She was ready for something wild for Halloween. She was twenty-four, and several months out of business school, putting her M.B.A. to work in "wealth management" for Consolidated National Bank. That meant handling money for people who had lots of it. She 'd been a wild girl once but business school had put her into the mould of a businesswoman and she was now itching to get out of it. Every day she had to dress to play down her charms, for the sake of avoiding leers from unappealing old clients and for not letting conservative bosses think she was trying to get by on her looks. Halloween would be different.
Her boyfriend Dave, she knew, had a thing about breasts. Her own 34Cs, when she wasn't playing them down, were (she reminded him) above average in size; but she couldn't get him to stop looking at women with big breasts. On Halloween she wanted to wear something that would play up that part of her. Just for the night. And hopefully sex afterwards.
She wandered into a section of the shop marked "Special Ladies' Collection". Ensembles that frequently included wigs and body makeup for a complete look. A sign said "Guaranteed easy removal and reuse unless worn for a period of four or more hours that includes midnight." She didn't know what that was getting at. Were they going to wear out or get stuck or something? She looked at the selections, each with photos of women so dressed, and some indications on how the effects could be achieved. The models were shown dressing or making up.
"The French Maid"
An old classic, she knew. A very short, clingy, flimsy black silk dress, trimmed with white lace including an apron. This she could wear with her natural long dark hair, pinned up under a frill or -- as never at the office -- flowing free. White ruffled panties that clearly would be visible under the dress...if a man took his eyes off the impressively emphasized, largely bare cleavage. The model seemed no better endowed than Marjorie outside the dress, but in it...wow! Accessories were a feather-duster, 6-inch heeled black patent-leather opera pumps, and fishnet stretch stockings that for once seemed long enough for the tall Marjorie's long legs.
"The Party Girl" A euphemism, she thought. This was a blazing red micro-dress, backless but not low-cut at all because the front came with huge padded breasts that verged on absurdity. A matching G-string that tied at the hips, and matching plastic pumps with heels as high as with the maid's costume complete with a platinum blonde wig, and makeup. Marjorie was amazed at the effect; the brunette model, in following the instructions, adopted the appearance of a totally brainless bimbabe.
"The Slave Girl"
Definitely on the exotic side. The coppery-coloured body makeup provided would be quite a contrast to Marjorie's naturally pale skin, as would the long, curly copper-coloured wig. The leather halter and loincloth seemed to emphasize curves shamelessly, and the top was in fact padded, with the illusion of pierced nipples beneath the leather. This was shown with the model barefoot. The included collar and chains gave it all a definite kinky appearance.
"The Silken Silvery Submissive Sorceress".
This was a silver silk bikini and a lustrous white wig, with a choker of silver chain links. A magical wand, it said, was included, with a book marked "Spells". The blurb said," You 'll work wonders in this outfit...once you give the Soul Jewel (included) to your Master. You will never be able to harm or disobey him, but only destroying the jewel will end your life." And the model was shown somehow expanding the size of her breasts! Marjorie figured that trick must be explained in the "Spells" book.
"The Precocious Schoolgirl"
Like the French maid, this was another classic. The model depicted was photographed from the back, looking over her shoulder towards the photographer, winking. She wore shiny, little girl patent leather black shoes and navy blue knee socks, which extended to her lower thighs. Above was an expanse of bare, milky-white skin. A micro tartan kilt/skirt did not even cover all of her obviously bare (and ample -- virtually spherical) buttocks. Although the camera angle did not quite allow the viewer to see the beginning of her pussy lips, the photograph left no doubt that she must be utterly hairless in that region. The skirt (almost a belt) also hung low on her frame, allowing the viewer to catch a the beginning of her ass-cleft just above her tailbone. Bare flesh continued to the bottom of her rib cage where a simple cotton blouse had obviously been tied-off below her breasts which were unfortunately not visible >from the camera's angle. A smiling, rosy-cheeked face that could not have been a day over fifteen winked back at the viewer while the girl's left hand brushed naturally blonde hair out of her other eye.
"The Strap-On Dominatrix"
In such a competitive field, Marjorie decided that this model was actually wearing the least (and most suggestive clothing). The alabaster-skinned redhead gazed haughtily into the camera, which had captured her cracking a long leather whip. Her enormous, freckled cleavage hung low, barely contained by what looked like a black rubber top. What was most striking was that below the woman's pierced navel, in place of an ordinary garment, her cunt (and little else) was covered by a hefty black rubber cock which was held in place with leather straps. Other than the cock, all she wore below the waste were a pair of 5" spike heels.
"Cinderella"
Tasteful and Erotic, the subtitle read. Marjorie was inclined to agree. The well-proportioned naturally blonde model wore nothing except a frilly, translucent white dress through which the casual viewer could clearly make out every magnificent curve of her naked body. Even her almost-white blonde pubic hair was clearly visible and her red-painted toenails almost shone out through her only other piece of clothing -- a pair of glass slippers.
Tempted as she was by the other costumes, Marjorie chose the Precocious Schoolgirl costume. Before purchasing the Schoolgirl costume, she had to ask the clerk an important question.
"Before I buy this costume," she said, pointing rather bashfully to the sample picture of the schoolgirl, "I wanted to make sure that it was... well... like the other costumes."
The clerk waited for her to continue.
"Well, it's just that the other costumes make the models look er... rather well-endowed in the chest area."
"Don't worry," responded the clerk. "Actually, that's the most attractive feature of the costume: it comes in four versions. You see, we found that there were a number of 'upper torso looks' that were equally compatible, so the manufacturer decided to bundle the appropriate equipment for all four with the costume. I'm quite sure that at least one of them will meet with your approval."
Well, that settled it for Marjorie. Obviously this costume would be perfect, knowing where Dave's interests lay (or rather hung). A few minutes later, she was hurrying back to work, hoping that her browsing at the costume shop would not make her late for the afternoon meeting.
After working right next to the costume shop's package all afternoon, Marjorie was eager to check it out when she got home but unfortunately, she had to endure her monthly dinner with her grandmother which entailed a long drive out to the suburbs and back. It was past ten o'clock by the time Marjorie got home and nearly 11 by the time she'd showered and unpacked the box.
It was pretty easy to slip into the brief tartan kilt, knee socks and shiny black shoes. Once she put the blouse on, she saw that the box included three different bras and a razor. Fortunately, as a holdover >from her wilder days, Marjorie already kept her pussy immaculately hairless so that wouldn't be necessary.
Two of the bras were designed to look like training bras and were designed to flatten the wearer's chest as much as humanly possible. The difference was that while one was completely flat (labelled "Undeveloped"), the other displayed ridiculously-exaggerated protruding nipples (labelled "Excited"), probably more than an inch in length. The third bra was a heavily-padded number designed to create the illusion of young, supple, buoyant E-cup breasts (labelled "Endowed"). Marjorie noted that this one, while less exaggerated had also added protruding nipples.
Surveying the bras, Marjorie decided to try put on the "Endowed" model, knowing that this is what she would be wearing for Dave.
Checking herself out in the mirror, Marjorie knew that this costume would make Dave hard and soft in all the right places, but she was quite worried about the shortness of the skirt. It was one thing to parade around her (or Dave's apartment) showing off her cunt. It was quite another to do so in public at a party. Reservations aside, the outfit was perfect:
The girlish patent leather shoes were cut low to show off Marjorie's slender and shapely ankles which were hugged by her knee socks which extended past her knees to her lower thighs. The combination of the lighting by her mirror and the dark colour of the socks made her thighs somehow whiter, younger and more supple than before.
The tartan skirt was, in fact, a kilt -- and a good deal more daring even than the photograph in the store had shown. Like traditional kilts, it was a wrap-around item held together along her left thigh by a stylized safety pin. Unlike traditional kilts, the two ends did not overlap to any great degree so that as Marjorie moved, a slit nearly to the top of the kilt would appear, displaying more of what little area of her milky thigh and hip were still concealed. In front, the kilt was similarly daring. As long as Marjorie didn't move or bend, it extended below the bottom of her nether lips -- just. >From the back, Marjorie could see that like the store model's, the bottoms of her butt cheeks were clearly visible.
Traveling upward, Marjorie noted that the skirt also seemed to flatter her navel -- making it somehow look more sexual -- like a faint echo of her pussy. In back, the top of her tailbone was clearly visible in the indentation at the top end of her buttocks. Marjorie noted the prominence of her rib cage above her washboard stomach; obviously those last few weeks at the gym were really paying off.
So were the dollars being invested in making prosthetic breasts. Her tied-off cotton blouse shamelessly displayed her massive tits (I mean the tits I'm wearing she corrected herself). The nipples' wine colour had been perfectly chosen so as to be as visible as possible through the thin cotton blouse. Even when she moved, the fake breasts jiggled like real ones -- more credibly even than many implants.
Perhaps it was another trick of the light but even without makeup, the colours of her clothes made her lips somehow seem fuller and redder -- the colour of a bright cherry. At the thought of cherries, Marjorie giggled unexpectedly. Cherry, she thought dreamily, just like the taste in my mouth.
Marjorie blew a bubble. It popped loudly.
Marjorie looked into the costume box. There was the cherry gum wrapper and four more pieces. She must have forgotten she had put the gum in her mouth.
She chewed the gum a bit more, adjusted the blonde wig with the side ponytails and touched up her makeup. It was amazing, she thought...she really didn't look a day over fifteen, except in the chest area...and the apparent youth made the bosom seem even more outstanding. Part of her was worried about Dave being turned on by her looking so young. But part of her thought still being able to look so young was an achievement.
I wonder what I might do to play up the schoolgirl character, she thought. She blew another bubble.
Maybe it was her fuzzy thinking again. She really wasn't sure. She could have sworn she had already taken all the costume equipment out of the box. Yet, now there was more.
That's so cool, she thought inanely and giggled once again. She found herself twirling the hair from one of her ponytails as she looked down at the box.
She bent over to open the box, exhilarated as she watched in the mirror as her kilt rode up, now exposing almost the entirety of her luscious ass and a little drop of the developing wetness in her pussy. She began to reach for her pussy... just to catch the drop and maybe taste it when she remembered... You're supposed to be looking in the box, silly.
