Monday, March 14, 2016

Brainy University (chapter 2)


Claire was taking in the sights of the fancy restaurant in which she found herself. The lighting was low, one element of a mysterious, romantic tone. She could hear a quartet of live musicians playing soft jazz in the background, and the velvet red walls of the restaurant were adorned with paintings of beautiful woman in various states of undress, which artwork cleverly interwove audacity with sophisticated refinement. As she looked around at the tables and booths, it was difficult for her to discern details of the other diners, but, with a little concentration, Claire could make generalizations about them. Claire recognized the sensual curves of the other patrons and could tell that they were female. She felt a sense of calm when she realized this. It was better like this...better without men... better with women... just women.

The faint, melodic chatter that passed her ears seemed to carry words of endearment and romance. She observed polish-nailed hands touching partners' hands, arms, and faces, high-heeled feet rubbing nylon-encased calves under tables, sensuously-wrapped bodies inclining intimately one toward the other.

However, despite the relaxing atmosphere and the romantic backdrop around her, Claire was nevertheless a little nervous. She knew the edge she felt did not spring from any sense of fear or dread, but rather from excitement, excitement about something wonderful happening in her life, and from anticipation, anticipation of something marvelous which seemed both imminent and unfolding right now, in this place.

Realization crystallized in her mind that she was there on a date. And something within her told her that this one was special. It was decidedly unlike the average dull and obnoxious dates with the men with whom she had begrudgingly gone out in the past. In fact, the recollection of those events, with men, made her shudder. But this one felt special. It was in some way new and thrilling, and, most of all, it felt somehow right, more than any other date she had ever been on.

Claire’s mind told her that, before she had come tonight, she had known that this date was going to be important and that she should go all out. She recalled that, as she had been getting ready, she had picked a maroon silk button-up blouse that would feel tight against her chest. While she enjoyed the pleasure of the silk material caressing her skin, Claire had primarily picked the blouse so that she could intentionally leave the top three buttons undone and, by so doing, display a front and center view of her glorious D-cup breasts. Her conservative values having been tossed away for this date, it felt right to show off her marvelous, sexy body and its magnificent assets.

To complement the blouse, Claire wore a black cotton miniskirt that stopped six inches above her knees. It did a terrific job of showing off her long, sexy legs, which were encased in dark nylons. She had mischievously calculated that anyone staring at them would find their interest drawn up their sensual trail toward the treasure to which they led.

Claire’s attire wasn’t the only aspect of her looks about which she had gone all out and which she had addressed with a distinct sensuality. She reflected on having visited a salon earlier in the day and getting her hair done. Her raven locks, now with gold streaks running through them, were styled in a high half-up style which flowed past her shoulders in waves. She had painted her eyelids with a softly shimmering purple eye shadow and an intriguing teal eyeliner, the eyelashes lush, thick, and dark with a heavy application of mascara. Claire had painted her lips and nails in matching rose pink.

Claire had not been able to restrain the excitement she had felt as she had lavished her body with cosmetics and perfume and had encased it in clothing that would show off all her curves, knowing she would tease whomever saw her, incite naughty thoughts in their minds, and focus their attention squarely and lasciviously on her. Now that she was with her date, the excitement grew and assumed an even more pronounced tone of lustful pleasure.

Claire began to realize that the real reason she felt this way was because she was showing off her body to a woman.

Yes, Claire’s date tonight was a woman. The sudden comprehension set her pulse racing. Of course... That’s why I’m so excited... why I’m feeling so wonderful... so beautiful... so hot...

Who is it? Why can’t I remember? I wish I could see her better. It’s so dark in here.

Although they were in a dim setting, the lights were sufficient for Claire to see enough of her date to know she was a total fox. One of the woman’s hands rested on the table and Claire marveled at the hot-rod red polish on the set of long, glistening, tapered nails. As she cast her gaze upward, her attention was captivated by her date’s sparkling, strapless, ruby-red cocktail dress which hoisted the woman’s large, fleshy orbs up and pushed them together, as if her date was offering them to her, to feel, to kiss, and to worship. Flowing, wavy pearl blonde hair poured like curtains of pure, bright sunshine down the sides of her face and neck to brush the tops of her breasts. Shadows obscured the details of her date’s face except for her lips, plump, deeply-colored, ripe lips cast in the same inviting red color as her nails, lips which shimmered with lust and promise, lips which were pleading to be kissed. Claire felt a shiver go up her spine as she imagined those lips touching hers.

Claire wanted more of this woman sitting across from her, the woman who was rapidly capturing her heart. She wanted to see more of her, to touch her, to…

What if… what if I lean in and... and try to kiss her? ......... Yes......... We both would like that... She's probably just waiting for me to make a move... Then I could see what she looks like...see who she is... Then I would know what those incredible-looking lips taste like...and let her taste mine...

Claire boldly took the initiative and began to lean in, and to her joy her mystery date reciprocated, likewise moving forward for a meeting of painted feminine mouths. In a moment, Claire would see her date in her full glory, she would see the face of the woman that captured her heart, and their lips would touch.

*Beep*
*Beep*
*Beep*

Claire awoke to the sound of the alarm in her smartphone. Partially and begrudgingly rousing herself from the images and emotions of her dream, Claire reached over to the nightstand on which her smartphone was lying and, with a quick stroke to the touchscreen, disabled the alarm. She lay back onto her bed for a few minutes, seeking to retrieve the Sapphic dream she had just had. With her first effort, most of it came flooding back to her suddenly, remaining for several moments and setting her heart racing. But then several of its details gradually fled from her grasp, retreating to hidden recesses of her mind, there to ferment, though the dream nevertheless left a poignant imprint and a strange delight within her.

At length she eased herself into full wakefulness. As her cognitive functions started to become more alert, Claire began to feel a slight headache, a mild one, but a minor nuisance nonetheless. However, it didn’t deter the small smile that appeared on her face as Claire began to recall pieces of yesterday’s events. Through the grace of divine providence, she had dodged a bullet, managing to secure a new source of financial backing for her education, one which would replace her lost scholarship. Consequently, the threat to her stay at Preston University had been surmounted and her cherished career aspirations rescued.

However, while the euphoric feelings from both the dream and the successes of the previous day persisted, Claire nevertheless perceived something was awry. A strange sensation traveled through her waking body. It was something new, something she had never felt before, something that made her feel a bit uneasy as she lay in her bed. Then she discovered the source of the new sensation. Claire realized that, for some mysterious reason, she had gone to bed naked.

What...? Why did I go to sleep naked? Where’re my pajamas? What happened last night?

Claire's scrupulous habit was to always go to bed dressed in some kind of "proper" sleep attire, whether it was loose flannel pajamas, modest polyester-blend sleeping gowns, or long cotton nightshirts, always with panties underneath and almost always with a soft type of bra, as well—as her mother had taught her that a bra at night would not only ensure modesty but, over a woman's lifetime, would also provide nocturnal support, especially for large-breasted females such as she and her mother were, which would help keep their breasts from sagging with the years, and the enduring shapeliness and firmness of her mother's breasts had seemed to uphold that assertion. The realization that she had broken away from her normal, lifelong nighttime routine was a bit unsettling for her.

Claire tried to recall the events of the previous night with greater detail and piece together exactly what had happened. Concentrating on those events seemed to aggravate the headache, but Claire gently rubbed her temples, which soothed the pain adequately.

Claire’s mind wandered back to watching the video of the beautiful Serena Powers giving her lecture. Simply visualizing Ms. Powers now made something within her flutter, which Claire attributed to the gratitude she felt toward the wonderful woman. Looking back to last night, though, Claire now sensed that once the video had started, the atmosphere in the room had changed and things—new things, fun things, beautiful things—had started happening during and after that viewing, though the memory of those events was rather vague right now. Claire couldn’t pinpoint where it had come from, but there had seemed to be some kind of excitement in the air, as well as a camaraderie in that room that they had never felt before, not quite like that.

Claire now remembered having noticed Monica and Meredith being more sociable and friendly with each other. Occasionally one of them would reach over to take a chocolate from the box that Regina had provided and, invariably, the other girl would reach over at the same time and touch the other’s hand—whether accidentally or intentionally—causing both girls to blush and giggle, instead of digressing into one of their typical arguments. Claire had even caught them holding hands in the middle of watching the video. When they had realized what they had been doing, Monica and Meredith had just blushed and giggled a little more, smiled at each other, and then went back to watching the video—while still holding hands.

It put a smile on Claire's face to remember seeing those two act more like friends than enemies. A voice popped into her head telling her how cute Meredith and Monica were together, like a couple. It told her that maybe she should focus on encouraging that aspect of their friendship. Claire felt that the voice was right and that she should try to think of ways of making it happen.

She also remembered observing Jessica, whose focus on the video had been so intent that she had seemed to be completely drawn in—with some moments of noteworthy exceptions, as a few times Claire, in her peripheral vision, had caught Jessica staring at her. When Claire would turn to face her, Jessica would blush, give a quick smile, and turn her attention back on the TV. Jessica's behavior in those instances seemed shy, sweet, and girlish, so unlike the tomboyish demeanor that was the norm for her. Claire thought it was cute how her athletic friend had been acting a little more girly. Again, a small voice in her head told her how much better it would be if Jessica acted more feminine, in contrast to the tough tomboy deportment she typically displayed around them.

Claire had not minded her roommate looking at her like that. In fact, she had been flattered. She wouldn't mind more of it. Perhaps there were things she could do to help that along, she reflected as she now thought about it on her bed, as well as things she could do to help the softer, girlier side of Jessica come out.

When the video of the gorgeous Serena Powers' lecture had finished, the girls had felt not only giddy, still, about Claire’s good fortune, but also invigorated beyond that by the message Mrs. Powers had presented—although exactly what she had said was elusive in their memories—and the buoyant mood the video had created.

As they had sat around talking in the wake of the video, Claire's friends had expressed how they would have missed her had Regina’s plan not succeeded. Claire had felt happiness and comfort in their words and company, as well as...as well as love for them, love more than she had ever experienced for them before. Surely, she had reasoned, she was feeling like this because they had been there for her in her time of need, and she now saw, better than ever before, what wonderful—and beautiful—young women each of them indeed was.

“Well it’s a good thing you got this issue resolved, Clairebear," Jessica had said. "Who knows what would have happened had it gone the other way.”

“Amen,” Claire responded.

“Fortune definitely smiled upon you Claire,” Monica chimed in.

“You can say that again," added Meredith. "Who knows what would have happened if you didn’t get that sponsorship program.”

“I know tuition here can be murderous if you don’t happen to have some means to cover it,” responded Jessica.

“Yes, let’s face it. Waiting on tables at some restaurant or doing some other menial job just wouldn’t cut it.” Monica shuddered after making this allusion to the possibility of Claire having to work in some tedious, low income job to make ends meet. The concept was quite foreign to Monica and she could see neither herself nor Claire stooping so low.

“Or worse, imagine if you got desperate, you know, and you... you turned to something like... like stripping... or worse...” Meredith blushed with embarrassment after she realized what she had just blurted out to her dear friend.

After a pause of the second or two needed to process Meredith’s concern, both Monica and Jessica broke out into laughter.

“What?" Claire queried. "Care to let me in on the joke?”

“Sorry, Clairebear, but...but come on, I just don’t see you as the stripper type! That's what's so funny. The idea is just so the opposite of you!”

“Let’s face it, Claire," Monica interjected. "You’re so, so—how can I put it politely?—'straight-laced', 'by-the-rules', and all that. I don't want to use the word ‘prude’, but, yeah, sometimes maybe even that fits you." The girls saw Claire's eyebrows furrow in reaction. "Though I mean that in a good way, of course. It’s just hard for any of us to imagine you doing something as provocative as stripping.” As soon as she said that, however, images of Claire dancing and removing articles of clothing appeared in her mind, giving the Latina beauty a fleeting rush, but the images vanished so quickly that Monica could scarcely process them.

Claire stood up. “So you’re saying that I’m too much of a prude? That I don’t have it in me?” As she was saying this, Claire gestured sensually to her sexy body with her hands, starting from the top, gliding them down over her beautiful, large breasts and down her sides to her hips, then gracefully resting them on her cute butt.

“I don’t know." Monica said with a matter-of-fact tone. "Do you?” Underlying Monica’s words was a sudden desire to provoke her friend and to see her actually attempt to strip for them.

Had a conversation like this happened a few days before meeting Regina, Claire would have felt offended to be spoken of, even in jesting, as someone who might consider licentious conduct like stripping and "worse". On this evening, however, for some reason unknown to her, she found that she was not really upset at all about the implication that, given certain circumstances, she could be something like a stripper, a porn star, or a whore; just the opposite, those activities seemed to hold a perverted appeal in her mind at the moment. Despite acting insulted, she was actually in a playful mood on the topic, and found herself toying with her friends about it.

The only insinuation in this exchange that hurt Claire was to be thought of as a "prude". Previously, the label would not have bothered her much; she might even have taken it as a compliment, for she was comfortable with her high moral standards, knew they were not to everyone's liking, and expected some occasional ribbing about them. But this evening the word had somehow ruffled her pride, a new type of pride for her about her looks and her behavior, a pride which was laced with wordliness and sexuality, which hadn't existed within her the morning of the previous day. And now that a challenge had seemingly been issued about whether Claire was capable of loosening up, and tossing aside her good-girl persona, at least temporarily, that new liberated, vain, sensual part of Claire didn’t want to step away from it. Moreover, as all eyes were focused on Claire, she found she couldn’t help but bask in the attention she was getting.

Do it. Show your roommates your sexy body. They’re women like you and it’s okay when a sexy woman like you shows off her body to other beautiful women like them.

Further rationalization came into Claire's mind: It wasn't as if they hadn’t seen each other in some state of undress before, such as being together in the bathroom when one of them was getting out of the shower, or accidentally walking in on one another while dressing and undressing; and just earlier today, Claire had been in her bra and panties in front of Monica as the Latina fox was helping her get ready for the sponsorship meeting.

Yet, this situation was different. This time Claire would reveal herself intentionally. She would be purposefully exposing herself to her dear friends. Her new sense of sexual pride and an accompanying new bravado rising within her began to override Claire’s sensibility and nudged her into accepting her friend's challenge. If her friends wanted to see if she could strip, then she’d give them a strip show to remember her by.

Don’t let them think you’re a prude. Show them that you're beautiful and sexy. Dance for them, tease them, make them desire you.

All of a sudden Claire heard some music playing. It was a techno-dance beat. Claire turned towards the source of the tantalizing, energetic sound and discerned that it was coming from the expensive sound system that Monica had set in the dorm’s living room, controlled wirelessly through her smartphone. The Latina was holding her phone like a remote in one hand and a few dollar bills in the other. Claire turned to look at Jessica and it looked like she had also fished a few dollars out of her pocket and had them at the ready. Meredith was blushing with embarrassment, yet it was obvious that she was also interested in seeing whether Claire would answer Monica’s challenge.

Claire had never done anything like this, not even considered it, but now here she was about to give her friends a little strip show. She didn’t really know how to start, but Claire assumed that stripping had to be similar to dancing. All she had to do was a nice little dance routine that involved her taking her clothes off in a sensual manner.

Claire started slow, first taking off the business jacket and tossing it onto the chair next to her. While doing so, Claire bent over, presenting her roommates a view of her gorgeous skirt-covered ass and, looking over at them, she gave it a wiggle. A small smile crept into her face as she observed how Jessica, Monica, and Meredith were looking at her with rapt attention.

Standing next to the TV, Claire raised her arms into the air and began her dance. Her arms gracefully moved down her body, first stopping at her breasts and cupping them. Claire gently squeezed them together, while letting a small moan of pleasure escape her lips. Next she began to move her hands up and down her sides, gliding over her curves, and drawing the eyes of her roommates as she traced the outline of her beautiful body for them.

A few seconds later, Claire turned her back to her friends and crossed her arms over her front. From her friends' perspective, it looked like she was embracing an unseen lover, and each of the young women watching subconsciously wished that she was the one whom Clair was holding and drawing into her gorgeous body. Next, with her back still turned to her friends, Claire's hands drifted down the sides of her body and then, as they slid around her hips and converged on her groin area, they disappeared from view. Leaving her viewers to draw their own conclusions about the target of her fingers, Claire paused a few seconds, then caught and lifted the hems of the royal blue skirt and the underlying slip she was wearing while she spun all the way around, in the process flashing the front panel of her panties before turning her back to them again and dropping the skirt.

Still dancing, Claire reached behind her to the waistband of the skirt. Though the definitive sound of the skirt’s zipper being pulled down was masked by the music, the avidly attentive girls could hear it in their minds as their eyes watched the zipper part. The next thing Jessica, Monica, and Meredith saw was the skirt dropping heavily to the floor. Claire kicked it to the side and then turned to face her friends.

Surprised that Claire had actually gone this far, Jessica and Monica let out a barrage of wolf whistles and cheers, and threw some of their bills in her direction, while Meredith sat in silence blushing, not only in awe of Claire’s boldness in proving her friends wrong, but also enticed, as were they all, by the unexpected sight of their beautiful and mutually favorite roommate, who had never revealed anything close to a wild streak before, suggestively dancing and undressing, purposefully and expressly for them.

Claire herself felt a liberating rush go through her. Here she was in the living room of her dorm apartment, dancing wantonly for her roommates as she had never even thought of doing before, and she had willingly just taken a decisive step to expose herself naughtily to them.

Bet they won’t think of me as a prude now... ... ... ... Yet...all I did was just take off a skirt... Maybe if I go a little further... This does feel nice... especially when I’m doing this in front of my friends... other females... ... ... ... Should I stop?... Or ...maybe I should go a little further... ... ... This is supposed to be a joke... but... I feel so sexy doing this... ...

A barrage of mixed feelings and thoughts bounced around in Claire’s head. Some of them told her that this was wrong, and that she had allowed her pride to take this response to Monica’s jab too far. Another set of thoughts suggested to her, however, that she hadn’t yet gone far enough, that, if she was the true friend she portrayed herself to be, then she should go further, show her friends more, inflame them more intensely, and give them the show that they expected. As she swayed and spun to the music, the two competing lines of thought vied for dominance over Claire’s mind. However, the chemicals floating in Claire’ blood and the brainwashing of this day and the previous day had worn down her long-held affinity for modesty and propriety and subdued her original personality, settling the issue rather decisively after a brief internal debate. For tonight, the lesbian persona that had been crafted for her by Regina was in control, and that lesbian girl wanted to show more.

Claire began to twirl around gracefully. In doing so, the lower half of her full body slip flared up, tantalizing her roommates by showing off the full length of her lovely nylon-covered legs and flashing her panties at them. Next, Claire’s fingers played with the buttons of her crème colored blouse, then began to undo them, teasingly, from top to bottom.

Upon finishing, Claire pulled the blouse apart to show off the large curves of her breasts. She peeled the blouse off of one shoulder and shrugged the other sultrily, causing the blouse to slip off her body. Catching it in one hand, she tossed it across the room, gently hitting a surprised Monica in the face. When she recovered, the pretty Latina threw a few more bills Claire's way. Absentmindedly, Monica then raised the crumpled blouse to her face and inhaled Claire’s scent, before folding it in her lap, not taking her eyes off Claire for a second.

Claire caught sight of Monica's slightly perverted deed and intense, lusting stare, and smiled to herself. Her eyes lingered a few more seconds on Monica, the shapely girl's dark beauty calling to Claire in some new way. It struck Claire that she especially wanted to appeal to this hot Latina.

Wow. Monica is such a fox. I'm going to get to her...get under her skin...show her some skin...show her I’m not a prude...show her I like her...make her hot...for me...

Looking Monica directly in the eyes, Claire cupped her breasts through the nylon fabric of her body slip and the cotton of her bra, feeling a little pulse of pleasure go up her spine, which escalated when she saw Monica's lips part, as if she were breathing more heavily or about to drool. Monica is so sexy...

Looking around her, Claire took note of the gaze of her other two friends, as well. She was delighted that they all were obviously enjoying the show she was putting on, not only going along with the gag, but also exhibiting what appeared to Claire like looks of lust on their faces, looks identical to the ones that she had seen before on the young men at her high school and on campus given to any attractive women that caught their interests as sexual fantasies ran through their heads. Fueled by that realization, Claire refocused on the performance she was giving her friends. She told herself that she was going to give them a show they would not soon forget.

Down now to her beige body slip, Claire, taking a deep, calming breath, slid her hands over the slip down to seize its skirt and, in one smooth motion, pulled the slip over her head and off, revealing more of her body. Her beautiful breasts were now only restrained by her white cotton bra, and her lower half covered by matching panties under a layer of shiny nylon pantyhose that went from her sexy, swinging hips down to her feet encased in shiny, black two-inch heels. She swung the body slip over her head and started to gyrate her exotic hips in a hula motion.

“You go, girl!” cheered Jessica, who threw some of her money toward Claire, encouraging her.

“Shake it like you got it, honey!” yelped Monica enthusiastically.

Even Meredith, who was normally shy and awkward around her roommates, joined in, goading Claire on, using words no one would have expected to hear from her. “If you got it, flaunt it!”

Claire particularly took note of Meredith for a few seconds after the attractive but shy redhead let out her ribald cheer, as such an outcry was most unexpected coming from her. Claire had always liked this, her quietest roommate, but now there was something more about her which Claire found to be new and interesting and exciting. Meredith...I don't think I've noticed so much before...but...wow...she's so pretty...and she likes me...and likes what I'm doing...what I'm showing her........... I'll make her like me more... I'll make her want me.......... I like her, too........a lot........so cute......so pretty........

Claire basked in the adoration she was receiving. It felt so right to receive compliments about her beautiful body and her sensuality from her roommates. Or, more precisely, compliments from women, pretty women, women to whom she was attracted—that was really what made it so special and pleasing. In this moment, Claire’s mind told her to go further, to seize their interest more completely, to captivate them. Desire possessed her to use her curvaceous body to draw the attention of a woman, of women, of these women, of any and all women, to get them to praise how sexy she looked, to desire her with fierce lust.

Claire danced some more for her friends, strutting around in confidence as she teased her roommates with her semi-naked body, the nylons adding a seductive sheen to her legs and her white cotton bra cupping her breasts. Her gyrating hips drew attention to her panties and to the pantyhose covering them, baiting her roommates with the promise of the treasures that lay underneath, namely, her sexy ass and, most intriguingly, her sweet pussy.

Another minute or two into her performance, it became clear to Claire what she had to do next. It was the only logical conclusion as far as she was concerned. After all, she had gone this far, so why not go all the way? Reaching behind her back Claire began to play with the clasp of her bra. Soon she would show her friends how far she was willing to go. Looking at Monica and Meredith, she could see the look of anticipation on their faces, like children waiting to receive a special gift.

Jessica abruptly rose from her seat, walked up to her dancing friend, and faced her. “Okay, I think that’s enough, Clairebear." Jessica placed her hands on the raven-haired girl’s shoulders to get control of the situation. "You proved your point.”

Though she was as eager as the other girls to see more of Claire, would have loved to have seen Claire go all the way, and didn’t want to stop the striptease that Claire was putting on, Jessica had noticed that Monica was secretly recording the whole thing on her smartphone. Though Jessica tolerated Monica’s foibles most of the time, that didn’t mean that Jessica trusted her. She realized that Monica could end up posting Claire’s performance on the internet for anyone to see, or she could conceivably even do something worse with the recording.

Jessica had genuinely liked Claire ever since they had become roommates a year and a half before, and, as a loyal friend, had been one to watch out for Claire's interests; but tonight, for some reason, she was experiencing new depths in her protective instinct for her pretty best friend, as well as her in attraction to and affection for her. She felt an enhanced desire to see Claire happy and safe, in addition to seeing...well, to seeing Claire, to seeing more of Claire, all of Claire, and to being closer to her, closer emotionally and physically. Heeding, with difficulty, the more honorable faction of these sentiments swirling within her, Jessica had mustered the great effort it took to yield to her conscience, exercise her willpower, get up, and stop Claire’s risqué show before it got out of hand.

“Monica, turn the music off,” the athletic girl directed flatly. "And delete the recording."

“Ah, come on,” Monica moaned, as she begrudgingly complied, or at least made it look like she did.

“Right when she was getting to the good part!” Meredith protested, both girls disappointed that Jessica had decided to interrupt their fun.

“What’s wrong, Jessica? Don’t you want to me continue? Still don’t think I have it in me to do this?” There was a teasing, yet also mocking, challenging, almost provocative tone in Claire’s voice, one that Jessica had neither heard before nor expected to ever hear from her dear friend, especially aimed at herself.

There was a part of Jessica that wanted to apologize for interrupting her best friend and let Claire continue her dance. Being so close to Claire in her semi-naked state was sending soft pulses of pleasure through her body. Jessica felt a pronounced urge, in fact, to move in closer and embrace Claire, to caress the curves of her body, to lean in and plant butterfly kisses all over. She didn’t know why she was having such feelings, but she knew that Claire’s show had worked her up as, she assumed, it would have affected anyone else. Despite all of this, Jessica’s sense of loyalty and friendship for Claire was strong and able, for now, to override the lesbian desires which had just been freshly baked into her mind that evening by the subliminal messages in the DVD she had watched and by the chocolates she had eaten.

“Come on, Clairebear, I was just joking. And besides, you know what I think about you. I love you!” The moment Jessica said that, she blushed, for somewhere within herself she realized that she meant that and felt it in some new and different and stronger way than she had before, and she hoped Claire would neither detect that intensity nor think she was being inappropriate. “I mean, you know I think you’re amazing! I always believe you can do whatever you want when you set your mind to it.” The taller girl smiled at her friend, who smiled back slightly, relishing Jessica’s compliment and affection... and the sensation of Jessica’s hands on the bare skin of her naked shoulders... and the brunette girl’s proximity…

At this point, Jessica awakened to the sensation of the skin of Claire's shoulders and the shoulder straps of Claire's bra under her hands. She looked down at those smooth, soft shoulders, then let her eyes follow the shoulder straps down Claire's chest to the cups of the white bra, and to the swollen mounds in them. Involuntarily, her mouth watered slightly. Claire's exposed skin felt silky, warm, and exciting under her fingertips, and the raven-haired girl's creamy, bulging mammary flesh, now so close, both to her face and to her hands, would not permit her eyes to tear away.

The taller coed also found herself idly fingering the bra's shiny shoulder straps. A thought flashed through her mind: What would happen if I were to slip the straps down Claire's shoulders?.................

Unknown to Jessica, Claire was having a very similar momentary mental escapade. Noticing Jessica's rather blatant interest in her bra and breasts, a gratifying thrill coursed through her. This was what she had wanted. Yessss, Jessica. Look all you want... Do more than that, if you feel like it... Claire entertained an image of Jessica sliding the bra straps off...then kissing her neck and her chest...her fingers pulling the cups down...her lips wandering lower...

Claire's momentary reverie was broken by Jessica continuing her words. “But it’s getting late. We all have morning classes and I doubt you want to wake up late or tired.” Jessica was going to add something like, “And you don’t want to get carried away and do anything you’ll regret later,” but she did not, although the Jessica of but a few hours before would have. Instead what came out was, “Besides, you can always continue this later… maybe when we don’t have morning classes to worry about...”

Why did I just say that? We were all having fun and a good time, but I don’t want to see my best friend naked... do I?

Attributing her novel thoughts and urges to being tired, in addition to having been aroused by the music and the dancing, Jessica pushed them aside, completely unaware that her mind had been tampered with and that various changes in her attitudes and desires would soon ascend to reign within her.

With Jessica’s comments, most of Claire’s normal personality seemed to snap back into place. She looked at the clock on the living room wall to confirm Jessica’s statement.

“You’re right, Jessica.” Claire beamed at her friend. “You’ve always been watching out for me.” Jessica smiled again in response. Her attractive facial features, hair, and curves suddenly commanded Claire's attention, in a way they never had before. My, she's cute. Why haven't I noticed, like this, before now? And if she were softer...more feminine...more girly...and loosened up...she'd be...awesome........ She'd be a wonderful girlfriend...for some lucky guy.....................or girl.................... Oh, my... I like her.......more than I knew..........

For the first time in her life, Claire had felt like using stronger language in her mind instead of the "oh, my". Words like "damn" and even "fuck" had almost penetrated into her conscious thinking, and were close to the surface, but her tenacious, life-long faithfulness to upright language managed to suppress them. For now.

After a few seconds of gazing into each other’s eyes, which gave both of them a tingle up their spines, Jessica reluctantly slipped her hands from Claire’s shoulders and, thinking their conversation was concluding, was about to step away, though disinclined to leave what seemed like a minute of splendor, in some mysterious way, for both of them.

