Now, do you want bacon with your eggs?”

“Just eggs. Thanks.”

They were silent for a moment. Heather catalogued the day’s chores. Dust, sweep, cook, mop, cook again, clean, blowjob, then back to work. Plenty to do. But that was what it took to make David happy. And when David was happy, she was happy.

“Did your tits grow again last night?” David asked.

“Maybe. Your cock did.”

“My penis is not getting bigger. That’s crazy.”

Heather was sure that he was getting bigger. He was definitely lasting longer. He would almost certainly need greater endurance to keep shooting those thick ropes of cum down her throat.

“Well, whatever,” David said, turning back to his computer.

Heather nodded, satisfied. She had twenty minutes to cook him breakfast, clean up breakfast, vacuum, and then dust. She had never dusted before. It had figured prominently in her fantasies.

Where did one get a maid’s outfit, anyways?

David took another sip of his coffee and examined his plush girlfriend. Something seemed wrong. He just couldn’t put his finger on it.

“Would you have sex with me right now, if I asked you?” David said.

Heather carefully flipped the eggs. She hummed to herself. Her tits bounced with every flip, and her shorts looked painted on.

“Don’t you want breakfast?” she said, playfully. “I’m cooking for you, after all.”

“What if I would rather have sex then have breakfast?”

“I don’t have time for both sex and breakfast,” Heather said. Was it his imagination, or did she seem flushed?

“What if I was half-naked?” David let his bathrobe fall to the side. His cock sprang out. Heather’s eyes locked onto it. She ran her tongue over her wine-red lips, and placed one hand on the countertop.

“See?” he said, triumphantly. “You’re staring at it.”

“I am not!” Heather said, indignantly. She nearly missed a flip. The eggs half-landed on the pan and burned.

“You’re drooling! Just from looking at my cock!”

“I sham.. I am not! Okay, maybe a little, but I’ve just been very spit-heavy these past few days.” She slurped. Even that was sexy.

David shook his head. “I’ll bet if I stroked it just a little you’d come over here and give me a blowjob.” He put his hand on his cock. It felt strange after constant service from Heather. A rivulet of pre-cum ran down the side of it. “There, Pre-cum. I suppose you’re about to come over and lick it off.”

Heather took a few steps towards him, then realized she was still holding the eggs. She put it down and wiped her mouth. “No blowjob,” she announced. “I have to set the table.”

Inwardly, David applauded. This was remarkable self-control for Heather, based on her recent performance. Maybe everything WAS back to normal.

“I don’t know why you’re so set on getting me off-schedule,” Heather said. “I’ve got to get my chores done by 8. Then I’m getting to work.”

She placed the first plate on the table, then lingered, arranged a knife and fork pointlessly on the side. Her ass swayed underneath the thin khaki, and when she bent over slightly for plate number two, it made a perfect half-moon. David could see her boobs sticking blatantly over the top of the table.

“Now, see, this?” David said. “This is just to get me hard. The way you’re showing off your ass.”

“I’m not showing off my ass, David!” Heather said. She sounded almost pleading.

“It’s pointing right at me.”

“If I wanted to show it off, I would bend over,” she did, “poke my heels up like I was wearing three-inch stilettos,” she did, “and look towards you like this,” she turned her face towards him and shot David with her best come-hither look. It was pure smoke and fire.

“But I’m not. I’m just setting the table.”

“You SAY that,” David said. “But what if I..” with a few steps he was behind her. His erect cock pressed insistently back into her ass. It fit cleanly, like it was grooved. For a few blissful moments he could feel Heather backing into him, rubbing against his penis with sheer animal need. Then she rose, took a deep breath, and picked up the eggs.

“There. Didn’t that prove anything?” Heather asked, archly. She poured two cups of orange juice, dosed them with the usual few drops of the lubricant, and motioned for him to sit down. Slightly embarrassed, David put his bathrobe back on. “I’m not some sex fiend, David. I’m getting chores done. They need to get done as part of our relationship.”

“I… well, alright then.” David said. Heather really was back to normal, if she could resist all that. He honestly had expected that she would buckle.

“I’m sorry for all that,” he said, self-conscious. “It was out of line. Sexist, even.”

“There’s a time for the woman of the house to clean up, and there’s a time for mutual sex,” Heather said. She paused. “I wasn’t kidding about your dick getting bigger,” she said. “I checked last night. It’s larger.”

“I don’t think it is,” David said. Her nipples tented the t-shirt.

“I’ll check really quick,” Heather said. Eggs nearly untouched, she rounded the table and kneeled before him. Her soft hands quickly found their way to his crotch. “Here, get erect, this should be fast.”

She certainly was in a cleaning mood today. David pulled it out. She put a hand around it, then half of the other. “Bigger,” she said. “Just a few days ago it fit in my entire hand. And it wasn’t this drippy.”

“Maybe your hands are bigger,” David argued, weakly. Was his penis really bigger?

“Well, watch this, then.” Heather flipped up her shirt, nestled his dick between her astounding mountains. It stuck out, and she flicked her tongue around the tip. “See? I couldn’t even reach it before. I had to bend my head.”

“That’s impossible to measure when your boobs are bigger too.”

Heather sighed. “Alright, we’ll do this scientifically, then.” With one smooth movement she tilted her head forward and swallowed him whole. David still wasn’t used to the warm, silky interior.

“Chh? Smfhffk-fkldld dooonn”

“Uh, might want to pull out…”

Heather spit him out. “Halfway down my throat. That’s much longer.”