For a start, she noticed that cherry was not the only flavour of bubble gum available. There were sealed packages -- all of the same custom brand as the Cherry gum featuring Spearmint, Cinnamon, Pineapple and Guava. There were also gaudy barrettes and large plastic earrings. There was also makeup -- lipstick, nail polish and eye shadow but in outrageous glittery colours, also labelled Cherry, Spearmint, Cinnamon, Pineapple and Guava. Like the gum, she thought that's kinda cool too. But I'm too grown up for the barrettes. she thought, looking down at her huge, seemingly real breasts.
Rifling through the box, she continued to chew on her Cherry gum. This is like the bestest gum ever, she thought. Mischievously, she looked back through her legs at the mirror. She saw a young teenaged girl looking back, upside down, staring between her two shapely legs at her bouncy butt and her pretty pussy which was starting to open like a flower.
I've got to get ahold of myself, Marjorie thought, I'm getting way too into this role.
Marjorie straightened up and looked at herself in the mirror. The girl in the mirror still didn't look a day over fifteen. "I 'm twenty-four", she said out loud. "I 'm an M.B.A." What she saw in the mirror was a mischievous jailbait teen telling an obvious, audacious fib to get a man in the sack. She shook her head.
These costumes are amazing, she thought, worth every penny. And at the thought of herself cavorting with Dave as a hot young nymphet she found herself getting turned on. I do want to play this girl, she thought. Just not get carried away.
She pondered that warning at the store. It couldn't be for real, could it? Because she'd have to be in costume for the Halloween party by eight o 'clock, and wouldn't be back until after midnight. She looked at the busty, exhibitionist young teen in the mirror and decided to take the costume off now, but she tried it again the next evening -- rehearsing, she told herself.
As Marjorie removed the last of the costume, she noticed that the clock read 11:39pm. Time really flies wearing this thing, she thought. On top of that she was bothered by how her mind had responded to the costume -- only minutes before, she had been giggling, talking, maybe even thinking like some kind of ditzy schoolgirl.
Mulling the incident in bed that night, she realized that it must just be her repressed libido, itching to get out. "The subconscious mind is a powerful thing," she remembered her university psych professor saying on the first day of class.
Her theory was certainly bolstered in the morning as she recalled her night of erotic dreams while drinking her morning coffee. Images of a teenaged girl being fucked by a football team, a cheerleading squad, a school principal; some of the dreams involved the girl getting hopelessly drunk at a party and getting gangbanged, or sucking her best friend's tits on the ride home, or sucking off her 12 year old brother to keep him quiet about her coming home past curfew. She felt like she was the girl and had to spend some time with the adjustable shower head in order to feel a little less like her.
After her shower, she resolved to try the outfit tonight "just for fun," she thought to herself.
She quickly got into her costume and makeup, smiling at her big phoney breasts. Now that she was in costume again her visions were even more vivid and she felt helplessly turned on. She began to play with herself, slowly at first and then rapidly, as she relived them. Invited to the football team party, gotten drunk and gangbanged. Giving the principal and her 12-year-old brother blowjobs every day so each wouldn't tell about the other...and being excited by her own helplessness. In the back of her mind she could see how miserable a girl would be who lived through these events, but right now they turned her on like nothing ever had before.
She slowly peeled the costume off that night. There was no way she could give this up, she thought. She'd never dare wear it to a party at the office; it was way too risque, but the party she was going to with Dave was another matter, a rather uninhibited nightclub. She would have to be in costume when he picked her up before eight that night and they wouldn't be back until after midnight. Until then...I can rehearse, she told herself. And after then...I'll still keep doing it!
It became a routine for Marjorie, when she got home >from work, to shower and turn into the busty teen nymphet for some hours every evening. (The makeup and such that came with the costume never seemed to run low, though she didn't think much about this). And every night those dreams returned, ever more intense. And she never had any dreams where she was older than fifteen or didn't have those big boobs.
She tried to analyze it. Being that age meant she was too young to be legally responsible, yet old enough to be desirable and responsive. Her real sexual experience had come slower, never reached such extremes, and of course she'd never had that overdeveloped body. But the fantasy now was just overpowering.
One night when she put the costume on, she got to thinking about sneaking out wearing it. Like every other day that week, Marjorie came home from work, showered and changed into her costume. Really, at this stage, it was more than a costume. It was a whole persona -- an insatiably horny, gum smacking, ditzy 14- year old nymphet. Just describing the identity to herself got Marjorie warm and wet and slippery.
Her erotic dreams had continued to grow in intensity, particularly the drunken gangbang dream in which Marjorie, the drunken teenager got very frisky and decided to entertain everyone at a house party. Now, the dreams always ended with a naked Marjorie waking up on the floor of an unknown living room amidst beer bottles and discarded clothes, the taste of cum still fresh on her lips.
She was about to begin her now-nightly autoerotic routine when an overpowering thought struck her. As the schoolgirl, she was practically unrecognizable. Furthermore, she lived in a very large city. Maybe she could go out and hang out with some other (other?) teenagers tonight. No one would have to know. No one could find out. It would be totally cool, Marjorie thought to herself -- and giggled.
Five minutes later, she was stepping out her apartment door and making a beeline for the fire stairs. She wouldn't want to be seen by anyone in her building. Once outside, she walked about five blocks from her apartment and hailed a taxi. The walk had been unexpectedly enjoyable. It was a mild night but the light breeze played havoc with her tiny kilt and sent shivers through her pussy when it blew over a moist area. It's like I'm walking around naked, she thought to herself.
Even after dusk, as it was now, the briefness of her kilt was lost on few men. Cars slowed down. Men whistled. Other men simply stopped and stared. Her pussy moistened. Wait till they see my titties, she thought and undid another button on her blouse. I'm like totally juicy from all this showing off, she thought inanely as a little fluid trickled down one of her thighs to be absorbed by her knee sock.
Once the cab pulled up, Marjorie decided to give the men on the street a farewell gesture. Bending full at the waist, she leaned into the cab and asked the driver how much it would cost to go to the Medway Park Mall (a suburban mall on the dead opposite side of the city). As she bent over, her kilt rode up all the way, giving everyone on the sidewalk an interrupted view of her ass and much of her pussy. She hoped it was glistening for them.
The cabbie, for his part, got an impressive view of Marjorie's highly-realistic breasts which hung spectacularly, largely unimpeded by her mostly-unbuttoned blouse. Once she was sure she had given everyone an adequate show, she hopped into the cab's back seat.
As is often the case, even when the passenger is not the Socratic ideal of jailbait, the cabbie struck up a conversation. He began by asking where Marjorie went to school. Drawing on her vivid dreams, Marjorie found his questions easy to answer. In fact, with each question he asked, she was able to recall new elements of the dreams.
Apparently, she had just entered ninth grade at Applegrove Christian School. Her name (or that of her alter ego), she discovered, was Cheryl. She had recently broken up with her boyfriend Steve because she had caught him cheating. Her proudest achievement was that she was the youngest member of the Applegrove High Cheer Squad. Not only did her answers come naturally, they were accompanied with giggles, titters and tosses of the hair, not to mention massive overuse of the works "like" and "um." She also shared with the driver the trials and tribulations of having developed so much so early. She even showed him her tits from a few new angles just so he'd really understand. Indeed, the cabbie was very understanding.
Knowing how hard his cock must be by now made Marjorie all the more excited. She hoped her pussy wasn't leaving any stains on the car seats. The leather was just so comfy and slippery it was easy to slide back and forth to provide her pussy with a little more stimulation. She wondered, idly, if the cabbie had noticed the rhythmic nature of her movements in the back seat.
The Medway Park Mall was a huge, sprawling affair. Fortunately, as she had suspected (known?) the mall was open late on Thursday nights -- 'til 10, making it the perfect hangout for other teenagers. Realizing she would have some exploring to do, she had the cabbie drop her at the front entrance. He seemed almost disappointed when she produced a neatly folded $50 bill from the pocket of her blouse to pay him. So she thought she'd tip him by bending all the way over to pick up an imaginary penny when she got out of the cab. Wow! Her pussy had really juiced-up while she was in the back seat. It felt positively chilly as it came into contact with the night air. Goosebumps soon appeared on her ass and thighs and her nipples now became almost painfully bloated.
Smoothing her kilt to ensure she wasn't detained by mall security, she looked around confidently. She had arrived. Marjorie entered the indoor part of the mall through the main entrance. She hadn't decided exactly what she was looking for.
She looked around...and revelled in being looked at. So many places to go, what might she buy? Besides seeing teenagers and passing for one, she thought it would be cool to buy something for her Cheryl side. Adding a name felt right...and she knew this side of her wasn't going away after she went to the Halloween party with Dave. She hoped he'd like Cheryl...she planned sex afterward and couldn't imagine not being in character for it.
She sashayed into the mall's central promenade for that level, blushing and giggling a bit at the attention she drew. She nonchalantly popped a stick of chewing gum in her mouth and began to work it. This was so cool. She thought she'd do more shopping as Cheryl after this.
She was amused to see that there was a branch of Consolidated National in the mall. The regular bank hours were over, but the ATMs were working, and there was someone there from the brokerage division with a client in a glass-partitioned office. The only open ATM at the moment was the one low down for wheelchair patrons, and Marjorie thought it was a golden opportunity to flash her butt. Taking out her ATM card to get some more cash, she bent over the touch-screen. Marjorie was tall for a woman, let alone a high school freshman, and showed every inch of leg she had. She wondered what the people in the office nearby would do if they knew the "nymphet" making a spectacle of the bank right now was really a "suit" from the bank's headquarters. There were enough wolf whistles from passers-by that she was blushing by the time she stood up and smoothed the kilt again.