But Claire unexpectedly stopped her, placing a hand on Jessica’s right shoulder. With words at odds with her body language and her reluctant tone, the black-haired beauty nominally agreed, “So...yeah...I guess we should call it night.” Without consciously realizing what she was doing, Claire began to caress Jessica's skin with her thumb.

Claire’s trademark dazzling smile appeared on her face. Jessica couldn’t help but go a little weak in the knees upon seeing it. She also was aware of Claire caressing her shoulder, but didn’t say anything about it, not wanting to disturb the magic of the moment. It was a very pleasant feeling to have Claire look at her and, especially, to touch her like that.

While Claire and Jessica were standing face to face, close to each other in the center of the room, touching and gazing and talking softly, Monica and Meredith were raptly watching. A day ago, they both would have thought the two before them were acting odd, at best, but on this night, their interaction seemed natural and sweet. It was nice to witness these two roommates of theirs being so supportive and affectionate with each other.

A bit of envy also started to mix in with their admiration. Meredith and Monica, who were still sitting together, as if on cue, turned and looked at each other for a few seconds. Simultaneously, they looked at their roommates again, and then turned once more to each other. They both smiled, each thinking to herself, and being understood by the other through her facial expression and body language, "That's so nice. They look good together. You and I...we could...you know...be like...like them..." Neither said a word, but simply took the other's hand in her own, an act they had done during the DVD, and was now starting to seem like a natural expression of friendship, or some other undefined attachment, between them.

Claire was hesitant to disengage physical contact with her best friend, but felt that she was already dragging the night on longer than necessary, and she and her friends really did need to turn in for the night. As she started to step away from Jessica, she let her hand drop from Jessica's shoulder. In the process, she inadvertently—she told herself—grazed the tip of one of Jessica's breasts with her hand. The experience lasted but a moment, and, though clearly an invasion of Jessica's body, on the surface it seemed like but a small, incidental event.

Why did I do that? Well, I didn't mean to. I shouldn't be so careless.

"Oops. Sorry, Jessica." While part of Claire was truly sorry for the liberty she had just taken—which, though she denied to herself and to Jessica that it had been intentional, she knew, deep down, had really been deliberate —another part of her was glad she had "slipped". It had been, in a way she didn't understand, kind of fun and arousing. Feeling like that, though it also struck her as possibly a bit perverted, didn't really bother her much at this moment, for some reason.

"No, that's okay." Jessica had also felt a thrill at the supposedly accidental contact, and knew she wouldn't mind if Claire did it again, or something similar, or something more. Anytime you want to, Claire...you doll....

Claire began to walk over and pick up the discarded clothes.

“Don’t worry about that, Claire," Monica said, as she arose. "I’ll pick them up. After all, most of those things are mine.”

Claire blushed with embarrassment as she just then realized how she had, during her impromptu strip show, mistreated the nice clothes Monica had let her borrow.

“Oh, Monica... I'm so sorry. I didn’t mean to...”

“No worries, my dear." Monica picked up the skirt and looked at it for a second, recalling Claire playfully stripping out of it for them, and for her. "I think the show we received was well worth having a tailored suit tossed around.”

Meredith didn’t saying anything, but nodded slightly in agreement. She turned her head away from Claire a little, however, to avoid making eye contact, feeling guilty for having leered at Claire's gorgeous body, and having done so no differently than the vapid boys from her high school had done to any sexy girl who would pass their way, the same boys who had mocked and teased her just as much as their ego-driven, vain, but nevertheless sexy girlfriends.

Meredith's mind lingered a few seconds on those sexy girls from high school...those pretty girls.............. Maybe they weren't all that bad... How could they be...if they were so...sexy...and pretty...like Claire...?

Soon after, the roommates gathered in the hallway leading to their bedrooms, each once again hugging Claire to give her a final congratulation of the day and wishing each other a pleasant night. Claire was the first one to walk away to her room, which was the furthest down the hall, and, as she sauntered down the hallway with her back towards her friends, she didn’t take notice of those friends standing as if glued to their spots, lustfully staring at her swaying, panty-covered ass as it walked away from them. Nor did she see their looks of disappointment when she walked into her room and closed the door behind her, before they made their way towards their own bedrooms.




A few minutes later, after Claire had slipped off her pumps and out of her pantyhose, she was mulling over what to sleep in when her state of semi-nakedness caught her eye in the mirror that hung from the closet door. Walking over to stand in front of the mirror, she took a good look at her beautiful body. Claire couldn’t help but admire the curves, the smooth skin, and the other natural endowments that drew the attention of others, and which had drawn the riveted interest of her pretty roommates within the last hour. Taking in the sight of her gorgeous body, Claire felt a sense of pride swell within her and, recalling what she had just done, she couldn’t help but let out a playful laugh. She had just shown off her body, her sexy body, to her roommates, and had proved that, if she wanted to, she was very capable of putting on a decent strip show, and capable of not being a prude, as her friends put it.

I look good........... I can’t believe I did what I did, but...it felt good......... Maybe...I can do it again...another time..........Jessica said she wanted that... I bet the others do, too....... So do I...

Claire’s hands began to roam all over the curves of her beautiful body, feeling the smoothness of her skin, playfully inspecting her body in front of the full-body mirror. Her hands ended up groping her large, D-cup breasts, enjoying their generous, womanly size, weight, and roundness, then gently pushed them together, dramatically deepening her cleavage. The feeling of the feminine fullness in her hands, and the sight of herself rubbing her tits together in the mirror, caused a wave of pleasure to travel through Claire’s body.

I never did get to finish my little dance.

The sensible, good-girl part of her mind perceived what the new, naughty part wanted to do, and told her not to, to just go to bed and sleep the rest of the night away.

It’s getting late... I probably should go to bed..............but...first...surely there’s no harm in finishing what I started...in the privacy of my own room... That would be okay... Why not?... It would be fun... After all, there's no sense in starting something if I don’t plan on finishing it......... No matter... I want to...and I'm going to...

To ease the part of her mind trying to stop her, Claire quickly looked around her room, confirming that the door was closed and locked and the window shades were drawn down and closed, so no one could peak in. Claire and her reflection were the only two people present in the room; at least it seemed like a party of two, consisting of one beautiful female entertainer about to perform privately for an audience of one equally beautiful female spectator.

Claire hummed softly to herself, picking up one of the tunes Monica had played from her smartphone, and started swaying back and forth, not quite dancing as she had for her friends, but nevertheless moving to the rhythm. Reaching back, Claire’s fingers played with the clasp of her bra. Doing so arched her back and thrust her chest out, which pose zoomed all of her attention to her breasts. Taking a deep breath, she flicked the clasp and watched her bra fall to the floor.

As soon as the bra fell off and Claire beheld her firm, full, bouncing orbs and deep-pink nipples lewdly revealed to herself in the mirror, as if for the first time, she smiled devilishly to herself and began to paw them more aggressively than she had previously. The rush of exposing and kneading her large, erotic breasts was exhilarating. Her hands roamed all over the succulent mounds, massaging, groping, and playfully mashing them together. Her fingers ventured towards the front of her glamorous mammaries and started to play with her hardening nipples. The feeling of pleasure intensifying, Claire felt wetness accumulating between her legs. She failed to stifle the moan which escaped her lips.

It wasn’t long before Claire’s attention focused on the last remaining garment, the white cotton panties covering her modesty.

So plain... so unattractive... so not me... I have to get with Monica and get some fashion tips... Maybe we can go shopping for some better underwear... maybe even try some on...in front of each other...

The thought of modeling undergarments with her foxy Latina roommate sent another sensual chill up Claire’s spine.

Sexy underwear is better... Plain white cotton panties aren’t me... That’s something a child would wear... Sexy, beautiful women wear sexy underwear that show off their beautiful, erotic bodies... I am a sexy woman... My body is beautiful...

Claire's mind turned back to the scene in the living room a few minutes before. She recalled the look on Monica's face as Claire had danced and stripped for her, and, especially, when she had almost peeled off her bra in front of her. Monica is sooo beautiful. I really like her. I want to be closer to her. I want to show her more...show her everything... Then an image came to her of being alone in a dressing room with the lovely Hispanic girl, watching while the shapely young woman removed her underwear. What would she look like...nude?............wow........

The thoughts running through Claire’s head this night were utterly foreign to her, or at least to the girl she had been but a few days before; but the mixture of the brainwashing of the last two days with the arousal possessing her at the moment overwhelmed her normal values and personality and allowed the implanted ones to gain an increased measure of traction within her psyche without it triggering much mental resistance, for tonight at least.

Staring at the panties covering her groin in the mirror, Claire knew what she had to do next. Turning her back to the mirror, Claire focused on the sexy ass and gave it a wiggle. A sexual thrill shot up through her body as she turned her head to watch her reflection shake her beautiful butt at her.

Hooking her fingers into the sides of her panties, Claire began to slowly draw them down. Looking over her shoulder at her reflection, Claire was mesmerized by the image of herself spreading her legs a little to balance herself, elegantly bending over, drawing the panties past her hips, and giving herself a view of her moistening pussy from the rear. She welcomed feelings of excitement and lust as she gracefully peeled the panties down to her ankles, then stepped out of them. At last, she rose to her full height and faced the mirror.

Claire was naked. And it wasn’t for the purpose of getting ready for a shower or to put some clothes on. No, her being naked and ogling her marvelously nude self in the mirror was, for the first time in her life, purely sexual in purpose, to gratify raw, unabashed lust. Again staring at her reflection in the mirror, Claire drank in the beauty of her naked body.

Finally............ This feels good...sooooo good...to be wonderfully...gloriously... naked...

Claire, finding it quite impossible to look away for even a second, revolved around before the mirror slowly, one complete turn, then another, devouring the image of her voluptuous breasts, smooth belly, and beautiful, flaring hips. She paused for an arresting inspection of her neatly trimmed pussy, noting with fascination the plump nether lips, and the feminine wetness glistening on them, then turning again to admire the pleasing roundness of her tight, full rear.

She thought back to the expression she had seen on Meredith’s face but a few minutes before as Claire had danced and stripped for her. Meredith’s look had been one of awe, affection, and tenderness. It had made Meredith’s face simply beautiful, more so than Claire had seen it before. While Claire already knew Meredith liked her, and even admired her, this was different. It was better. Meredith had looked like she had wanted her.

Claire ran her hands over her rear, enjoying the smoothness of its skin and its plump firmness, as she resolved to see that look on Meredith’s face again. And Monica and Jessica, while having been rowdier than Meredith, also had shown a similar look of wonder and obvious carnal interest.

This won’t be the last time...

Claire faced the mirror, piling her shiny black hair into a silky mass atop her head, smiling. The action lifted her nipples into even greater prominence, and broadened the smile on her pretty face. As she let her hair spill back again over her shoulders and down her back, she again took her rosy nipples between her fingers, pulling, pinching, and playing until they grew nearly an inch from her areolas.

...I have more to show them...

Her gaze drifted downward again to the secret place between her legs. Her hands soon followed.

...so much more...

As she spread her feet and touched a finger to her wet pussy lips, she gasped and tossed her head back, her gleaming midnight hair flailing around her wildly for a moment, reveling in the shocking sensual contact.

Why have I never looked at myself like this before? Or noticed my beautiful body like this? Or touched it... and played with it... quite like this?

Mmmmmmmmmm She ran her finger along the moist, hot labia, then, impulsively, plunged it part-way in, with a sharp intake of breath. Ohhhhhh. Opening her eyes, she saw an incredibly hot girl bathing in passion and bold nakedness in the mirror.

This is who I really am.......... I am not a prude......... I am a smoking hot babe... a tempting, irresistible, sexy girl......

The dissolute thoughts running through her head and the erotic display in the mirror filled Claire with a most irrepressible urge to continue the pleasurable exploration of her moist, quivering lovebox.

Withdrawing her slender index finger from her vaginal canal, she gently used it to trace around the outer edges of her swollen pussy lips, feeling the sensual slickness that her pussy was producing as her finger skated around the labia, and then she dipped her finger back into the molten core of her inflamed passion.

Claire’s knees began to buckle, her back trembling with the sexual excitement pulsing up and down her spine, her lush lips parting to release a stifled moan of pleasure. It didn’t take long for her other hand to join in the self-pleasuring fun by latching onto her left breast, kneading the large fleshy orb, and then venturing to her hardened tip, playfully twisting and pulling on it, which elicited a more audible moan of sexual pleasure.

I can’t believe how great this feels... I... I never felt like this before... Why does it feel this good?... It can’t be because I stripped in front of my friends... my sexy, gorgeous girlfriends... beautiful women... Can it?.............

No... That's impossible... It's just that it's been a while... about a month or so since I last... touched myself... It’s just been too long... I should do this more often..............a lot more...

Claire’s mind was seeking a justification for her current nighttime activity which would be compatible with her straight self-image, attempting to avoid facing the true causes of her sexual excitement. However, her raging lust, combined with the chemicals and brainwashing she had received, would not let her evade, for more than a moment, the Sapphic ambiance pervading the situation and her emotions.

Actually............ .to be honest......... yes......... I think it is because I danced for them... stripped for them... showed off my sexy body............ Oh, I wish I had gone all the way... and... and shown them everything... like this......... .

My roommates are babes... Having them look at me felt so good.......... Maybe if I could have gotten them to join in... that would have been... fun........ Maybe we would have gone “all the way” together......... It would only have been fair... to see what those cute girls look like... without clothes... showing me... everything... too...

As those thoughts rumbled through her head, Claire, as if on auto-pilot, not fully realizing what she was doing, turned away from the closet-door mirror, knelt, and bent forward at the waist so as to rest her head on the carpeted floor, presenting her curvy derriere and dripping womanhood lewdly to the mirror. She was angled so she could turn her head back toward the mirror and see herself in it, which she did. She caught the reflection of her delicious, beautiful ass, exhibited so flauntingly, drinking in its smooth, sexy curves, as well as the wet pussy lips also on obscene display, basking in how exposed she felt. It felt so naughty... so exciting...to be like this.

Claire noticed how her legs were spread apart, perfectly positioned by natural instinct to give her easier access to the dripping pussy she saw. It also occurred to her that if some companion were to join her in the room, someone whose company she enjoyed—someone like one of her cute roommates—someone she desired to show her sweet womanhood to, someone she wanted to make hot for her and tempt beyond the point of resistance—this would be the perfect way to do it.

...as if... as if I were some... some whore...

Although a few days ago the foreknowledge that she would ever assume such a lewd pose and entertain such decadent thoughts would have alarmed her, tonight actually doing so amused and intrigued the pretty young woman more than it troubled her. Whatever surprise and concern she harbored about her behavior was largely dampened by lust.

She observed the moisture pooling on the outer lips, including a little droplet of her pussy juice forming and then rolling down her sexy womanhood. She reached her hand back, first to rove over the smooth skin of her ass, then to resume the probing of her insistent young lovebox.

Looking back at her mirrored image, to Claire it now seemed as if another young woman, a fascinating, enticing woman, was there with her, just on the other side of the mirror, groveling on her bedroom carpet, her large breasts dangling downwards like ripe fruit hanging heavily from a tree and swinging in the breeze, showing herself off wantonly to Claire, revealing herself to be a sex-crazed slut, masturbating herself to inflame Claire’s desire for her. Claire’s mind weakly attempted to remind her that it was just herself, with her reflection, no one more, that there was not another hot, raven-haired woman with her, that she wasn’t lusting over a beautiful, naked woman in a way a hetero girl never would, but the reminder was not convincing.

That girl... She's awesome...... She's so hot... like a sexy whore.......... Yeah...that's right, babe... a whore... Don't stop... Show me that sweet pussy... you hot slut...

If anyone else had really been in the room with Claire, their eyes would have been glued, like Claire's, to the sight of her, face down and ass up, playing with her wet quim. The only sounds they would have heard in the bedroom would have been the slurp of Claire playing with her steaming hot pussy and her attempts to stifle the moans of her lust. Claire found those sounds enchanting, like a symphony of beautiful, erotic music.

A sordid but powerful fantasy which she experienced in virtual reality during her brainwashing session at the Artemis Center earlier in the day bubbled out of her suppressed memory, heavily influencing her imagination in this moment. It was as if she saw someone behind her now, not just in the mirror, but actually in the room, stepping closer. The image was blurry at first, but something hung between the mysterious visitor’s legs.

Is that a... a penis?........ What else would it be?............ wow............. I think... I think I’m about to get... to get screwed........... at last.......... just like... like a slut......... Bring it on, baby...

“Who’s there? Is that you, Darren?” The moment she said that, or imagined saying it, the prospect of a man being with her—having apparently replaced her female companion in the mirror, her lovely, sexy, whorish twin companion—struck her with deep disappointment, if not dread.

She found that reaction odd, but she immediately sought to explain it away to herself. I must be feeling guilty about what I’m doing... But... but... I’m not doing anything that bad... My mom told me that I could—no, that I should—play with my body however I wanted to... That’s all I’m doing... And I’m just experimenting with some fantasies in my mind... There’s no harm in that... I’m an adult now... I can do it if I want to...

She gave in to her imagination and picked up where she had left off. Since she was playing the part of a slut, she decided to continue the role and see where it would lead.

“Do you like what you see?” She wiggled her ass in invitation.

“No, dear.” The voice was feminine, thrilling, and familiar. The realization that the voice was that of a woman rather than of a man mysteriously dissipated the disappointment which had descended upon her a moment before and completely replaced it with a succession of positive sentiments consisting, first, of surprise, then of wonder, and then of an inexplicable delight. “I’m definitely not Darren.”

The visionary being clarified to her eyes. The woman was naked, save for glossy red high heels and jewelry of gold and rubies. Her firm, heavy breasts, tipped with blood-red color to match her lips, swayed with her breathing. She brushed her pale blonde hair, styled like Marilyn Monroe, out of her beautiful, made-up face with a red-nailed hand. Wrapped around her waist was a large, ivory strap-on penis which, like the real thing, stood at full, angry erection and was pointed directly at Claire’s gaping, drooling, hungry pussy.

“And, yes, I most certainly like what I see.”

“Mom?...... But...”

“Relax, darling. You want this as much as I do.” Claire felt, or thought she felt, the tip of her mother’s artificial cock touch her labia, and then just start to split them apart.

“Oh! But, Mom! Isn’t this wrong?” Despite her objection, Claire felt her virginal, whorish cunt leak and quiver in receptive anticipation.

“No, my sweetheart. It doesn’t feel wrong, does it? You need to get fucked... like the little slut you are... like we did before... with Goddess. Don’t you remember? You absolutely loved it. So did I. And now you need it again, darling.”

However, before the lustful phantasm of Claire’s mom could perform the sinful deed, the erotic fantasy faded as fast as it had appeared. “Wait... no... Mom... don’t go!” Claire mentally screamed as she watched her beautiful mother vanish from her mind’s eye, leaving her in an unfulfilled, desperate state.

Her conscious mind, seized by sinful sexual fantasy, cared for only one thing tonight--to quell the pulsing lust that was spilling out from her horny pussy. Then a mischievous smile crept across Claire’s face as she remembered something in her possession, something she had never used before, nor had ever even opened, but which now seemed to call to her as exactly what she needed this night. Reluctantly removing her wet fingers from her pussy, she crawled to her dresser, stood on her knees, pulled the bottom drawer out, and searched it feverously. After digging through t-shirts, jeans, shorts, rolled-up socks, and other items of clothing, Claire squealed softly when she found her prize.

That was really a weird little scene I just imagined... Why would I think of getting... of getting screwed?... And by my mother, of all people?... I shouldn’t think like that... I’m not like that... And I shouldn’t even think that naughty word... “screwed”......... Although... that’s what it was... almost...... Maybe that word fits......... I think... I think I like that word...

But... right now... I don’t care... I’m feeling kind of... kind of wild... kind of sleazy... and it feels... really... really... good............ I need to get off... maybe I can pretend I’m screwing myself... and this thing is going to help me!

Her decadent excitement soared when she withdrew the item from the drawer and inspected it. In her hands was the gag gift that her friends in high school had given her as a going-away gift. The label euphemistically identified it as a “personal massager”, but most any modern adult female would readily and correctly recognize it as a vibrator. Today would be the day that Claire was going to christen it, by launching it on its maiden voyage into her wet, steaming tunnel of love.

The packaging intrigued Claire, and she examined it more closely than she had previously. It consisted of a black box, containing the erotic toy, bubbled-wrapped in hard plastic onto an 8” x 9” cardboard backing. A picture printed on the lower half of the cardboard depicted the enclosed rocket-shaped instrument. Another picture, covering more than the top half of the cardboard piece, displayed the upper half of a beautiful blonde, next to whom was a word bubble which stated, “For those lonely nights”.

Claire’s eyes lingered on the woman. She found herself drawn in by her sexy beauty, and aroused by it. The model’s shiny, platinum-pale hair had full bangs and was fixed in a high, loosely-curled ponytail which streamed past her shoulders; she wore skimpy white lingerie that showcased her prominent breasts; and her face was painted attractively with makeup.

Claire’s eyes were drawn by the tail of the word bubble to the woman’s delectable lips, coated heavily in fire-engine red lipstick. Unable to tear her eyes away from the woman’s face for a minute, she noticed other details, such as black eyeliner, glittery blue eye shadow, and blush on her smooth, kissable-looking cheeks.

Claire couldn’t resist speculating how she might look if she followed in the footsteps of the model. What would it be like if she applied more make-up on herself, and took a break from the all-natural beauty philosophy she had inherited from her mother? What kind of attention would she draw to herself? Would her friends—and as she thought of “friends”, only females came to mind—find her more... attractive? Was it time to experiment? Or even to simply break away entirely from her mother's ideals?

And............what if she were—like the model—a beautiful.........sexy....................blonde?

As she briefly pondered those questions with an escalating sense of intrigue and excitement, it struck her that she was now her own woman, one who could think for herself, that the values she adopted as a girl at home might be a little outdated, that even her underpinning religious beliefs could be open to question. Maybe it was time to re-evaluate, to explore new ideas, to taste a little more of the things and ways of the world, to have a little more fun. Why not?

Her nudity, her pussy play, the vibrator and its pending use, the blonde model, and the prospect of starting to wear makeup, to dye her hair, and to otherwise stray from her principles—Claire found it all quite sexually stirring. She had no idea why she did now, nor why she was feeling so wayward tonight, when she never had before; but what she did know was that it felt awfully good to be kind of bad like this.

The excitement and lust coursing as a mixture through Claire’s body opened her to physical sensations she had never known she could feel. She felt a draft of cool air flow around her nipples, like a lover’s caress, making them harder, causing her to pinch them between her thumbs and forefingers, and to gasp. Then she perceived the cool air flow between her legs, as well, awakening her pussy with naughty pleasure, the tickling air doing nothing to cool the heat she was feeling in her loins. Her moist lovebox started to pulse in concert with the rhythm of passion that was flowing through her body, until her pussy became the undeniable seat of the lust seizing her, and the force driving her to her next carnal act.

Getting up, Claire quickly took her packaged vibrator over to her desk and, sitting down, began, almost desperately, to fumble through the drawers. Gleefully, she finally found a pair of scissors and then a pack of double-A batteries. Picking up her friends' gift, she cut, pulled, and then tore the plastic and cardboard packaging apart to extract the tool that would soon relieve her of the feverous lust seizing her body. She read the instructions on the box, dropped the remnants of the packaging on the floor, opened the pack of batteries, and picked out two. Her hands shaking with excitement, she unscrewed the bottom end of the vibrator and dropped in the batteries.

As she hastily screwed the end of the vibrator back on, the verb describing that action struck her. Screw. I'm screwing the vibrator...and soon, it’ll be screwing me, kind of... She smiled to herself at the irony. The vulgarity of her little joke and vocabulary—which she never would have let her mind entertain but a few days prior—passed through her head unchecked this time and only faintly noted.

The passing humor she saw in the vibrator was quickly swallowed by hunger for it. At this point her cunt was dripping with need. All that pent-up lust with nowhere to go was like a pressure cooker, and the only means of its escape and Claire’s relief was in her hand.

Bounding to her bed, Claire slipped in and settled herself partially under the covers, her naked upper half remaining exposed, while she was mostly was covered by her blanket below the waist. Taking a calming breath to relax, she turned the vibrator on and began to trace her yearning young slit with its rigid tip, gently teasing the outer edges of her wet box.

So spontaneous and blind had been her response to the call of her pussy, in finding, preparing, and commencing the use of her new little love stick, that it wasn’t until she let a small moan of lust that it fully dawned on her what she was doing. She was masturbating, and this time instead of a finger she was using a white, six-inch long, half-inch wide vibrator. Claire knew this was radically foreign to a girl like herself—and yet, nevertheless, immensely exciting. She couldn’t believe that she hadn’t done this sooner.
It was almost as if she could hear a voice—a pleasing, confident, trustworthy, feminine voice—guiding her, suggesting that she should do this kind of thing more often, that pleasure should be embraced, not denied, and that the only wrong course she could take would be to deny her sexual urges instead of enjoying them. The voice was reminiscent of her mother's—and of Regina's, as well—and lent an aura of maternal approval of, or even involvement with, her current naughty foray into erotic self-pleasure.

Soon, rubbing and stroking the shaft around her wet twat wasn’t enough and she wanted to feel more pleasure. Realizing that she had the key to her sexual release in her hand, Claire’s lust-addled mind focused on using it more invasively.

Taking another deep breath, and kicking off her blankets and sheets, thereby ending the pretense to modesty she had tried to perpetrate on herself when she had started her play with the vibrator, Claire closed her eyes and guided the smooth, firm, plastic tip towards her moist opening and with a gentle push started to rub the inside of the entrance to her moist passion pit. Her hips and lower back began to tremble as she moved the vibrator in and out inside her dripping cunt.

This feels so good on my pussy... I mean my vagina............ Got to be careful... so good... Yet... I don’t want to ruin my virginity with this thing... It should be saved for that special moment... and that special someone..................

But........ what if I did go too far...by myself...or with someone else?........... Would that really be so bad?…

Claire had always planned on reserving sexual intercourse and most other sexual experiences for marriage. To a man. But, she perceived, her attitude had inexplicably changed. What had always been a rigid doctrine for her had softened. In fact, it was her growing feeling, the concept of postponing her first serious forays into sex might be unnecessarily prudish, and was possibly a misguided denial of what she really wanted and needed. She knew there were paths foreign and forbidden to a good girl like she ever had been, yet mysteriously they were calling to her, beckoning her to explore their intriguing, dark, corrupting ways. Claire decided to let her thoughts about sexual morality drift.

Maybe I’ve got it all wrong... Maybe virginity is overrated... Maybe I don't want to be that good...

... Maybe what I need is a good fuck.........

Like the word “screw”, which her mind had at first resisted and then embraced a few minutes before, this was another, raunchier word she was unaccustomed to allowing in her head. She caught it as it passed through and curiously wondered where it came from, but without being too concerned that she had used it. It was only to herself, after all, she rationalized; she hadn’t said it out loud. And the word seemed somehow appropriate in the current context. In fact, she had the impression that she was actually fond of the word, as it was such a descriptive and fun one, and she felt like using it again. Nevertheless, thinking twice, she concluded maybe the term was a bit extreme for her, just the same, so she replaced it with other words, ones which she also would not have used in her thoughts a mere two days ago, but which seemed acceptable right now.

...I mean...to get laid...to get screwed...

Over the next several minutes, Claire found herself entertaining thoughts of just letting go, letting go completely, of having a wild sexual romp in the hay, with... with anyone... even if it were just with some random person whom she didn’t even know... as long as she found the person... attractive... Before this, she had never even come close to permitting herself to seriously contemplate such behavior, that she could remember, not for herself, but, suddenly, it was a very exciting idea, and her pussy became even wetter at the thought of it.

As long as I was careful about it...about having sex...it could be mutually pleasurable... for both me...and some.............guy...?

The moment she completed that sentence in her mind, she knew something was wrong about it. Not the “sex” part...but the “guy” part. As she examined her feelings, she could find no appeal whatever in the prospect of sex with a man—as had similarly been the case a few minutes before when her imagination had supposed Darren was in the room with her—as well as in the idea of marriage to a man, and saving herself for that man, so that her first and only partner in sex would be a male. In fact, a bout of nausea came over her when she considered such situations, ones which but a few days previous had been settled and unquestioned eventualities for her. She could feel her stomach churn, as if with anxiety, and her head ache and spin. The “guy” thing was all wrong, somehow, physically and emotionally, and, in this moment, she could not force herself to conceive of letting a man even touch her, much less make love to her.

Sex... with a guy......... yuk... It just doesn’t seem...right.... More than that...it makes me feel...sick.......... I wonder why...........