David’s head swirled. His dick bigger? Impossible. But then, Heather’s own boobs had embarked on a remarkable expansion, easily the size of small melons now. None of her bras fit.

“And I’ve noticed this, too.” She jacked him casually, easily. With a few days practice she had found every possible spot, and he came quickly, smoothly. Thick streams of cum shot out of his penis, and Heather caught them neatly on her plate. She handed him the result. “Look at all of that. That’s like a pint. And you’re looking for changes in me? Look at yourself!”

David’s head swirled. It was impossible. His penis, bigger? All this time he was carefully watching Heather, maybe whatever had affected her had affected him as well? At least she was capable of dealing with things calmly and rationally.

“I’m going to take a shower,” he said, dazed, and left the table.

Heather watched David leave for the shower. Poor guy. Obviously in need of sexual release from his overly busy girlfriend. And yet she had to do the chores. There was no way to do both at the same time… or was there?

On the plus side, her watch read 7:52. Eight minutes left! She had done it! Excepting her own needs, which she could take care of while doing the dishes.

Heather ate her eggs happily while her hand snaked down between her legs.

“Exercise really is amazing,” Candice thought. She stood on the elliptical machine, dead center in the University fitness center.

In just the past few days she had lost pound after pound. The transformation was startling. Gone was the chubby black-haired goth with a secret addiction to Toblerone. Now she was sleek and toned, skin tanned after just a few days pounding the streets. Her hair was swept back into a complicated twist. Formerly greasy and boring, a new shampoo had transformed it into a dramatic highlight.

Where had the weight gone? Heck, she wasn’t even exercising that hard. Mostly she was here to collect hardons for The Project. The fitness center was perfect. The boys were already worked up, and their thin little shorts could hardly hide their adorable boners. There were lots of them. And it certainly didn’t hurt that they were so cute and toned.

None of her clothes had fit, so Candice had gone shopping. Now she wore a thin black pair of spandex shorts and a powder-blue sports bra. She had been close to getting her usual black, but the light blue had looked so cute, and the guy behind the counter seemed to appreciate her in it.

A pair of asian boys walked by, stared straight at her. She gave them a slow wink, and watched, delighted, as a duo of erections grew. What was that? 47? 48? And it was barely noon!

Her personal best came yesterday, still at the gym. She had “accidentally” walked into the men’s showers, surprising a gaggle of men.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” she had cooed, letting her boobs do the work. The men took in the carefully-made up vision in black and blue, thought for half a moment, and then Candice walked out six erections richer.

The only problem was keeping out of the ladies’ bathroom stall, and in hiding this strange wet spot that had cropped up a day or so ago. At least at the gym she could pass it off as a sweat stain. A big sweat stain.

She dropped off the elliptical machine and walked into the weight room. It was usually good for a half-dozen erections or so. The benefits to this Project never ended, really—her energy level was through the roof. Although replacing tired old skirts with cute new minis was getting pretty expensive. Oh well. Her parents could worry about that.

The weight room was more crowded then yesterday. Candice recognized a few of the boys from yesterday. Word was apparently getting around. Heather would be interested in how the sexual competition nonetheless led to more boys checking her out. It was all very interesting. Academically.

She sat on the leg-lift machine and did a few experimental kicks. Her legs looked good. Every part of her looked good. Heather was right. Her self-esteem did go up when she was thinner.

“Can I help you with that?” a boy said. Candice looked around, surprised. A tanned, confident boy stood next to her, wearing a white GYM STAFF t-shirt.

“Um… I guess you can,” Candice said. She stuck her chest out, automatically. The boy casually admired her twins, then walked around to the front of the machine. Candice checked. No erection. That was unusual.

“Yeah, you need more weight then this. Here, let me put you on a different machine.”

“Um,” this was a new experience. Candice wasn’t used to actually talking to the boys she was studying. And a good researcher didn’t get involved with the subjects. She was just supposed to collect an erection, and move on.

But he was pretty cute. “Okay.”

The boy led her to a heavier machine, and she settled into it gingerly. The machine spread her legs wide open, gaping in front of the world. What must her wet spot be like? She checked the boy. No visible erection yet.

“This is kind of…” she said, but the boy took no notice, fiddling with weights behind her.

“Okay, give this amount a try,” he offered. Candice squeezed her legs together, as hard as she could. She got a jolt of unexpected pleasure at the end of each rep, as her thighs slammed together into a certain very hungry private part. Behind her she could feel the weights moving. Her tits squeezed together, too. “Good!” the boy said. “Now do five more.”

“Oh god!” Candice gasped.

Five more? Candice squeezed them out. By the fifth she was panting. Her boobs pressed heavily against the light blue bra. They were tender at the best of times, and the unusual exertion was making them.. want some attention. Not only that, but her obscenely wide legs had attracted some unwelcome attention, and she was the appreciative object of at least four or five boys. Her pussy burned. Squeezing it back and forth like that was having some powerful effects.

This was getting unprofessional. Her chest heaved up and down. Forget the project. She needed to get off.

The boy came back around. “Did you feel that burn?” he said, politely. Candice risked another look. Still nothing! Was he gay? Was she still not good enough?

“I think,” she purred, dropping her voice, “That kind of weight was getting me kind of.. hot… and sweaty…” she turned over on the machine, giving the boy a good opportunity to survey the spandex-clad curve of her ass. She paused for a moment. This had to work!

“Yeah,” the boy said. “Now, come over here and we’ll get some weights on your upper arms.”