Now, where should she go? The place was going to close at ten. What made sense...Marjorie had usually gone to bookstores when she'd been here, but that wouldn't do for Cheryl. When the cabby had politely questioned a girl who was "nearly fifteen" being just entering ninth grade, she 'd told him she had been like, you know, held back...and certainly her Cheryl side didn't express itself as being smart. She remembered there being a lingerie-lingerie boutique in the mall, and that's where she headed. The clerk did ask if she was over eighteen, but a quick "Uh huh" between bubble-gum smacks was met with a wink and nod, and "we have to ask". Once inside, though, she was stymied as to what to get. Her Cheryl side didn't wear panties at all, and she couldn't try on bras since her big boobs were a padded bra. In the end she got fishnet stretch stockings and high heeled pumps, which she thought might make an interesting change from her knee socks and little-girl shoes.
Holding the boutique's shopping bag with the logo out so people could see her kind of taste, she next strolled into the food court. There a cocksure young stud-type, about sixteen, beckoned her to sit with him.
She went over to the boy. Her twenty-four-year-old self thought the kid laughable...but now she found herself turned on. This was the kind of guy Cheryl would come on to.
"Hey...you look hot", the boy said. "What 's your name?"
"I'm Cheryl," Marjorie answered.
"You look a little young to get in that store", he said, looking at her bag.
She blushed...just as a real Cheryl would. "Well, they let me in."
The conversation proceeded with an obvious subtext...the kid wanted to get into her pants. And his teen horniness connected with her Cheryl side something awesome.
The kid introduced himself as Martin and Marjorie really got into the Cheryl role talking to him; she could flirt without restraint. He asked her what she'd bought in the lingerie shop and she told him fishnet stockings. After some inane smalltalk, he managed to ask why she hadn't bought bras or panties. When she responded that she didn't wear them, she was gratified to watch as he shifted around in his seat to hide a substantial erection.
The conversation returned to an inane discussion of popular music and recent films as the boy worked up his courage to ask Marjorie another question he was obviously burning to ask her. She anticipated it would be about whether she had a boyfriend but more likely, it would veer back in the direction of lingerie.
Before he could ask whatever question it was, a girl began walking very rapidly towards them. So engrossed was Martin in staring into her blouse, trying to picture what little information about her breasts the outfit didn't already give away that he didn't notice her until she tapped him forcefully on the shoulder.
"Martin," the girl said fiercely, "why don't you introduce me to your friend?"
This, Marjorie reasoned, was obviously Martin's girlfriend -- a person he had neglected to mention so far in their conversation. She felt even less guilty about leading him on a little (Ok. A lot, she acknowledged to herself).
"Cheryl," Martin said, "I'd like you to meet my girlfriend, Tracy."
"Hi," Cheryl said. Her greeting was met with a glare >from Tracy.
"C'mon Trace," Martin said, be polite.
"Nice to meet you," Tracy replied reluctantly.
Martin stood up and whispered into Tracy's ear. Fortunately, Martin was about as good at whispering as he was at hiding his erection. Marjorie found that she was more interested in the interesting shape his pants had formed than she expected to be. She realized that she had been more into the flirting than she had thought. She realized that her bare pussy had managed to get the plastic seat she was sitting on just an eensy bit wet.
"I think she's the one," Martin whispered into Tracy's ear. Marjorie watched as the heel of Tracy's shoe was brought down sharply onto her boyfriend's toe.
"Owww," Martin said. His voice returned to a whisper, "But Trace, you promised. A promise is a promise."
"I was drunk at the time," Tracy whispered in reply and then noticed that Cheryl was listening to them. "Excuse us," Tracy said and led Martin over to the fountain.
Cheryl watched them arguing. Both were animated and gesticulating. Cheryl noticed that although Tracy was dressed quite conservatively, she had quite a figure inside those Gap jeans and loose Esprit T-shirt. Her long red hair was also quite striking. I wonder what they're arguing about, Marjorie thought, did she promise to do a threesome with him or let him cheat with one other girl? Her mind searched for other possibilities.
It looked as though the argument was wrapping up, for better or worse.
The couple returned to the table. Tracy spoke, "Sorry I was such a bitch earlier. Do you wanna hang out with us? We were just heading to the Steakstop."
Marjorie readily agreed. It was a restaurant on the highway near the mall. She tagged along as they headed to the parking lot, then piled into Tracy's beat-up used car. "I 'm the one with the license", she said. "Martin failed his test."
Marjorie...Cheryl...nodded. These two were sixteen. Sixteen-year-olds weren't supposed to drive after dark licensed or not, but a supposed fourteen-year-old like herself wouldn't argue. Tracy 's inexperience showed a bit, but the drive took just a couple of minutes.
At the Steakstop they took a table and ordered meals, and got to talking some more. Apparently Tracy had agreed to evaluate Cheryl as a potential threesome partner or whatever else it was. As such, the conversation seemed to be more about her than the others. She found herself obliged to embellish what she'd told the cabby about herself: more stories about herself as the young teen nymphet schoolgirl. She was amazed at how real it felt; more convinced than ever that she wasn't going to stop going places as Cheryl, meeting people as Cheryl. She knew she couldn't let this encounter get to the level of sex... her fake boobs would be exposed too easily. Whenever Tracy stared at them, she blushed. Martin stared at them whenever Tracy didn't spot him doing it.
She found the reactions she was expressing to the "older" teens came more naturally than she would have expected of herself. Am I just a great actress, or is it something in the costume? Somehow, Cheryl's ditziness made Tracy seem a natural leader by comparison.
The dinner had been entertaining. If only I'd thought to act like this when I was 14, Marjorie thought to herself. The thought made her giggle. Martin, whom she had obviously interrupted by giggling, looked at her quizzically. "What's so funny?" he asked.
Brought back to earth, Marjorie thought about the lateness of the hour.
"Um, nothing. It's just, like, if I don't call a cab and get home, my dad'll never let me stay out late tomorrow," she said.
"About tomorrow night," Tracy said. Martin nudged her encouragingly. "Are you free?"
"To hang out with you guys?" Marjorie responded, "That would be, like, the best."
"How can we get in touch with you?" Martin asked. Marjorie gave him her cell phone number. She didn't want him to call her apartment and hear her "This is Marjorie Mandelberg" message.
It was 11:55pm when Marjorie stripped off her costume and climbed into bed. Wow, she thought to herself, I like totally lose track of time when I'm Cheryl. She's such a ditz, she probably can't even read an analog watch properly. She had stopped wearing her nightgown a couple of nights ago. She almost looked forward to her erotic dreams. Her dream life was the only time she was truly and completely Cheryl.
The next day at work seemed to drag by. Marjorie was so nervous. She really hoped Martin or Tracy would call Cheryl back. She checked her cell phone voice box every hour just to make sure no calls had slipped by her and was relieved when at 4:15, Tracy (who had just returned home >from school) called; she invited Marjorie to meet her and Martin at the mall again.
Marjorie changed back into Cheryl when she got home >from work (she was starting to think of it as more changing who she was than what she was wearing). Another cab ride was in order...a different driver this time, but she found herself having much the same conversation as the day before. This time she didn't feel she was coming up with things, but revisiting familiar ground. She 'd been Cheryl in her dreams the night before, she was Cheryl now, and going to see friends who knew her only as Cheryl. Even bending over to show her butt to the cabby seemed to need less premeditation than it had the first time.
She headed into the food court again, and spotted her friends. The redheaded Tracy was wearing something clingier this time, Martin seemed dressed in the same macho style as the previous day. She got to talking with them again. She was inwardly pleased at their making allowances for Cheryl's apparent lack of intelligence...being Cheryl, being accepted as Cheryl, was so easy!
Marjorie hadn't had much of a social life lately, there was plenty of room in her schedule for socializing as Cheryl, and she felt comfortable with the idea of that becoming her social life. There was Dave, of course, but the party was tomorrow, and if he didn't turn out to like her Cheryl side, then screw him. Or not screw him, she thought, and giggled. Her friends were startled at the giggle, but put it down to ditzy Cheryl being herself again. Her mind had wandered, but they caught her up on the conversation. In the dynamic of this group she was the youngest and the dumbest, so it fell to the others to decide what to do.
"So, Cheryl," Tracy said after an unusually long pause in the conversation, "are you allowed to stay out late tonight?"
"Oh yeah," Marjorie said. "Really my parents aren't all that strict."
"Cool," said Martin. "Me and Tracy wondered if you might want to go to a late movie."
Somehow, Marjorie had expected Martin to say something else.
"Totally," Marjorie said, "What are we seeing?" she asked; naturally they would decide what they were all seeing.
"They're still showing I Still Know What You Did Last Summer at the discount theatre. Have you seen it?"
"Not yet," Marjorie said. That's probably the most honest thing I'll say all night, she thought to herself. The accountant side of her joined the Cheryl side in a brief giggle.
The discount cinema was a 12-screen multiplex with small theatres. It seemed to make most of its money holding over films with small, loyal followings of repeat viewers. Although the theatre was not very full, Martin suggested that they sit left of the left aisle. Martin sat on the far left, with Tracy in the middle and Marjorie nearest the aisle. However, just as the previews began, Tracy said in a nervous and stilted voice, "Martin, could you get us some popcorn?"
Martin squeezed past the two of them and headed up to the concession as the previews began. He seemed to be gone for an awfully long time. A scantily-clad Jennifer Love Hewitt was already stalking around her house in the dark, armed with a butcher knife for no apparent reason when Martin returned. He slid into the seat to Marjorie's right, leaving her sandwiched between him and Cheryl. "I hope you don't mind," he said, and placed a large bag of popcorn on her lap.
Marjorie found herself getting surprisingly into the film. She felt more scared than she had in years. Sure, the plot was preposterous: four teenagers stranded in an Caribbean beach resort in the monsoon season being stalked by a homicidal killer with a hook. Also, the plot seemed to hinge on the idea that the girls, who were in university, could be fooled into believing they'd won a contest by guessing that Rio De Janeiro was the capitol of Brazil. Marjorie knew the capitol of Brazil wasn't Rio. It was... well, maybe they weren't so dumb to think that after all, she thought.
Also entertaining was Jennifer Love Hewitt's extraordinary figure -- not entirely unlike her own. The girl probably weighed under 110 lbs and was less than 5'3. Yet, her tits were at least a 36C. The film seemed to find a lot of excuses for showing Ms. Hewitt in small tops and wet translucent bathrobes. Even Cheryl, the teenaged ditz, noticed that Ms. Hewitt was not the most proficient thespian. Not many actresses jiggle like that when they walk, though, she thought. She looked down at her own fake breasts which hung on her similarly lithe and youthful figure. If those were real, she thought, looking at her huge fake breasts, I bet I could be in movies too.