But I still want to get married some day… Don’t I?............ Yes… yes, I must… I can’t have changed my mind so fast… I must just be in some kind of funk about guys, for some reason… I’ll get over it..……

But, in the meantime... I think I want something now... some sex... before marriage... intimacy... sexual pleasure... maybe even going all the way.............Yes... I think I’m ready... more than ready.... I'm bothered by the waiting part... These are modern times, after all... Just because my mother saved herself for Dad, that doesn't mean that I have to do it the same way.......... No, I shouldn’t have to wait until I get married to give up my virginity...

The nausea afflicting the pretty coed started to soften noticeably, seeming to confirm to Claire that her thoughts were on the right track.

A lot of girls don’t wait.. Most don’t, probably... I don’t have to, either... ... I could still be a good girl... kind of... if I wanted to be............ Maybe I don’t... want to be... ... ... ... I definitely want some sex... or a lot of sex... It doesn’t mean I would be a slut... necessarily... ... ... ... And even if it did mean that... if I became a slut... would that be so bad?...

Whoever I marry would understand... My future husband... or wife...would accept me for who I am…...............

Wait... Did I just think "wife"?! For me? Where did that come from?... I’m straight! I’m not interested in marrying a woman. No way. Her queasiness started to escalate again, bending her mental direction anew.

Well............ Some women do marry other women......... For some it's right... or... even... wonderful........ Once again, the nausea started to abate. Maybe I shouldn’t be so narrow-minded.......... In this day and age... I guess... I guess it could be theoretically possible... for me... to... to marry... a... a woman.......... An unexpected exhilaration swept through her, encouraging her to think further along this and related lines.

Yes... theoretically... it could happen... I don’t know why I haven’t considered it before now... but... why not?.... If I met the right person... the right girl... the right woman...... There was another infusion of elation.

At this moment a scene swept before the eyes of Claire’s mind of three shapely women in sheer wedding gowns in a church, all with red lips and nails contrasting with the white of their dresses. Two of the women had long, platinum blonde hair and stood side-by-side facing the third woman, a brunette. Claire’s perspective started behind the two blondes, who appeared to be getting married by the third, who was playing the role of a minister, and possibly acting as a senior or presiding bride in the trio. Claire recognized the brunette as none other than Regina, and her heart skipped a beat. Her view then swung around to the opposite side, behind the brunette, so that Claire could see the front of the two blondes. At first, thin veils covered their faces, but the minister-bride finished the ceremony and gave them permission to seal their new union with a kiss. Both blonde brides lifted their veils to comply and, as their mouths met in love, Claire recognized the couple as Traci and…herself!

The mental image did not last long enough for Claire to fully comprehend the implications of such a scene for herself, but it did send her pulse racing and left her with a highly favorable and exciting impression of lesbian marriage.

Oh... yes..... It could be... it would be... beautiful............

Hmmmm... So...even if I did marry a woman... I still wouldn’t want to wait until then... to have sex... No... I’m not going to wait... I want it before then... No matter whom I marry... man or woman... my first time... is going to be sooner than that... maybe very soon... And I suppose if I could marry a woman... then... it would only be logical that my first time... for sex... could also be with... with a woman............. Why not?....

Claire's prior sensation of sickness had by now completely dissipated and was being supplanted by a host of pleasant, buoyant, aroused feelings.

Maybe I shouldn’t be considering this... I’m not gay... What’s... what’s going on with me? Am I just playing around? Or would I really do it?................. Well... you never know.... Yes, I’m straight... but... but...other than that...I don’t see any good reason not to at least be open-minded about it............ If the woman was beautiful...and soft...and curvy...and sexy......Mmmmmmm... It could be...it would be...very...very... very...nice...

She couldn’t explain it—maybe it was from the recent discussions and thinking about lesbianism and homosexuality in which she had been engaging; maybe it was from having gotten to know such stunningly beautiful women as Regina and Tracy over the last few days; or maybe it was simply from the heat of the moment—but she knew that ideas of sex with a woman and even marrying a woman were, out of nowhere, calling to her. Her new impressions of female homosexual relationships were that they were lovely and desirable and exciting, not just for certain other women, but very possibly for herself, as well, nothing like what her attitude would have been just a week ago, she perceived. Merely considering the naughty possibility of having her first sexual experience with a woman very clearly stoked the pleasure she was feeling in her juicy womanhood. Her hungry pussy seemed to beg her to keep thinking about it...so she did.

Just because I have been hetero so far in my life... it doesn’t mean I couldn’t... change ... a little... and be... a little bit lesbian... That thought made her feel quite good, encouraging her to go further. Or... .if I liked it... I could even just switch... all the way............ The moment she thought that, another mysterious thrill coursed deliciously through her, making her nipples tingle and her pussy quiver with excitement. Mmmmm... She paused several seconds to savor the sensation before pursuing her intended line of thought.

Of course, that’s not probably going to happen... but... okay... Let's just say...if I were a lesbian... Again, a spike of pleasure struck her.

If I were a lesbian...who would I give my virginity to?... Who should I give it to?...... Let's see.........maybe......maybe Jessica... hmmm...yes...not a bad choice...so loyal...certainly pretty enough...and a lot of potential to be much more............. Or maybe...maybe Monica...oh, yes!... such a beautiful girl!...and so very... well... she’s very... sexy.............a girl who knows what she wants... She’s such a fox... I wouldn't mind a fling with her at all!... I mean... she's a definite possibility............ And then...how about Meredith?... She's shy...but I kind of like that about her... She's very cute...gorgeous, really... She has kind of a sexy way about her, too... without trying... just kind of naturally......... .yeah... a promising candidate... definitely... I could see it...her...and me.............

But...it wouldn't have to be one of my roommates, particularly....... If it weren't, then who would it be?........

As Claire pondered that question, erotic images of beautiful women began to trickle into her mind.

It could be just some random encounter...something I did on impulse...it wouldn't have to be with someone I knew very well... It could be with anyone... with any pretty woman... or hot girl... And... maybe I wouldn’t want to limit myself...to just...one......... There are so many cute girls and women...

The sudden thought of being sexually promiscuous, especially with other women, sent a jolt of sharp desire through the excited girl’s body, making her nipples tingle and her womanhood leak all the more. She increased the speed and force with which she applied the vibrating rod to her sopping female sex.

But... I’m sure I could find at least one woman I would like... who would like me... someone I would connect with.... someone like........ oh!...like Traci!...

Claire reviewed the hours and minutes she had spent in the company of the lush blonde over the last two days, the way the vixen had dressed, her makeup and perfume and sweet affection, the romantically tense atmosphere between them, the way they had...kissed...

Oh, yeah... Traci... wow... She's awesome...

The marriage scene involving women resembling herself, Traci, and Regina, which had played through her head just a minute before, quickly flashed in and out of her mind again, spicing her reflections.

Mmmmmm............ definitely............... If I were a lesbian...I would really go for her...

At this point Claire was panting with sexual need. As she continued to rub the vibrator in and out of her juicy slit while imaging a possible lesbian interlude with her extraordinary new blonde friend, pleasurable trembles shot from her heated loins, up her spine, through her hardened tits—evoking a little whimper out of her pouty lips—and finally into her brain with a blast of delightsome carnal yearning.

Or...even.......... What about... Regina?!!.......... No! I shouldn't even think about her like this!... I owe her more respect than that.................... On the other hand............just thinking about her...can't hurt......... Mmmmmmm...Regina... I loved the way it felt to be in her arms...and to look at her............ Her beauty is almost...intoxicating........... I really like her...

And she might be willing, too... After all, there is that rumor about Regina........... Both she and Traci are mature, sexy women... They might know a thing or two about lesbian sex...

The idea of having sex with Traci or Regina—or both— fueled the lust in Claire’s body. In response, one hand started to stroke her gushing lovebox more desperately with the white vibrator, while the other commenced to paw her large breasts with abandon, alternating between each one, massaging erotically, and pinching and pulling her diamond-hard nipples, eliciting soft yelps out of her mouth.

Yesss.... Either one of them...would be......... absolutely......... .wonderful..............

But...if it were to be truly casual sex...on the spur of the moment...with the first available little hot number I could find... Those two are not random enough........ It would have to be with someone I didn’t really know....

Wait.............. How about...Serena Powers?..............

Suddenly thinking of the incredible ashened-pearl-blonde beauty who saved her academic career at Preston University sent yet more jolts of erotic pleasure into her drooling quim.

Oh! Wow! She is so hot!....... Yes, she's the perfect one!!...... Oooo... What a woman........

But...wait...... Why do I feel...this way...about her?...................... And why did I think of her?... No... I owe her so much... I can't think of her in this way... I'm sure she would be way above anything like I have in mind... How could I even dare to draw her into my tawdry little fantasy?... It wouldn't be right............would it?.............

I don’t know much about her other than what I've seen in newspapers about her company...and what Regina has told me...and what I saw in that DVD tonight.......... However...she did look very beautiful in that video...like a drop-dead sexy... goddess...

Once the word “goddess” passed through Claire’s mind, it awakened to a higher level within her the devotion and hunger for the woman which had been thoroughly instilled through brainwashing earlier in the day. She locked on to the mental image of Serena Powers. That fixation would control the remainder of Claire's fantasy tonight. As she dwelt on the voluptuous, pearl-blonde woman, she assumed for Claire an aura of holiness mixed with a fascinating, wanton, irresistible allure. It became clearer every second in Claire’s mind that this was not only the perfect woman to be her partner in random sex, but she was also the ideal and rightful focal point of her every depraved desire, the one divine being whom she should adore, the goddess she somehow already knew and for whom she had been seeking, the one who was destined to guide her as no other could into a life of bliss centered around the delights of carnal lesbian lust.

Claire imagined what it would be like to have this woman—this goddess—kiss her, caress her, reveal to her the joys of random lesbian sex, and lead her into her very first sexual encounter with a woman. Claire wished that Serena was with her in her bedroom this night. She so wanted to feel Serena’s hands play with her naked body, the way a master musician would skillfully play an instrument to elicit beautiful sounds.

She is perfect......... She is a goddess..........my Goddess...

A vision opened to Claire of this goddess sitting on a throne, naked, legs spread wide for Claire like a magnificent whore, toying lasciviously with her glorious pussy, beckoning Claire to come closer for a taste. The situation and the invitation seemed as familiar as they were irresistible, for Claire’s unsuspecting brain was, of course, simply retrieving this scenario from her memory of the wondrous round of sex with the Goddess which her unconscious body and subconscious mind had “experienced” while hooked up to the brainwashing machine at the Artemis Center in the afternoon.

Ohhhh, yes, my Goddess...please... In her mind's eye, Claire knelt down reverently and worshipped with her mouth at her Goddesses' holy volcano of love, as automatically, naturally, and rabidly as she had in her virtual experience earlier that day.

In her real, physical world, as Claire vigorously pursued the ministrations she was performing on herself, her body signaled the impending onset of an orgasm. Seized by a lust she had never felt before, and would not feel again unless she repeated certain behaviors and thoughts flavored with a mindset similar to her current one, Claire took a deep breath and prepared herself. With shaking fingers she turned up the dial on the vibrator to maximum, then let the pulsing shaft push her over the edge.

Claire was still enfolded in the vision of the Goddess, and of herself devouring Goddess's divine womanhood, when, in Claire's mind, her blonde mistress's volcanic pussy erupted—and, in the real world, so did Claire's.

Claire’s whole body began to shake and twitch, her back arched, her hips thrust lewdly into the air, and her pussy spasmed wildly. The small amount of control that Claire had left enabled her to cover her mouth, thereby stifling the sounds of pure orgasmic joy escaping her lips.

The bliss seemed to go on and on, but at last Claire descended from the amazing high of her masturbation session. Panting heavily, her body covered in sweat, and still enjoying the probing tip of the pulsing vibrator against the wet entrance to her hot cunt, she experienced a few small aftershocks that coursed through her, echoes permitting her to relive in reduced measure the powerful orgasm that had just ravaged her lust-crazed young body. Drawing upon some last reserves of strength, Claire withdrew the toy from her spent pussy and brought it up to look at it.

Noticing the vibrator's buzzing sound, as if for the first time, Claire idly wondered if her roommates had heard either it or the commotion incident to the throes of her passion. She decided she didn't care if they had, as her sexual high had been well worth the risk. Nevertheless, she switched the love stick off.

My pussy feels sooo good... Ooops... I didn’t mean that word......... Or maybe I did... Yeah... ”Pussy” is a good word.... I’m an adult now not some child... I can use it… It’s what I have, after all... a beautiful, juicy, womanly pussy... My sweet pussy feels so lovely... I’ll have to do this again...and other things... to my cunt... Oh, Claire, stop!... Such a dirty word... A small smile formed on her lips. You’re so naughty............ But...... “it”...wants... more...

The tool of pleasure glistened with her female juices. Never having sampled girl nectar, curiosity overpowered her, and she extended her tongue for a taste. Her verdict was immediate and undivided, and it seemed as though she had known the outcome in advance. Mmmmmmm... yummy..... She lapped the hard plastic until every trace of her girl juice had been savored.

As Claire licked and then inspected the vibrator, thoughts of her gorgeous mother came unexpectedly back into her mind. It struck her that there seemed to be some natural and arousing connection between the woman who gave her birth and this decadent instrument—or, more accurately, it became clearer as she thought about it, between her mother and her pussy, and its pleasure, between her mother and sex. A sensation came to her that her mom had been with her in spirit during her play, almost as if she had brought the vibrator, had personally used it on her daughter, and had been an integral part of her daughter’s erotic high. Briefly, the fantasy that had thrust itself upon her mind a few minutes before, of her beautiful, naked mother at the point of fucking her from behind, flashed before her, sending a new rush of adrenaline through her.

Entertaining these curious impressions for a minute and deriving a mystical thrill from so doing, Claire then realized that thoughts connecting her mother to her sexual pleasure were both odd and inappropriate. So she attempted to dismiss them, attributing them to the “fact” that, according to her current, new memory, her mother had not long ago encouraged her, now that she was old enough, to indulge in the pleasure of self-love on a frequent basis, and, thus, it would not be unreasonable for Mom to pop up in her mind when she in fact behaved as her mother had suggested. However, her effort to detach thoughts of her mother from her current sexual feelings was weak, and her mind quickly drifted back to more unfiltered, decadent musings.

Mom...hmmm...such a good mother...so helpful all my life... taught me so many things... such a pretty mother... a lovely woman... so nice to be with... It might have been fun if she had been here tonight...to show me the ropes...to help me...help me use the vibrator............ .and to use it on me.......

We would probably be in bed... together ............ touching... each other......... That would be nice.......... Perhaps... perhaps she would ask me to use the vibrator... on her... too............ Why not?... After she helped me get off... I could help her out, as well... like a good daughter... who loves her mother... like I do............. Would we possibly share a little ...a little kiss...too?... a nice mother-daughter kiss?..........mmmmmm...Yes... definitely...a nice, long, deep mother-daughter kiss..........

Mom... I wish you were with me tonight... here... in my bed... with me...

The need to sleep now pressed on the exhausted, young raven-haired beauty, and all she wanted to do right now was give in to it.

Claire's last conscious acts were dropping the vibrator on the bedroom floor, lying down, and pulling her blankets and sheets over her. As she nodded off, one last question passed through her mind:

If it felt that good just thinking about girls... and women... and... and sex with them... lesbian sex...what would the real thing be like?


************************************************************************

This morning, Claire could only remember with reasonable certainty most of the conversation she had had with her roommates immediately after they had all watched Serena Powers’ video. After that, whatever they had done, and she had done, before she had gone to bed, was mostly a big blur in her brain, especially at first. However, as she lay there in bed, some clearer impressions and glimpses started to surface within her of what had occurred before she and her roommates had retired to their rooms for the night.

There was... music......... .and I......... I danced?.......... Yes... I think I did......... But why?.......... Did I take my clothes off?! While they were watching me?! No! I would never do that!................ Yet....... I think...... maybe... I did......... Why would I do that?!

A very embarrassed Claire did her best to recollect why she would have displayed her body in such a shameful manner, but comprehendible reasons eluded her, at least with her current, refreshed moral mindset. Then she turned to chastising herself, giving herself a stern lecture that it was something she should not have done, that she had blatantly ignored her upbringing, and that, in displaying her body, she had carried on in a lewd, sinful manner quite inappropriate for a modest and proper young lady such as herself.

The scolding mental voice also told her that she was fortunate that her moral digression had not taken place in a more public setting, such as in some place of ill repute, which could have brought her family and friends great shame, so she took a small measure of comfort in having limited her strip show so that it had only been in front of her caring, trustworthy, and discrete friends.

At least it was only for them... for my roommates............... my beautiful roommates... An inadvertent sense of pleasure passed through her when she thought of them, and having performed for them, but she quickly stifled it as being out of place, considering the guilt she was feeling at the moment, or should be feeling, although that suppression seemed to give her some discomfort in her head.

As Claire continued to linger in bed, a few of the words spoken and thought and some other shadowy mental images and vague impressions of and lingering emotions about what had happened, both with her roommates and later, returned to her, but most of it still eluded her, for the time being.

Claire sought to clarify her hazy recollections of the previous night’s events by rolling to a side, propping herself up on an elbow, and surveying the room, looking for clues that might help her address the mystery of why her gorgeous body was naked in her bed, clues that might provide an answer she could easily accept. Looking around, a twinge of shock rose from her gut, followed by a cold chill climbing up her spine, as she began to see evidence indicating what she had done in her room over the last night. Claire saw her discarded bra and panties by her closet mirror, the remnants of the torn packaging of her vibrator on the floor near her desk, and the white vibrator itself lying on the floor next to her bed. She found confirmation of her guilt in her nakedness and in the clammy sensation between her legs, to which she slowly shifted her focus. She felt her bottom bedsheet underneath her bum, and discovered the expected, corresponding damp spot.

The realization that she apparently had masturbated after stripping for her friends, very possibly in some out-of-control, wanton way, using the degenerate vibrator which she had never used before nor had ever intended using, brought even deeper shame and denial typical for someone of Claire’s religious upbringing.

Oh, my gosh! Did I... did I do what it looks like I did?........... I couldn’t have... not me.....… But why?... That's so not me...

While there was much Claire could not recall about the activities and thoughts of the night before, certain unpleasant realities were now staring her in the face, but she did not want to confront them. However, as Claire attempted to deny to herself the truth of her nocturnal behavior, the discomfort in her head became an outright ache, and the longer she tried to avoid the facts, the more her headache throbbed.

New components within Claire’s mind began to secretly steer her active mind into acknowledging, justifying, and accepting last night’s actions, and, to evade the headache as well, she allowed her thoughts to drift in that direction. As she did, her headache started to resolve.

But...........if I did do it... if I played with myself... and I guess I must have... it’s not like I plan to do this all the time... How long has it been since I... since I touched myself?? About a month and a half?... It had been so long... too long... Any girl in my shoes would have done the same... I deserved to finally have some fun... And...besides...I’m an adult now... I can do what I want... And it’s not like I was doing something bad…

Her body’s memory of the pleasure it had experienced during the night now started to leak into her mental impression of the masturbatory event. How could it be bad if it felt so good?... very good... Maybe I should do it more…......... I think I remember Mom telling me that... that it was okay for adult females to...to play with themselves... even if they wanted to do it a lot... Yes, I do remember her saying that... She said I should do it... .get myself off... frequently... as much as I want to........

But... did I really do all those things last night?... Claire tried again to mentally discredit the evidence of her strip show and her masturbation session and to disavow them as something wayward. I can’t imagine doing such unseemly things... Could I be misreading the clues?... Is my mind tricking me?... It just doesn’t seem like what I would do.........

With these doubts, she quickly found herself massaging her temples. Oh... that headache... I must be thinking too hard about this... Maybe I’m fretting for no good reason...

Finally it became clear that it would be more comfortable to accept the probability that she had just been feeling a bit randy last night, and had given in to it a little, and that maybe that wasn’t so perverted after all. As she acquiesced to that sentiment, once again her headache diminished.

Perhaps, she now speculated, she had had some kind of normal, pent-up sexual frustration which had been necessary to vent. Or possibly the jubilation she had felt in the wake of securing her collegiate future had lowered her inhibitions, to the point where she had impulsively acted out some buried desires. Maybe what I did was... was really pretty understandable...not so unusual......... In fact, I think there was something kind of... fun... about it......... If I... or we... were just having some fun... then why would that be so bad?... The headache continued to abate.

In the past, on the infrequent occasions when she had masturbated, she sometimes would think of some guy to help her get off. She wondered whether she had done so last night.

Hmmm... Wonder if I was thinking about someone... like, some guy... Did that get me worked up? Who could I have thought about?....... Was it Darren? Maybe I was thinking of him when I played with myself... or... even when I stripped... After all, at one time I was considering marrying him...

At various times in the past, thinking about the masculine, athletic body of her ex had succeeded in stirring enough arousal to help Claire jill off adequately, so it was only natural for Claire to guess that old feelings about her ex could be the cause of her out-of-character behavior, especially considering how deprived she must have been feeling after her long abstinence from any kind of sexual gratification. But there was a small part of her mind that sensed there was something amiss with that assumption.

I must have been attracted to him back then......... .but...

Despite her previous positive feelings about Darren, she felt none now, and, in this moment, she found it so difficult to remember or imagine being attracted to him or to any other guy that she wondered whether she had ever had any real feelings for him.

Claire found that her efforts to recall her relationship with Darren were making her headache return and were making her queasy again. Additionally, a very soft voice in the back of her head told her that neither her ex nor any other male had anything to do with the decadent events of last night. Therefore, Claire gave up on her attempts to tie Darren and other males to her lustful feelings and acts of the previous night, and that surrender made her feel better immediately.

Claire had no clue that those and coming bouts of lust, arousal, and indulgence were the result of Regina’s brainwashing, as her new nature and proclivities would remain hidden from her for now, with the exception of various impressions, images, impulses, and longings that would pop up from time to time. For the time being, most of the erotic lesbian imagery and fantasies in Claire's mind would mainly dwell in her subconsciously, usually only coming to the surface in the presence of certain key triggers, such as a certain sight or touch or word, or when released by hypnotic trances. However, Claire was to be gradually introduced to—then consistently, thoroughly saturated with—experiences and pleasures of lesbian sisterhood and further associated indoctrination, which would then crystallize the lesbian persona that had already been implanted in her. That persona in time would come to dominate every aspect of Claire’s mind, personality, goals, desires, and attitudes, not just her subconscious mind, and would drive out her old beliefs, supplanting them with new ones, which would lead her to adopt an exclusively lesbian lifestyle and to worship the Goddess.

Looking at the time on her smartphone, Claire realized that if she remained in bed any longer, she would be late for her morning classes. She stretched and yawned, then forced herself to arise from the bed in which something pretty remarkable had happened the night before, to prepare for the new day. She briefly wondered if this day would hold anything close to the novel events of the previous day, as she went to the dresser, pulled out a matching white bra and panty set, grabbed a towel, and headed to the bathroom.

Slowly opening her bedroom door, Claire stuck her head out and looked back and forth to make sure none of her roommates were in the hallway. They were not, and only silence greeted her, giving her the impression that her roommates might all have left the apartment and that, even if they had not, at least at the moment the coast was clear for her to walk out of her bedroom in the nude.

For the first time ever, Claire left her bedroom completely naked, and sauntered down the hallway to the bathroom. She knew she should at least hold her towel up to shield her private parts, and hurry as well, just in case someone else was around, but for some reason she did not feel like doing so. Her little naked walk seemed oddly both natural and daringly, naughtily exciting. Unconsciously, she added a wiggle to her step, as if, if anyone did happen to check her out, she would make sure that they would be unable to tear their eyes away.

Once in the bathroom, she hung her things on a towel rack on the wall, but one end of the rack pulled loose from its mounting bracket and her items fell to the floor. Already slightly stressed by her time constraint and by her inability to remember the events of the previous night clearly, the usually-mellow Claire grumbled in an uncharacteristic manner as she fumbled with the rack, finally managing to reaffix it back on the mounting brackets. She replaced her towel and underwear on it, this time more gently.

Now believing she had to rush a little more, Claire jumped into the shower, set the dial to warm, let it run a little out of the lower faucet to give hot water a chance to start flowing—but without feeling it to confirm the temperature—and turned the shower-head water all the way on, but to her shock a blast of icy cold assaulted her bare skin, feeling like shards of glass scraping her body. Claire let out a shriek.

Aghhh! I can’t believe I completely forgot about this!

Claire mentally chided herself. Having been distracted by her attempts to shake off the remnants of slumber and piece together last night’s events, she had forgotten that the antiquated plumbing and water heating system in her dorm apartment, located in one of the older buildings on campus, took some time to replenish warm water. She speculated that her roommates must have depleted the available hot water when they prepared themselves earlier for their morning classes.

Deciding against turning the chilling water off and waiting for later, as time was pressing, Claire instead started to bounce on her feet a little and rub her arms, shoulders, and chest with her hands to counter the cold.

Once she got acclimated to the icy water flowing over her naked body the best she could, Claire first shampooed her luxuriant hair, then picked up a bar of soap and began to wash her body. Her hands, as if they had a mind of their own, quickly gravitated to her large, voluptuous breasts, at first soaping them to a rich lather, then lingering on them. Without fully realizing what she was doing, her hands roamed all over them, hefting and caressing, then adding playful squeezes and tugs.

When Claire let a moan escape her lips, it snapped her out of her lustful haze. Although she was alone, apparently with no one else around, she was embarrassed to once again have started another self-pleasuring session. Mustering concentration on the primary task at hand, she finished her shower in a few more minutes. Toweling herself off and gently patting her hair down while gazing at her body the whole time in the bathroom mirror—another first for her—Claire then removed her bra and panties from the towel rack and put them on.

When she got back to her bedroom, she surveyed her wardrobe. She spied a pale pink polo shirt in the back of her closet, which she hadn't worn for some time because, being 100% cotton, it had shrunk in the three years she had owned it, and her breasts had also grown in that time, so that it fit considerably more tightly now than her sense of modesty had deemed appropriate. At least until this morning. Today the top struck Claire as just about right, and so she picked it out, along with medium blue capri pants—a pair which she usually only wore around the apartment because they, too, had become very snug-fitting, and showed off the contours of her lush rear, hips, groin, and thighs too explicitly for outside use, or so she had thought before today—and a pair of white ankle socks, and dressed herself.

When she finished, she modeled for herself in the mirror. She couldn’t help but trace the lovely curves of her body with her eyes. The ensemble she had chosen seemed perfect, in no small part because of the way it displayed those curves.

Wow, I have a great body...a sexy body... I... I never noticed it before...not like this...

Claire did a little playful twirl in the mirror and stopped when she saw a side profile view of her body. Look at those breasts...wow... They just...kind of... jut out, don't they? Like they're begging for attention? She ran her hands lightly over them.

The mischievous thought flashed through her mind that maybe she shouldn't wear a bra today. Wouldn't that be a sight! She closed her eyes and pictured it, her nipples pushing obviously into the material, her heavy, unsupported globes dangling visibly, bouncing wildly as she moved and walked, drawing the eyes of other girls and women as she passed—it not occurring to Claire that she had omitted males from her imaginary scenario—making them notice her, and lust for her...

No, Claire... That would be naughty! She smiled to herself over the thought, just the same. Maybe sometime...

Her eyes spied the outline of her mirror image's bra straps through her clinging top. Oh...that's an interesting effect... People seeing her would notice she was wearing a bra...and maybe that would draw their attention to what was in the bra. Hmmmm...

Then, her mind jumping to the next logical issue, she turned half-way around so she could see her rear. Ah...cool... The edges of her panties were also visible as slightly elevated lines through the relatively thin, tightly-packed cotton-polyester fabric of her capri pants. The sight reminded her of the reason she rarely wore them out, but...but this view, today, was most intriguing. Yes... You can see my panties, too...

Though showing the outlines of her underwear through her clothes had never been something she had ever wanted to do before—in fact, it had always been quite the opposite—right now the look appealed to Claire.

Her eyes ogled her body some more, then ascended and rested on her hair. Oh, yeah... I'd better take care of my hair... Claire sat down at her vanity, combed through her damp, raven-colored locks, used a blow-dryer to dissipate the moisture, and brushed the blackness until it had a healthy gloss, as her mother had taught her. Putting the brush down, she paused, gazing at herself, and her beautiful mane, in the mirror. Gathering some glimmering midnight locks in her fingers, Claire held them up and stared.

I’ve been putting it off for a while...but...maybe I should do something new with my hair...