“No!” Candice squeaked. Another set of reps with all those eyes on her and she might come on the machine. And there was a strict “towel-off” policy.

“How about.. we do that machine over there!” Candice pointed to a random corridor. Any hallway would do.

“Uh… there aren’t any…”

“Sure there are!” she said, her chest heaving. “Lets go!” Candice grabbed him by the hand and yanked the boy past the admiring crowd. Even distressed and burning with horniness, she still added another five to her personal list.

The hallway was a dark and unused service corridor used mostly to transport towels back and forth. “Over here!” Candice said, finding a small service alcove. She shoved the startled boy into it, walked in after him, and put her hand down the front of his shorts.

“Where… is…. it!” she demanded. Her tits rubbed on his chest. It felt amazing.

“There!” she pulled out a nicely-formed cock. “You were erect the entire time!” Candice accused. “You’re wearing those damn tighty-whities! What’s wrong with you!”

The boy was breathing heavily. “I didn’t think things like this really happened,” he said.

Candice quickly let go of his boner. “Oh, this is just research, I don’t… oh!”

His hands had found her chest. They clumsily kneaded and pulled at her boobs, but it was enough to send her skyward. Every sensation under the thin spandex top felt magnified and magnificent.

“Oh.. I can’t… this is just research!” but her self-control was lost somewhere in the gym. Somehow her hand was back on his cock, and she was rubbing it with a sweat-slicked hand. Candice closed her eyes and let his hand do the work, her left hand drifting down to rub frantically on the outside of her own spandex shorts.

“Oh!” the boy said, and Candice distantly realized that he was coming. She fought to stay standing as her own orgasm ripped through her. It somehow seemed to start in her chest and radiate outwards.

“I shouldn’t’ve done that,” Candice thought, horrified. “I’m completely wrecking my impartiality. Heather would be…”

Heather would be fine with it, a part of her said.

The new, thin Candice. Getting a boy to cum was worth three… no.. FIVE erections! Think about how much she could up her tally now! One handjob took twenty seconds… each handjob was worth five erections… she could get well over a hundred in just a few hours work! And that would give her more time to go shopping.

“Of course!” she said, out loud. The boy barely noticed.

Candice left the dazed boy behind, licking idly at her hand.

Now, she wondered, how much would a blowjob be worth?

This time she would show him, Jenny thought. Ever since she had first passed him on her jog, that Korean boy had made a point of jogging at the same time, in the same path. Each time giving her a long, close look. Bad enough she was battling a bad case of growing tits, and that her hormones seemed to be stuck on “aroused.” She was not also going to be sexually harassed!

Jenny had fought a losing battle with her mirror, trying and failing to keep studying while she went through this odd… growth spurt. Or whatever Heather thought it was. The past few days had been a confused fog of arousal, short study sessions interspersed with marathon TV watching and enthusiastic, embarrassed finger-fuck interludes.

But no matter what, she was still jogging. Every morning. She jiggled, she wiggled, she had to get off before and after the run, but she was still jogging!

The guy approached from the other side. Jenny stopped, slowly, and deliberately, and put both hands on her hips. That thrust her burgeoning chest out, but there was no helping that. Jenny didn’t have anything like the bras necessary to hold down her chest, so she had done the best she could with cloth tape.

“Getting enough of an eyeful?” she snarled. The boy stopped. He had soft features and a short haircut. She could see enough of his arms to tell that he was actually pretty built. Not bad, for a pervert.

“If you put it that way… yes!” he said.

Jenny went scarlet.

“You like it, huh? You like the way my tits look when they bounce around? Just because I can’t find a bra that fits them? I’ll bet you think my nipples are huge, too, right? And I’ll bet you get your rocks off just thinking of the way I’d look in a short skirt!”

“Um..”

“Oh, and don’t let me forget, you like my ass too!” Jenny turned around so he could get a good look. “Yeah, you know what they say about asian girls, great asses, little boobs. And then here I come with both, and you think it’s heaven on earth! Hey! Where are you going!”

“I’m…” the boy backpedaled as fast as he could.

“I don’t think so! You’re coming with me so I can set you straight!”

Jenny grabbed his arm and pulled him towards her apartment. There was no way she was going to stand for this. She was going to do this!

“You’re still watching me!” she said, a few steps later. “What is it with you men and boobs?”

“I wasn’t—”

“Don’t try and deny it!” Jenny said. It was partly her fault, she realized. To keep up with the man she was unconsciously walking at a steady, rolling pace. Her boobs fell up and down like a ship at sea. “They’re just collections of fat cells for the nourishment of young. They hurt, they… okay, they don’t hurt, but they do get in the way.”

“I can see that,” the man said. He was staring, she realized, right down the center of her neckline. The curves met right in the middle of her chest.

“Don’t!” she said, stepping forward. Jenny caught her foot on a sidewalk chunk, flailed for a moment, then fell to her side. She was up a moment later, determined not to show weakness in front of.. this man.

“Great. Rolled my ankle,” she said, testing it. The man watched her, uncertainly. “The least you can do is help me walk home.”

He held out an arm, and Jenny wrapped her arms around it. “You’re working for me now,” she thought, smugly. It felt.. nice to just let him do the work, hanging on as he muscled his way past other joggers. This was payback.

Her ankle started to feel better. She decided not to tell him.

“And what’s with the fascination with the butt?” she murmured. That old indignation was hard to rouse. “You can’t have sex with it.”

“Actually—”

“Okay, you CAN, but it’s gross! And why would you do that when there’s a perfectly functional pu—vagina right there?”