Marjorie had been eating popcorn but not as voraciously as her companions. She found that as the bag became emptier, their hands lingered in her vicinity longer. They seemed to always touch the bag -- and her abdomen or thighs through it. When the bag was empty, Marjorie watched them fidget with their hands. Marjorie was kind of taken in by the movie. It was kind of scary and all the actors seemed awfully nicely-shaped.
So, when Jennifer's character was locked inside a tanning bed by the hook-wielding maniac, it just felt natural that Tracy would grab her hand for support. But then she wouldn't let go. Marjorie could tell where this was going. Over the next twenty minutes, Tracy and Martin seemed to find lots of excuses to brush up against her shoulder or leg. Tracy's fingers interlaced with hers. It felt quite nice. She snuggled her shoulder up to Tracy's.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Martin's hand making for her right breast. Oh God, he'll find out it's fake, she thought. She reached for his hand and held it in hers. But after about five minutes, Martin disengaged and shortly thereafter, Marjorie saw him going for that breast again. She could see Tracy was watching Martin's hand too. This was going so well, Marjorie did not want Cheryl's friends to think her a cold fish. Knowing he couldn't touch her breast, she provided him with the only certain encouragement she could. Clasping his hand, she guided it down, under her skirt.
Whatever else one could say about Martin, he certainly seemed experienced with "third base." Perhaps he was a little over-eager to find her clitoris but for a 16 year old, he was pretty damn proficient. She squeezed Tracy's hand harder as her skirt rode up and the feelings became more intense. It seemed so right, so proper that here she was in a movie theatre in the suburbs, holding hands with a 16 year old girl while being finger-fucked by he girl's boyfriend. She tried not to vocalize too much, but giggle-prone Cheryl seemed a lot less capable of keeping quiet than Marjorie. She hoped that no one else in the theatre was noticing. She began to rock in her chair as she moved towards and orgasm. Martin increased the pace of his thrusts. As she was about to come, she clasped Tracy's face in her hands and began a sloppy, intense french kiss. Tracy removed one of Marjorie's hands from her cheek and placed it on her right breast. Marjorie had never felt a teenaged girl's breast before. It felt so perfect, so new, so soft. She was coming.
The other theatre patrons heard an exclamation of "Yes!" before there was silence in the left-hand section again. Although she had got her voice under control, Marjorie was still shaking in her chair from the most intense orgasm of her life.
As the lights came on, she felt more tentativity in the hands of her two friends which she had clasped tightly since they had stopped messing around. They waited until the very end of the credits and found they were the last people in the theatre.
Martin spoke first. "Trace and I are going to a party now. Do you want to come?" She felt an indiscreet pat on the ass.
"Uh...OK", she said with a little giggle. I really am getting deeper and deeper into being Cheryl, she thought. When Dave and I go to the party tomorrow, I 'm telling him flat out...I want my social life to be as Cheryl from now on.
"Cool!" She and Martin piled into Tracy's car and headed a ways further out into the suburbs to the house where the party was being held. Some of the kids there were Tracy and Martin's age, some were older...Marjorie was the oldest person there, but as Cheryl apparently the youngest. With Halloween coming up, some of the people were in costume, and she giggled as she realized she was too, but nobody there knew it. She looked around at the crowd, jocks and Goth chicks and more...some of them crowded around a beer keg.
She smiled and flirted, hoping no one would get fresh to the extent of discovering her false chest. She looked at the mantlepiece clock -- it was 12:08. Marjorie looked down and realized that her costume had become real. That was cool. She went over to the keg and chugged a beer to celebrate. She began to feel really hot. Hot and slutty she giggled to herself.
Looking around the party, she noticed that Tracy and Martin were making out on the couch. As she chugged her sixth beer of the night and luxuriated in the sensations in her new breasts, she found herself cupping them. Her nipples stuck out more. She knew all the guys were checking them out. She undid a couple of buttons and bent down to roll up a sock, giving one half of the room a spectacular view of her jiggling cleavage while the other half looked on in amazement at her round ass and tight, wet cunt. Surveying the crowd again, she noticed some more people had arrived. They looked awfully familiar.
Drunkenly listing to one side, she tried to concentrate. They look so familiar, she thought. A pulse of pleasure went through her twat. She furrowed her brow in concentration. Then she began not to giggle but to laugh: it was the football team from her dream -- the ones who she now knew would gangbang her later, once she'd had more to drink.
Laughing, Cheryl opened the package of guava gum and popped it into her mouth to celebrate. Her jaw worked the gum almost without her thinking as she giggled. It was amazing how reality was meshing with her dreams. She couldn't have ever seen these boys before she dreamed about them, could she? But now, here they were, ready to give this new body of hers a real initiation.
She wiggled a little gleefully as she contemplated the realization of her fantasy, felt her arousal mount again. She was the youngest one there, but the sexiest anyway. None of the girls there had tits as big as hers.
Tracy saw the way she was looking at the football team and got up to whisper to her "Hey Cheryl, those guys are bad news..."
"Really Tracy?" Cheryl asked, "what have these guys, like, done?"
Tracy began to whisper into Cheryl's ear. The 14 year cold 's eyes widened.
As Tracy was whispering to Cheryl, one of the footballers came up behind her. He patted her ass. "Hey Trace, who's your friend?"
Cheryl giggled at the warm hand on the bare flesh under her skirt. Tracy looked at the kid cautiously, so it fell to her to say, "I 'm Cheryl", blow a bubble, and drain her beer. Tracy stood protectively by her as she asked, "Is it true you guys like to double-team a girl, one of them going...you know, here" (a perfect opportunity, she pulled the front of her skirt all the way up to flash him and fingered herself) "...while another one drills her up the butt?" It had certainly happened that way in her dreams.
The footballer laughed. "Wanna find out?"
"That would be, like, so totally cool," Cheryl said. It was like her dreams were coming true. Only an hour ago, she had been a 24 year old accountant wearing a Halloween costume. Now, she was a 14-year old nympho slut about to be fucking in every hole in every way. Cheryl could not imagine a better life.
Against Tracy's protestations, Cheryl went to hang out with the football players. She was having the very best time of her whole life. The team had congregated around one of the two kegs and were chugging back beer as fast as they could. Cheryl joined in a perfunctory drinking game whose object seemed to be getting as hammered as humanly possible. During this time, Cheryl's skirt was almost never in position. Once it became obvious that this girl had a wet cunt she was willing to show for any reason, the various jocks were constantly pawing her under her skirt. Sometimes two would decide to finger her at the same time and one would have to play with her clit while the others' hand entered her >from behind. She had stopped keeping track of the beer some time ago.
"I'n sho fuckin drunk!" she exclaimed after an amount of time -- the beer and her new body were making time difficult to gauge. Looking around the room, she could see that she had become the centre of attention for the party. Everyone seemed to be pointing and talking about the "girl who has to show off her cunt."
"I'n show off my boobsh too," she exclaimed and literally tore off her top, to reveal the most enormous pair of breasts anyone at the party had ever seen. Even the football team's sense of propriety was offended; they hustled her into a nearby bedroom.
The hour that followed was the most intense Cheryl had ever experienced. Soon, there were six buff naked teenaged boys in the room with her. Her kilt was so short and insubstantial that the boys saw no need to remove it. First, she was bent over the dresser and fucked by behind. She, remembering the dream, got the bright idea of blowing guys while she was being fucked. She thought back to her life as Marjorie, Older guys are so useless, she reflected, they can't stay hard after they cum. That hardly seemed a problem for the team. The sight of a gigantic-breasted slut being gangfucked by their friends was enough to keep them aroused and coming back for more.
Marjorie thought back to a different part of the dream. Turning over, she said, "I wanshum 'tween my titties." The boys were happy to oblige. A new routine developed as one guy tit-fucked her while another guy entered through her vagina. It felt so warm and sticky and full. It was the best feeling in the whole world.
They had moved to a third position, Cheryl standing while one guy entered through her asshole as another attempted to fuck her cunt. I don't even know their names, Cheryl thought to herself. In fact, she had been told their names but had forgotten.
The first guy had just cum in her ass just as the activity in her pussy was building towards yet another orgasm when another boy burst into the room, "The cops are here!" he shouted.
To Cheryl's intense annoyance, the boys yanked out of her in a panic. "She 's not legal!", one said to another, "You never saw us!" more than one of them said to her. She was left in just her skirt, socks and shoes, fingering herself and crying in frustration, as the police started taking everyone's name. Soon, they found the purse Marjorie had brought but it now had a student ID for Cheryl Kennedy, with an address Marjorie had never heard of.
Fifteen minutes later, Cheryl was in the back of a police cruiser heading down a residential tree-lined cul-de-sac in the newest subdivision of Medway Park. Her identification had identified this as her home address. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she seemed to remember living by herself, somewhere else. I'm only fourteen, she thought, I couldn't be living by myself.
The police officers had been so helpful getting her clothes back on and figuring out where to take her after the other kids had dispersed. She'd promised to call Martin in Tracy tomorrow to let them know she was OK before they split.
The police had been so nice, Cheryl had given them lots of chances to look at and fondle her tits and pussy. She knew that the sight of cum oozing out her cunt and asshole was turning them on. She had giggled, noticing how both of the officers had huge erections as they loaded her into the car. She revelled in the squishy feelings and sounds that came from her ass and cunt and she shifted around in the car. All the boys at school will be talking about this, she thought to herself. She imagined the titters of laughter >from the girls and the stares from the boys as she walked down the halls. She envisaged her new life: fucking the football team after practice, playing with her cunt and tits in front of the other girls in the showers, flashing her beaver every time she bent over... school was going to be great. A memory flashed into her mind: the principal's cock -- so big with a purple head, shooting cum down her throat as she played with herself...