The moment that thought came to her, a mysterious thrill ran though her, as if she had opened some erotic discourse with herself, and was in the process of discovering some wonderful destiny. She sensed it had something to do with her being good, or more to the illogical point, becoming a good girl in some way she never had been before, and doing so by being quite naughty. In any case, something felt right about the line of thought she was entering, so, encouraged by the feeling, she continued.

I’ve kept the same style for a while now. Maybe something with bangs...maybe cut it short... or dye it a different color...

Hesitation crept into Claire as the last idea came into her mind. It had been a long time since she had entertained the idea of dying her hair, at least that she remembered, and, even then, she hadn't dwelled on it extensively due to her belief in natural beauty and minimal use of beauty aids.

However, as she began to analyze her hair in the mirror, Claire recalled the conversation she had had with Traci the previous night. She recollected Traci saying she had dyed her luscious wavy brunette locks on a whim and she had never regretted it since, and that she had encouraged Claire to consider a similar change, assuring the student that she, Traci, would like her better if she did. No, Traci said she would love her. That is, if she went blonde.

...Traci...

Unknown to Claire, a light blush appeared on her face, but she did perceive that a small pleasant feeling rushed through her body again.

Little did Claire suspect that her response in this moment was the direct result of the brainwashing to which she had been subjected over the past two days. In particular, she was feeling arousal over two things: First, the idea of altering her looks in a decidedly sexier direction, with the centerpiece of the alteration being going blonde, which desire had been impressed upon her subconscious mind as a distinctly erotic one, and which had been implanted, more than at any other time, during the session at the Artemis Center while hooked up to a brainwashing machine; and, second, a deep crush for Traci, which had been laced into her through various parts of her brainwashing over both days, but especially during the time she had spent with Traci coming home from the Artemis Center, inducing Claire's emotions and body to react to the presence and even the mere thought of Traci as though she were a favorite lover.

Claire accounted for the noticeable response within her when she thought about Traci by admitting to herself that she had come to view Traci, in the short time they had known each other, as both a dear friend and a kind of role model, one who, despite a nasty divorce, had nevertheless made the most of herself and her life, was a dedicated and affectionate mother, was persistently upbeat and pleasant, and obviously had a keen understanding of feminine beauty and allure, and who, as such, was someone Claire wanted to be with, learn from—maybe even copy—, impress, and attract. Definitely attract.

It’s not like dying my hair would change who I am... It worked for Traci......... Wow...what a lovely woman... She seemed to have fun with it... I bet I would, too................. But it’s still a big change... I'll have to think it over carefully......... Monica would have some good suggestions... I’ll get together with her... I'll see if she can recommend a stylist... or at least a different hairstyle…........or color......... Or maybe I'll just surprise her... I'd like to see the look on her face............ Though...I'm not so sure about dyeing it a different color........

And what color should it be? ............

Then the image of the beautiful platinum blonde model on the package of her vibrator, which she had opened and used the night before, popped into her head. The model had fascinated her, and Claire had wondered with some excitement what it would be like to look like her. That surfacing impression combined with her budding obsession with Traci, her past interest in going blonde, and her brainwashing to steer her contemplation.

... Like......maybe.................blonde?

An erotic thrill passed through her like a jolt of sensual electricity, as if an incomprehensibly marvelous yet inevitable destiny had just announced itself to her.

Wow... That could be very...very...very...cool........ I can hardly imagine it.......... Is it possible...that I could be...a...a blonde?...................

She felt her pussy moistening, just as if she were getting sexually aroused, but knew what she was pondering could not possibly have that effect. Could it?

Or even something else...not quite as drastic...could be quite nice............... Though even that would be a big step.................. but...........maybe I'm ready for a big step...a big change...............maybe not........ I don't know...

Setting aside the mental debate about changing her hair, but still somewhat under its influence, Claire went to her nightstand, pulled open the drawer and started to rummage. Soon she found the prize she was looking for, a teal elastic hair tie. Walking back to the closet mirror, she stretched the tie in one hand and gathered her hair in the other. A quick minute later, Claire had her long, shimmering black hair pulled back and held in place by the elastic hair tie in a simple ponytail. While not an outrageous or drastic change, it was not a style to which she resorted often and was enough alteration to her appearance to put to tenuous rest the subtle but importunate desire to change up her hair, for now.

Looking in the mirror, she turned her head from side to side, flipping her long, black ponytail playfully about her face.

I like the look........... Oh! I look like Regina! She recalled Regina's appearance the day before, also with her hair up in a ponytail, which, on her, had seemed so stylish and sophisticated—and sexy—to Claire. That can't be a bad thing...not at all...

Up to this point in her life, Claire’s mother, Mary, had always been her role model and hero. But that was changing, thanks to the indoctrination of the past two days, and future days. Even now, the Mary with whom she had grown up was fading as Claire’s ideal and mother figure, and in the future that version of her mom would increasingly be associated in Claire’s mind with the traditional values which Claire would start to reject as the “out of date” and “limiting” dogma of the “narrow-minded”, “superstitious” Christian religion, which would yield its place in her heart to a new, more fulfilling and exciting devotion to a blonde lesbian goddess. The dominant impression of the Mary of the future in Claire’s mind would, however, become that of a very sexually desirable woman, and a destined partner in sex, even as her regard for the Mary of her past, as a mother and exemplar, dwindled to insignificance.

Instead, her mind would turn, more and more, to Serena Powers as her ideal woman; and among women she personally knew, Regina Burke would come to reign supreme as her new mother figure—an incestuous, lesbian mother—and exemplar, as the woman she most wanted to emulate, spend time with, please, and be close to in every way, the person whose opinion mattered most to her, the one whose approval and love she most craved. Traci’s influence would be very similar, albeit not quite as dominant as Regina’s.

Another warm, excited feeling came over Claire when Regina came to mind. I wouldn't mind being like Regina at all. And being with her more. Much more. What a spectacular woman.

She found herself toying with her cute ponytail as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. It was almost as if she were flirting with the pretty woman she saw.

She blew her reflection a kiss, and smiled at her.

Hi, Regina.

As she stepped out her bedroom, Claire heard the sound of the door to the apartment opening and a few seconds later closing.

“Hello?”

“It’s just me, Claire.”

Claire was surprised to hear Meredith’s voice this early in the day. She walked toward the living room, where she came across her cute redheaded roommate, who was looking at some mail in her hands and who would shortly start to remove her backpack from her shoulders.

Claire soon found herself absently eyeing her roommate, making note of how especially pretty she seemed today. Normally, Meredith would wear loose attire that allowed her to mask her petite, still-developing feminine figure from what she considered was a judgmental world, but today she had deviated from that norm.

The first thing that Claire zeroed in on were the tight jeans her geeky friend was wearing. They were doing an amazing job of showcasing her curvy hips and, Claire had a sneaking suspicion, if Meredith were to turn away, the jeans would likely show off a cute butt, as well. Moving her eyes upward, Claire saw that Meredith wore a pink t-shirt with the Superman logo on it, which wasn’t too far from Meredith’s typical tastes, but, like the jeans, the t-shirt was tighter than usual and hugged her pert breasts and the bra containing them somewhat more revealingly than Claire was used to seeing them.

After lingering on the mounds in the girl’s shirt a few seconds, Claire’s eyes landed upon Meredith’s face, with another immediate surge of new interest. She took note that her red-headed friend had accented her cute facial features with a reddish lip gloss and a light application of a glossy black mascara. It also seemed that Meredith was in the mood to change her hairstyle. Since winter break, she had sported her beautifully red hair in an adorable style which had precise, straight bangs, an off-center part, and either soft waves or loose curls that flowed a few inches past her shoulders, but today she had modified it by pulling a section of her wavy auburn locks into a half ponytail, adding a cute touch, the rest of her mane remaining loose, and her bangs were teased and brushed slightly to the left of her face. Her hair was somewhat wind-blown, too, from her having been outside, the cool morning wind having also given her cheeks a fetching flush.

It seems that Meredith is experimenting with her looks... She looks so cute... Dare I say even... beautiful?... Yes... for sure... But... hmmm... I think she could do even... more... That would be cool to see... I need to encourage this... be supportive... It will help her get out of her shell.

Claire justified her prolonged inspection —or ogling—of her friend’s looks as being merely a friendly assessment, but, before she could truly react to it, her scrutiny was broken by the impact of her roommate dropping her backpack on the floor.

“You’re back early?”

“Well, you can thank good old Professor Morrison for that. I swear, that guy has missed more classes then all of the students combined. Not even sure how he manages to stay employed, and then how he expects any of us to learn anything about software architecture is beyond me.”

Claire recalled Meredith mentioning Professor Morrison a few times, mostly with agitation and annoyance. From what she had heard, the guy was frequently late to his classes and was sometimes a no-show. On the inconsistent occasions he was there, he would frequently lose track of the intended direction of his lecture and veer into completely different subjects. He sounded to Claire like the archetype of an "absent-minded professor".

But Claire sensed that there was more to the disturbed tone in Meredith's voice than her discontent with Professor Morrison’s absence. She knew Meredith well enough to detect that something else was bothering her.

“Sorry to hear that, but at least you got the rest of the morning to yourself." A caring smile appeared on Claire’s face, and she took a step or two closer, until only a few feet separated the two standing coeds. "So...anything else on your mind?”

Meredith looked at Claire, looked at her well for the first time this morning. She took in Claire's sleek, new hairstyle, figure-hugging attire, and overall fresh beauty. The striking sight and the curvaceous, black-haired coed’s proximity made her silently intake a quick breath and freeze in place.

Meredith did not answer and looked away, acting as if she hadn't heard the question, obviously seeking to evade it, and maybe Claire, as well.

While Meredith’s delay in answering and her momentary avoidance of eye contact with Claire were caused primarily by the carnal awe of her beautiful roommate which had seized her, robbing her of speech and presence of mind for a minute, there were two other contributing factors. One was her ambivalence about bringing up the subject of her relationship with Monica. The topic had been dwelling on her mind more than ever and she wanted advice, but she didn’t want to bother Claire or sound like she was whining about it. The other factor consisted of her unsettled feelings about the strip show that Claire had given everyone in the apartment the last night.

As she now recalled the bawdy event, Meredith felt a twinge of shame from a belief which had formed within her that she had somehow provoked Claire, a person whom she regarded as her own sister, into an uncomfortable situation. What Meredith didn’t know was that as she invoked the memories of Claire’s sensual amateur performance last night, something deep within her subconscious mind began to gently stir itself awake. That something was not guilt, but interest, raw sexual interest, and it felt good.

Returning her gaze to her roommate, Meredith took another look at Claire’s beautiful face and saw the trademark joyful expression that she always wore. She couldn’t see a hint of embarrassment on Claire’s face or any indication that she felt she had done anything wrong the night before. It was almost as if Claire was…was proud of her immodest display. Seeing, or thinking she was seeing, that outlook on Claire’s part now helped to congeal Meredith’s next conclusions, as she found her attitude about Claire’s risqué behavior of the previous evening transform within the course of one minute from one of perplexity and of chagrin to one of approval, of admiration, and of having thoroughly enjoyed the titillating performance.

And why would she be ashamed of what she did last night? Claire gave one heck of an awesome show and there was nothing wrong with what she did... showing off her beautiful... sexy body... to me.......... and to the others, as well... Too bad Jessica stopped her......... If it had just been me... I never would have......... Claire’s so brave... I bet that felt good... to do something like that... to feel so free............ I kind of wish I could, too......... Maybe someday...... I... I don’t know that I could do something like that... yet............... .although... it’d be fun...

Meredith’s mind began to wonder off, not only revisiting Claire’s show but also trying to picture herself doing what Claire had done. When she finally recognized the unseemly nature of her reflections, she felt a little embarrassment, although she quickly rationalized that her train of thought was not so unusual a reaction to the transfixing events that had transpired around her the last evening, and that what had occurred really hadn’t been so bad. It couldn’t have been that bad, she mused, considering the key player had been her best friend Claire, who was one of the most admirable and upstanding people she knew, for whom genuinely bad conduct was virtually impossible. Claire was someone who consistently set a good example, someone Meredith and others could emulate without a second thought. If Meredith had imagined copying her, such a line of thought could not have been very improper. Claire’s performance had unfolded with a spontaneity on which no one had planned, everyone had just gone with the flow and did what felt natural, and they had all had fun. They had just been some college girls getting a little rowdy, and blowing off some steam, as college girls are wont to do sometimes, nothing more. Nothing really “wrong” had occurred and, thus, no one was to blame for anything. Everything was fine. More than fine, in fact.

Last night... we all had such fun... It was all really quite... amazing...

The unsettling impressions Meredith had possessed about Claire’s behavior of the previous night had now dissipated. However, her indecision about bringing up her relationship with Monica and her unexpected, captivated response to Claire’s charming physical presence remained as impediments to speaking.

Claire could tell something was troubling Meredith. Her feminine intuition told her that her cute friend would need some comforting about something within a minute or two. Claire recalled the way Meredith and her other roommates had been there for her the last couple of days in her hours of distress and jubilee, and she certainly would not fail any of them, either. Meredith’s reluctance to fess up only drew Claire another step closer.

Claire’s new proximity only intensified the symptoms—the shallowness of breath, the loss of voice, and the dizziness—of the attracted reaction which had caught Meredith off-guard a minute before at the moment Meredith had taken a good look at the raven-haired beauty who was her roommate. A response like this to another girl was totally new to her, baffling, and completely unexpected. Until she collected her wits and focused on Claire's question, for several tense seconds she had no idea what had hit her.

Unknown to Meredith's conscious mind, the two primary instigators of Meredith's mysterious little seizure—more than Claire’s pretty face, more than her eye-catching hair, more than her smooth, flawless skin, more than her skin-tight clothes, more than her narrow waist and flaring hips and rear, more than her sparkling white, straight teeth, more than the lingering, pleasant floral scents of the soap and shampoo with which she had just washed herself and which wafted through the air, more than the charm of Claire’s warm, kind personality, more than Meredith’s reluctance to bring up her Monica issue—more responsible for Meredith’s preoccupied, frozen state than all those factors combined, were Claire's large breasts.

In the past, voluptuous breasts had intimidated Meredith, making her feel inferior as she compared them to her own. Too often, the popular girls in high school had had them, and had taunted Meredith with them as proof of their superiority to her. Even after she had established friendships with Claire, Jessica, and—dare she even admit it?—Monica, and despite her own breasts having blossomed in the last two years, and still being in a state of noteworthy growth, to the point they would now match up favorably with those of many young women her age—being, in fact, tight in her current B-cup bras, indicating she was now a small C size, or close to it—she still had felt inferior and inhibited when she would catch sight of her friends’ gorgeous mounds and she would dwell a second or two on them, seeing in them a painful symbolic reminder of her own perceived deficiencies.

However, this time, with Claire, was somehow different. For the first time in her life that she could remember, she couldn’t help, for some odd reason, to feel not only relaxed about prominent breasts in front of her, but intrigued by them, as well. She allowed her eyes to rest on them, and found that it was not painful, not in the least. In fact, it was pleasant—no, it was simply exhilarating—to be so close to them, and, for a brief moment, she thought she heard something in the back of her head telling her that she actually loved large breasts, that she wanted to touch them, and feel them and hold them in her hands, that she wanted to lay her face on them, and nuzzle them, and kiss them. However, the voice faded back into the dark recesses of her mind before she could duly process the passing impression.

Claire noticed that Meredith seemed to be staring at her breasts. That gave her an inexplicable thrill, so she let her look for a number of seconds in silence, while she explained away her roommate's gawking by telling herself the girl was merely spacing out, and not necessarily ogling her—although if she were, that would have been fine, too, somehow. Or more than fine.

“Meredith... ”

To hear Claire speak her name snapped Meredith out of her brief daze and made her heart skip a beat. Claire saying her name sounded like music, for some inexplicable reason, though it never had before. Claire’s proximity was also triggering something within Meredith which she had never experienced before. She didn’t know why, but she was feeling something, something very nice, something stirring, that she was unaccustomed to feeling when around a beautiful woman like Claire. Meredith couldn’t identify the feeling with a descriptive word, but her conscious mind associated it with the friendship between the two.

“Yeah...Claire?” Saying Claire's name also seemed particularly pleasant, the redhead noticed.

“I want you to know that I’m here for you. That’s all." Claire gently put her hands on her slender roommate's shoulders. "If something’s on your mind, when you feel comfortable to talk about it, I’ll be here ready to listen and help in whatever way I can.”

Still under her roommate’s spell, but becoming acclimatized to it, Meredith attempted to rein her mind back on task, mentally debating whether she should open up about the distress she had been feeling over her relationship with Monica. It loomed as a topic Meredith wanted to broach with Claire, hoping both to vent her frustrations to a sympathetic ear and to receive more of the sound advice Claire had already imparted to her about it, but she didn’t know quite how to do it and whether doing so would alter Claire’s opinion of her. At length, she decided to let it spill out. She sensed if she entrusted her concerns with this lovely friend of hers, all would work out well.

A soft voice whispered in the back of head: You can trust her with your heart, too.

A small smile appeared on Meredith’s face as she gazed into her roommate's eyes and slowly shook her head, her red tresses swishing adorably about her face.

“You could always read my mind. I swear, it’s like your superpower.” After taking a deep breath, Meredith let out a sigh. Claire dropped her hands, but maintained her close stance to her friend and smiled again at her.

“Could I ask you something, Claire? What do you think about me and Monica?”

This wasn’t the first time Meredith had brought up the subject of their fiery-tempered Latina roommate in private conversation. As Claire had listened, over the year and a half they all had been together, to both Meredith and Monica express themselves to her confidentially about each other, and as she had offered simple but prudent counsel about how they might get along better, Claire had formed the opinion, and still held it in her conscious mind, that Meredith and Monica had the potential to forge a good friendship, one which could last their lifetimes, if they overcame the pride and stubbornness that often got in its way.

However, thanks to her recent conditioning, Claire's first, impulsive interpretation of and response to the question, before she had properly considered it, were Sapphic. Immediately upon hearing Meredith’s question, sensual images of Meredith and Monica started to flash deep within the dark corners of Claire’s mind, mental portraits of them nude, locked in erotic embraces, and together in the throes of passion. Those exciting visions and new, corrupted emotions in the shadowy pits of her subconscious mind insinuated to Claire that she no longer was interested in helping Monica and Meredith build a conventional friendship, but that she instead wished to guide them to become lesbian lovers, fulfilled, fun-loving, full-on dykes who would spend every possible moment for the rest of their lives in lesbian bliss.

They would be beautiful together. I'd love to see them happy... in each other's arms... in love...

Claire responded with a dreamy tone. “I think you two would look lovely together as girlfriends...”

The remark took a few seconds for Meredith to digest, whereupon an expression combining shock and injury possessed her face. Seeing Meredith's reaction, Claire immediately realized that her wording could have offended the redhead. Now embarrassed by what by she had said, or by the inference her roommate might have seen in her comment, unaware of the influences swirling within her which had led her to phrase her answer like that, Claire quickly backtracked on her slip of the tongue.

“I mean, you two would be great friends, very good friends, awesome friends standing side-by-side together.”

Meredith was more sensitive than the average young woman about being thought of or referred to, either directly or indirectly, whether in jest or not, as "queer", both in the sense of being odd or abnormal generally and, more particularly, in the sense of being homosexual, due to various circumstances and experiences in her life, especially starting in her teenaged years, which fell into two main categories.

First, Meredith had an inferiority complex. Having grown up with brothers, she had adopted many of their interests, manners, and clothes, and had therefore been dubbed a "different" kind of girl by the time she had reached her early adolescence, which supposition had then been confirmed in subsequent years, in the eyes of her peers, when other girls had started developing curves and she, being a "late bloomer", did not, remaining quite "flat" until she approached age seventeen. For both reasons, she had become the butt of ridicule both by some of the popular, more normally-figured girls and by thoughtless boys. Some of the girls were also partially driven by envy, as Meredith's facial features were on their way to being delicate and pretty, and her coloring striking.

Meredith’s underlying, emerging prettiness was, however, largely masked by her unkempt hair, freckles, boyish clothes and manners, and shy personality. Because of that and her lack of physical development, most boys—and not just the ones who openly mocked her—routinely demonstrated little romantic interest in her. She became keenly aware of the way the boys at her high school gravitated towards the popular, attractive girls—but not towards her. Additionally, Meredith had overheard her own brothers commenting, at times they thought she wasn’t around or paying attention, on the desirable physical assets of girls with whom they would love to enter a relationship, and the descriptions never came close to matching her own description.

Over the years of both emotional torment and social indifference inflicted on her by her classmates at school, Meredith had come to view herself as defective. From her perspective, it seemed that most people did not and could not like her, especially boys and pretty, confident girls. As Monica and Claire were of the latter type, it had taken several months for Claire to convince the skeptical redhead of her sincere desire for friendship when they were new roommates, and no small part of Meredith’s ongoing issues with Monica were rooted in her insecurities around an assertive beauty like the Latina.

In high school, being rejected for being considered homely and for having a style and tastes that were viewed as being odd had not bothered the redhead nearly as much as had the “undeveloped body” issue, and, over time, Meredith had become almost pathologically envious of the curvy popular girls, even though she felt rejected by them, and had come to see their breasts, in particular, as the major difference between herself and them, and a painful symbol of her inferiority.

Second, as a teen, especially starting during her sophomore year in high school, Meredith had been mockingly tagged as a lesbian, although there had been little basis in fact for that assertion. The charge had arisen not only because she was "peculiar", but also because Meredith appeared reserved around boys and seemed to shun them. It was true that Meredith was uncomfortable, inhibited, and tongue-tied around guys, and prone to avoid them, believing that she would only be rejected by them were she to attempt to be friendly, but that was the natural result of the teasing aimed at her, of her feelings of inferiority, and of her observations that boys seemed to like other girls more than herself.

Be that as it may, with the exception of her brothers and certain nerdy boys who saw her as "one of the guys”, Meredith had no close male friends, no dates with boys, and no boyfriend relationships. As her high school years passed, several of her peers took critical notice of that situation and of her long silences, minimal verbal exchanges, and awkward, evasive manner when interacting socially with the opposite sex, including with the few boys who did attempt to talk with her. Such observations led to the misconstrued, gossipy, malicious conclusions that she was dismissive of boys generally and that taunts about her sexual orientation were justified.

A reputation as a normal, straight girl for which she had hoped had also been undermined by her paranoid drive to try to “fit in” among other girls. Although she would have been very reluctant to admit it, she had been more focused on trying to gain the approval of her female peers than that of guys. Every fruitless attempt she made to curry favor with the curvaceous beauties that tormented her and to gain acceptance among them and other “prestigious” female classmates made it all the easier for those who were so inclined to see her as a girl who harbored secret crushes on other girls and to label her as lesbian.

Despite all of that, Meredith saw herself as a basically heterosexual woman who hoped to one day find herself in a relationship with a man, a relationship that could lead to something special. However, the emotional abuse she received during her high school years had created in Meredith’s psyche mental scars which cast a dark shadow of doubt about her sexuality within her. The steady feedback of others seeming to see her as unappealing and gay made it hard for her to shake the beliefs that her body was flawed and that her brain was wired defectively in some way, that she would never garner the notice of handsome men who caught her attention, and that she was incapable of connecting with males socially and sexually.

All that Meredith had experienced suggested to her that men were attracted exclusively to sexy, beautiful, socially-skilled girls and women, and she neither viewed herself as that type of girl nor did she have any idea how to become one, or how to flaunt what few assets her body seemed to possess to attract the opposite sex at least in some small way. Not only had she failed to develop normal ability and confidence in engaging with members of the opposite gender, but the frequent teasing about her sexual orientation made her question whether others knew something about her nature that she herself had not yet discovered. At times she wondered whether her destiny would ever include a man.

Meredith’s sensitivity over the issue of her sexual orientation had been inflamed over the past year by Jessica facetiously pointing out, from time to time, that the spats Meredith had with Monica were like those characteristic of couples in a romantic relationship. Jessica's intent was to embarrass the two roommates and thereby to quell the verbal assaults between them, but Meredith recoiled at the insinuation that she had hidden sexual desires for a female, not to mention for the one person who took extra time out of her day to annoy her. Unknowingly, the athletic girl had been ripping open old wounds with her sarcastic implication of a homosexual streak in Meredith.

Given that background, any person privy to it would not have been surprised that Claire’s slip of the tongue had stung Meredith, especially as it had come from one of the few people in her acquaintance around whom she felt safe from injurious comments. However, such an observer might have been puzzled to find out that the sting was short-lived, and only in part because of Claire's quick, diffusing explanation. Serena Powers’ special video had introduced into Meredith the beginnings of an inner girl who was open to becoming a lesbian, to loving girls, girls exactly like her roommates Monica and Claire, and Claire's inadvertent suggestion that there was a possibility of Meredith becoming something more than mere friends with the beautiful Monica incited that new, deeply-buried Sapphic streak within the redhead, which had first been roused today by Claire's presence, and, in particular, by the proximity of her breasts.

In the wake of the unintentional brainwashing Meredith had received, Claire’s slip of the tongue, within seconds after its initial bite, unknowingly jumpstarted a gentle feeling of pleasure which more than moderated the perceived harshness of the comment and planted new ideas deep into Meredith’s psyche which would soon grow and take root. As the word “girlfriend” sank into Meredith’s head, it drifted towards the dark, newly-tainted corners of her subconscious mind, stirring novel sensations there, and bounced around in the form of the more explicit term "lesbian girlfriend".

Even as Meredith’s subconscious psyche was in the process of embracing the concept of the Sapphic relationship seemingly implied by Claire’s comment, the active part of her mind rebelled against it—at least to begin with. And, though Jessica had been the one who had hit her repeatedly with verbal jabs about her sexuality over the recent past, Meredith was particularly disturbed to hear her trusted friend, Claire, say something with a similar insinuation, even if it was by mistake, as it seemed to confirm Jessica’s cynical allegation.

Claire saw the distress that her comment was causing one of her best friends. Closing the gap between them, she gently wrapped her arms around the slim redhead and gave her a warm hug. The shorter girl automatically returned the embrace, and rested her face on Claire's chest.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you like that…you know, to imply that you two should...you know...‘get together’...like that." Though Claire was saying the "right" words now, she sensed that she wasn't convinced herself that she believed them, that she really didn't mean it the way it had come out originally, and she hoped that lack of conviction didn't manifest itself in her voice. "I certainly didn't want to insult you, and if it did, if it hurt, I apologize, and I really mean that." Without thinking, Claire ran her hands over Meredith's back, as if to comfort the redhead, although both girls received a subtle thrill from the act. Claire settled her face on Meredith's head, unconsciously enjoying the silkiness and fragrance of her hair.

"What I was trying to say was that you and Monica would make great friends, that's all. It’s just that both of you are letting petty things get in the way. Both of you have to cut that out and put in more effort, like talk, and be patient with each other, and not jump to conclusions, and speak with kind words and a nice tone. Do things together, and have some fun. Once in a while, do something nice for her, like make her bed, or bring her a cookie or a candy bar. I really believe that if both of you put some effort into it—and you might have to be the one to do more at first, and show her the way—I’m sure that she would like to have you as a friend, as well."

Claire’s words and the prolonged embrace both soothed and excited Meredith. The picture painted by Claire of getting close to Monica was a surprisingly pleasing one, one she recognized she would like to become real. But, more than that, the primary source of the calm and thrilling feeling flowing through Meredith’s body were Claire's succulent breasts, and the fact that her red-haired head was resting on them.

They were so much like pillows, Meredith vacantly mused, beckoning her to fall asleep on them, to bury her face in them, to inhale them, to love them, to get lost in them. A warm smile crept on her face with the inviting impression, and she started to nuzzle her cheek against the soft, fleshy mounds through the fabric of Claire’s polo shirt and bra. She slid her hands along Claire's back and waist. One hand went higher, toward Claire's neck, and felt her friend's heavy, black ponytail brush the back of her hand. Intrigued, she slid her fingers into it and toyed with the dark, glossy locks.

Claire noticed her roommate's affection with enjoyment, especially the way Meredith seemed taken with her breasts and hair. They had never held each other like this before, but it seemed so natural and the moment was so enchanting, that she allowed it to linger.

Claire faintly heard words pass through her mind, words she somehow knew were true, and were applicable to the situation. Girls should love girls... Girls should date girls.... Girls being intimate is beautiful... Girls should kiss girls...

Claire felt an urge to kiss Meredith, and for a passing moment envisioned the two of them engaged in a passionate joining of their mouths. Claire blinked to clear the strange image, but, affected by it, placed a soft kiss on the top of her companion's head, which both girls could interpret as sisterly.

"I like your hair." Claire nuzzled her face into it.

"I like yours, too." The redhead twirled some of Claire's raven ponytail around her fingers playfully. "A lot."