“Um,” the man said. He scratched his head with his free arm. “Because… power dynamics or something?”

“Exactly!” Jenny said, beaming. He was learning! She pushed her chest forward to reward him. The long look he gave down her chest sent a pleasant tingle down her entire body.

Jenny realized she was smiling again. She wiped it off. Must NOT do that. No smiling!

“And it’s the same with…?” she tested.

“Uh….” The man said. He looked around. “…blowjobs?”

“Yes! Good, I can see this is having an effect.” Jenny snuggled in closer. She smelled deeply. Sweat. And strawberries. There must be a patch nearby.

Then she realized she didn’t know his name. How could she yell at someone when she didn’t know his name? It turned out to be Jason. He was a network engineer at Cisco.

“So you like my titties?” she whispered, as they neared the front door. “You don’t think they’re too big, do you? It’s okay if you do.”

“No, they’re….. they’re great.”

“Wrong answer! They’re much too big. Look!” Jenny was about to pull her shirt up to show him the right answer when she noticed Heather in front of the door. She looked annoyed. Jenny quailed. She hated to make Heather unhappy.

“I thought we were going shopping,” she said, ignoring Jason. “9:15. Shopping. I have it written down.”

“Oh.. Right. Right!” Jenny said. They both needed new business clothes, and Heather had offered to charge it to her school account. Jenny had accepted. If she had, in fact, given her some hormone-disease-thing, then Heather owed her.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, turning to Jason. “can I yell at you later?”

“Definitely!” he said, breathing hard. “Ah, let me get your number… so you can abuse me and everything.”

Jenny recited it. Too late she realized that she was supposed to give boys her fake number. Oh well. Jason would call. He seemed really eager to get yelled at.

“How’re the tits?” Heather asked. They were in her car, on the way to the mall. Jenny fought a strange urge to sit in the back seat. Heather just seemed so confident, so… large.

“Bigger,” Jenny said. She hefted them for emphasis. They felt heavy. “Plenty bigger. Not as big as you, though.”

While Jenny’s chest was pleasant, Heather had a pair just short of “knockers” status. They rode high and large, and even under a thin cotton t-shirt they created a rich bounty of cleavage. “Aren’t you worried people will think you got a boob job?”

Heather shrugged. “So what? I don’t care what other people think. And when did you start?”

Jenny sat back. That stung. Still, it was so easy to feel… relaxed around Heather. Jenny rolled the window down. That seemed to help.

“I’ve got a doctor’s appointment in a day to look into it. You could come with me,” Jenny offered, politely.

Heather shrugged again. “I told you. It’s healthy. Girls grow tits. It’s what we do. I don’t see why it’s a medical condition.”

“Because they’ve doubled in size in just a few days!” Jenny said. Politely. You didn’t want to argue with Heather. “And they feel… well..”

Heather grinned at her. “They feel great, don’t they?” Heather’s hand snaked out and tweaked Jenny’s nipple. Jenny feebly tried to bat it away, but it was so much easier to sit back and enjoy the jets of pleasure… and if that’s what Heather wanted… but then she laughed and pulled her hand back.

“Sorry to be a tease. Hey, maybe while we’re here we can find you a guy! Or did I interrupt something back there?”

“No! He was… it was for research!”

“Oh, sure. Research. I go jogging for my research, too.”

“You watch Dawson’s Creek for research.”

“That’s different!” Heather said. She squirmed. “And Pacey is pretty hot. But it is gender relations. That’s what I’m studying.”

Jenny was silent for a long moment. The insistent itch in her crotch reminded her of something. “Heather, when you were helping me… shave… did you and David, you know, do it?”

“You mean, did we have sex?”

“Yeah. Sex.”

“Sure. Obviously. Why, what’s the big deal about it?”

Jenny blushed. “What was it… like?”

Heather was briefly silent. “You mean, what’s it like to get fucked? You’ve had sex before. You told me about it.”

“I’ve never had sex where I… you REALLY seemed to be having a good time. It wasn’t like that for me.”

“Oh. Ohhhh,” Heather said. “Yeah, that would be a problem. Some easy advice? Bring along a bottle of lubricant.” She reached into her khaki pocket, drew out a bottle of lubricant. Jenny raised an eyebrow.

“You… carry it with you?”

“Sure. Anyway, when everything is nice and wet, you can really feel what nature intended. Sex is supposed to feel good, did you know that? Evolutionarily speaking. People who enjoy sex have more babies. More babies means more passing along of your genetics. In a million years, we’re going to be having even better orgasms then we’re having now. Three or four of them.”

Heather thumped her fingers on the wheel. “Jenny, that’s another part of my theory!”

“I don’t want to know about your—”

“Think about it. I knew that my increased breast sensitivity and vaginal moisture was good for my relationship with David. So the next question is: why is it good for me biologically? The answer: it gives my body an evolutionary advantage! I can fuck my way to biological success!”

“Take that girl,” Heather said. A short, attractive redhead walked by in a dark blue blouse and a pair of low-riding jeans. “I’ll bet she cums like a firecracker. Not only can she have any man she wants, but she’ll enjoy it too. Evolutionary advantage.”

They both sat silently for a moment. “Gosh,” Heather said. She shook her head. “But back to your problem. Now that you’ve got the vaginal moisture problem solved, your body is clearly ready for you to have lots of incredibly fantastic sex. Generally speaking feels like your body has exploded from head to toe.”