It was nearly 2am by the time she had persuaded the officers not to come to her door and wake her parents. Their cum still lingered on her lips and one of her cheeks as she quietly padded up the stairs to her room. Of course, the lights were already on in her room and her little brother was standing stark naked -- his beautiful hairless cock standing straight up. She remembered that just like every other late night, she would have to suck him off. She wouldn't want him telling mom and dad. Besides, from her recollections of last night 's dream, she would be waking up on her parent 's living room floor next Sunday morning, naked surrounded by empty beer bottles. She wouldn 't want her brother saying anything that might make them cancel their trip to Florida. Would she?
She fell asleep peacefully, savouring the taste of her brother 's semen.
Marjorie awoke with a start. What a disturbing dream! she thought to herself. She remembered the buying a costume yesterday. It had obviously awakened some weird subconscious feelings she had been harbouring. She wondered who really was obsessed with breasts: herself of Dave. The idea that she had turned herself into a brainless nymphomaniac teenager was very disturbing. She banished it from her mind that day and put in a lot of overtime at work. She was filling in for a senior account executive who was on holiday. It was a big show of confidence in her on the part of the bank to hand her the legendary Warkworth file, amongst others.
However, when she got home from work, she just couldn 't help herself. The costume had been entering her thoughts unbidden all day. It turned out that strutting around the apartment in costume really did help her forget her extra workload and unwind at the end of the day. At about 11:30, she folded the costume and put it in the box next to her bed. In seconds, she went back to sleep.
She recalled her night of erotic dreams while drinking her morning coffee. She had been dreaming about Britney Spears of all things. They were friends in the dream. The two of them were shopping at a Versace store. They were holding hands and laughing. In the dream, it was like Britney was her best friend. She smiled at the memory. They spent a lot of time giggling at the risque underwear such an upscale store was carrying. The dream jumped to a scene of them in the dressing room, trying on brassieres. She was pulling off Britney 's bra but instead of helping her put on a new one, she began sucking the singer 's nipples. There were other, more disconnected scenes of herself too: images of a teenaged girl being fucked by a football team, a cheerleading squad, a school principal; some of the dreams involved the girl getting hopelessly drunk at a party and getting gangbanged, or sucking her best friend's tits on the ride home, or sucking off her 12 year old brother to keep him quiet about her coming home past curfew. She felt like she was the girl and had to spend some time with the adjustable shower head in order to feel a little less like her.
After her shower, she resolved to try the outfit tonight just for fun, she thought to herself.
That day after work, she quickly got into her costume and makeup, smiling at her big phoney breasts. Now that she was in costume again her visions were even more vivid, and she felt helplessly turned on. She began to play with herself, slowly at first and then rapidly, as she relived them. Then she thought about Britney. A vivid image of her heroine popped into her mind. Both of them were dressed in the identical skin-tight red plastic suit Britney had worn in the Oops I Did It Again video; as they peeled their suits off, they realized that each other 's forms were naked sweating underneath. She watched entranced as Britney exposed her shaved, naked cunt. She leaned in for a taste. She could almost taste the pungent salty flavour of the singer 's pussy as she came.
She slowly peeled the costume off that night. There was no way she could give this up, she thought. She 'd never dare wear it to a party at the office, it was way too risqué, but the party she was going to with Dave was another matter, a rather uninhibited nightclub. She would have to be in costume when he picked her up before eight that night, and they wouldn't be back until after midnight. Until then, I can rehearse, she told herself. And after then I'll still keep doing it! Something made Marjorie get an odd sense of déjà vu at this point. It was as though she had had these thoughts before.
It became a routine for Marjorie, when she got home >from work, to shower and turn into the busty teen nymphet for some hours every evening. Part of her (the part that kept feeling déjà vu) felt like she had been doing this for over a week. (The makeup and such that came with the costume never seemed to run low, though she didn't think much about this. And there seemed to be an infinite supply of that relaxing gum.) Every night those dreams returned, ever more intense. And she never had any dreams where she was older than fifteen, or didn't have those big boobs.
Like every other day that week, Marjorie came home >from work, showered and changed into her costume. Really, at this stage, it was more than a costume. It was a whole persona -- an insatiably horny, gum smacking, ditzy 14-year old nymphet. Just describing the identity to herself got Marjorie warm and wet and slippery. That phrase seems familiar, Marjorie thought.
Her erotic dreams had continued to grow in intensity: the drunken gangbang dream in which Marjorie, the drunken teenager got very frisky again in a dream that seemed comfortably familiar. Now, the dreams ended with a naked Marjorie waking up on the floor of an unknown living room amidst beer bottles and discarded clothes, the taste of cum still fresh on her lips -- . next to her was a discarded replica of Britney 's catsuit from the Oops I Did It Again video which she dimly recalled having worn. It seemed natural that she would have gone to a Halloween party dressed as her hero.
She was about to begin her now-nightly autoerotic routine when an overpowering thought struck her. As the schoolgirl, she was practically unrecognizable. Furthermore, she lived in a very large city. Maybe she could go out and hang out with some other (other?) teenagers tonight. Haven 't I don that before? She wondered. No one would have to know. No one could find out. It would be totally cool, Marjorie thought to herself -- and giggled.
Five minutes later, she was stepping out her apartment door and making a beeline for the fire stairs. She wouldn't want to be seen by anyone in her building. Once outside, she walked about five blocks from her apartment and hailed a taxi. The walk had been unexpectedly enjoyable. It was a mild night but the light breeze played havoc with her tiny kilt and sent shivers through her pussy when it blew over a moist area. I love it when my pussy feels like this, she thought to herself, somehow sure that this was not the first time her pussy had felt that way.
Even after dusk, as it was now, the briefness of her kilt was lost on few men. Cars slowed down. Men whistled. Other men simply stopped and stared. Her pussy moistened. Wait till they see my titties, she thought and undid another button on her blouse.
Once the cab pulled up, Marjorie decided to give the men on the street a farewell gesture. Bending full at the waist, she leaned into the cab and asked the driver how much it would cost to go to the Medway Park Mall; she already knew how much it would be somehow. His answer didn 't seem very surprising. It was almost as though she had asked him the same question before. Her trip to the mall all felt very familiar. She found herself talking to the cabbie about her life. Apparently, her name was Cheryl. Somehow, her recollections of Cheryl 's life seemed clearer than her own.
She sashayed into the mall's central promenade for that level, blushing and giggling a bit at the attention she drew. She nonchalantly popped a stick of chewing gum in her mouth and began to work it. This was so cool. She thought she'd do more shopping as Cheryl after this. Or had she already been shopping as Cheryl?
She looked around the food court. Hadn 't she been planning to meet someone here. The name Tracy went through her mind but did not connect with anything. She thought maybe she could go lingerie shopping. Unbidden, the thought Martin likes lingerie crossed her mind. Who 's Martin? she wondered.
Suddenly, the cell phone in her purse rang insistently.
This is so annoying, Marjorie thought. She 'd just seen a life-sized poster of Britney Spears in the window of a music store. She was thinking about how great it would look on her wall & or maybe pinned to the ceiling above her bed. She giggled and realized that her phone was still ringing. Marjorie sighed, set the bag down, and answered the phone. She didn't like being dragged out of character when she was having fun and it was her boss!
"What's the matter?" she asked. She was almost never called about work this late.
"The Japanese markets have opened, and one of the companies we'd invested in for the Warkworth trust has filed for bankruptcy! Those bonds we bought for him are suddenly worth pennies on the dollar, and old Warkworth demands we send an officer to him right now! Since Jack Case, who 's his senior account officer, is on vacation in Florida, that leaves his junior account officer, you. Just drop whatever you're doing and get over there."
"Please, I 'm at a shopping mall, and I'm..."
"There's over a hundred million dollars he has under our management that he's threatening to pull! Smooth his feathers and make him a happy camper, and this will look very good on your record. If you don't come through...well, remember we interviewed a lot of people for the job we gave you, and you're still in your probationary hire period."
Marjorie bit her lip. How could her seeing a client dressed like this help anything? "I'm...dressed really inappropriately, I don't have a change here, I don't have a car here."
"Warkworth's limo will pick you up! Where are you?"
"Uh... Medway Park Mall."
"And since it's something you think would be noticeable, just what are you wearing, so he can pick you up?"
Marjorie's heart sank. She was going to have to tell her boss about the costume. "It 's...sort of a sexy-schoolgirl costume. I bought it for Halloween, I was sort of... practicing..."
She could hear him snort. "Well, it 's a tall order but you've got to try. The driver will be there in ten minutes."
The phone went dead. Marjorie sighed. Stanton Warkworth III was a VERY big customer, there were actually over $200 million that CNB had under management from him (or had been before this Japanese debacle). She was scared of facing him in this costume, but she'd committed to doing it...the driver would be looking for her dressed like that, and she only just realized she could have quickly bought and changed into something in the mall. She 'd hoped to get out of the meeting because she was dressed this way and failed.
Turning the bag around so the boutique's logo faced her, she headed out to the mall's main entrance to be there early for the driver. Only when it was too late to go inside did she realize she could at least have bought and added panties! The driver looked at her strangely, but let her in to the limo and they headed for the Warkworth townhouse.
When Stanton Warkworth III came downstairs to see his junior account officer fidgeting in the attire of a young teen nymphet, he said... "Hello Miss Mandelberg." Clearly Mr. Warkworth was doing everything in his power not to comment or express any of his thoughts or feelings about Marjorie's outrageous attire. However, the Cheryl side of Marjorie was rather gratified by the obvious scrutiny her form was undergoing.
"Mr. Warkworth," Marjorie said tentatively, "I was wondering if I could perhaps take a moment to clean myself up."
"Terribly sorry, Ms. Mandelberg," Warkworth said, "but we haven't time. If we had time, I wouldn't have made such a fuss and had you brought straight over. This shouldn't take long. We just have to make the best of a bad lot."
Warkworth, in a very business-like fashion led Marjorie to his legendary "War Room." She would have begun wondering about his sexual preference if he hadn't found so many excuses to stand behind her and try to catch a glimpse of her cunt as he led her through his palatial home.