While Meredith implied it was Claire’s long, shiny black hair she liked—and there was no doubt that she did, “a lot”, in fact, as she had just said, and more than she ever had realized before—she sensed, without forming defined thoughts, that there were two other parts of Claire of which she was even more fond and about which she also felt like expressing her true feelings to her beloved roommate, but neither her sense of propriety nor her heterosexual nature, even in its current eroding state, would permit doing so vocally, at least on this day. Instead, she simply nestled her face more deeply into them...into Claire's mounds.

The hug went on much longer than either had initially intended, but both Meredith and Claire felt more than comfortable with it. However, in the prolonged silence, Claire gradually became aware of what they were doing, that they might be crossing some kind of line, or close to it, and though she was enjoying the moment immensely, the time had come to move on. So, reluctantly, she gently disengaged herself from Meredith, who similarly loved being in her roommate's arms, but also realized that she was still latching onto Claire and that they may have come close to an inappropriate situation, and who, thus, let go as well.

Upon disengaging, both girls gave each other a friendly smile followed by a playful laugh. Meredith blushed a little, which Claire noticed, and found cute.

“Thanks, Claire. That kind of hit the spot.”

“No problem, Meredith. I’ve always felt that a good hug can do wonders. That’s what my mother used to say.” After having made that statement, Claire momentarily perceived that citing her mother didn’t seem to have the same ring of authority that it used to have, and that her mother’s wisdom was not something she was going to be quoting or leaning on as much in the future as in the past. She attributed the impression to the fact that she was becoming an adult and was appropriately weaning herself from her mother’s apron strings, while new figures—such as Regina—would naturally be assuming an increasingly influential role in her life.

However, the affectionate embrace had stirred lustful sentiments in the dark portions of Meredith’s subconscious psyche. They whispered softly to Meredith, naughty things which would have filled her with revulsion and shame if she had processed them at a fully conscious level, but which, since she did not, merely stoked her state of titillation.

I really enjoyed snuggling up against Claire’s large breasts.

They look so big...but feel so soft... like cute pillows... just begging to be squeezed.

What would I do to rest my head on them again?… maybe even put my lips on them?

I could also take them into my hands... What would it be like?...

If I pinched her nipples... I bet I could make her moan...

I’d love to hear Claire moan...for me... What would it sound like?

"Why don't we sit down, and we'll talk about it, okay?" Claire motioned for them both to have a seat next to each other on the sofa. Once they were seated, Claire continued.

“So, I take it that the incident between you and Monica a couple of days ago has been bothering you? The one when you both came into the apartment kind of...arguing?”

“You could say that, Claire. We decided to meet on campus and walk home together, and it started out okay. We talked a little, and I think we found some things in common. She actually was being sociable with me for once. Then she sprang that thing on me about doing her homework, like she was just being nice to me so I'd agree to it. And, on top of that, thinking she could just buy me off! That thoughtless... I swear, she’s like my own personal Lex Luthor... Ohh, she just drives me up the wall!”

Placing a comforting hand on Meredith’s shoulder, Claire gently squeezed it to help calm Meredith down. However, Claire didn’t notice, at least at first, that her thumb started gently rubbing Meredith’s collar bone, as if an unseen force was guiding it. When she did become aware of it, she justified her intention as being an attempt to soothe Meredith’s emotions, but subconsciously she was seeking sensual female-female contact.

“Take it easy, just take a deep breath, relax. She’s not here. Just tell me what’s bothering you most.”

Meredith stared into Claire’s eyes, blue and deep like an inviting pool of water luring her to dive in. Meredith lost a little of her concentration for a second, giving in to the enjoyment of plunging into Claire’s beautiful eyes, before forcing herself back to the conversation.

“I guess I was upset about Monica asking me to do her work for her, and her just assuming I would. I would never ask someone to do that. It's not honest, you know, and she just doesn't seem to care. She did offer to pay me for it, but I didn't want to help her cheat, and at the time I didn't need the money. But just the fact that she sprang that on me after acting all nice, like she just wanted to be friendly, while all the while she was really angling to get something from me for her own selfish purposes... I should have known better. She’s just as conniving as Starscream. I felt that it was too good to be true that she wanted to hang out and talk to a girl like me...”

“Meredith, you got to stop selling yourself short." Without consciously meaning to, Claire's touch started to play lightly up and down Meredith’s arm, while her words drifted toward again suggesting a lesbian relationship for Meredith. "You’re a very attractive young women and any woman would be blessed to have you as a girlfriend.” Claire had meant to say “man” or “anyone”, but she had said “woman” without realizing it.

Meredith thought Claire had probably meant to say “man”, and didn't mean anything offensive, so she decided to overlook it, accepting the Sapphic undercurrent this time without objection.

Meredith felt a small blush warm her face when Claire called her attractive. It was novel and precious to Meredith for a beauty like Claire to acknowledge her attractiveness, and made her feel all the closer to her cherished roommate.

Meredith’s mind jumped back to earlier that morning, when she was getting ready for school—and for seeing her roommates, as well. She had rather impulsively decided to wear some figure-hugging clothes, to fix her hair a new way, and to apply a dab of light makeup. It seemed now that those measures had paid off... and that perhaps the time had come to start resorting more often and more expansively to such practices in the future. Hmmmm... I can do more of this...a lot more...maybe... We’ll see...

At a more buried level, the newly-born, dark persona in Meredith’s subconscious added a more carnal spin on Claire’s compliment.

She likes you. She wants you. She’s flirting with you.

She wants to get into your panties. You’d let her. You’d love her getting into your panties.

She’s a beautiful woman. She’s complimenting you. You find this arousing. You love that she finds you attractive.

She turns you on. You want her. You need to attract her even more. You want to be more beautiful.

You need to be attractive to women. To all pretty women and girls. To females only.

Maybe you can get into her panties. You’d love that. Flirt back.

Meredith’s current dominant personality contained, for now, the Sapphic whispers issuing from the depths of her subconscious mind, so that they did not spill out directly into her words or acts. However, even now her control was somewhat tenuous, and further assaults by subliminal messages and mind-control drugs would make it only a matter of time before her mental defenses would fall and relinquish control over to the darker personality starting to form in the bowels of Meredith’s mental landscape.

“Thanks, Claire. I guess I shouldn’t get so worked up about this kind of thing. Anyway, the thing is... well... it’s just... you know, spring break is coming up, and I was hoping to go to a convention or two...but...I did a quick assessment of my finances yesterday and found out I’ll be short of funds to do that. There’s no way I’ll have enough just by working at the computer labs...”

At this point Claire realized what had gotten Meredith upset.

“Ohhh, I think I see what’s going on now.” Unconsciously, Claire’s hand was roaming over Meredith’s shoulder, and had strayed into her hair, toying with some of her pretty, wavy, red locks.

Meredith just looked at Claire, confirming Claire’s suspicions. Meanwhile, she had noticed Claire’s hand, and was finding comfort in her touches and relished the attention she was getting from her fetching raven-haired roommate.

“Yeah, I… I’m kind of regretting turning Monica down now….” Meredith turned her head away in shame as these words left her mouth. “It’s not like I want to be her friend because of her money… but… it’s just… Let’s face it, if I were to go back to her and try to take her up on that offer, there’s no way she’s just going to let what I said go. I can already see her lording this over me and she probably would want me on my hands and knees, begging her like one of her royal subjects, or a servant…”

As Meredith went on about the pitfalls of trying to take Monica up on her offer, Claire started to tune out what the cute redhead was saying and to focus on how pretty her roommate was. She felt that the two girls should sit closer together, so she starting gradually sliding toward Meredith. A voice whispered in the back of her mind: Girls should date girls. Girls should love girls. Girls should kiss girls. Girls kissing girls is natural and good and sweet. You love this girl. You want to kiss her. You should kiss the pretty girl in front of you...
Claire stared at Meredith’s delicate lips, soft, moist lips, as they moved in speech, speech to which Claire was paying little attention. She wondered what those lips would look like with some lipstick.
Her lips are so dainty...and sweet-looking... They would look so pretty...like the delicate petals of a flower... with a light pink color...or, better, with Meredith's striking coloring, she should wear a bronze lip color...or brown...or gold or...or red...............yes...red...
Though Claire herself did not use makeup or go out of her way to dress fashionably, she nevertheless had a keen eye for color and style, and intuitively understood what went well with what. Her native aesthetic instincts were supplemented by a noteworthy amount of related information she had obtained from certain experiences she had had during her high school years, including interactions with her friends, during which they had exchanged insights on the features and styles of female clothing that caught their interest and traded sundry fashion tips for young women with each other. Additionally, she had a close cousin who had gone to beauty school during that period and shared much of what she had learned with Claire. Her interest having been sparked by the cousin, the teenage Claire had spent time browsing the aisles of local drug stores surveying and examining the variety of beauty products on the shelves.
Despite her curiosity, Claire had not used such things herself. Claire was her mother’s disciple, in this and other matters, and her mother’s philosophy of natural beauty had by this time been thoroughly engrained into her and ruled her actions. She also felt a duty to set an example for her little sister, Wendy, of which her mother would approve.
While Claire was getting fashion pointers from her friends and an introduction to cosmetology methods and techniques from her cousin, her mother, Mary, continued her patient instruction about true, natural beauty, which had started when her daughters were much younger. Her lessons during Claire’s period of interest in cosmetics put their use into perspective for the teen. Mary had come to understand makeup and its employment over her lifetime, even though she herself used it but rarely and sparingly, and she shared her insights with Claire about what situations might be appropriate for the use of cosmetics and the manner in which they could be utilized for a refined and graceful effect.
Nevertheless, for a time, Claire had held a fascination for artificial means of enhancing feminine beauty, perhaps partially because she knew such things were taboo to her, or at least frowned upon in her family, and humans often find the mystery of the forbidden to be alluring. Though that phase in her life came and went, it had left her fairly knowledgeable about cosmetics, hair coloring, and other aids and treatments available to enhance and alter a woman’s looks.
Her musings, now and later, about lip colors for Meredith were also influenced by what she, Claire, would personally like Meredith’s lips to be like if she were to kiss them. Although she was not quite aware of that particular nuance in her feelings, she could not help consciously contemplating a small, “sisterly” linking of the lips of the pretty girl sitting so close to her at the moment with her own.
I wonder if Meredith has ever been kissed... She seems like the type who probably never has been........ What would it be like...to be the first one...to kiss those sweet, dainty lips?...

“Claire. Claire? Hello?”

“Oh…uh, what?”

“So, Claire, what do you think? Do you think I should ask her anyway?”

“Uh…oh, uh, yeah...” Claire collected her thoughts. “Definitely...uh... You’ll both be getting something you need out of it. Sometimes we have to just swallow our pride and take a chance........ You never know, she might be very much in need of your help, and grateful for it, beyond just paying you. It’s possible you two could get closer, as a result."

Now that she was concentrating better on the issue at hand, the cognitive gears in Claire’s head began to turn to figure out a way to help her friend in this delicate matter.

“In fact... I think I got it. It’s pretty simple really and I think in the long run it’s going to benefit both of you.” Claire was beaming with pride as she came up with a possible solution to her friend’s dilemma.

“Well... don’t leave me hanging!”

“Just tell her you’re going to help her with her class assignment, but tell her you don’t want any kind of reward.”

Meredith gave Claire a dumbfounded look as she heard Claire’s solution to her problem.

“Did you not hear any of what I was talking...”

“No, no listen,” Claire interjected. “Tell her that you want to do it for free, but stroke her ego a little as you help her. Look, Monica’s ego isn’t going let her accept charity and she’s going to want to pay you back in some way so it won’t bruise her pride.”

“So... You think she’ll end up paying me anyway? With money? Because I do need some money for my...”

“Don’t worry about the money right now. First things first. Make friends with her. That’s the most important thing for both of you. If she ends up helping you out for your convention, all the better, and if she doesn’t, we’ll think of something else, but, for right now, offer her a free gift, one given in pure friendship.”

“Okay... I see your point...… Sounds good, but...but what if her pride tells her not to accept my offer?”

"Let me ask you something, Meredith. Do you like Monica?"

The redhead thought that over for a few seconds. "Not everything about her....but...overall... yeah... I guess I do..."

"And would you say that you have a friendship with her, even if it's a shaky one?"

"Yeah... I would say yes to that."

"And do you think that she likes you, and wants to be your friend?"

"Well...sometimes I think so...and then other times..."

"I can tell you she does like you, and she admires you, and wants to build a good relationship with you."

"Really? No way........ How do you know that?"

"I'm not at liberty to say. But it's true.”

Seeing the skeptical look on her dear friend’s face, Claire felt something telling her that she needed to be a bit more direct in pulling these two people into becoming friends. It would involve betraying a confidence, and, while the integrity in the Claire of but the previous week would have prevented her from breaching such a trust, her internal moral compass had started to change course over the last few days. Claire took a deep breath and gently let it out.

“Okay...Meredith, I’m going to tell you something that Monica told me, but you have to swear that you will not tell Monica or let her know that you know this.”

Claire’s comment definitely piqued Meredith’s interest in their Latina roommate. Though Claire was normally the bastion of honor within the quartet of roommates, and the black-haired coed saying that she was willing to violate a confidence seemed very out of character for her, Meredith’s desire to have some kind of edge over Monica overrode any concerns which she otherwise might have entertained about Claire’s apparent slight shift in personality.

“Well? Come on, Claire, fill me in.”

“Look, Monica really wants to be your friend. She really does, but she just doesn’t know how to do it. She’s just trying to find some kind of common ground with you. You’re the first person to really stand up to her and provoke a reaction out of her. She actually likes that. If anything, she respects you for it. However, her pride and temper get in the way.”

Claire’s revelation about Monica was somewhat stunning to Meredith. She shifted in her seat on the couch as she digested this information.

“She said that to you?”

“Yes...well, more or less...but, yeah, basically, yes.”

“Wow, I never... I mean, I always figured that she... Wait a minute. If you’re telling me this about Monica, does this mean you told her about me?”

Claire could hear the accusatory tone in Meredith’s inquiry.

“No, look, I’ve been trying to help both of you become friends, but each time I see both of you try it, you both let your pride and ego get in the way. I think a different tactic is needed, and I figure if maybe one of you knew how the other really felt, it might bring about the friendship both of you are seeking.”

“I guess that makes sense... But why tell me instead of Monica?”

“Honestly, I think that you are a little more mature and would probably use the information more responsibly. It’s not that I don’t trust Monica, but her ego and temper could push her to be rash with the information. Like you said, she might lord it over you.”

“Thank you, Claire. I think you’ve given me a good deal to work with, and I guess knowing that she wants the same thing actually changes a few things. I’ll give it some thought and I’ll try your tactic. What’s the worst that could happen? If it doesn’t work, we would just go back to the screaming and shouting that we’re used to.”

“Hopefully it doesn’t come to that. I really think the two of you can become great friends.”

An image of Monica and Meredith in each other's arms, both in skimpy lingerie standing next to a bed, flashed in and out of Claire's head, not long enough to fully process but long enough to cause her to add to the advice she had already offered, and to steer the direction of this new advice.

"I’d like to see that,” Claire continued. “So would you, wouldn't you?"

"Yes... That would be nice..."

“And, frankly, she’d be crazy not to like you.”

The two girls smiled at each other. They were now sitting quite close, legs touching, Claire with one hand caressing Meredith’s shoulder and neck and playing with her hair, noting how soft, silky, and beautifully-colored it was, Meredith with a hand on Claire’s leg, neither girl aware of anything unusual going on between them, but both enjoying the sisterly closeness they thought they were experiencing.

“I do,” added Claire. “Like you, I mean.” Their smiles broadened, and Claire reached out to give her pretty roommate another hug. After they again mutually extended the hug more than they would have previously, the raven-haired beauty once again kissed the top of Meredith’s head, which act Meredith savored, before they separated.

"Do you want Monica to like you?"

"Yeah, but..."

"Or, really, do you want her to love you?'

The concept of Monica loving her—in a sisterly, friendly way, of course, Meredith told herself, which is the way Claire surely meant it, she believed—struck a chord within her. Now that Claire had said it, it glowed as a most desirable goal.

"Well...yes...I guess you could say it like that.... Yes, I'd like that..."

"I'd like to see that, too. And I think I know how: Become like her. Do what she does. Think like she thinks, talk like she talks, dress like she dresses, look like she looks."

"What? Claire...I don't know... I'm not sure I could pull it off..."

"Why not? You are every bit the woman she is. And maybe you need to do it, to really get through to her, and maybe to understand her, too. They say, 'It takes one to know one.' "

"...uh...well..."

“It would make it easier for Monica to let go of her defenses and accept your overtures—I mean, at friendship—if you did it her way; you know, play by her rules."

"What do you mean exactly, Claire?"

"Well, you know what interests Monica...girly things... She likes makeup and fashion, maybe even styles on the ‘worldly’ side, we might say. Or ‘sexy’. You know what I mean?"

"I think I'm starting to...but..."

"Just hear me out, Meredith. Do you have any clothes that are a little more...more feminine? Like a skirt or dress? A pretty blouse? Like that? Maybe something...oh...revealing...? Like, something like Monica would wear?"

Although she had not worn them in front of her roommates, Meredith had in fact acquired some girlier, more stylish, more daring clothes recently, in addition to makeup, nail polish, perfume, jewelry, and the like. "Well...actually...yes..."

"Great. Then you should wear them around Monica. I wouldn't mind seeing you in them, either, by the way.”

Coming from one girl to another, that remark struck Meredith as slightly unusual, as it seemed to express something a randy guy might think, but the redhead found Claire’s interest inexplicably pleasing, too. Neither girl understood that Claire’s desire to see Meredith dress and otherwise do herself more alluringly, as well as Meredith’s receptivity to the concept, reflected new, hidden lesbian personas inside of them which could not be restrained from manifesting themselves in various subtle ways.

“And then, do you have any more makeup than what you’re wearing now?"

"Yes...” She admitted to it reluctantly, as, while she had intended to try things like this soon, and work in to them gradually, so as not to garner too much attention, she just hadn’t found the nerve quite yet to get started, beyond the small amount she had used this morning. “I do."

"Awesome. You would look especially great in some lipstick. With your beautiful coloring, a pale, frosty peach, or a rosy apricot, or a brown, like, you know, a rusty brown or cinnamon brown or mocha, or something metallic, like bronze, or copper, or even a daring gold, would be terrific. Or...or even red..." Claire had hesitated to name the last color, as she sensed her motives were possibly not quite selfless in giving this recommendation, but that reluctance quickly evaporated.

Wow. She'd look amazing with red lipstick. Claire was unaware that her pulse was beating a little faster. “Yes... red...for sure…like a brick red, or an orangey red...or a deep, dark red...” Oh, yeah. That would be so cool. I wonder what she’d look like...

"Oh,” replied the cute redhead.

Did she just call me…”beautiful”? Did I hear that right?

It was the first time in Meredith’s life, that she could remember, that anyone had used that word to describe her; and to think that a beauty like Claire, and, on top of that, a person whose opinion she valued so much, would say that about her, in addition to having called her “attractive” a few minutes before—it made her soar, though she tried not to show it. She also took it as a confirmation that Claire, the girl she adored, genuinely liked her, and as an indication that the raven-haired babe truly did find her attractive. These sentiments made her feel like taking Claire and giving her a big kiss, right on her mouth—or, made her feel more like it, as she had already been having such urges during the time she had been sitting with Claire and, unaware, checking her out—but, realizing that might be interpreted “the wrong way”, whatever that meant, she stopped herself, and instead simply curled some locks of her fiery hair around a finger, tilted her head a little, and gave her friend a smile in unwitting flirtation.

“Do you think so?"

"Yes. Definitely. You could really get Monica's attention." And mine, too. Claire noticed and responded to her roommate’s flirtatious body language without consciously analyzing or understanding the sexual tension between them. Wow. She is cute. I wonder why I never noticed it this much until now...

“And another thing that would do it is to do something with your hair. I mean, I really, really like your hair the way it is; it’s super cute.” This, yet another recognition of her prettiness by her favorite roommate, elated the redhead. Meredith took it as further sign of her foxy friend’s unveiled attraction to her and a confirmation that the measures she, Meredith, had taken to enhance her looks were proving effective. She felt motivated to continue doing things to draw her friend’s interest and to look prettier yet. She had been taking attentive mental notes of the advice Claire had been offering and was eager to hear whatever further suggestion this lovely young woman had for her.

“But, like, have you ever considered some blonde highlights? I think that would be really cool in your pretty red hair. Or, on the other hand, some lowlights of darker red or dark brown. Or both highlights and lowlights. Or even just dying all of your hair to something like a very dark auburn, or a deeper, dramatic red, like a mahogany, or a red wine, or cherry red, or plum, or using a henna treatment.” Claire was dimly aware for a moment that her advice was being driven more by her lusts than by altruistic helpfulness, but she silenced whatever whisperings proceeded from her conscience about it.

“No... I never have... but it might be kinda cool......... I’ll think about it.”

One further possible upgrade for Meredith passed in and out of Claire’s head. Breast augmentation. Claire was unaware of the preoccupation Meredith had with breasts, one which could easily be cultivated into a fetish, and how such a suggestion, to make hers bigger, held the potential of forcefully stirring the redhead’s imagination and tipping her further in the direction of an obsession; Claire merely perceived that Meredith seemed taken with Claire’s breasts and, at a more subconscious level, she sensed that her pretty redheaded roommate could use larger breasts to better command Monica’s attention, respect, and...and desire. Additionally, there was a part of Claire, a lustful, carnal new part, which knew she would be highly intrigued to see her slim friend with a new, “stacked” profile. However, judging such a proposal to be going too far for the time being, and not that necessary, anyway, considering the way Meredith had been noticeably “filling out” recently, the black-haired girl filed it away mentally as a possibility for another time, dismissed it for the present, and moved on.

“So, let me ask you the same question I asked a minute ago," Claire continued. "Do you like Monica? Just forget the times she ticks you off. I’m talking about when you’ve seen her at her best. Is that a person you’d like as your friend, someone you’d like to be close to?”

Meredith thought about the times she had seen her Latina roommate being compassionate and generous, as she had been with Claire over the last two days, as well as the beauty she had seen and admired in her. Even her temperamental disposition seemed to hold an appeal for her, now that she was used to it, in some odd way.

“Well...yeah...I do like her, when she’s not a snob and not jerking people around. She might make a great friend…”

“And what do you like about her?”

“Well... She’s very skillful at getting her way... Like, she’s persuasive... She knows how to use her assets... She’s smart in that way... And I have seen her be very pleasant and sweet... I think she’s probably pretty loyal, once you’re her friend... And she certainly knows how to make herself look good.........” A slightly dreamy look came across Meredith’s face. “She’s beautiful......”

"Yeah... That’s for sure......... So, concentrate on those things, on the positives, when you think about her. Think about how much you like her. And just be super nice to her. Even if she acts superior, or says something to rile you up, don’t react. Just ignore it and show her that you like her anyway.

“Find out what is important to her, and make it important to yourself. Have genuine interest in her and don't be shy about showing it. When one person genuinely loves another and is persistent about it—no one can resist that for long, you know. Monica is no exception. You just have to stick with it and not give up.

“So, talk to her about her interests, find out about them, show they mean something to you, maybe share things about yourself with her, open your heart a little bit to her, let her see that you really do like her. Notice things you admire and like about her, like the way she’s dressed, or her hair, or her color of lipstick, or her smile, or something considerate she has done, and compliment her. Leave her a nice note occasionally, even if to just wish her a happy day or to let her know you’re thinking about her, or, like I said before, bring her a treat, or a flower, or do something else nice for her.

“Spend more time with her. With some planning, you could do that most every day, if you wanted to. Have fun together. For example, why don't you two have lunch together every day? You both have the noon hour free and your last classes before that are in the same building. It would be so convenient to meet. You could go to a movie or something together sometime, too. You know?”

“Yeah…” This sounds good...

Faintly in her mind, Claire was also hearing herself say: And flirt with her. She'll like that. The thought spilled directly out into her spoken advice before she could catch herself.

"When you’re together, flirt with her.” Once she said that, Claire realized she might have said something again with which her cute roommate might not be comfortable. “I don't mean 'flirt' flirt, of course"—although she really did mean that—“I mean, you know, just be nice. Because she's flirty, and will relate to you, when you are the same way, and she'll see that you are not so different from her.

“Just try it and do your best. It’ll be all right. Okay?”

Meredith was, for some reason unknown to her, feeling a bit flushed, but in a pleasant way, by the plan her favorite roommate was outlining. It did make some sense. Maybe she'd give it a try. She felt a rush of gratitude to—and attraction for—Claire, for her insightful advice, for her care, and for her...for her lovely presence... What a good friend...so loving...so sweet...so beautiful...

“These are great ideas, Claire. I really appreciate your help.”

Both girls stood. "Thank you, Claire. I’ve never had such a good friend as you. Claire, I... I love you." They hugged each other one last time, again clinging to each other, breasts pressing, noticed by both with an unfamiliar pleasure. Meredith kissed Claire's cheek, surprising and delighting both blushing girls.

The two broke their embrace, but stood for a few more seconds gazing into each other's face. "I love you, too, Meredith." Claire reciprocated with a kiss, a longer one, on the redhead's smooth cheek.

If an objective observer had witnessed this scene, from beginning to end, hearing only certain parts of the conversation and without knowing the background, he or she would have been justified in concluding that these two young women either were both lesbians in a relationship or were on their way to becoming such, and falling in love. Although either girl would have found such a supposition to be preposterous, at least on this day, it would be much closer to the truth than they could possibly imagine at this time.

At last, Claire ended their conversation. "If I can do anything to help, let me know. But don't worry. Everything is going to be fine. Good luck, honey."

One more kiss... It won't hurt... Just to reassure her... More buried, an implanted mantra echoed within her: Pretty girls should kiss pretty girls... With those thoughts, Claire planted one last kiss on her roommate's face, a more lingering kiss, this one perilously close to her inviting lips, before walking away, both girls left slightly out of breath and weak in the knees, without comprehending what had just transpired between them.

Claire took notice of the time on her watch. “Crud! Look at the time! I've got to get going or I’m really going to be late for my first class.”

“Wait. Do you want me to give you a ride? It’d be quicker that way.”

“Nah, it’s okay. I should still be able to make it as long as I don’t make any pit stops. Take care, Meredith, and don’t forget what we’ve talked about. Okay?”

“Trust me, Claire, I won’t, and thank you so much. Have a good day.”

“Thanks. Bye, you cute little doll.”

Meredith watched Claire grab her things and rush out the door. She found that she couldn’t take her eyes off her roommate’s curvy body, packed as it was into the tight clothes she wore today and moving with mesmerizing undulations as she hurried on her way.

She thinks I’m a cute doll. Wow......... I think she’s a very cute doll, too...

As Meredith sat back on the couch, she turned her mind back to digesting the comments Claire made during their conversation and her revelation about Monica.

Claire told me I’m cute...and, before that, beautiful... No one has ever said those nice things about me before... But Claire always tells the truth... she’s not lying... I...I must really be capable of being pretty... I’m going to make sure no one can possibly doubt that... I’m going to blow them away with my beauty...and sexiness......... Claire gave me many good ideas... I can build on those...

She reflected on the times she had begrudgingly admired Monica’s good looks, shapeliness, and style; of the way she had been particularly stirred by the Latina’s lovely physical presence, for some unknown reason, on the previous evening as they had sat together watching Serena Powers’ video and Claire’s performance; and the feelings, poignant feelings, some kind of powerful attraction, maybe even some kind of new love, she had felt not only then but also as she merely thought about her Latina roommate this morning.

She mulled over Claire’s advice and began to formulate a few ideas of her own, as well, on how to get closer to Monica. From the dark pits of Meredith’s subconscious mind an even spicier set of views arose in response to Claire’s information about the beautiful Latina vixen who was her roommate and to Claire’s other statements, views forged both by the years of frustration and anger over being tormented by beautiful young women like Monica and by the subliminal Sapphic indoctrination of the previous evening.

Claire's suggestions are nice, but I don't have to do what she says. Be like Monica? Give me a break. It should be the opposite! Monica should become like me, or even better, Monica should become what I want her to be. Why should I copy what Monica does? I should be the one in total control of my own looks! The only way this would work out is if Monica becomes my slave... Yes, Monica should become my slave...

A wicked smile crossed Meredith's face as she realized she now had knowledge that would aid her in manipulating Monica.

Now that I know she likes me... I’m going to make sure she likes me more...much more... I’ll be so beautiful, so sexy, she’ll be in awe of me... I’ll make her speechless... I’ll curl her around my finger... She’s going to beg to be my girlfriend...