That sounded nice. Jenny smiled. Head to toe, huh? She had read about the female clitoris. Biologically, it was a masterpiece of design. Even if Heather had gone off the deep end academically, there was nothing wrong with the female orgasm. It was proof that women were well-made. Penises, like Jason’s, were terribly designed. Even when they were huge, like Jason’s probably was, they were inefficiently designed for pleasure and hamstrung by their waste-disposal duties. She was certainly wet enough; she had been collecting what dripped out of her during daily masturbation sessions. For the doctor.

They pulled into the mall parking lot. “Lets make this into a field trip,” Heather decided. “Malls are a great place to watch male and female interactions.”

She steered both of them to the top floor at Nordpenny’s. Heather set a punishing pace through the men’s section. The piano player gave her ass an appreciative nod. Jenny looked down. Nothing wet so far.

They reached Women’s Wear, a pink-and-tan accented collection of suits and skirts. Jenny automatically gravitated towards the full-length pants with the dark jacket. Straight away Heather pulled out a white blouse with a light tan pencil skirt. She had an uncanny sense for Jenny’s size.

“Try this,” she commanded. “This is perfect. You’ll have every student in the room staring at you.” Jenny meekly held onto the clothes. She tried to think of a polite way to tell Heather that this was highly inappropriate. She barely wanted students staring at her.

But then Heather found a red pleated skirt and paired it with a collared jacket, tossed both onto Jenny. She struggled to keep them unwrinkled. “You definitely need a miniskirt suit,” Heather decided “Helps keep the moisture down.”

Jenny was about to object, but Heather was paying, and it was so much easier to go along with things. Her own outfits were scarcely better. A half-decent tan skirt-suit joined a practically indecent velvet suit-skirt combo. “So soft,” Heather murmured, before throwing it on the pile Jenny staggered underneath.

She steered Jenny inside a single dressing room in a nearly-deserted part of the store. Heather stripped out of her clothes with impressive speed. Her bra was nearly painted on, cutting deeply into her back. Heather groaned with relief when it came off.

“This thing has been horrible,” she said, holding it like a live snake. “In fact, I should get a bra that fits before I try these on.” She walked outside. A few seconds later she came back in. “I should probably have a shirt on when I walk out,” she said, giggling. “Oh well, I don’t think he minded.”

“You’re giving the security camera something to think about,” Jenny said, pointing upwards. Heather shrugged, shook her tits at the black box. They shook wildly. “Eh, they have a long-enough day as it is.”

A few moments later a matronly woman was pulling a tape measure around Heather’s chest. “Not sure we have this size,” the woman murmured, staring at the measure in disbelief. “I don’t want to pry, but are these natural? It makes a difference.”

Heather sighed. “I guess that’s a compliment. They’re real, all right. Watch what the nipples do.” She pinched one, and it grew hard and huge in moments.

“Alright, fine! I believe you!” the woman said. She shook her head, then sniffed. “Do you smell that?”

“No. Okay, Jenny. Shirt off. Lets see what’s going on under there. I hope it surprises me!”

Heather laughed when she saw the awkward, useless tape trying and failing to hold her boobs back. “Free those two, Jenny,” she said. “They deserve it!” Jenny slowly pulled the tape off.

“See, hers are real too,” Heather said, pointing. Jenny covered herself, but her aching, erect nipples were too relieved to be free.

Jenny took a deep breath and raised her arms. The tip of the cold tape measure rubbed across the most sensitive part of her boobs. She tried not to show shock when the storekeeper told her the size.

“Okay, put the skirt on,” Heather said, once the storekeeper was gone.

“But I don’t have a bra!”

“Doesn’t look like you really need one,” Heather pointed out.

It was true. Her boobs stood so proud and high on her own chest Jenny could see why someone would think they were implants. She almost hoped they would droop, just so they wouldn’t attract the attention of every boy in a room. This had to end soon. She was getting so horny it was hard to keep standing. Her mind flickered back to Jason. He was going to teach her a lesson. No, she was teaching him. Whatever.

The pencil skirt barely squeezed over her new hips, and she was forced to take awkward mincing steps. It pushed against her new rear. At least the blouse was decent. “No, no,” Heather chided. She reached over and unbuttoned the top three buttons of her blouse. That was more then enough to cause her tits to spill out. Jenny examined herself in the mirror.

“I look like a slutty secretary,” she said. Her long black hair hung down to her shoulders. The girl in the mirror was top-heavy, unbalanced, and squeezed into a too-small outfit. She squeezed her thighs together. This was distracting.

“You look great! Suits are supposed to be about getting attention. And I’m paying.”

“No,” Jenny said. Weakly. Why was that girl in the mirror still smiling? You could practically see her nipples. “I like the boring suits. I want people staring at my lips.. I mean, my hair. My face!”

“Too late now,” Heather said. She pointed towards Jenny’s crotch. “You get it wet, you bought it.”

Jenny had fought it, but it was true: the front of the skirt was already distinctly wet. She groaned. This was humiliating.

“It’s fine,” Heather said. She was dressed in the tan skirt-suit. As usual, she pulled it off with a casual, sexy aplomb. “At least she looks like a slutty CEO,” Jenny thought, glumly. “I look like the dumbo they send out for drinks then fuck in the store room.” Her mind flooded with a pictoral representation of that.

The shop lady showed up with two white bras, with deep cups. Heather put hers on, then accepted another package from the woman. “Great, we needed these.”

She showed Jenny two shoeboxes. Inside were plain black, but towering, high-heeled shoes.