The "War Room" was everything the water cooler legends had made it out to be. Huge screens on the wall displayed stock quotes from every exchange known to man. The crystal chandeliers illuminated at least a dozen computer consoles, each equipped with a standard English keyboard, as well as Japanese and Chinese keyboarding attachments.
Warkworth spoke. "Before I switched to your company, I had a private broker who worked out of here. I decided to keep the room; occasionally I dabble in the exchange, myself," he said modestly. "Anyway, I'll let you get to work on things. Let's see if you can shore things up."
Marjorie forgot all about Cheryl as she got to work on her favourite part of the job: securities. She quickly figured out the computer system and decided to attempt a recovery through some interesting quirks of the exchange rate mechanism on the exchange in Macao. By the time Warkworth returned to sip his scotch, he was most impressed by the brilliance of the young account officer working in his home -- nearly as impressed as he was by the perfect bare ass and exquisite shaved pussy she displayed under her minute kilt every time she bent over.
Just as Warkworth's account began to recover, Marjorie found herself suddenly at a loss. What were all these number flashing before her eyes. Math wasn't exactly her best subject, she opined to herself. And besides, it was really late. She also noticed her nipples seemed awfully hard. She giggled and sat down on one of the chairs.
She realized what she needed: a stick of gum. She produced one >from her blouse pocket and popped it into her mouth. Cool. Cherry. Her favourite.
She noticed that every time she chewed the Cherry gum, it made her kind of horny. But it had never made her breasts feel so heavy or her nipples so, well, hard. She looked at the clock on one of the monitors. It read 12:01.
Marjorie thought about the warning on the costume. "Mr. Warkworth," she said in a suddenly high-pitched voice, "you'll have to excuse me for a moment."
"Oh, very well. I can watch the prices for a few minutes. The facilities are in the second door on your left..."
Marjorie departed for the indicated bathroom in a rather girlish hurry.
She examined herself in the mirror. She clearly wasn't wearing makeup any more. Her wig...she tugged the side ponytails...was now her hair. She undid her blouse. There was no longer a bra underneath it, just two huge precocious breasts. Excited ones, she verified as she found her fingers playing with them.
She was dumbstruck. Her costume wasn't a costume any more. She now, physically, was an insatiably horny, gum smacking, ditzy fourteen year old nymphet. And frightened as she knew she should be, thinking of herself that way still turned her on, just as it had when she was doing it for role-play evenings. She should be screaming, part of her thought, but what she felt between her legs (she moved a hand down there to check, and started fondling) was arousal. It turned her on to look like that horny ditzy nymphet. It turned her on to act like that horny ditzy nymphet. It turned her on to be treated like that horny ditzy nymphet. No worries, no responsibilities, pleasure all the time.
She struggled to get ahold of herself, but not before bringing herself to orgasm. This was the best day of her life, she realized: her new breasts were so much more sensitive than the old ones, her whole sexual system seemed supercharged by her change. But what was happening, what could happen now? How could she maintain this body and its instincts, and also her own identity?
Eventually she composed herself again, nonchalantly chewing her gum as she redid her blouse, and headed back out to Warkworth, who fortunately excused her for the evening, "Miss Mandelberg I've kept you up very late. Thank you for coming through. The car will take you home."
"And it will take me anywhere I want?" Cheryl said.
"Of course, Miss Mandelberg," Warkworth replied.
"That's like totally rad," Cheryl replied.
"You're a strange and brilliant woman, Miss Mandelberg," Warkworth said as he led her to the car.
Cheryl had been called a lot of things but brilliant, that clearly wasn't right. It's funny how some guys just can't admit how hot you are, she thought to herself. She kissed Mr. Warkworth and gave him a big hug. It was so nice of him to lend her his car.
"Where to, Miss?" the driver asked as she sat down in the back seat.
"I've gotta go home," Cheryl (formerly Marjorie) said.
It was after midnight, after all, and she'd had a long and exhausting day. She had to concentrate to remember her address, but she knew she was tired.
When she got home she had to check out her new body. Standing in the living room, she tore off her school uniform. I 'm so horny, she thought to herself, hands roving all over her improbable huge-breasted pubescent form. By 2am, the fridge door was open, held in place by the crisper drawer from which she had extracted a cucumber and a carrot which had been invaluable in bringing her to one of a series of orgasms. The TV was also on, tuned to MTV; she realized that she had been dancing along with a Britney Spears video.
My boobs are better than Britney's, she thought. And they were. In fact, hadn't these been fake boobs only a short while ago? Now the F-cup breasts with their little cherry nipples seemed perfectly real. She undid a couple of buttons on her blouse to make sure. This is so cool, she thought, they're real. She realized that she was still moving in time with the music -- and so were her ample boobs.
Still shuddering, she looked at herself in the mirror as she towelled off. How was she going to handle this? She could get a black wig, at least. She tried making herself up to look her natural age, and found she looked like a teen trying to look older. This was going to be hell on her professional image...though in the long run, it might mean she would live longer...
There was nothing more to be done tonight. She set her alarm clock for extra early, she 'd go to a store as soon as it opened, get new bras, get a wig...make the best of this.
In the morning she followed this plan, and on her lunch break headed for the costume shop for an explanation.
In the morning, Cheryl felt no different. She awoke in a pool of sweat, exuded by her body in a night of erotic dreaming. Looking in the mirror, she saw to her horror that she still looked just like a libidinous 14 year old with F cup breasts.
Realizing she couldn't very well show up at work, she called her boss Mr. Clarkson and asked if she could work from home for the day. She could, she explained, "like, y' know, log into the network server from my house." After a couple of high-pitched yeses in response to Mr. Clarkson's "are you feeling alright?" questions, she was able to get off the phone.
Then, of course, she had to get off. This is sooo embarrassing, she thought, emerging from the bathroom, I'm like turning into a totally horny teenage girl. Her pussy throbbed in affirmation of the statement. It was starting to feel ready for a little more attention. Hadn't she just been masturbating in the shower? Her vivid recollection of her masturbation fantasy reminded her of how bad things were getting. It had been a vivid, almost lifelike fantasy of a threesome with herself, Britney Spears and Justin Timberlake. While Britney rode up and down on Justin's cock, Marjorie had imagined herself deeply kissing her while fondling Britney's substantial tits.
Enough of this, she thought, I'll get back onto work later, once I've given that so-called costume shop a piece of my mind. Her authoritative, adult sounding thought was ruined by the realization that she had been playing with her right nipple while fantasizing about Britney Spears modeling the Precocious Schoolgirl costume.
Suddenly, Cheryl became very worried that her breath smelled bad. Almost involuntarily, she popped a stick of Spearmint gum into her mouth.
As soon as she was chewing gum she felt better. Jaws working, occasionally blowing a bubble, now and then stealing a feel at her crotch, she went about getting ready to go to the costume shop. She put the clothing parts of the costume back in the box (the rest was now part of her) and again did makeup to at least seem to be striving to look her real age. No bra she owned would fit these breasts but she found some clothes that wouldn't show them off. Tried to find something more no-nonsense than loose-for gym. Finally decided she'd done the best she could; if she hadn 't been able to nip into the changing rooms for relief, she probably would have jumped one of the guys (or girls) in the store. She then bought a wig in her normal hair colour, as close as she could to her normal style, paid for with one of her credit cards that didn 't have her photo on it. She also got a couple of bras in her new size, put one and the wig on, touched up. Now, she thought, she was ready to confront the costume shop, as she looked herself in the mirror in a bathroom in the department store. Then she blew a bubble.
She headed for the costume shop. As her thighs began to squeeze her pussy in the elevator, she realized she had made a terrible mistake. What am I doing with all these stupid clothes? she wondered to herself. She entered the shop, but instead of preparing to complain, she was wondering if Precocious Schoolgirl clothes were cheaper in quantity.
The spearmint flavour from the gum was making Cheryl feel minty and tingly all over. Once she was inside the shop, she figured that she could masturbate openly. After all, they had sold her the costume. They knew what it would do to her.
With one hand on her crotch, Marjorie approached the store clerk. "Hi! Remember me? I'm Marjorie no & um I 'm like Cher & um no wait, Mar & um, Cheryl and I bought this like totally cool outfit from you yesterday. It's been keeping my twat really, really slippery."
The woman at the counter seemed unphased by Cheryl peeling back the lips of her pussy to demonstrate.
"So anyways, I came to..." Why was she here, thought Cheryl . It's sooo hard to remember. Why would I be back so soon?
The clerk could see Cheryl/Marjorie struggling with uncertainty and helped her out: "I believe you came to pick up some more clothes."
Of course, that was it. She hardly had any clothes that fit properly and the clothes she did have made her look old and boring.
"That's right," Cheryl said. She blew a celebratory bubble. After all, she wasn't as ditzy as the other girls at school made out. Wait a minute. Do I even go to school? Don't I work at a bank?
Seeing uncertainty return to Cheryl 's face, the helpful clerk chimed-in again, "I imagine you'll need more clothes than just that drab school uniform. We have an excellent selection." Showing Cheryl another catalogue she extracted from under the counter, the clerk began pointing out some outfits she knew the old Marjorie would never have bought in a million years. But Cheryl was drooling over them.
"Now, that's your school's cheerleading uniform. You'll need that. Also, there's an excellent selection of party clothes that are sure to impress the boys," she winked, "you'll need a new bathing suit now that you've filled out so nicely and probably a duffle coat for when it gets cold."
Cheryl 's breasts jiggled and swayed as she leaned in to get a better look at the catalogue.
A shiver of uncertainty passed through Cheryl. Something disturbing and unnatural was obviously taking control of her life.
"Wait a minute!", she protested, jarred back to reality by the sight of her business card in her wallet." I just look like a schoolgirl, I work at a bank!"
The clerk smiled. "You still need new clothes, don 't you? And you really want to impress boys, don 't you?"
"Uh, yes..." Damn it, she was supposed to be mad but couldn't feel mad! She could feel herself, though, and she kept doing that. She let out her frustration by popping a bubble.
"Now, we have some demi-bras that can hold up that beautiful chest of yours without covering the nipples. And after all, you 're old enough for pantyhose...crotchless is in..." the clerk continued. Soon Cheryl was taking all of the clerk 's recommendations very seriously. She left an hour later with a wardrobe for her new body.