Claire and I aren’t the only pretty dolls around here... Monica is, too... She’s flat-out beautiful... She’s so perfect that...that she’s very much like a doll... But she’s such a hottie, too... She’s like a sexy, slutty doll...

I wonder if I could...if I could make her into a real doll... like, one I could dress up... however I want............ That would be so cool...

You know what ? I bet I could get her into cosplay... Even if she didn’t want to at first... I bet she’d enjoy it... Then, she’d come to love it... I’d love doing it with her, too......We’d make the cosplay sexy... very, very sexy............ wow...

We could do superheroines...and villainesses...and demonesses...and fantasy girls......... I could even have her dress like a maid.......... Yeah... a slinky, slutty maid... and act like one, too... That would be just perfect for her...

Honestly, I think that little bitch is better off on her hands and knees...serving me. Imagine that hot piece of ass serving my every whim and... sexual desires...

Meredith didn’t notice it directly, but as she considered her situation with Monica, and Monica’s just-revealed, secret fondness for her, and how their relationship might evolve into a much closer, affable, and—sensual— bond, and as desire for the voluptuous Latina fox began to saturate both the conscious and subconscious parts of her mind, she felt very hot and very good. Coming from deep within her, the small, wicked smile that crossed over her delicately pretty face soon gave way to wicked laughter.


**************

Meanwhile…

A little after 9:00am that morning, Jessica was at the campus gymnasium running practice drills with the rest of the women’s basketball team. Participating in practice sessions, whether in basketball season or not, was one of the mandatory requirements for Jessica and her teammates to maintain their athletic scholarships.

There was reason for a certain excitement in the air as the players performed their routines, seeking to hone them to perfection. Last season the team had made it to the playoffs for the first time since Preston’s women’s basketball team had been established in the late 70s. Although they did get bounced out in the first round, it had not dampened their spirits, but had only made them more determined to succeed in the future. They realized that making it to the playoffs meant that they were not far from being a championship-caliber team, and that with hard work, dedication, blood, sweat, and tears they could rise to the next level. All of the returning players had vowed to come back stronger and sharper the next season and to go all the way to the top.

However, today Jessica was having trouble focusing on the task at hand. The problem was that she could not stop her attention from drifting—drifting toward her teammates, and not as basketball players, but as pretty girls. She found herself repeatedly sneaking glances at their tight athletic bodies, checking them out in a way she had never dreamed of doing before. Currently, she had just noticed how cute the firm bubble butt was on Courtney Ellen, the team’s shooting guard, as she was executing a simple run, pass, and layup drill, and for the next few minutes her eyes had been glued to that splendid derriere. In fact, all of her teammates looked exceptionally appealing today.

Since the events of the previous night, Jessica had felt something was different inside her, like there was a part of her that was off-kilter or at least changed somehow, although the change seemed nice, in some way, to the point that she didn’t care, that she didn’t mind whatever it was. Nevertheless, she searched herself, trying to pin-point what had changed within her, putting her body on auto-pilot during the practice drill as she sent her mind back in time to seek clues in last night’s events.

Images of Claire’s little striptease, still fresh, if not indelible, in Jessica’s memories, surfaced easily. She felt a twinge of sexual excitement as she visualized the intimate details of her best friend’s beautiful body. She found the recollection of Claire’s smooth skin, gorgeous legs, and marvelous curves—especially her beautiful breasts—to be haunting, and those reflections made it impossible to pay more than a minimal, barely-adequate level of attention to the drills.

Jessica’s mind then drifted to and dwelled on what had happened in her room by herself later that night. She had turned in for the night, but sleep had proven elusive. She had tossed and turned, replaying Claire’s little strip show in her mind over and over again, and remembering how she had interfered with it, and trying to analyze and face the implications of those events and her feelings about them, and wrestling with her conscience.

As she absentmindedly performed her basketball drills, going through the motions without any genuine concentration and with an increasing lackadaisicalness, her mind replayed the conversation she had had with herself and the fantasies she had entertained as she had restlessly tried to go to sleep on the previous night, after Claire’s memorably risqué performance.

Why? she had thought. Why did I stop Claire? She’s an adult; she doesn’t need me to watch over her like some overprotective parent. If she wanted to go all the way...who was I to stop her? It would have been...very...interesting...

On the other hand... I am her friend and Monica was recording that whole thing. I had to step in. If I didn’t, it would probably only have been a matter of time before Monica would have put it out on the internet, for the whole world to see. It could have ruined Claire’s life.

Monica might have even blackmailed Claire with it. I don’t think she would have…but you never know... Would Monica really do that? Claire has managed to get her to be less of a spoiled brat, but that doesn’t necessarily mean...

Hmmm... I wonder if Monica deleted it... If not...if she still has it... That’s an interesting possibility... If it still exists... if I could just look at it one more time... I’d like to see it.... Maybe I could... could get a copy from her.... I hope she didn’t delete it...

Of course, I only really want it to have something to remember my roommates by... I’d save it for my prosperity... It’s not like I plan to release it on the internet... I just want to remember this moment...to remember our apartment and our fun times...something to remember Claire...my favorite roommate...and...and... her hot body............ Claire was beautiful... dancing like that... and so... so sexy... the way she moved... I bet if she put more thought into it... maybe got some training... she could be a pro... make some money... If she let herself really cut loose... even more than she did... I’d love to see that... Claire could really...

Wait...no... stop, Jessica... She’s my friend... I shouldn’t be thinking of her like that.......... not a nice girl like Claire................... But... but is it really that bad... thinking of her like this?... like the sexy little thing she is?... as if I wanted her to be my girlfriend.........

What?!... Where did that thought come from? Girlfriend? Claire? As in...a dating-and-going-steady girlfriend?.............. And that would make me... Claire’s girlfriend?........... Me? ...like......... .like a... a lesbian?............

No...of course not... That would be impossible... We’re not lesbians... I’ve never thought of myself like that... in a relationship with another girl... a relationship of... of love......... And with my best friend?......... It doesn’t make sense...............

Within seconds, Jessica’s new Sapphic feelings about girls, implanted the night before, started to gradually transform the idea of becoming Claire’s lesbian girlfriend from the preposterous absurdity it would have been but a day ago into the most thrilling and sublime dream she had ever conceived, and one to which she would devote herself until it became a reality.

But...somehow...it doesn’t matter............. It should turn me off......... but... but... it doesn’t.......... just the opposite......... Girlfriends...Claire and me..........What a cool idea! ......... In fact... it’s awesome!!.........

But…but I’m a girl…and so is she…. I’m not a lesbian…and neither is she…that I know of…so how can this be?.... Am I just imagining this?........... It doesn’t feel like just my imagination……. It feels real…….. Yes…I…I think… I think…maybe… I’m…I’m falling in love…with………..with Claire!

I knew I liked her…but this is different… How long have I felt like this?.... Does it mean that I…I’m a lesbian?........... I’ve never been one before…or thought I was one…………but……….when I think about Claire…my heart…goes pitter-patter......and……

Wow......... I wonder how Claire feels....... If I were to approach her… if I let her know how I feel…what would she say? How would she react? Does she have any of the same feelings...about me?....... She has never let on.........but...but if I can feel like this...maybe she can, too................ If I did try to have Claire become my girlfriend….if I opened up to her…and tried to win her heart…would she respond…the same way...to me?...

Claire’s never judged me... She’s always treated me with respect...and with love... Yes...I have felt that......... and I... I love her for that... and for everything... for her friendship... and her kindness... and her patience... and... especially... for how... how pretty she is...so very pretty...and so...so sexy... what a sexy body............ She is a special young woman... special to me... I…I couldn’t imagine life without her.......

I see this so clearly now....... I...I do love her ......but...as more than just a friend... I don’t understand it... but... still... yes!... I do love Claire!... What has taken me so long to see it?........ I love that sweet girl!...that gorgeous doll!...........

What Jessica didn’t know was that the subliminal messages in the DVD she had watched that night and the drugs in the chocolates she had eaten had steered her brain and her emotions toward this very conclusion. But her mind received the Sapphic realization as if it were entirely her own.

One series of deliberations succeeded another within Jessica as she lay in her bed, with the same conclusion each time: She had fallen in love with her best friend. She wasn’t yet exactly sure what that meant for the two of them and in what form or fashion these new feelings would or could be fulfilled, and she might try to question or deny or rationalize or evade them, but in the end, Jessica now knew she wanted Claire.

As that desire developed rapidly within her, her suppressed regret at having interrupted Claire’s strip show burst out, and she frankly admitted to herself that she now wished that she had let it proceed towards its natural conclusion. Moreover, she accepted the now-clear truth that, quite honestly, she’d love for Claire to give her a private show—and maybe, in turn, she could give her Clairebear a personal strip show, as well.

Jessica visualized Claire again, letting the eyes of her mind rove over the pretty face and lush body of her friend. As she did, she felt a sensation slowly work its way into her body, a somewhat unexpected one, considering she was a straight girl thinking about another girl. Her body began to tingle, from head to feet. Jessica felt her nipples stiffen, a pleasurable warmth radiate from her loins, and her heart start to pulse with passion. Jessica took deep breaths, trying to retard the novel feelings, but it did nothing but make her more keenly aware of the new phenomenon rising within her body. Lust. Raw lust. For her best friend. For a girl.

No... This can’t be happening... It’s impossible...

Something in her mind, like her voice but like some other woman’s, too, countered her denial. You can’t ignore it. If you fight it, you’ll lose. Give in. That will be best. Yield to the lust welling within you. It feels so good...

Jessica’s hands came to life and started roving over her body, as if they had a will of their own. One hand slid into her nightshirt and began a slow massage of her orange-sized breasts, while the other hand worked its way into her pajama shorts, eased inside her panties, and found her womanhood. To both her alarm and pleasure, she discovered it to already be sopping wet. Hesitating only a second, she began to stroke the drooling lips of her love tunnel.

Jessica sought to attribute this session of self-pleasuring to reasons other than its true cause. First, she told herself that she was just horny because she hadn’t had any kind of sex for a while. Then, she rationalized that it must be out of pure boredom, that she was only looking for a small escape from the monotony of college life. Finally, she faced the truth: She was conjuring excuses to avoid the undeniable fact that her roommate turned her on, that, at this moment in her life, she wanted Claire Love-Livingston more than anything or anyone else in the world.

“Claaaaire.” Jessica hissed the name of her desire as she slid her index finger into her yearning cunt and felt it release erotic convulsions throughout her lower region. Jessica closed her eyes as her hand and her head worked herself to a frenzy.

In her mind’s eye, Jessica envisioned herself naked with Claire, also in naked glory, on top of her, massaging Jessica’s right breast, teasing her firm tit between her fingers, whispering sweet nothings into her ear. Claire’s other hand was on Jessica’s steaming sex, tracing the outer lips of her wet pussy with her fingers, which settled on her rock-hard nub of a clit and began to stroke it.

Jessica’s visualized lover spoke. “Do you want this?” The imagined voice was tender and pensive, but seemed to pose the utterance as a statement rather than an inquiry.

“Does my sweet little Jessica want my fingers to enter her naughty, hot, moist cunt?” This time Claire’s voice shifted into an aggressive, almost hostile tone. Jessica let out a hiss as her imaginary self felt Claire pinch her nipple sharply and pull it upwards.

“Poor baby, so hot and bothered.” The intonation was a tease now. “Maybe I should just leave you alone and give you some space.” As Claire said this she slowly withdrew her fingers from Jessica’s yearning slit.

“Please... Don’t...”

Jessica’s pathetic plea for her best friend to continue with the finger-play of her pussy caused Claire to smirk. Here was the big, bad Jessica Harrison, naked as the day she was born, with her best friend on top of her, on the verge of a sexual meltdown, trying to beg her friend for release, and sounding like a pathetic wimp.

“You’re going to have to speak up, Jessica. Can’t seem to understand what you’re trying to say.” To further tease Jessica, Claire shifted her hand so her thumb rested on top of Jessica’s fleshy pearl as she slowly worked her index and middle fingers into the velvet folds of Jessica’s pussy. The Jessica of real life, lying by herself in her bed in her dorm apartment, and the Jessica of her imagination both moaned a little. Of course, the envisioned Claire knew what Jessica desired, but she took delight in sexually tormenting her friend, who, judging by her reaction, seemed to be enjoying it herself

“Please…” It was a struggle for Jessica to express her hunger. She wanted this. No, she needed this. Claire sexually working her over was something she could no longer go without. So why was it so hard for her to speak this to Claire in this imaginary scene?

“I need you to...” Tears of frustration started to flow down Jessica’s face as she tried to summon the will to complete the sentence.

“Shhh.” The raven-haired beauty whispered as she gently placed a finger on Jessica’s lips. “Don’t worry, Jessica. I know what my best friend needs. She needs a woman’s touch. She craves a female lover. She needs the release that only another girl can give her. I can give you all of that. All you have to do is give in to it.

“You’re a clever girl, sweetie. Does fighting against your heart’s desire get you what you want? I think you realize that, deep down, you’re a lesbian. You’ve always been a lesbian. Come on, Jessica, tell me what you really are…and what you really want.”

Claire leaned in very close to Jessica’s face. Jessica discerned, for the first time, that her friend’s lips were covered in a thick coating of ruby red lipstick. They looked absolutely delicious. Those delectable lips were now but a hair’s breadth from her own. It would be so very, very easy to lift up, to accept her offer, to seal the deal.

“Claire... I...I think you’re right... I must be a lesbian! All I know is that I… I want you… Oh, heaven help me… I’m in love with a girl! Sweet Claire… I need you…your touch…your love…and sex…with you…… Please…my love…finger fuck me till I scream!”

Upon hearing Jessica’s confession and plea for sexual release, a predatory grin appeared on Claire’s face. Jessica looked up at the sexual huntress that was her friend with need in her eyes. The moment of silence oozed with a sexual tension which Jessica found to be torture to bear, and she longed for release from it. Soon her best friend—no, her girlfriend, the woman to whom she would dedicate herself—would grant her that escape.

“With pleasure, Jessica. And because you asked so nicely, I’ll make sure that you cum until your fucking brains spill out!”

At this point she could barely process what the imaginary Claire was saying, consumed as she was by her fantasy girlfriend passionately massaging the glorious mounds on her chest and skillfully exploring her yearning cunt.

“Lesbian. You are becoming a lesbian. My lesbian girlfriend. You want sex with girls. Only with girls. With every moment I pleasure you, it is becoming truer. When you cum, at last you will be a lesbian forever!”

Other attractive girls and women Jessica knew or had seen in her life, including her two other roommates and certain members of her basketball teammates, now paraded past the eyes of her mind, and the bliss she felt surged noticeably.

Ohhh...pretty girls...curvy girls... I...I love being with them...and looking at them... Even when I just think about girls...they...wow...... Yes...she’s right...... I...I love girls!......Girls turn me on!!......... Oh, heaven help me.........I must be a................ I’m a lesbian!!............. And I love my best friend!!......... I want her to be mine!!.....................

Jessica felt her body begin to tremble and her back arch, heralding the orgasm she craved. Within seconds, her pussy started to pulse and gush.

“Do you like this, Jessica, honey? Do you like getting fucked by your girlfriend? Do you like cumming for another girl, like a good little lesbian whore?”

“Oh, yeahhhhh!”

As the Sapphic pleasure in her womanhood made her swoon, she swore to herself that, subsequently, in her real life, she would confess her undying love to her friend, so clearly there would be no misunderstanding, that she would do whatever it took to win Claire’s heart and body, and that she would find ways to create this kind of pleasurable encounter with her fetching roommate, once and then again and again and again.........and...with other women, too...

As she came and came, the last thing Jessica heard her visionary Claire say to her was, “You’re a lesbian, aren’t you, my sweet? And you love me, don’t you?”

“Oh, Claire! Yesssss…ah!...yes! I am a lesbian!! Claire, I…I love y—”

Out of nowhere, Jessica heard a sharp whistle blowing. At first it was background noise, but quickly rose in volume, as it seemed, to push into the forefront of her attention. It abruptly jerked her away from the lustful reminiscence about last’s night’s events and reveries. Jessica snapped back to the present and found herself facing the perturbed person who blew the whistle.

“Harrison! What the holy fuck was that spastic performance on my court!”

The dominating voice belonged to Coach Ilsa Nichols, head coach of the Preston Razorbacks women’s basketball team. At forty-seven, despite her age, Ilsa’s beautiful face and curvy, slim, athletic body still exuded the seductive charm they had during her youth. Beneath the rose gold blazer, white cotton-polyester blend button-up shirt, and dust gray slacks was a body that was still capable of getting lustful stares from the males on campus and, on a few occasions, from the females, as well.

Ilsa stood at a 5’10” height that added an authoritative demeanor to her statuesque figure. The centerpieces of the erotic form of her body were her perky C-cup breasts and a firm, well-toned ass that drew lustful stares, and she reveled in provoking that kind of interest. Coach Ilsa currently had her glossy, gold-blonde hair in a fetching crop-cut style, with her “messy” bangs parted to the left. The agitated look on Ilsa’s face did not diminish its charming, seductive, predatory beauty, which was further complemented by a light application of black mascara and a coat of dark crimson lipstick. At the moment, her disappointed gaze aimed at Jessica displayed her mood, and the players around Jessica gave their coach a wide berth as she stormed her way toward the distracted Jessica.

This wasn’t the first time that Jessica had drawn Coach Ilsa’s ire, but then all her players received acidic talking-to’s from Coach Ilsa at one point or another. Jessica stood at attention awaiting the stern reprimand that everyone present could foresee.

“I asked you a question, Harrison. What the hell was that bullshit that you were doing on my court?”

Taking a deep breath, Jessica steadied herself and responded. “Sorry, Coach. I’m just not feeling it today... I...”

Ilsa’s eyes narrowed at Jessica, causing the player to stop. A tense silence between them followed for a few seconds.

“Feeling it?! That’s the most piss-poor excuse I ever heard. Listen and listen good, Harrison, and I’m going to tell you this once and only once. I don’t give a damn what you’re feeling right now, but as long as you’re on this team, MY TEAM, you will give 100 percent and the only thing you are supposed to feel is to want to see the other team in utter defeat!”

Jessica stood in place and endured the barrage deferentially. Jessica knew she was at fault here, though it was rather embarrassing to get chewed out like some freshman. Nevertheless, she continued to listen to her coach quietly.

“So since you’re ‘not feeling it’ for this practice session, I think ten laps of suicide drill will get you in the right mood. Don’t you agree, Harrison?”

“Yes, ma’am!”

“Good. Get to it and sound off at each line.”

Coach Ilsa’s variation of a suicide drill was a grueling, back-and-forth sprinting exercise. Starting at the base line at one end of the basketball court, one would run at top speed to the nearest free-throw line, then back to the original base-line starting position, then to the three-point line directly beyond the free-throw line, then back to the starting position, then to the mid-court line and back, then to the far three-point line and back, then to the far free-throw line and back, and then, finally, all the way across the court to the base-line at the opposite end of the basketball court and returning—sprinting all the while—which then constituted one completed lap.

By the half-way point of her seventh lap, Jessica’s lungs already felt like they were on fire and her legs were screaming for mercy. At each line, she let out a shout of “Thank you, Coach Ilsa, thank you!”

By the time Jessica finished her final lap, her body was covered in a torrent of sweat and she dropped to the floor, gasping for breath. Fortunately for her, Coach Ilsa blew her whistle and ended the practice session. Mustering her last reserves of strength, Jessica picked herself up and wearily started to make her way toward the ladies’ locker room.

“Hey, Jessie! Jessie hold up!”

Turning around, she saw Courtney Ellen running up to her. Jessica’s exhaustion from the suicide runs had undermined her control of her thoughts, further liberating that portion of her mind which had been altered the night before, so that, while Jessica had taken a peculiar delight in watching this girl’s backside as they were doing the drills earlier, there was an even keener pleasure in watching the lithe body of the shooting guard running towards her now.

Courtney had her strawberry blonde hair in a simple ponytail, which flowed behind her as she ran towards Jessica. As she stood there checking out her approaching teammate, Jessica recalled catching glimpses of Courtney’s perky B-cup breasts during showers, and now she imagined them free from the restrictive sports bra Courtney wore under her practice uniform, visualizing how they would look jiggling up and down within her practice jersey. She realized she would like to get to know her shooting guard on a more intimate level.

As lustful thoughts stirred in her conscious mind, they drifted to Claire, as if it were the most natural course for them to take when aroused by a girl. However pleasant the thought was, it also stirred a pang of guilt within her, as she recognized that, if she were going to try to become Claire’s girlfriend, then she needed to be dedicated to her and not go chasing after every delectable female beauty that came into her line of sight. Just the same...Courtney was very cute...and...surely it didn’t hurt to look... Besides... it wasn’t like she and Claire were in a relationship...yet...

“Yeah, something you need, Courtney?”

“Coach said she wanted to see you in her office, pronto.” Courtney gestured to a doorway located at the far end of the gymnasium.

“Thanks. By the way, your hook shot’s coming along great.”

Courtney smiled at the compliment. “Yeah, it’s good, but not ‘Coach Ilsa good’. Let’s face it, she’s not going to stop running us into the ground until we win the championship next season.”

Jessica let out a little laugh at Courtney’s comment. “Yeah, she’s hard on us, but I think she’s just looking out for our best interests.” As they exchanged comments, Jessica found herself scanning her pretty teammate with an interest she knew she did not have the day before, but it felt good, so she continued. She also started to entertain ways to get to know her better. So, Courtney... want to go for some lunch together later today?...or...are you busy tonight?...

“I agree. But it’s getting rough. She needs to let up some or something is going to break. Anyway, better get going or she’s really going to give you a tongue lashing.”

The last two words conjured a tawdry picture in Jessica’s head, one new for her and one she found inexplicable, but one she enjoyed nevertheless, and it made her giggle girlishly. The naughty image which danced into Jessica’s mind was of a scantily clad Coach Ilsa in a red teddy with black lace trim, rubbing her body all over Jessica and using her tongue to explore the younger woman’s naked body. While she found unmistakable delight in the wicked imaginary depiction of her coach, Jessica then wondered if her coach even swung that way, part of her hoping she did.

Of course, Jessica had heard the rumors stereotyping Ilsa, as a coach, as “playing for the same team”, but she had not yet found them substantiated in any particular way. Coach Ilsa didn’t disclose much about her personal life with Jessica and the other players. With her, it was nothing but practice drills, games, and angry pep talks. All Jessica really knew about her was she was a firm, effective leader of young women and she was a true beauty. Despite the coach’s tough act and the impending punishment likely to be delivered by her, Jessica liked her and found herself almost looking forward, in a way, to being together—alone and in private—with the alluring woman.

Jessica composed herself, dismissing the unseemly thoughts about her coach, and once again addressed her pretty companion of the moment. “It was nice talking with you, Courtney. We should talk some more later. We can go over some drills, work out some plays and … maybe get to know each other better.”

“Oh, yeah. You know, that’d be great. Want my number?”

“Yes. What is it? I can remember it.”

After Courtney stated her number, Jessica took a step closer to her and touched her arm, as if in a friendly gesture, as females do with each other, but really motivated by a subconscious desire to feel the cute girl’s smooth-looking skin and make contact with her feminine body. Even though the reddish-blonde-haired coed was sweaty from the morning workout, the contact was rewarding to Jessica.

“See ya later, Courtney,” Jessica offered with an inadvertent, flirtatious inflection, one quite uncharacteristic of her, but one nevertheless overlooked by the shorter young woman.

“Okay, bye, Jessica.”

Smiling sweetly at the cute guard, Jessica parted ways with her, and, assuming a serious face, made her way to Coach Ilsa’s office.


**************

Despite being an adult, every time Jessica approached Coach Ilsa’s office door she felt like a child being sent to the school principal to be punished. Jessica already knew that the coach was probably going to talk to her about her weak performance in practice today and she’d try to fake some kind of explanation for what happened out on the court. But, really, what could she say? How could she account for her distracted performance? She didn’t want to lie. What would happen if she were honest? How could she put it without embarrassing herself more than she already was?

“Sorry, Coach, the reason for my poor performance was because I just discovered that I may have desires for my best friend/roommate, and at the same time I almost lost her due to some kind of scandal. So now I have to find a way to approach her and see if she’s open to a lesbian relationship. But no worries there, Coach Ilsa, I think I got it all under wraps.”

Jessica just shook her head as she thought out the explanation herself. Even she couldn’t find it plausible, but yet… Shouldn’t someone important to her, like Coach Ilsa, find a way to understand her problem and her need? If she had a chance at happiness, even if it was snowball’s-chance-in-hell kind of a chance, shouldn’t she be allowed to pursue it, without taking a lot of flak for it?

On the other hand, Jessica acknowledged to herself, if she did try to pursue a relationship with Claire, there was a clear possibility that it could interfere with her performance as a basketball player. Today’s distracted behavior at practice would only be the first lapse. She owed it to her team to devote a hundred-percent effort into the game, both physically and mentally. If she started to look into a relationship with Claire and it detracted from giving her best performance, it would let a lot of people down, and not just her teammates. Her mind turned to the authority figures in her life—her parents and Coach Ilsa most prominent among them—and their disappointment if she chose a course which resulted in an inferior contribution on the court. It would almost be like defying them, something she definitely didn’t feel comfortable doing. In her mind, Jessica wouldn’t even exist as the same girl if it were not for the authority figures in her life.

All of her life, Jessica had followed the orders of her parents, teachers, coaches, elders, and anyone else that held authority over her. She had done so without question and had executed them to the best of her ability. This had mostly been a result of Jessica’s upbringing. Her father, Nathaniel Harrison, was a Marine drill instructor who demanded compliance from his subordinates, including insistence that everyone follow the proper chain of command, and he employed this approach at home as well as among his men. While Nathaniel was not cruel or abusive with his wife and daughter, he felt that the chain of command for his family should have him at the top. Jessica was accustomed to rigid authoritarianism after this manner, since that had been her experience from birth, and it had instilled into her a psychological quirk of needing to obey people of authority, starting with her parents, then her teachers, and, currently, Coach Ilsa.

When Jessica had turned ten years old, her body had gotten an early start on puberty. Not only had she begun to precociously develop the physical traits of a woman, but she also grew taller quickly, so that by the middle of the 6th grade she was one of the tallest girls in her school. Her school’s gym instructor noticed and asked her to try out for the school’s basketball team the following school year. When Jessica’s potential became quite apparent, the coach convinced the girl’s parents about the advantages of allowing her to take up basketball as an extra-curricular activity. Jessica was rough around the edges at first, but she showed she had natural athletic ability, and that with enough practice she could be a force to be reckoned with.

However, her early development did come with tradeoffs. As a younger child, the gifts she received included—as would be expected—toys, games, dolls, and, her favorite, an occasional stuffed animal from her father. She had spent many a happy hour playing with dolls, wearing clothes adorned with cartoons, and having make-believe tea parties. She had not been ready to give those things up by ten or eleven yet, but as her young body developed and she no longer looked like a child, the things of childhood disappeared all too soon. The gifts she received became “mature” clothing, a modest array of cosmetics (which she rarely used), and magazines for teens, and she had been expected to spend her time and comport herself more in keeping with a girl older than she actually was. Jessica would have preferred, however, to have clung to her childhood a little longer.

One reason Jessica treasured her friendship with Claire was that Claire didn’t demand her to behave in any particular manner and let Jessica be herself. With Claire, she didn’t have to be a person who lived by constant commands and doing what she felt was expected of her. She found that she could relax and set her own pace and tackle things in her own way. So when she had heard the news that Claire might have to leave school—and her—it had hit her hard. She had, in fact, almost burst into tears when Claire had made the announcement, but Jessica had felt that her friend needed a strong shoulder to lean on rather than a weepy person whose tears underscored the gloom and doom of the situation, so she had restrained herself.

Jessica snapped back into focus when she realized she was close to Coach Ilsa’s office door. Seeing that it was open, she knocked on the door frame to announce herself.

“Come in.”

Taking a deep breath, Jessica walked in and hoped for the best. Before her was Coach Ilsa sitting behind a desk with some papers strewn across it. It appeared Ilsa had probably been typing away on her laptop before Jessica had interrupted her.

“Hi, Coach. Courtney said you wanted to see me.” Jessica did her best to remain calm and composed. If she kept a level head, maybe she could minimize the verbal lashing she was certain to receive, as well as God knows what other punishment Coach Ilsa might have in mind for her.

“I did, Harrison.” Ilsa adjusted her position, bringing herself upright. With one hand she gestured to the chair in front of her desk. “Take a seat, Harrison.”