“I can’t walk in heels,” Jenny objected. “Not THOSE heels, anyway.”

“Heels are natural,” Heather announced, and Jenny had no strength to object.

Heather was already pulling hers on. Despite her enthusiasm, she wobbled back and forth. “I’m buying,” she said, with just a touch of ominous menace.

Sighing, Jenny pulled hers on, and kept her balance as best she could. Now she looked like a slutty secretary who wanted to get fucked. Her rear did magical things under the skirt. At least she was taller. She sniffed. The strawberry air freshener the mall must’ve been using was getting cloying. Made it hard to think. That was probably the idea.

Things were no better with the red pleated skirt. At least it complimented her tan skin nicely, and the dark black blouse went some ways towards hiding the pleasant curves of her boobs. “This is okay,” she told Heather, who was luxuriating in her velvet jacket.

“Hm, not enough boob,” Heather said. She reached out and gently caressed the undersides of the blouse. Jenny gasped. It felt like a feather, but the touch sent a wave of heat through her, and she stumbled backwards in the unfamiliar heels, ending up on the bench.

The strawberry scent surged through her. It was overpowering in the tiny dressing room, right next to Heather. No wonder she was so wet. She could barely think over the “come out and play” messages her aching nipples were sending her.

“Need to clear my head,” Jenny mumbled, reaching for her street clothes.

“You’re buying that one, too,” Heather noted. Jenny looked down. Wet again. And she was holding it in, too!

“You caused that one! Don’t touch my tits!”

Heather rolled her eyes.

“If this is going to be a problem,” she told the trembling Jenny, “just get off.”

“What?”

“Masturbate. Twiddle yourself. Get off. You know.”

Jenny looked around wildly. “In a Nordpenny’s dressing room?”

Heather shrugged. “Let me put it this way. You can either do it here, or in the bathroom. And if you do it here, I can watch out for you.”

That was true, Jenny thought. She burned inside. Her fingers were already moving towards her needy hole. Heather could keep an eye on her. And she didn’t even need to take the skirt off.

“Hey, the way you look, it shouldn’t take you more then half a minute.”

Jenny barely heard her. Part of her whispered frantically deep-seated reservations about privacy and the insanity of Heather’s clinical, interested gaze. But they were lost against the strawberry-scented fire of her needs. She pulled her underwear aside with a practiced move, and stuck two fingers deep inside. “I’ll make it quick,” she panted. She knew it would be quick.

Heather was right. Barely twenty seconds later she was rising on the bench, her body straight and trembling. “Bite on this,” Heather told her, forcing a handy white shirt through her teeth. Jenny gratefully accepted the muffler. Heather calmly put on her next outfit. She turned when Jenny seemed to come back down to Earth.

“Okay, now try this one on,” she said.

Candice tapped her pencil on the desk. She hadn’t been there a whole lot lately. The Project had been a lot more interesting. Staring at dumb books all night had lost a lot of appeal. Come to think of it, hadn’t there been some test today?

That wasn’t important, she decided. She had to finish her tally before tonight.

“Candice, dinner. We’re going,” her roommate said. “You should go too.”

“Busy,” Candice mumbled. She was already full. Very full.

“Why are you wearing that?” her roommate said. She barely bothered to disguise her hostility.

“I told you. The Project I’m working on.”

“You look like a common slut. No! Not even a common one! Even sluts wear jackets!”

Candice looked down. Sure, it was attention-getting, that was the point. She wore a dark-black dress—really more like a corset—with nice vertical stripes all the way around it. They were slimming. Anyone getting close enough—or really within twenty feet—could see the top of a fire-red bra keeping her boobs poised and ready. She moved in four-inch heels like a professional.

“I’m going out,” Candice said. “To a party. You’ve heard of them. We’re in college.”

“You never did! You used to stay in and watch movies with me!”

“Now I’m going out,” Candice said. She turned her attention back away. It wasn’t like she had changed. She still wore the dark makeup, after all. Sure, the dark kohl-accented eyeshadow really accentuated her pale skin, and the pink lipstick was new, but that was it.

Her roommate huffed out. Candice barely noticed. She tapped her pencil.

Okay, six erections in the campus commons around noon. Then an extra five points when she had followed that nice young man into the men’s bathroom and given him a long, lazy handjob. Ten points when he came back with a good friend and stood guard while Candice repeated the performance.

Was it the same amount of points when the first boy got hard again? No, it had to be fewer. Three points. Okay, four, but only because the boy had directed his little remaining load into her mouth. That was nice of him.

Candice tapped the pencil against her lips. Unconsciously, she took it into her mouth and sucked lightly.

An easy seven points just from pressing her expansive chest against a plate-glass window next to the library.

The last bit was the hardest one. Candice had been making her way unsteadily back to the dorm, checking her outfit for stains that weren’t from her. Keeping herself from jumping on top of that last boy had taken serious willpower. Her pussy screamed at her.

Then a car had honked, and she had quickly picked herself up, thrust her chest out for another few points. A blue Mustang pulled up next to her. The man inside had smiled at her.

Candice tapped the paper, frustrated. Okay, she was clear in her memory at the start. The man had said… well, something. Candice was feeling too lazy and sexed-up to really pay much attention. She just smiled brightly and tilted her head, letting her tits do the talking. Men really didn’t seem to care what came out of her mouth, anyways.

She wasn’t sure why she accepted the ride. Oh, right. The man had told her that she had great boobs, and the compliment had gotten her so flushed that taking a ride seemed the most natural thing in the world. She had giggled mindlessly at him as they cruised around town, letting the breeze flow up her skirt.