Leaving the store, Cheryl still felt kind of unsettled. She blew a bubble. As it popped with a pleasant minty smell, she thought about switching back to the cherry gum. After all, it came with the costume too and it was even more relaxing. Besides, if she hadn't been chewing it, she might not be where she was today (was that good or bad? she wondered).
Once she had popped a Cherry stick into her mouth, her nerves calmed. Of course she was feeling nervous. She'd been by herself. She just knew that if she had someone her age to hang out with, everything would be better. After all, she thought to herself, why did I buy all those clothes except to be popular and show off to the boys and... Her mind stifled the thought.
She decided to take a bus up to the nearest high school and hang out at the front gate. That's where I always hang out when I'm cutting classes, she thought to herself. Shopping bags still in hand, Cheryl got onto the bus.
As she sat down, she realized that the bus had really slippery plastic seats. She also realized her pussy was still wet from buying all the sexy clothes at the costume store. She began to move her hips around as she sat near the back of the bus. The juice from her pussy was making the seat feel really slippery. She smacked her gum. I feel sooo naughty, she thought. Again, an image of Britney Spears popped into her head. This time, Britney was being fucked in the ass by a huge black man. She was bent over a table and Marjorie was trying to kiss her and grab her tits but something was making it very difficult to focus and concentrate. She and Britney were moaning each other 's names but their kisses and caresses were distracted and uncoordinated. Suddenly, Marjorie realized that she too was being fucked from behind by someone with a huge cock (I bet it's Justin, she thought, I just know he has a big cock.) but not in the ass like Britney -- in the pussy. As she came, crying out "Oh Britney," she reached out to touch Britney but felt a steel bar where Britney's tits should be.
Suddenly, she realized she was still on the bus. Everyone was staring at her. Her hand was under her skirt and she had obviously been masturbating furiously. I can't believe I just did that, I must be really slutty to be playing with myself on a public bus, she thought and began to blush a deep shade of red.
Too embarrassed for words, Cheryl pulled the buzzer and got off at the next stop.
Marjorie shivered as the bus pulled away from her. What was I doing heading for a high school anyway, she thought...she blinked...if they see me in this stuff I put on to go to the costume shop they'll think I've gone square, what I bought is so much sexier...she blinked again...wait a minute!
She took a deep breath. In a few moments, she found a public bathroom and changed into an outfit she had bought...tube top, gym shorts, and gaudy platform sandals.
Lucky I found a washroom, Cheryl thought, I feel so horny again. Before she changed, she tried something new. Her new titties were oh so sensitive, she wondered if maybe she could cum just by playing with them. She seemed to be making excellent progress as she worked on one nipple with her hand, while she stimulated the other with her tongue. Unfortunately, this left her a free hand which really wanted to play with her pussy. She decided to be disciplined and just play with her ass.
As she approached orgasm, she suddenly found that her free hand had slipped down and forward, entering her cunt from behind. I'm cheating, she thought to herself. She giggled as she came. She was so proud of herself. My titties were so exciting, I hardly thought about Britney and Justin at all... well maybe a little bit. She shook her head to dispel an image of Justin's enormous cock between her huge breasts as he tit-fucked her. Someone was eating her out. She thought it was Britney.
She really liked her tube top, shorts and sandals but missed the fact that her cunt was not quite so visible anymore. Heading out of the washroom of the local McDonalds she wanted to buy a milkshake (the vanilla ones reminded her of her fantasies of Justin's cum) but discovered she couldn't find her credit card or money. She tried to remember when she had had them last but drew a blank. Once on the street, Cheryl wondered where she was. She hadn't really been paying much attention when she got off the bus after that embarrassing little incident. She idly wondered how many of the men from the bus were jacking off right now thinking about it.
Marjorie was surprised by something: an express bus going by with the Consolidated National logo on an ad along the side jarred her consciousness. Wait a minute! My job! I 'm miles from home and lost my wallet... Bare midriff, bare shoulders, bare legs and all, she got Goosebumps. I 've got to get home before anything crazier happens, she told herself.
She clutched her heavy shopping bags to her and headed in the right direction, long walk though it was. I 've got to get home, I 've got to get home, she kept telling herself. But as she walked, she found herself rubbing the shopping bags against her breasts through the thin tube top, and her visualization of her address and her condo was interrupted by visions of sex with her young teen body.
It was also interrupted by wolf whistles...and other compliments. She tried to tune them out, but couldn't think of reacting negatively as she tried to concentrate on getting home...what was happening to her mind?...she found herself smiling. Giggling, even...being turned on by the attention. One man even tucked a business card down between her shoulder blades as she passed by. He ought to be ashamed, she told herself, I 'm too young...wait a minute, no I'm not...
It was an exhausted and tense Marjorie who made it home and laid down her shopping bags and emptied them out. Slut clothes, she told herself. Teen slut clothes.
She proceeded to start trying them on. She was wearing just half-bra and crotchless pantyhose when she began to listen to MTV more intently. It has just seemed logical to turn the TV on and check out MTV after she'd had one of these embarrassing little fantasies.
She had been trying on some lycra shorts when she had another vivid image of herself. She was pulling down lycra shorts -- they were just like hers. She put her arms around Britney, below the waste, cradling the singer's ample butt in her arms while she inhaled the magical fragrance of Britney's wet cunt. Before Justin could enter the fantasy, the MTV veejay's words began to get her attention.
"... viewers living in New York are especially lucky because they have a chance to win tickets and a special backstage pass to meet Britney during her upcoming tour date here on her Take Me From Behind Tour, when we will of course be interviewing her live at..."
Cheryl wrote down all the information, using her glittery pink pen. After two hours of dancing around and exploring her body, it was all she could do to stagger into bed, and then masturbate herself to sleep, and have her usual erotic dreams.
Jesus! She thought to herself, sitting bolt upright in bed. Work is obviously really getting to me. She pondered her increasingly disturbing dreams. Somehow, last night 's dream had been much less satisfying: nothing had been resolved. Her career had been ruined, she hadn 't fucked anyone and she hadn 't found Britney or Justin. That 's the least of my problems, she thought. Looking at the costume box next to her bed, she made an appointment with her former psychiatrist. Unfortunately, the doctor 's waiting list was fairly long. She wouldn 't be seeing him until early December.
That day after work, Marjorie put on the costume and decided to head to find out if the Medway Park Mall was real; had that been part of her dream or was that somewhere she went before she fell asleep? Although she didn 't remember more than flashes from her dreams, she was pretty sure that in all of her dreams since buying the costume, she had ended up at that mall. After cabbing it to the mall (again?) she looked around. Sure. There was the food court. And there was the multiplex. She decided to go to The Faculty. That might have been the movie she watched in her dream.
Unfortunately, it turned out to be an appallingly dull horror movie. All she was sure of by the end was that that couldn 't have been the movie in her dream - where was the cleavage? As the movie let out, she realized the mall had closed and teenagers were swarming towards the small number of waiting cabs. She found herself checking out both the boys and girls and getting quite aroused. This is strange, she thought. Maybe this was a sign she should give her boyfriend a call.
The hell with waiting for the Halloween party. Dave should see this outfit now, she thought.
"You're going to have a chance to preview my Halloween costume", she told him. "I 've been, like, practicing in it. I need a ride from the Medway Park Mall."
Dave laughed. "So what do I look for?"
Think sexy schoolgirl. With a blond wig."
She headed outside to wait for him. It was a little chilly under her skirt, but she hadn't bothered buying panties in the mall and it was too late now.
Dave's eyes widened when he saw her. She smiled as she got into his car, blew a bubble with her gum. "Whoa...so you're going as a schoolgirl slut?"
"Uh huh.-- Cheryl the schoolgirl slut." She giggled,. She guessed she'd gotten the name from her cherry gum, but however it originated, it was a very real personality for her.
"Look, we 'll have to go back to my place. I have some stuff there..."
"That's cool." She hoped they'd have some stuff to do there. They lived only a few blocks apart anyway.
They went up the elevator from the parking garage in Dave's building...she could tell he wouldn't have wanted to bring "Cheryl" past the doorman.
After the sex, Marjorie and Dave planned their trip to the Halloween party for the next night. Dave had decided, after seeing how convincing and compelling Marjorie's nymphet performance was that he would need to re-conceive his costume. He planned to spend the day trying to see if he could improve on his previous choice and Marjorie recommended the costume store which had worked out so well for her.
Lying in bed with Dave, talking, Marjorie couldn't help but feel that the sex had been a real letdown. It wasn't that there was anything wrong with Dave's performance -- or her own. It was just that her orgasm had not been anything like those she had had in recent days masturbating in the teen nymphet outfit. Maybe it was because Dave felt squeamish about calling her Cheryl in bed.
"I don't think I'll be able to stay the night, tonight," she said to Dave after their discussion of costumes had petered out and the subject matter had become more "adult." I've got a whole bunch of stuff I've been putting off all week. I'll see you tomorrow night, okay?"
Minutes later, as Marjorie headed out the door in costume, Dave called out. "You left some panties here. Don't you want to wear some underwear on the way home?"
Marjorie pretended she hadn't heard him and closed his apartment door behind her.
Once home, Marjorie spent some time bringing off her second and much more satisfying orgasm of the night. Still not entirely satisfied, she removed the costume and got into bed.
The next morning, Marjorie awoke, her heart pounding with anticipation and her pussy wet from her vivid dreams. There had been the dream about her 12 year old brother and the principal. Once again, her little brother was blackmailing her into sucking him off every night and the principal was threatening to flunk her if she didn't keep letting him bend her over his desk. This time, the principal had decided that Marjorie would have to do something special in order for him to expunge her 'F' in math. She found herself in the principal's home one lunch hour, on his bed being anally penetrated while her hands worked furiously on her clitoris, hoping to cum as his semen flooded her tiny asshole.
As that dream gave way seamlessly to the next, she found herself back at school being invited to a party by some of the twelfth grade boys on the football team while the principal's cum leaked out of her asshole and down the back of her right thigh. She knew what they really wanted and played coy. She wanted to get those concert tickets.