Jessica took the seat offered to her and did her best to get comfortable. After settling down, Jessica felt it was best to be quiet, let Coach Ilsa do most of the talking, and respond when necessary. However, Ilsa said nothing for some time as she just stared at Jessica. It created a tense atmosphere for the young woman, but she did her best to return the coach’s gaze and to remain as calm as she could. She wasn’t sure whether her maintaining of eye contact was provoking Ilsa or communicating that she was ready to get this over with. It was only after a minute that Ilsa broke the silence.

“I’m going to ask you this once and only once, Harrison. I expect an honest answer, and if you lie to me, I swear to you that will be the biggest mistake in your natural-born life. So tell me why you were performing so badly out there during practice. You were unfocused and you missed just about every shot you took. That was not you out there. I’ve seen you play, Harrison, so I know what you’re capable of. So tell me why were you playing so badly that even a newborn baby could outperform you?”

Ilsa’s accusation stung, but Jessica knew what the coach was saying was true. Now it was a matter of trying to explain it.

“Sorry, Coach… It’s just…well…a personal matter came up and just threw me off my game. I guess it hit me harder than I expected. But... uh... I've got it under control...” Sure I do...

Ilsa’s eyes narrowed as Jessica presented her brief excuse. Again there was the tense silence between the two, and, as Ilsa continued her cold gaze, Jessica shifted uncomfortably around on her seat, waiting for some kind of response.

“ ‘Personal matter’...” The way Ilsa said the two words seemed to imply she was debating something in her head. “Sounds plausible. But I’m going to need you to elaborate a bit more on this ‘personal matter’ that seems to have shaken you so badly.”

“Well, it’s just... that...uh...I mean...” Jessica was throwing out random words, trying to buy herself time to conjure some kind of further excuse, but nothing was coming to mind.

“Be honest. Is it drugs?”

“No, God no, Coach. Please, you got to believe me. It’s definitely not drugs.”

“So, if it’s not drugs, then what could it be?........ Relationship issues?”

The reaction on Jessica’s face as Ilsa said the words “relationship issues” was a clear indicator that Ilsa had struck some kind of nerve. But, while Jessica’s expression revealed the general problem bothering one of her players, it didn’t clarify the situation enough for Coach Ilsa.

Jessica decided there would be no harm in giving more details to her coach, as long as she didn’t tell everything. So she filled Ilsa in on the situation of her roommate, Claire, including Claire’s meeting with the Regina Burke, Director of Student Financial Aid. Of course, she carefully omitted the parts about the strip dancing provided by this same roommate and about the new lesbian crush she had suddenly discovered she had on the same girl, her best friend. However, Jessica failed to notice Coach Ilsa raise an eyebrow when she mentioned Regina and the solution she had managed to devise so Claire could continue her stay at Preston University. The coach was also not deaf to the dreamy tone in Jessica’s voice whenever she made reference to this Claire.

“... and that’s about it, Coach. I guess the idea of losing a good friend like Claire just got to me. I guess I didn’t know how much it would bother me.” Jessica finished her explanation with a weak smile and hoped that it convinced her coach.

Again there was the uncomfortable silence as Ilsa sat on her chair, tapping her two index fingers together after she had listened to Jessica’s explanation. However, Jessica’s tale had her thinking of something much different than what Jessica supposed.

“This Claire... she must be a very special person to you, yes?”

The mention of the name of her best friend and secret crush caused Jessica’s heart to skip a beat and her face to flush a little. Her reaction wasn’t lost on Ilsa.

“Yeah, she’s my best friend, Coach.”

“Just out of curiosity, have you interacted with Ms. Burke at any time while your friend was going through her hardship?”

“Um, no, I mean not really. I just know she somehow got someone to pick up Claire’s tab here at Preston.”

“I see.”

Ilsa’s inquiry about Regina raised some new concerns. Did her coach know something about Regina that Claire didn’t? Was it something dangerous? Could it lead to something harmful? Jessica felt she had to find out what Ilsa knew about Regina.

“Is there something I should know about Ms. Burke, Coach?

“No, not really, but if you do get the chance, I highly recommend meeting her. And you don’t want to do anything to upset her. After all, she also signs off on your sports scholarship.”

The way Ilsa deflected Jessica’s inquiry didn’t ease her suspicions about Regina Burke. In fact, it made her wonder more about the person who managed to insure her friend’s future at Preston.

“Oh...”

Anticipating Jessica’s desire to inquire more about Regina, Ilsa cut her off and presented an ultimatum.

“Here’s the deal, Harrison. I’m not a hundred percent sure about this excuse of almost losing your ‘bestie’ as the reason for your piss-poor performance. So I’m going to put you on probation, for about a month, maybe two. This entails you seeing more of me, and any representative of the university’s athletic department or a third party, approved by me and the athletic committee, for a performance review during this probation. Failure to attend a review session will result in immediate termination of your scholarship. Also, you will submit yourself to a weekly drug test during this probation period. The contents of the review sessions and drug tests remain confidential, strictly between you and me, but I expect you to continue with your normal functions here at Preston University. Do I make myself clear, Harrison?”

The authoritative tone in Ilsa’s ultimatum made Jessica acquiesce without objection. Besides, pissing in a cup once a week and, especially, getting to spend more time with her attractive coach wouldn’t be so bad at all, as far as Jessica was concerned. Considering her screw-up today, she figured she was getting off light enough, and it was certainly a better alternative than losing a full-ride scholarship.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good, now hit the showers. I’ll get the paperwork ready and contact you later to work out the rest of the details.”

Jessica was more than happy to leave Ilsa’s office. She let out a sigh of relief as she took her leave and quickly put a good distance between her and Ilsa’s office. While being on probation was by no means a good thing, Jessica felt it was an inconvenience she could live with. She knew she wasn’t on drugs, and the only thing bothering her was her feelings for Claire. She hoped that would work itself out in the coming days, although she didn’t know what she should do about those feelings.


Meanwhile…


Ilsa was not a happy person at the moment. Upon hearing Jessica mention Regina’s name, Ilsa knew that there was more to Jessica’s performance issue than she had admitted. Now she had to make a call and get this sordid matter settled ASAP. Grabbing the phone on her desk, she dialed a number.

“Why, hello, Regina. Guess what interesting piece of news I found out today? I’m hoping you could clarify a little matter up for me.”

Ilsa cradled the phone between her head and shoulders as she reached for her keys and then bent down to unlock a lower drawer in her desk. Fishing through its contents, she smiled as she pulled out a small bottle, a small hand towel, and something else that could steer this situation in her favor.

“Well, Regina, let me ask you this...”


**************


Jessica just stood under the shower, letting the warm water cascade over her athletically curvaceous, caramel-toned body. By the time she had finally gotten to the women’s locker room, all her teammates had gone, which suited Jessica just fine right now because she could use the alone time. She had peeled her sweat-soaked gym clothes off her body and had felt driblets of sweat flow from nooks and crannies that she didn’t even know she had. She had marched into the showers and turned on the water to hit her at full blast. That was roughly ten minutes ago. Jessica didn’t care for anything right now other than to let the warm water wash over her and carry the stress away.

Standing below the shower head, Jessica let the warm jets of water massage her perky bosom and she leaned in every now and then to let the warm water cascade down her back and flow between her firm, athletic butt cheeks. The sensations were very pleasing and also very relaxing, so much so that Jessica failed to hear someone else come into the shower. She was so wrapped up in physical sensations that she was oblivious to the person coming up behind her, and it was too late when she felt a small rag press over her nose and mouth.

The quick-acting muscle-relaxant in the inhalant weakened Jessica almost immediately. Her initial reflexive struggle ceased within seconds and her assailant was subsequently able to control her with ease.

“Shhh...... Just let it happen. Breathe, just breathe it in. Don’t fight it, let it happen. Breathe.” Jessica recognized that voice. It belonged to Coach Ilsa, and her directive would be the last thing the coed would consciously process for the next hour.

With an arm wrapped around her prey’s waist from behind, a very naked and now-wet Ilsa kept the drug-soaked rag over Jessica’s face for a minute more to ensure a sufficient delivery of the psychoactive component of the inhalant drug, during which time the coach pressed her toned, voluptuous body into Jessica’s youthful backside, then slowly rubbed her naked breasts against the girl’s wet back, sending small pulses of pleasure between the younger woman’s legs, warming her up for the further Sapphic action shortly to come.

As Ilsa felt the body in her arms slacken more, the lovely coach discarded the rag onto the shower floor and shifted their bodies, clutching Jessica’s torso with one arm wrapped around her rib cage and one hand cradled between the legs of the athletic coed. By this time Jessica had drifted off into a helplessly cooperative, malleable semi-conscious state, which allowed her to hear, speak, feel, and interact.

“Harrison... oh, Harrison, can you hear me?” Ilsa said in a wicked, seductive tone.

“Uh... Cooooachhh... Is that you?” Jessica’s speech was slurred by the drug cocktail that Ilsa had forced her to inhale.

“Yes, it is Harrison. Yes it is.”

“Why are you in the shooowers with mmeee?”

“That doesn’t matter at the moment, Harrison, for now at least. Right now I’m about to let you go and I want you to lean front-forward against the shower wall and prop yourself up against it. Think you can do that for me, Harrison?”

“Yeah, Coach. I thhhink I can.”

“Good, very good, Harrison... That’s right... And now, as you do that, I want you to lean over a little. Stick this sexy ass out and spread your marvelous legs for me. You can do that, can’t you, Harrison?”

Jessica tried to question why she would do such a lewd thing in front of another woman, especially her coach. A normal young woman, she vaguely intuited, would seek to escape from this situation as quickly as possible. However, cognitive thought was elusive, and the more she tried to form a rational objection, the more it seemed to slip through her mental grasp. The drugs, Ilsa’s flirtatious tone, and Jessica’s native inclination to submit to authority figures combined to make it seem that she could not possibly resist the pronounced urge to obey this woman.

There was a part of Jessica, the part freshly minted the night before, which recognized the Sapphic direction this shower was taking and found it to be highly intriguing. Moreover, she couldn’t deny the powerful attraction she had been feeling, and was feeling more than ever at this moment, for the magnificent beauty that Coach Ilsa Nichols was. That new side of her reinforced Jessica’s feeling that it was best to comply with her foxy instructor, and insinuated to her that she wanted to yield, she wanted to discover what mysteries might await her if she did, she wanted to explore the path this scrumptious woman was prescribing for her and see where it might lead—and, given the faint tingle she was feeling in her wet pussy, she sensed her body was eager for whatever they might do together.

“Like thhhisss, Coachhh?”

“Excellent!” Ilsa marveled at the beautiful ass in front of her and licked her lips as she anticipated the delights in which she would soon partake. She had no worries about anyone barging in, as she had hung a ‘Closed for Cleaning & Maintenance’ sign, one she kept on hand for situations like this, on the women’s locker entrance and locked the doors to keep unwanted guests out and insure she could take her time with the delectable morsel in front of her.

Roughly ten minutes before...

“Ilsa, darling what can I do for Preston’s championship coach?” There was a hint of sarcasm in Regina’s voice as she answered the line of her phone which used a number she only gave out to a select few who supported her secret endeavors at Preston.

“Hello, Regina. Guess what interesting piece of news I found out today? I’m hoping you could clarify a little matter up for me.”

“Anything for a friend.” The sarcasm was starting to grate on Ilsa’s nerves, but she was willing to endure if it meant getting answers. Despite Regina’s current treatment of Ilsa, both women had a begrudgingly mutual respect for one another. Upon their first meeting, each had seen a kindred spirit in the other. Regina and Ilsa were both the type to demand that they be in charge and lead the way. Both enjoyed a lifestyle in which they were the dominant persons in their relationships.

Regina could have easily converted Ilsa into one of her personal devotees, but saw no need for it. After all, she knew and appreciated what a person like Ilsa wanted— domination over people, especially in sexual situations. Technically, Ilsa was bi-sexual, but she had a strong preference for women when given the choice. Ilsa’s regard for men was low, in large part because a majority of her male partners in the past had refused to let a woman, such as herself, take charge in the relationship, and the ones who did allow it tended to be either weirdos who treated it like some kind of fantasy or simply wimps, and she couldn’t stand wimpy, simpering men.

It was different with the women she had conquered in her bedroom. The ones she took craved the dominance she offered and returned begging for more. She enjoyed the struggle, watching the conflict in their eyes as she elicited forbidden pleasure from their bodies, seeing them give in and then come back craving more, willing to do anything for her in order to have more of the Sapphic bliss to which she had led them during their first encounter.

For the time being, Regina saw Ilsa Nichols as a valuable tool and opted to work out an agreement with her. During recruiting trips to scout and sign high school players for the basketball team, Ilsa would simultaneously scout for prospective recruits for Regina’s organization, and, in return, every now and then Regina would allow Ilsa to employ some “special training” tactics by which some of her young, nubile basketball players would be turned into slutty, submissive lesbian thralls for Ilsa’s own, exclusive, personal enjoyment. Regina kept her mostly in the dark and didn’t tell her the full scope of her operations here at Preston and about the Goddess. She knew that a time could come when Ilsa might be pressed into service for the Goddess more directly and under a higher level of control, but, for the time being, if the coach was willing to cooperate without that, why bother? After all, Regina figured, as per the old saying, “Ignorance is bliss.”

“Well, Regina, let me ask you this. You wouldn’t happen to be reneging on our deal and starting to poach from my team without my authorization, would you?”

“Ilsa, I honestly have no fucking clue what the hell you’re talking about.”

“Look, one of my players, Jessica Harrison, mentioned you getting involved with her roommate and the next thing you know this Jessica starts to behave like some of those girls that fell into your ‘care’ the past couple of years.”

There was a minute of silence on Regina’s end.

“Jessica Harrison? Ilsa, I have no plans for anyone on your team and, if I did, I would show some courtesy and let you know about it…. Wait, did you say roommate? By any chance, did you get a name?”

“ ‘Claire’ something is all that I caught.”

Again there was silence on Regina’s end as the realization of what might have occurred hit Regina.

“Hmmm... I think I know what may have happened............ Yes... It’s a definite possibility...unfortunately for you............ Well, Ilsa, I regret to inform you that there is a chance that your players might have inadvertently become involved in one of my projects.”

Regina couldn’t see it, but one of Ilsa’s eyes began to twitch at Regina’s revelation of what might have happened to Jessica.

Doing her best to keep calm, Ilsa drew a deep breath and gently let it out.

“Regina, you do know that my job here at Preston is performance-based and having my starting power forward become one of your projects doesn’t do me any fucking god-damn good!”

“Correction, Ilsa. I said she got involved with one of my projects; I didn’t say she is one of my projects.”

“I don’t give a damn...”

At this point Regina had enough of Ilsa’s attitude and cut her off.

“Shut up the hell up and listen, Ilsa! So far, I’ve extended you a courtesy and shown you more respect than you deserve at the moment. I highly recommend you do the same for me or you may find yourself as one of my projects, and I promise you that it’s not going to be as pleasurable as the ones you’ve been involved with!”

For the next twenty seconds, all Regina could hear was Ilsa’s angry breathing.

“I take it by your silence that I’ve made my point clear.”

“Look, I can’t afford to lose Harrison. She’s part of my plans for next year’s championship...”

Again, Regina cut Ilsa off to try to settle the central issue of this conversation. “Fine then, what are you looking for? Just state your price and let’s be done with this ugly matter.”

There was another long pause on Ilsa’s end as she thought of what Regina was offering her.

“I’ll need another power forward, to replace Harrison. A good one. If you can use your resources, I would like Michelle Lee. I tried recruiting her last semester, but the dumb cunt turned me down and took an offer with Florida State. Convince her to come to Preston and sign up under me and we’ll be even.”

“Fine, if that’s what it takes. I’ve got a few things on my plate right now, so it won’t be at the top of my priorities, but I’ll have some agents get started on her and have her ready in about four weeks.”

“Fine… So what do you plan to do with Jessica Harrison, now that she’s involved herself in your project?”

“Quite honestly, I don’t know. But this revelation is intriguing. I’m going to have to do a little assessment and figure a few things out. So for the time being, why don’t you go and have a little fun with your precious power forward. I’m sure she’s just aching for a little extra attention from her coach. I’m sure you still have some of the sample products I gave you. Just don’t do anything severe with her.”

A wicked smiled appeared on Ilsa’s face upon hearing Regina’s response to her inquiry about the fate of Jessica.

“Why not? I think I need to let off a little steam, anyway.”

“Whatever. Just make sure the next time you contact me that it’s important.”

After both women hung up they muttered the word “bitch” under their breath.


Back to the present…

After the fresh memory of her agitated conversation with Regina Burke briefly passed through Ilsa’s mind, she tossed it aside to focus completely on the sexy co-ed who was propping herself up against the shower wall, per instructions from her coach, and who was presenting herself in a lewd manner. Ilsa needed to release some pent-up stress and having her way with the nubile woman sticking her ass out in front of her seemed like a great way to unwind.

The sight was too erotic for Ilsa to resist for more than the several seconds it took to drink it in . She stepped forward, leaned over, and pressed her jutting breasts amorously into Jessica’s back, Ilsa’s hard-as-diamonds nipples rubbing erotically across Jessica’s velvety bronze-colored skin. The younger woman gasped with shock and wonder when she realized what she was feeling.

Though a part of Jessica’s mind told her that she could run, scream, or do something to get away from this woman, that voice was weak, and faded more with every stroke of her lovely coach’s breasts on her back. She decided to ignore it and to simply give in to the novel feminine carnality enclosing her.

She searched for a justification to stay in place. Maybe I should try to leave...but...on the other hand...my coach...my drop-dead sexy coach...told me to assume this position... and who am I to disobey an order? She didn’t really want to do anything but cooperate, anyway, with whatever this gorgeous woman had in mind, especially if what she was doing now was any indication of what was to come.

“Tell me, Harrison... I want you to be honest. You were thinking about your girlfriend out there on my court, were you not?” Ilsa reached under Jessica’s wet torso and began to cup and pull on her hanging breasts seductively. Again, the young woman reacted to a new, delicious sensation, this time with a delirious moan. Now completely squelching any thought of escaping, Jessica continued to stay in the position that her coach had ordered and, with mounting receptivity, allowed Ilsa to grope her body.

“Yessss,” Jessica hissed as her lovely roommate appeared in her mind and her sexy coach continued to play with her breasts. “Coach... She’s so beautiful... I couldn’t help it...”

“Thinking naughty thoughts on my basketball court when you should be thinking about supporting your team to victory?” Ilsa started to pinch and pull on Jessica’s stiffening nipples. “You selfish, slutty little tramp!”

“Oh! Oooo! I’m…I’m ssssorry… I didn’t mean tooo…ooooohhhh.”

“I see you’re beginning to like this, aren’t you, Harrison? Tell me what happens if I do this…

Jessica felt Ilsa lean in and nibble on her ear while beginning a more sensual massage of her breasts. The coed felt her knees buckle slightly with lust and excitement, as well as with the weight of her coach’s body, questioning in her blur whether she could hold this position while her coach leaned on top of her. However, Ilsa disengaged herself from their impromptu lusty liaison before Jessica buckled. Then the athletic coed felt a firm, surprising smack on a cheek of her slippery butt. As the sound echoed in the showers, Jessica let out a yelp.

“Naughty little girl. Only good girls get to feel good, and with you having naughty thoughts about a girl on my court, I don’t think you’ve been a very good girl.”

Ilsa rained a few more slaps on Jessica’s muscled, toned ass, alternating cheeks, smiling with sadistic glee as Jessica let out more squeals and screams each time Ilsa’s hand made punitive contact with her desirable behind.

“If you’re on my court, Harrison, I’m the only woman you need to be thinking about!”

“Yes, Coach!”

Jessica shifted most of her weight onto the shower wall after Ilsa stopped her assault on her butt. Leaning further on it caused her to stick her butt out even more, now with a nice rosy red hue that attractively complemented her copper skin tone. Jessica’s ass was stinging, but the pain was not horrible and it actually started to feel good. She felt a tingling sensation on each of her ass cheeks and it seemed to cause her pussy to pulse with need and desire.

“Tell me, Harrison... Have you ever made out with a beautiful female before? Hell, have you even intimately touched one? Or…have you ever fucked one?”

“No, Coach, I haven’t... I mean... I was hoping to have Claire be my first.”

“Harrison, Harrison, always jumping in without thinking things through. Tell me, if you have no experience with this kind of thing, what makes you think your precious Claire would want you as her girlfriend?”

Ilsa’s scolding comment stung Jessica with what appeared to her receptive mind to be stark truth. It seemed to be a good point; if she had no experience with lesbian intimacy and love-making, then could she really be a suitable girlfriend for Claire? Would Claire want such a novice? However, before she could give it more thought—with such thought as she was currently capable of mustering—Jessica felt a pleasant tingling sensation coming from between her legs, and soon she realized that Ilsa was tracing her soaking wet labia with her finger, intermittently rubbing it against her hard clit, as well. Again, the young athlete responded to this, the next Sapphic liberty taken with her quivering body, taking in a sharp breathe and whimpering at the unexpected delight accompanying her partner’s invasive, amorous caress.

“But don’t you worry, Harrison, because Coach Ilsa is coming to your rescue. Just like how I have you practice drills and plays to make you a better basketball player, I’m going to train you to become the best submissive lesbian fuck slut on campus. Don’t you worry that pretty head of yours, my dear. When I get through with you, you’ll have your girlfriend hooked on the submissive pleasures you can offer her.” After saying this, Ilsa drove her finger into Jessica’s tight cunt. She could feel Jessica’s body instinctively squeeze her index finger with pleasure.

“Ohhh... uhhh... Thank you, Coooooach!” Jessica felt her body begin to spasm with pleasure as Ilsa invaded her gushing love tunnel with her skillful digit.

“Practice makes perfect, wouldn’t you agree, Harrison?”

“Yes… Oh, fuck yessss!”

“Glad to see that we’re starting to get onto the same page. However, for your first lesson on being a submissive… especially a submissive under my care…” Ilsa stopped fingering Jessica’s juicy pussy, grabbed her by the waist, and spun her around, bringing Jessica facing her eye-to-eye. “The sexual needs of your partners always come before yours. Do you understand?”

Jessica was hot and bothered, filled with the need to get off again and release more of the sexual build-up that Ilsa had worked into her. However, due to the mind-control drug in her system and the residual effects of the inadvertent brainwashing of the previous night, in addition to her life-long engrained need to obey authority figures, she was not able to contradict her coach. As much as she wanted to move her hands towards her sexually-excited cunt and jill off in front of Ilsa, she found herself agreeing with the pretty coach. If her destiny were to become the perfect lesbian submissive—and Ilsa had just told her that, so it must be true—then the needs of her lesbian sexual partner, whether it be Ilsa or Claire or whomever, took priority over hers.

“Yeeaah, Coach.”

“On your knees, Harrison!”

Jessica felt Isla put her hands on her shoulders and gently guide her down unto her knees. When she focused on what stood straight in front of her, the coed found she was eye-level with Isla’s superb pussy. Never having examined female genitalia so closely before in her life, especially not another woman’s, but having been programmed the night before to desire pussy above all things, she was instantly smitten by the fascinating sight. She noticed the dark blonde hairs and how neatly trimmed they were, Ilsa’s clit and the way it was standing at full attention and poking in her direction, as if beckoning her touch, or seeking her mouth, and how smooth and wet the woman’s outer lips looked. They were so inviting…

“This is going to be your first time eating pussy, so I’ll guide you on what to do. If I don’t get perfection from you this time I’ll let it slide, but I’m going to be expecting some effort from you, Harrison. Are you ready?”

Jessica looked up at Ilsa and nodded her head, then reaffixed her eyes on her juicy target. Within a few seconds, Ilsa gently clamped her hands on the girl’s wet head and pulled her face towards Ilsa’s eagerly awaiting snatch—and toward her destiny. As she drew closer, the fragrant musk filled her nostrils, and the heavenly gates of her coach’s hot, inviting pussy came into meticulous view.

Jessica slowly stuck her tongue out and, tentatively, flicked it across the outer edges of her coach’s womanhood, tasting her very first cunt. This excursion into oral sex with another woman would be but the first of thousands of such episodes this pretty, young homosexual-slut-in-the-making would experience over her future lifetime as an avid lesbian. Ilsa threw her head back and hissed as her wet love box began to be pleasured with the gentle ministrations of her eager student's tongue. Oh, yes, she was definitely going to enjoy this.


Some time later...


Jessica started to return to normal consciousness. As her head cleared, she felt a bit odd. As she searched her memory, she found that the last thing she recalled was being in the showers, just having rinsed soap off her body and then relaxing for a minute in the nice, hot water… And now...there was no water… She was not standing… She opened her eyes… She was not in the showers… And if not…then… where…where was she?!

The question made the disoriented athlete suddenly bolt upright. She looked around and realized that somehow she was in the locker room, and she had been laying down on one of the locker benches—with only a towel wrapped around her to cover her body!

“I’m very glad to see you’re awake.”

Jessica turned and saw Ilsa walking to her with a paper cup in her hand. Jessica was stunned by Ilsa’s appearance. Her short blonde hair was damp and combed dramatically straight back, and she also had a towel wrapped around her mature, sexy, obviously otherwise naked body in a fashion identical to Jessica’s tenuous attire. The sight caused Jessica’s heartbeat to accelerate and her nipples to tingle. She noticed the response, without quite understanding why she felt so, misreading her own body’s reaction as being simple embarrassment from being together with her coach while both of them were in a precariously attired condition.

“Coach, what happened?” I mean, last I remember, I was taking a shower and now I’m...” as she gestured to her current location and state of dress. “And...and...why do you have a towel wrapped around yourself, too?”

“You’re very lucky, Harrison. I came in to tell you to come by my office when you were done, to sign the paperwork for your probation, and found you passed out on the shower floor!”

“...... Really?!........ But…”

“Here, you need some water.” With that, Ilsa handed Jessica the cup of liquid and watched as Jessica gulped it down.

“But... I did?... I...I don’t...” Jessica was confused by Ilsa’s unfolding account of how she arrived at her current state.

“I managed to get you out and lay you down on that bench. I also figured it would be appropriate to cover you up.”

“Thanks… I guess… Sorry that you got wet because of me. I guess I was really exhausted, Coach.”

Ilsa couldn’t help but smile when she heard Jessica apologize for getting her wet.

If you only knew just how wet you got me, you naughty little minx…and how wet you got!

“Don’t blame yourself. I think it’s mostly my fault. I pushed you too hard during practice...especially considering what you confessed to me afterwards…you know, that you were going through some personal troubles…trying to tell your roommate that you’re in love with her...” As Ilsa said this, she turned her head away from Jessica’s shocked stare, barely able to stop herself from smiling broadly.

Jessica couldn’t believe that she had told Ilsa that. Still sitting on the bench, she tried to recall exact details of what they had talked about in Ilsa’s office, but all of it was hazy, with only bits and pieces coming to her. Her head started to throb with a mild pain, as if she were thinking too hard about it.

Jessica had never been so embarrassed in her life. The issue Ilsa had mentioned was something she wanted to settle on her own terms, and she certainly didn’t want her basketball coach to know this intimate part of her life. Had she really told her? Why?

As she was absorbed in her thoughts, the pretty girl in the towel did not notice her attractive, equally scantily-clad coach approach closer, until Jessica felt a hand rest on her right shoulder. Ilsa was standing right next to her. Once again, the unsuspecting coed felt her body react with arousal to the woman.

“It’s okay, Harrison. I’m not here to judge you. I’m here to support my players, both on and off the basketball court. I know I’m a hard-ass bitch of a coach, but I want you to know that I have your best interests at heart.” As she said this, Ilsa began to gently rub Jessica’s bare shoulder. Jessica blushed and felt a calming yet exciting pleasure flow through her body.

“Thanks, Coach. I appreciate it.” There was a melancholy tone in Jessica’s voice as she tried to mentally comprehend that she most likely outed herself to Isla. Yet Isla wasn’t screaming fire and brimstone and condemning her for it. It sparked a little hope within Jessica that, if a woman like Ilsa could understand her feelings, then maybe Claire could also accept her.

“No problem, my dear. And remember—what we do to each other stays between us.”

Jessica thought for a moment that she had heard Ilsa say, “What we do to each other,” but she assumed she had not understood properly due to the stress of her current situation, and brushed the comment off. She had no clue what Ilsa really had in store for her young, firm body and the perverse pleasures she would elicit from it, and, thus, Jessica was letting down her guard with her coach, which condition the woman was in the process of expertly exploiting.

“I’ve got some things I got to take care of, Harrison. Think you can make it the rest of the way or would you like some assistance?”

“No, Coach, I got it. I’m fine and, again, I appreciate you helping me out. I promise that I’ll be in tip-top shape and ready for the next season.”