Then they had pulled over in some quiet road. Candice had looked around nervously, uncomfortable with the way things were going, up until the point when the guy put his hands on her boobs. Then things got hazy. She remembered that delicious initial feeling of pure pleasure. At some point she had been giving him a relaxed titty-fuck in the backseat of the car, her skirt around her waist. Was it later that she was playing with herself, or had he done that?

Candice hadn’t given him a blowjob. That she would’ve remembered. But when had she swallowed his cum? It was confusing.

She shrugged and wrote it down as an even twenty points. She had earned it.

Candice got up and walked towards the bathroom. She needed to be sharp—tomorrow was her big meeting with Heather. She realized she hadn’t eaten all day. Just cum. Amazing.

And she wasn’t hungry at all.

Jenny trailed behind Heather as the two strode through the mall. Despite her initial unsteadiness, Heather steadily improved on her stiletto heels. Jenny struggled to keep up and tried to keep her ankles from slipping out from underneath her.

“Sway, don’t fight it,” Heather said. “Your ass knows what to do. Helps if you don’t think about it.”

How do I not think about it? Jenny thought, frustrated. But she found herself doing so anyway, letting her body take over and move her swiftly down the mall floor. She was still wearing that dark red skirt with the black blouse. By the time she had emerged from her happy, foggy, orgasm-induced haze she was trailing Heather like a puppy, clutching a bag full of inappropriate clothes. And walking in the heels.

At least her boobs did feel nice in the new bra. Heather had been very specific in her request. The bra pushed and prodded her boobs until they thrust up through the narrow crack in her blouse.

It would be good to go home and take these outfits off. The two of them were attracting attention. Heather got the majority of it, appreciative stares from single men—and even from men with scowling girlfriends or wives next to them.

But Jenny was holding her own. The problem was that damn smile she still had. It was so stupid and vapid, whenever she looked at a guy it looked like a suggestion for a slow, lazy day.

Plus she was getting wet again.

“Oh, we have to go in there,” Heather said. She pointed at one of the stylish boutiques in the mall. The mannequin in front wore a bright yellow dress with a useless belt. She looked like a piece of candy.

“No!” Jenny said. She tried to think of a reason why not. Something about women and submission? It was so hard to think when all those men were staring at her. And her tits were on fire, still. “I.. I can’t afford it!”

“I’ve got that covered. It’ll be fun.”

“I really don’t think…”

“If you don’t, I’ll spank you.” Heather said, smiling.

“You..” Jenny stumbled to a stop. “You’d really do that? Right here in the mall?” That would be terrible! Maybe she could talk Heather into doing it in the bathroom, instead of in front of everybody. She would completely soak her panties anyways.

“Heather, can we just go home, please?” Jenny said, pleading. “Something about this feels… very wrong.”

Heather shook her head. “I’m not just here for clothes. I wanted to test something. Now, lets go to the store.”

Despairing, Jenny shuffled her tightly bound ass behind Heather and into the store. Even the jaded clientele, used to underdressed girls and their parent’s charge cards, stopped and stared. Jenny put a hand in front of her chest, to momentarily shield her cleavage, but Heather just took it in without noticing.

“Chad,” she said, picking up the first visible salesman. “Chad, we need your help.”

“Happy to,” Chad said, swallowing. He was tall, with a short black goatee. Not usually Jenny’s type. But then, today, almost everybody seemed like Jenny’s type right around now.

“I need some things for my friend here.” Heather recited Jenny’s new measurements. Chad swallowed.

“This is for…”

“Her self-esteem. She needs more self-esteem,” Heather said.

“Um, right this way,” Chad’s practiced salesman demeanor started to wear off in the face of Heather’s outthrust chest.

Chad steered the two towards a bank of relatively sensible slacks, but Heather made a beeline for a rack of denim shorts. Jenny sucked in her breath. They were obscene. With her new expanded ass they would ride up halfway on her butt, and paint the outline of her vagina.

“You see, Chad, I’ve been researching male and female relationships,”

“Uh, okay,” Chad said. He walked towards a thin white blouse, but Heather gently steered him towards a too-tight brown and white tanktop set. “More like this,” she instructed.

“I’ve already got one girl working on her self-esteem around men. I’m thinking I can revolutionize how men see women. And vice-versa.”

Jenny took Heather aside. “What is this?” she hissed, panicking. Chad was walking towards a bright red dress with a few black stripes. It looked designed to be worn without underwear.

“My project! Don’t you want to help me with it?”

No! Jenny screamed, internally. But Heather had already bought all those pretty clothes for her. And the shoes. And taken her shopping.

“Well.. what do I have to do?” Jenny said.

“Just follow my lead.”

“I don’t want to…” Heather plunked a floral print miniskirt into her arms. It was about the size of a handkerchief. Jenny’s thighs quivered.

“Is this kind of what you’re looking for?” Chad said. He cautiously held up a black leather mini skirt, patterned on the sides with brass buttons, and partnered it with a green strapless top. The top had little sparkles in it.

“And…?” Heather said, testing.

“Um.. stockings?”

“Yes, perfect,” Heather said, nodding.

Jenny groaned.

Heather picked out a blue stretch bustier and a white knit dress with a hem so high it just skimmed the bottom of her ass.

“I’ve got a student working on this already,” she told Jenny, happily.

“What?”