The next thing she knew, she was drinking shots of some kind of powerful alcohol at one of the boys' houses. She felt so free, she began to dance on the table. Dancing drunkenly, she watched the room become transfixed by her bumbling routine. She was trying to sing the lyrics to Baby One More Time but she kept getting mixed-up. She realized that everyone, especially the older girls were laughing at her, pointing and talking. It was because with her on the table. Everyone could see her pussy and how wet it was.
In the next scene, she was bent over said table, naked, her huge breasts jiggling wildly while she sucked one cock as another entered her pussy from behind. Most of the girls had gone but Marjorie saw another utterly wasted girl kissing the guy to whom she was giving head. She reached out and touched the girl's crotch. I'm a horny teenage nympho and proud of it, she thought to herself, Get me drunk enough and I'll fuck anything with a pulse. "Oh Britney," she cried out as she orgasmed. Everyone laughed. Apparently, her obsession with the singer was amusing to her peers.
The scenes became more disconnected: Marjorie in a room while two boys from the football team sixty-nined each other. "Don't tell," one said. Was he the one she had sucked off earlier? A room full of fully-clothed twelfth graders cheering her on "farther! farther! farther!" as she stuffed a beer bottle into her cunt. Marjorie retching into a toilet while a masturbating boy shot his load all over her ass. The brunette whose pussy she'd touched licking her left nipple in farewell as her boyfriend dragged her out the front door. Alone in the living room again at dawn, surrounded by beer bottles and cigarette butts, realizing someone, sometime had stuffed a carrot up her ass.
Just reviewing the dream necessitated some serious masturbation. Much as she felt a craving for the special brand of cherry gum >from the costume store, she knew she would have to save the last two remaining pieces for tonight. Throughout the day, Marjorie cleaned her apartment and tried to run some errands but she was constantly distracted by the vivid images from her dreams.
When Dave arrived to pick her up that night, Marjorie was more than ready for the night of her life.
They headed straight to the nightclub where the party was to take place.
Wiggling her bare butt under her skirt, and wondering if she should start sleeping with a carrot in it to make her dreams even more real, Marjorie looked Dave's costume over. A rather prissy, neat suit, but there was clearly some sort of subtext to it. And that wooden ruler he was carrying..."Uh, who are you tonight?"
Dave smiled. "I 'm a Schoolmaster, young lady. And this is for spanking the behinds of naughty students."
Marjorie giggled and blew a bubble. "That 's great. And tonight...I'm Cheryl."
They went down to his car, and started off for the club. Marjorie made sure she was sitting with her bare butt on the seat, and started playing with herself. Soon she was lost in visions of herself as Cheryl. She was more than revved up for tonight. She gave hardly any thought to that bizarre warning in the costume shop...it wasn't eight o'clock yet, and she knew they wouldn't be back until after midnight. Tonight she was going to be the bestest insatiably horny gum-smacking ditzy 14 year old nymphet, and she didn't have to go back to being a 24 year old MBA banker until Monday. Not that she had any intention of giving up her Cheryl side. Dave as a schoolmaster, that was cool. She 'd get spanked over his knee and...
She blinked. They were nearly there. She blew a bubble.
Frankly, the party was a bit of a letdown. Dave had led Marjorie to expect a wild, uninhibited affair -- it seemed credible, given that it was taking place at one of the city's most notorious clubs. Obviously, a bunch of nice, boring guys like Dave all decided to turn up for this thing and get in touch with their wild side.
While Marjorie's costume was neither the most expensive, most detailed or most elaborate, it was certainly the most overtly sexual. Sure there were two dominatrices and five or so other garden-variety fetish costumes but she noticed that they concealed a lot of flesh. In fact, there wasn't a costume in the place that showed off much more than a fashionable one-piece bathing suit.
Dave seemed to be having the time of his life. He knew that he was being envied by every other man in the place. He squeezed her ass as they walked through the living room and managed to lift her kilt away from her ass to expose it to the onlookers. The teenaged girl in Marjorie had mixed emotions: on the one hand, it was thrilling and erotic to have so many men and women look at her ass and pussy but on the other hand, it made Dave seem like a bit of a macho jerk. I should teach him a lesson, she thought.
The $50.00 cover seemed a bit steep but it did mean that there was an open bar. She pulled Dave towards the bar. The bartender, already captivated by Marjorie, was eager to take Marjorie's order.
"I don't, like, know a lot about drinks," Marjorie said, "'cause I'm kinda young but do you have something that's strong but goes down easy." Marjorie's tongue played over her glittering red lips. She had decided to go all out and use the glitter makeup provided in the costume box.
"How about a daiquiri, miss," the bartender asked, falling easily into his role.
"Could you make it a triple?" she asked.
"Certainly, miss."
In a few moments, a large, very strong daiquiri was presented to Marjorie, complete with a drink umbrella. Marjorie played with it for a moment before she began to drink.
Dave's beer took much less time than the daiquiri but by the time he'd taken his first sip and turned to Marjorie, she was placing an empty glass on the bar and saying to the bartender, "Can I have a refill. Those daiquiris are like the coolest funnest drinks ever. They're kinda like milkshakes and kinda like snow cones. They're really cool."
This time, the bartender raised an eyebrow and looked slightly concerned as he refilled her glass. "Come on Marjorie," Dave said, "you don't want to start out totally smashed."
"Who's Marjorie? My name's Cheryl," she said. "Fine Cheryl. What do you want to do now?" "Well," Marjorie said, looking at Dave's smug expression as he made eye contact with admiring men in the room, "you could get, like, fired if the school board found out about us. I better go flirt with some cute guys so they don't get suspicious."
And she was gone. Dave, like most other men at the party, watched as Marjorie made her rounds from one man to the bar to the next man to the bar to the next man to the bar & She was having a blast, making men hot, making Dave jealous, making wives and girlfriends jealous -- of her, and of their husbands who had the nerve to hit on her. "Sho I wush like, that's totally groady. Yer like my brother. That'sh like a crime or somethin'" a circle of eight or so men had gathered around her to hear this next part of her exploits. "Buh then I wush sho wet," she reached under her kilt and brought her hand up, slick with juices, making sure to pull the skirt up as she retracted her hand so everyone could see what a hot, bald teenage twat she had. "Jush like now. I'm soooo horny."
Dave realized things had got completely out of hand. He rushed over to Marjorie, pushing two of her eager audience out of the way. "Come on Marjorie," he said, "I think it's time to go home."
"My name'sh Cheryl."
"Okay, whatever you say sweetie," Dave replied, motioning for Marjorie to keep her voice down. "Let's just go home now."
"No. Theesh guys really like me. They think I'm cool 'n' sexy."
"I think so too. I really do. Let's just go home so you can lie down," Dave again made signs for Marjorie to stop raising her voice.
"C'mon, can't we shtay jus' a little longer. Theesh men want to look at my titties. Pleash..."
"Marjorie. This is starting to get really embarassing. Everyone is looking at us. Please pull yourself together. You don't really want to show these men your tits."
"My name is not Marjorie. It's Cheryl and yes I do!" Cheryl said and proudly untied her white blouse to reveal an enormous, buoyant, perfect teenage chest mammoth proportions. Her nipples had also been painted with glitter lipstick before the event to match the glitters on her eyelids, lips and nails and they stood out like bullets. She cradled a her breasts with one hand while with the other, she popped a stick of gum into her mouth. It was 12:02.
Dave draped his coat over Cheryl's chest and rushed her towards the nearest exit.
"C-c'mon, I was having fun, I wanna have f-u-u-u-nnn..." she wailed as Dave half-marched, half-dragged her to his car.
"Well, I think you had enough. What were you thinking?"
"I l-love getting guys hot..." It did turn her on. Even before sitting down in the car, she flipped her skirt up and began playing with herself.
Dave was trying to control his feelings. Something very strange had happened out there.He'd seen Marjorie's breasts before,and they weren't near the size of Cheryl's huge hooters. It was absolutely incredible how she'd lost herself in the role of this horny teen ditz...but what could possibly explain the physical change?And what could explain the way she was behaving? "Young lady", he said at last," you are due for a serious spanking." If she couldn't think out of character, he'd have to connect with her that way.
But all this drew from his companion was "ooh",and a slight increase in the moistening of her visible crotch...he yanked his eyes away from it to get to the road. They drove back to jer place...he in silence, she occasionally blowing gum-bubbles and moaning.
He brought her up to her apartment, grateful no one else saw them. And once inside, he said, "Now...Cheryl...grab your ankles, and stay still." He flipped up her skirt and started whacking her bare butt with the ruler, venting his frustration with each stroke until he saw he'd made many red lines and that she was crying...but apparently also, somehow, very excited by this. I mustn't get carried away and hurt her, he thought. "Marjorie...are you all right?", he said, helping her to her feet. Damn,those strangely expanded breasts were still there.
"Stop callin' me Marjorie! I wanna be Cheryl! I wanna f-u-u-u-ck!" she said, grabbing him and planting a slobbery kiss on him.
He couldn't resist. It was off to bed for the sex of a lifetime. The big breasts of his fantasies had combined with the horny nymphet persona that Marjorie had so completely immersed herself into and derived such enjoyment from. They collapsed in each others arms, spent and completely exhausted.
In the morning Cheryl was waking him with a blowjob. When she swallowed the last drop, she said, "Does that make it better for last night?" and smiled girlishly. She had given him a lot of time to sleep in.
She had been busy finding all kinds of things she had been worried about losing - all over the apartment. There was Martin 's number, and Tracy 's. There was the 1-900 number for the Britney Spears contest. There were her little brother 's address and phone number at boarding school, crammed into a box on her bedroom floor with a bunch of cosmetic supplies and gum and her Applegrove Christian School cheerleading uniform. There were other clothes in the box, too: pink tube tops, shorts and sandals that she remembered buying at the costume store.
There she was, sitting on the side of the bed, fondling her breasts, kissing her nipples. She was all tired from the search. "I'm such a slutty girl," she popped a stick of gum in her mouth and blew a bubble. Mmmm... pineapple.