“Girl named Candice. She thinks she’s supposed to be out there counting erections or something,” Heather giggled. “It’s really just for her self-esteem. I think it’ll do wonders for her to feel a little sexy. And that’s halfway there to getting a man.”

Jenny tried to be outraged. She struggled to. But when Heather smiled at her—and Chad took a deep look down her cleavage while handing another ridiculous outfit—all she could do was smile back and hold on.

“Tomorrow,” she thought. Tomorrow was her doctor’s appointment. He’d get this whole bewildering mess straightened out.

“Okay! That’s good,” Heather announced, abruptly, and strode off towards the dressing room. Chad and Jenny followed in her wake. Chad stood nervously outside the dressing room door, but Heather grabbed his arm and brought him in with them. He stood off the side, casting glances at the door.

“I really shouldn’t be in here,” Chad said, fidgeting with his tie. “Company policy..”

“Be a professional, Chad,” Heather ordered. He stood stock still.

The smell of strawberries was growing again. It always grew when she was in an enclosed space with Heather. Jenny fought to think that through. Strawberries and Heather went together. Strawberries got her horny and stupid. Something… what did it mean?

“Take it off,” Heather ordered. Jenny unconsciously started to unbutton her shirt. Chad quickly turned around. Heather giggled. Oh right. There was a man in here. At least he wasn’t looking.

Jenny tried to put on the green tube top, but her tits weren’t cooperating. The thin top simply wasn’t built to contain their pneumatic forcefulness. If she pulled it over her boobs it rode high and showed off her belly button. If she pulled it down her boobs threatened to pop out. Jenny compromised on a good amount of cleavage.

So, strawberries and Heather. And feeling good. So good. Think! How was Heather doing this? Why was she—Jenny!—putting on trashy clothes and nearly groaning when they barely brushed the top of her chest? Where was the confident feminist? How could Heather—her colleague!—make her into this… this… sexed up little tart! This dumb needy geisha!

Jenny glanced down. She had put the stockings on. The contrast between her hot tan thighs and the cool black cloth was startling. At least she wouldn’t get these wet.

Okay, so it had to be a CHEMICAL reaction. Hence the wetness and the biochemistry things. Jenny felt like she was making progress, even with the intoxicating strawberry scent and the distracting nearness emanating off of Chad. So she needed a chemical that could do it. But what?

She struggled to zip up the black leather miniskirt, and pranced awkwardly in front of the mirror.

“I look like a tart!” she wailed. It was true. Her hair framed a perfectly made-up face, crowned by sultry eyes and dark red lips. (When had she put on makeup?). Her chest dominated her thin torso, but her plush legs and a well-toned ass fought for attention as well.

“You look fantastic!” Heather said. “And doesn’t it make you happy to look so good?”

Jenny took stock. Her pussy dripped with a fiery passion, and her boobs were beautiful points of pleasure, tingling whenever she moved. Every part of her felt alive, hot, and horny. And she was happy. The girl in the mirror smiled. She couldn’t deny it.

“It feels great,” she moaned.

“Good! Now on to the next step,” Heather said. “Chad, turn around.”

The boy responded. Was he feeling it too, Jenny realized? Or was he just distracted by the oozing sexuality she could feel radiating off of her?

“It… that looks good!” he stammered.

“Good! I figured you would like it. Now, Jenny, give him a blowjob.”

They both stared at her. Jenny fought to keep from falling onto her knees. “I can’t accept—I mean, you’re crazy!” Chad said.

Heather reached towards his crotch. “Chad, you’re going to lose your commission if you keep this up. Just stand there, then, if you need help.” She gently reached for his crotch, pulled down his fly, and pulled out a fully erect cock. Jenny watched it. She fell onto her knees. It felt great to be on her knees.

“No!” Chad said. He stepped backwards. “Look, Penthouse letters are nice, but…”

“Here, this might help,” Heather said. She took a bottle out of her purse, poured it gently onto her palm, and smoothly grabbed his cock. In spite of himself, Chad groaned. When Heather was finished with her gentle massage, it shone and glistened under the lights. Chad stopped protesting and stood there weakly.

Jenny could smell the waves of strawberries radiating off of it. She leaned forwards, and touched the tip with her tongue. So good.

The lubricant. That was it. That had to be it. Wherever there was strawberries, there was the lubricant. Its squishy, warm, intoxicating aroma had to be responsible for all of this. The changes, the horniness.. and especially the wetness! Why hadn’t she seen it before?

Jenny sucked along the length of the penis, trying to absorb every last bit of strawberry into her. It felt fantastic, and the first drop of sweet precum drove her to redouble her efforts.

She had to stop. She had to tell Heather what was going on, before it was too late, and drag the both of them to the doctor. Just as soon as she finished this blowjob. She redoubled her efforts to get Chad to hurry up. Jenny used techniques she didn’t know she had, tickling the base with her tongue.

She flooded with relief when Chad came, and made sure to form a bond so that none of the precious cum escaped. She didn’t want to stain her new clothes.

After a few seconds, Jenny pulled away, panting and heaving. Heather, who had hovered over the erotic scene with approving nods, beamed at the two.

“See? Don’t you two feel GREAT?”

Chad could only nod weakly. Jenny took stock of her cheap outfit, the way her body burned with unrepressed sexual need, and did the only thing she could.

She stood up, grabbed the clothes Heather had picked out for her, and bolted out the door.

Heather watched her go. “I guess we went a little fast,” she conceded. She turned back to the panting, exhausted Chad and held up her own packet of naughty clothing.

“Can we get a discount on this?”