“I have no doubt about that, Harrison, and remember that my door is always open.” With that said, Ilsa headed off towards a different section of the women’s locker room to put her clothes back on. Jessica stared at the back side of her coach, gawking at the firm ass, only partly covered by the towel, and the entirety of her long, slim, toned legs, as the lovely woman sauntered elegantly away from her, leaving the student mesmerized and fixed to her seat for a minute.

Coach.........wow............ There’s...there’s something about her...that I like......... that I like...a lot...

When her inexplicably warm emotional state finally settled to room temperature, Jessica slowly propped herself up and made her way to her locker to get changed—and to figure out how she would come to terms with today’s events.

**************

Meanwhile…

Claire had just finished her morning class and was on her way to the library to meet up with her study group. On her way to the bicycle parking station, she heard her phone go off. Fishing it out of the side pocket on her backpack and focusing on the screen, she immediately recognized the number on it. An automatic burst of adrenaline made her heart skip a beat and her face flush just a bit.

“Hi, this is Claire speaking.” Claire recognized that her voice sounded slightly breathless and she made a note to herself to speak more naturally at her next opportunity.

“Claire, darling, how are you doing this morning?” Claire instantly recognized the delightful voice of her new mentor and savior, a voice full of feminine enchantment and allure, which Claire found to be so more every time she heard it. Upon hearing Regina speak, Claire realized that she had been looking forward to listening to that lovely voice again. It sent a thrill into Claire, without her understanding the true reasons she felt so, as she assumed it was simply out of gratitude to the woman who had rescued her. Regina sounded like she was in good spirits, and, as Regina’s happiness was important to her—more than she could account for other than that she merely liked the woman—that made Claire feel happy, too.

“Oh, hi, Regina! I’m doing fine, thank you. I was on my way to the library to meet up with my social economics study group. How are you?”

“Just great, Claire, and I’m glad to know that you’re dedicated to keeping up with your studies. I think I made the right choice in picking you for the sponsorship program.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m going to keep this short, my dear. I just need you to stop by the Financial Aid Office later today. Nothing wrong, but I need to go over some last minute details with you and have you sign a few more things for your sponsorship program. Think you can make it sometime around one o’clock?”

If hearing this woman’s voice had been a delight, the invitation to actually see her again in person, as soon as this very afternoon, struck her as an amazingly wonderful prospect. The thought that Regina wanted to see her again this soon, for whatever reason, was mystically thrilling. Claire knew the one o’clock time was not possible for her today, but she would agree to the very earliest time she had available.

“Oh, that would be great!” The moment she blurted that out, she knew her tone was a bit over-enthusiastic for the occasion, so she dialed it back some. “I mean...yes...I’d like to see you again, Regina... I mean...to come in...for what you said... Um...I can do it today... I definitely want to...but...I don’t think I can by one. I’m pretty much booked for most of the day. Earliest I can come in is some time late in the afternoon. Sorry. I hope that works for you.” I really hope that works for you, Regina.

There was silence on the line, followed by a weird static sound. Before the coed could say anything more, she stopped walking and paused at the side of the walkway, as a subtle dazed look came over her face. Passersby would merely see a young woman with her smartphone up to her head, looking like she was paying rapt attention to whatever conversation she might having, but in reality Claire had been hit with a special digital sonic pulse that temporarily disrupted cognitive thought for about 30 seconds. During this brief window, she would be very open to any kind of suggestion.

“I really think you should show up around one o’clock, Claire.”

“...one o’clock...”

“Exactly. Tell you what... Why don’t you contact someone in your group and tell them that you can’t make it today. I’m sure they’ll understand. They’ll cover for you and save any necessary notes for you. And you don’t need to go to your classes this afternoon, either. You’d much rather spend your whole afternoon with me. Others can take notes for you and give them to you some other time. Also, I think it would be best if you canceled any other plans that you had for the rest of the day, so that you and I will have enough time together. Don’t you agree?”

“….Oh…yeah… I guess you’re right, Regina.” As always. “Shouldn’t be too big of a problem at all.” An image of Regina, a stirring recollection of her beauty, came into her mind, and she felt her heart beat faster. “I’d like that.” A sense of devotion for the woman passed through her. “I can do that.” I’ll love to do that. For you. I’d do anything for you. And with you. “Okay, then... I’ll see you around one o’clock.”

“Great to hear that, Claire. I can’t wait to see you again.” Those words made Claire’s heart jump and her face blush with happiness and anticipation. She knew she felt exactly the same way about seeing Regina again.

“Me, too.”

“Take care, my dear.”

“Bye, Regina.” Just saying her name seemed somehow to be a special experience.

After the call ended, the pretty girl with the long, black ponytail stood there a few seconds more as she gradually came to herself. Then, hardly giving it a thought, she made a few calls to some of the students in her study group, letting them know that she wouldn’t be able to be present at this day’s meeting. She also called a few people in her afternoon and evening classes and asked if they wouldn’t mind taking a few notes for her since she wouldn’t be able to attend.

Getting on her bike, Claire had the impression that it would be a good idea to stop by her dorm room, as she needed to freshen up and make herself more presentable for her one o’clock appointment. She was, after all, going to be seeing Regina again... She sighed without realizing it.

Regina...what a beautiful woman...and so nice... I’m so glad I know her...and to get to see her again...

**************

Monica was breathing heavily. A thin layer of sweat covered her skin and her muscles were starting to ache. Playing with the control panel on the treadmill, she increased its speed from a brisk walking pace to that of a steady jog. While her workout sessions had benefits in helping her maintain her desirable foxy figure, Monica had an ulterior motive for today’s workout. She reminded herself that this would be worth it as long as she kept her eye on the target, that being one Evan Christophers, the rising star quarterback of Preston University’s football team and the new big man on campus.

It seemed that good fortune was smiling on Evan. The previous season, he had been the backup quarterback until the starting quarterback at the time, Bradley Winters, who had been well on his way to leading the Preston Razorbacks toward a conference championship, had gone down with a career-ending injury. Many fans had been distraught over the loss, but Evan had won them over and turned the local fears to cheers when he had led the team to victories in all of their remaining games that season, including their bowl game.

Soon there had been talk of the Razorbacks climbing higher in the polls and competing for a national championship the next season, and Evan became the next big sensation on campus. He found his partial scholarship changed into a full scholarship, fraternities vying for him to join, and a variety of women competing to claim him as their own. For the girl lucky enough to land him, there would be the prestige and accompanying power that would come with having Preston’s favorite son as a boyfriend, and Monica was going to make sure that she was the one who came out on top.

The basic plan was simple: Get his attention, get him alone, get him drugged, take some staged photos, doctor them, and blackmail him into accepting her as his girlfriend, with all the perks and opportunities appertaining thereto. Monica had known that it would be an uphill struggle to compete for Evan’s attention against other girls out in public, so she needed a place where she had Evan all to herself, and what better place to have a private moment with Evan than the Athletics Gymnasium, a workout facility which Preston maintained exclusively for the players on its athletic teams? Monica clearly did not have access privileges, but she had a roommate who did.

It had taken a bit of persuasion, but Monica had managed to negotiate the use of Jessica’s entry badge for the private gym in exchange for Monica doing her fair share of apartment cleaning chores. Previously, the most she had usually contributed to the dorm cleaning duties was keeping her room clean, without lifting a hand most of the time to maintain the common areas, and it had been an incessant point of contention with her roommates. At home, Monica had had a cleaning staff at her beck and call who did things like that for her. Years of living a pampered lifestyle had made Monica regard menial labor as something beneath a person like herself. However, she now reasoned, if grabbing a rag or a duster was the price to gain power, then so be it.

Before implementing the first part of her plan, she had thought it wise to first work her way into Evan’s world, making it look like she fit into it, thereby minimizing any suspicion he might have of her. To this end, Monica had started coming to the gym at random times, showing up enough to make it look like she belonged there. Monica mostly stuck to using the treadmills, cycle stations, and step machines. Over the month she had been doing that, she had managed to coax Evan’s workout schedule out of one of the gym attendants. Once she had felt that she wasn’t drawing any unusual attention, she had decided on a day to come in when she knew Evan would be working out, and today happened to be that day.

Monica had selected her outfit for her foray into the gym today specifically to show off her sensuous body and its desirable assets. Sapphire-blue spandex yoga leggings that molded to her long, beautiful legs and showed off her glorious, firm ass were topped off by a candy-purple spandex training top with a low neckline and aqua-green trim, which not only exposed her slim, smooth midriff, but also lifted her ample, D-cup breasts and pressed them together to enhance their sexy perkiness and deep cleavage without being so tight that her jugs could not still have an eye-catching jiggle.

Monica was about ten minutes into her workout when, right on cue, Evan walked into the gym to begin his workout. Evan had the-boy-next-door looks, grey eyes, brown hair in a simple, casual style, a body chiseled by years of athletics, and a charming personality. Catching him in her peripheral vision, Monica maintained her workout. Just before he passed by, she did a hair flip with her lustrous raven locks, acting as if she was trying to get them out of her way, to catch Evan’s attention and hopefully tease him. It worked like a magic. They made brief eye contact as he walked by and Monica flashed him a seductive smile.

Thirty-five minutes later, Monica calculated it was just the right time to quit and made her way to the refreshment bar to begin her next step. Walking behind the counter, she went to one of the large refrigerators, opened it up, and grabbed two cold sports energy drinks. Opening the caps of both, she kept one for herself and prepared the other by placing a roofie in it, replacing the cap, and setting it aside.

The beautiful Latina sat behind the counter, sipping her drink while casually waiting for Evan to show up. Five minutes later, Evan came into view and made his way towards the bar. He walked up breathing heavily and massaging one of his shoulders. When Evan got close, she retrieved the prepared bottle, made it look as if she was taking the cap off for the first time, and presented him the refreshing energy drink over the counter.

“I believe you were probably coming to get this.”

Evan politely took the bottle from Monica, unaware of what she had done to it. He flashed her a pleasant smile, and took a large gulp.

“Thanks. That hit the spot.”

“No problem. Anything for Preston’s top quarterback. After all, we wouldn’t want you to get severely injured during a workout session. What would your fans think?” Monica said playfully.

Evan let out a small laugh. “Guess there are worse ways I could go down. Name’s Evan, by the way. But I’m sure you already knew that.”

Monica responded with a smile and leaned over the counter top on her forearms, posing her body so that Evan had an exquisite view of her bountiful bosom. It was obvious to her from his expression and the direction of his gaze that she had caught Evan’s attention. Now it was a matter of carefully reeling him in.

“Well, your fame does precede you. I’m sure a guy like you must enjoy basking in it. Not everybody gets to wake up everyday and know that they have people at their beck and call, frats wanting him to join them, opportunities being presented to him.”

“Yeah, it’s nice, but, honestly, it can be very stressful.”

“You don’t say.”

“Let’s be real... You know, I didn’t catch your name. What is it?”

“Alicia. Alicia Lopez.”

“Alicia…” Evan playfully rolled the name around his tongue as he leered at the Latina beauty leaning over the bar counter. He could feel a sexual rush and an accompanying familiar firmness in his groin begin to stir.

“As I was saying, what I have going for me looks all fun and glamorous, but it all comes with the condition that I take Preston University to the championships and win. There’s going to be a lot of upset people if I don’t come through, and that’s a lot of stress to deal with.”

“I’m very shocked to hear this. I’ve always assumed that the college would understand that you’re not a miracle worker. Honestly, are they expecting you to start walking on water?” While her words seemed to express sympathy for Evan’s plight, she was merely faking it well.

Evan laughed at Monica’s comment. “No, that’s after I win the championship. I think for now, they’re only expecting me to turn lead into gold.”

Monica let out a chuckle. “You know, Evan, it sounds like you’re under a lot of stress. How do you handle it all?”

“Honestly, I take it one day at a time. Yeah, it keeps me up at nights sometimes, but I’m sure it’s like that with anyone in a high stress situation. All I can do is pray that I don’t fuck this up and do my best, but a little party here and there doesn’t hurt.”

“I see. Well, Evan, if you don’t mind me saying, you look like you’re under a good deal of stress right now. As a loyal Razorback, I certainly don’t want to see our prize quarterback getting overloaded. If you’re inclined, I happen to know a few stress-relieving techniques that I’m sure will do you some good. If you follow me to one of the private workout rooms, I can show you what kind of relaxation techniques my hands can offer you.” Monica poured on the innuendo and seductive charm as she reached over the counter and playfully stroked Evan’s arm.

At this point, the drug was starting to take its effect on Evan. It was already hard for him to think clearly, and the drop-dead gorgeous Latina fox in front of him was making a very compelling proposition. His slowing brain could conceive no reason to decline it, and, besides, it wasn’t the first time a woman had thrown herself at him since he had become the new star quarterback for the Preston Razorbacks. As long as he played it safe, he didn’t see the harm in sampling some of the goods that came his way.

“Hmmm… I do happen to have this nasty crick around my neck and I’m feeling tense all over. I’m thinking you look like the type that can help me get that crick out and maybe assist in releasing some tension.”

“Looks like you have me figured out. And to think I had a whole oral argument to present on the chance you were going to decline.”

“Hmm… You know, I think I would like to hear your oral argument. You know, let you have your fair mouthful, so that I don’t decline prematurely. How about you lead the way?”

“With pleasure, Evan.” There was no mistaking the seductive tone in Monica’s voice at this point.

Walking out from behind the refreshment bar, Monica walked a little past Evan giving him a splendid view of her marvelous rear. She then turned and gave him a seductive come hither gesture as she led him to one of the private training rooms in the gym.

By the time Evan followed Monica inside, he was starting to feel a little light-headed. Shaking his head to stay on track, he turned his attention to the sexy Hispanic babe, who was bent over the massage table in the middle of the room, patting her hand on its padded surface. Evan hoped that the workout in which he and Monica were about to engage would prove to be reinvigorating.

He staggered to the table and Monica helped him lie down on his back. She strolled over to the door and locked it, looking back at him with a conspiratorial smile as she did so, then sauntered back and bent over him. After planting some soft butterfly kisses on his neck, she started to massage his body, commencing briefly with his chest before sliding her hands downward to the crotch of his gym shorts. Evan responded with natural sexual excitement, but he sensed he should be feeling more of a rush than he was. In fact, it seemed, oddly, that his energy was slipping away and that it was becoming difficult for him to even stay awake. Shortly, he stopped fighting and let slumber overtake him.

Looking him over, Monica snapped her fingers above his head and poked his side. His lack of reaction put a wicked smile on her face.

And now, on to phase two.

Monica stripped the unconscious player, peeling off his sweaty shoes, socks, top, shorts, and jock. Giving his fine male body a cursory evaluation, her first impulse was to pronounce him worthy of the attention of the girls that were after him. But then her mind added a qualifier: For a boy, that is... He’s worthy for a boy... A pretty girl would be worthier......

Wait... What am I thinking?... I don’t mean that.. This guy’s a stud... Shaking off the foreign thought about “a pretty girl”, her eyes settled on the semi-hard rod of flesh between his legs. Out of habit, Monica almost exclaimed, “Ay, muchacho!”, as she would have in the past at such a sight, but this time seeing a handsome boy’s penis seemed lacking in inspirational effect.

She took it in her hand and stroked, varying her pace and adding some licks with her tongue, until the shaft had risen to full attention. But Monica just wasn’t feeling that impressed. Maybe, she thought, it was because, as she judged, his size was no better than average. It was reasonably thick, and Monica figured that some girls would probably go for it, but as she stared at the young man’s fuck stick, she found that she wasn’t feeling any particular attraction to it. Nevertheless, this was the state in which she wanted him to be.

Monica went over to the corner of the workout room and pulled out a small drawstring backpack she had hidden there earlier behind a trash can. Reaching in, she took out her smartphone and snapped a few photos of the naked Evan. Next, intent on bringing Evan’s male organ to a climax, she resumed ministering to it, sucking with her lips, swirling with her tongue, and groping rhythmically and vigorously with a hand.

In the past when Monica had performed this kind of act on a boy, she had enjoyed it, but this time she had to force herself, feeling unwilling to go any further than necessary and sensing she was doing this solely for the sake of her plan rather than out of any degree of sexual desire. Some opinions passed through her mind which she had never possessed before: Men are so gross. Cocks are wasted on men. Too bad girls don’t have them. That would be so much better. This would be a lot nicer if this were a girl...

The moment she completed that line of thought, she realized how weird and unlike her normal mindset it was. Where did that come from? She quickly dismissed the strange impressions and returned her focus to her current task at hand.

With the first taste of male pre-cum—which she had not found unpleasant in the past, but now found to have a foul, bitter flavor—Monica disengaged her mouth and pulled Evan’s rock hard dick toward his belly. Wanting to just get it over with, Monica picked up the pace with her hand. In short order, the football star groaned and shot his load onto his torso.

Pleased with the results, Monica grabbed her smartphone and took more pictures of Evan. She reluctantly dipped her fingers into Evan’s warm goo, scooping it up and flinging it on his face, then taking some close-ups of that.

Once she felt she had enough pictures, she cleaned the remnants of Evan’s disgusting slime from her hand and his body, and, with some effort, got him dressed back into his workout clothes. Monica considered leaving a small note to the effect that she had had a great time, but, judging that it was best neither to encourage him nor to feed an already-overinflated ego, she decided against it. Slowly opening the door, Monica stuck her head out and, when she felt that the coast was clear, she made her way out, leaving her conquest still unconscious. She now had a great batch of blackmail pictures in her possession. With a little Photoshop editing, Monica would have Evan, figuratively, by his balls.

After Monica quickly showered, dressed, left the building, and found a bench in a secluded spot half-way across campus from the gym, she reviewed the photos she had taken and uploaded them to a cloud storage server for safe keeping. She noted again with mild curiosity that looking at Evan’s perfect male body in the photos did nothing for her, in contrast to what her typical reaction to seeing a good-looking guy’s erect penis exposed would have been in the past. In fact, she found the photos slightly repulsive. Yet, she concluded after a short minute of reflection, her lack of interest was nothing to worry about. I’m the same girl I’ve always been. I’ve always liked boys and I guess I always will. I must just be tired from staying up last night and from my workout today.

Monica’s mind could not let it rest at that, however. It seemed she had not quite put her finger on the way she was feeling, that she was ignoring some sentiments within her which were just waiting to be uncovered. She let her thoughts wander, as if of their own accord, in a direction she sensed was new and unusual for her.

Although... maybe I’m getting tired of boys...and the games they play... Most of them just brag all the time...they’re rough...they stink... So many of them are just kind of...slobs... They’re not that smart... They mess everything up … Maybe men are kind of…kind of over-rated…or unimportant...in the grand scheme of things... Really, what’s so great about them? Their dicks? She looked again at Evan’s. No big deal. Take it or leave it. I mean, they do feel good, but is it worth it if they have to be attached to men? Too bad women don’t have those...

It did not occur to Monica how lesbian-flavored her reflections were; they just seemed to make sense to her right now, as if she were discovering sentiments she should have always held. She did realize, however, that, but a few minutes before, a similar thought had passed through her head about the relative merits of men, woman, and penises, which she had dismissed as ludicrous, but which now seemed worthy of a bit more consideration.

Hmmm. That might be interesting............women with penises.......... awesome... Then you wouldn’t need men for anything............ Maybe the only thing men are good for is for women to take advantage of them, like I’m doing now, with this stupid jock, Evan...

She caught herself, realizing she was bashing men in her mind in ways she never had before. And yet…it seemed deserving. Men are really such pigs...

Continuing scanning through the images saved on her smartphone, she stopped when she came across the video she had taken the previous night of Claire stripping. She giggled a bit thinking of Claire dancing sensually for her roommates and almost going all the way in her strip-tease. Unlike Monica’s tepid response to the explicit photos of Evan, the discovery of this item immediately made her heart giddily skip a beat and brought a blush to her face.

She wished she would have remembered that she had it before now. Why haven’t I looked at this yet?............ Well... maybe I shouldn’t watch it all...but...

Making sure no one was nearby, knowing she was about to do something most people would consider naughty, she played the video. As she watched her favorite roommate start to sway her body to the music, prance around their living room, run her hands over her body, and fiddle with her clothes, Monica quickly returned in her mind to the previous evening and to her feelings at the time, reliving and once again becoming captivated by Claire’s performance in front of all her roommates.

Monica recalled sitting next to Meredith, both to watch the Serena Powers video and to watch Claire. The memory was pleasant. It had been nice to sit with this cute roommate, the one with whom she had had issues, but those problems had seemed to melt away for the evening. In fact, now that she thought about it, she had never felt as close to the redhead…and it had felt good. She even had a fuzzy memory of holding hands with her companion on the sofa, but she wasn’t sure about it, and she ended up telling herself that it probably didn’t happen, though she wouldn’t mind if it had then or if it happened in the future.

Meredith...she is sooo cute. I don’t know why I ever teased her. Especially about her looks. That was all so untrue. It’s just me. I have to be nicer to her. I want a much closer relationship with her. What a doll... As she thought about Meredith, her face flushed with delight.

Then she returned to the video of Claire, prancing and dancing, and it quickly seized all of her attention again. Monica found herself imagining that only she and Claire were there, and that the impromptu strip dance was a private one, meant just for her.

Mesmerized by the images of Claire’s stunning beauty, voluptuousness, and grace as she unfastened and removed the articles of clothing off her body, Monica, to her surprise, felt her own body react. Monica could feel her nipples stiffen and, for a moment, she swore she felt a faint pleasurable tingle between her legs. While exhilarating physically and emotionally, this was not a reaction, her reason told her, with which she, as a straight girl, should be comfortable.

Why is watching Claire strip making me feel this way?

This is not me...

This is wrong...

I’m...I’m not... not...that way...

I should not be feeling this...

Unsettled by the way her body was responding to the flowing images of Claire and her provocative dance, Monica stopped the video. She concluded it would be best to delete it from her phone, and was about to do so, when something within her made her hesitate. As her finger hovered over the menu icon on her smartphone’s touchscreen, Monica realized that she didn’t really want to delete the recording.

Seeking justification for keeping it, she assured herself that it was simply a video of her straight-laced best friend letting her guard down and acting goofy, and that if she were to show this video to Claire they both would get a good laugh out of it. Monica eased her finger away from the touchscreen and took a deep calming breath. Yes... that’s it... It’s just for fun... No harm in keeping it as a joke...

Deep down, Monica knew there was more than that to her response to the video and her desire to keep it, but seeking to further rationalize her feelings rather than to confront their true nature, she told herself that Claire was one of the few people she could actually call a friend, and that therefore maybe the reactions she was experiencing weren’t necessarily signs of some kind of untoward attraction to or desire for Claire, but rather merely feelings associated with true friendship.

This led Monica to reflect on her friendships with Claire and her other roommates at Preston University and how they compared to the relationships she had had back home. At home, the “friends” surrounding her at school and the staff in her household were yes-man types, people who cared more about her money and the prestige that association with her could bring them than they did about her as a person. In contrast, here at Preston, Monica had gradually become aware that Claire and the others didn’t care if she was rich, didn’t expect favors if they did things for her, and actually cared about her well-being. For the first time in her life, the true nature of friendship had been dawning upon her, and that had led her recently to introspections on what kind of person she truly was and wanted to be.

Not that Monica wanted to confront those aspects of herself frankly; too much truth about her character made her uncomfortable. Part of her preferred to live in ignorant bliss and to continue to be the spoiled brat who manipulated others to her advantage and got what she wanted, her current intrigue with Evan being a prime example of that aspect remaining in her personality . Nevertheless, Claire’s example and gentle admonitions had made her realize that she didn’t have to be such a bitch, one who insisted on others deferring to her. She could be better than that.

As Monica reviewed Claire’s overall effect on her, the events from the past few days poured into her mind, along with the feelings of empathy for her friend which Monica had experienced. When Monica had heard about Claire losing her scholarship, she had genuinely been saddened and had been sincere about contacting her wealthy family to secure some kind of financial assistance for her cherished friend. On the morning of Claire’s sponsorship meeting, Monica had enjoyed helping Claire get ready, and had mentioned the rumors she had heard about Regina out of honest concern for Claire’s welfare. When Claire had returned from her sponsorship meeting having secured financing for the remainder of her education, Monica had taken part in Claire’s relief and joy, and had been thankful that her friend would be able to stay at Preston and continue to be her roommate.

That authentic sisterly attitude within Monica, however, had been mixed with a vein of self-interest when Claire had revealed the identity of the powerful woman who would be helping her. Monica had even felt pangs of jealousy over Claire’s newfound luck, and had almost immediately started to scheme some way to capitalize on Claire’s new connection.

Before going to bed the previous night, Monica had decided to do some research on Serena Powers and was amazed by the results. She had discovered that Ms. Powers was a force to be reckoned with in the worlds of business, science and technology, education, politics, and entertainment, that corporate peers of hers, academic overlords, top scientists, powerful politicians, and A-List celebrities catered to her, sought her support, and vied for her favor.

That information made Monica even more intent on using Claire to meet this incredible woman. She wasn’t quite sure yet how to broach the subject with Claire about setting up an introduction, but if Monica could gain Serena Powers as an ally then that would open a whole slew of opportunities for her.

That possibility made Monica giddy with delight for one reason more than any other: It would likely enable her to finally be set free from the control of a certain person in her life from whom she was desperate to escape, someone whose manipulative, controlling, and cold nature had only become apparent to her within the last two or three years, and only after it was almost too late to evade this person’s nefarious designs. That person was Monica’s mother, Isabella Castillo-Morales.

A shudder crept up Monica’s spine and she started to feel queasy as she began to think of her mother. The Latina coed knew that if her friends were to ever meet her mother and get to know the real woman behind the sociable mask, they would probably be appalled by her icy demeanor, her disregard for the well-being of others, and her vindictive nature. For this reason, Monica’s mother was something of a touchy subject for her, and when her family came up in conversation, Monica fabricated fallacious stories of how kind and caring her mother was. In Monica’s view, not even a saint like Claire had the ability to awaken whatever goodness might be hiding inside her mother and, instead, she would much more likely be torn asunder in one way or another by her mother’s malice.

If my friends think I’m a bitch queen, then my mother is the bitch goddess. The thought almost brought a smile to her face, but not quite.

Painful memories surfaced as she recalled the day two and a half years ago when she had come to fully understand the true nature of her mother for the first time…


Monica had been in the first half of her senior year of high school when, one day, she and her friends had been discussing their plans for life after high school graduation, which unanimously included college. When they asked Monica what her future plans were, she realized she hadn’t made any yet, nor had her parents sat down with her to discuss her options, though she had always assumed she would go to college, similar to others in her elite socioeconomic class, and she believed, with her parents’ money and influence, she could probably be accepted at most any school, so she informed everyone that she would be attending a prestigious college. To make sure her friends were duly impressed, Monica fibbed that several colleges were vying for her enrollment and that it was merely a matter of deciding on one of them.

Later that day after coming home from school--a process which included pulling into the driveway of her lavish mansion, handing her Lexus off to one of the household staff, and giving her belongings to other attendants to put away for her--she marched towards the study where her mother was accustomed to be at that hour of the day.

As she got closer and saw that the door was slightly ajar, she felt a sense of dread, akin to the way a deer might feel when surrounded by a pack of hungry wolves. Monica often had this sensation when approaching her mother, or being approached by her, without knowing exactly why. Perhaps, for all she knew, it was the commanding, superior, detached tone ever in her mother’s voice, or the absence of kind interest, or her chronically critical attitude, but it had made Monica reluctant to bother her mother more than was necessary. The girl had always assumed this was a normal atmosphere between mothers and daughters. This, however, was one of those occasions where she felt they needed to talk and which seemed to merit risking her mother’s displeasure, so she proceeded forwards to the door.

As her mother had taught Monica from a very young age to never enter her study unless asked to come in, regardless of the situation, Monica knocked firmly on the doorframe to announce her presence and awaited her mother’s response. Monica stood patiently outside for a few minutes, remaining as calm as she could, and then heard the familiar, ever-authoritative voice within.

“Come in.”

Walking in, Monica saw her mother behind her desk, going over some paperwork and typing something into her computer. In appearance, Isabella resembled an older Monica with a few differences. Isabella had more defined cheekbones than her daughter, her lips were more pouty and lush, her hair a dark chocolate brown descending six inches past her shoulders, in contrast to Monica’s deep raven color and waist length, and her eyes were a darker, near-black brown, appearing to be devoid of emotion. Though in her late 40s, Isabella could easily be mistaken for a young woman in her late 20s. Though Isabella’s pristine, vibrant, youthful look was partly due to favorable genes, it was also a testament to the work of the best plastic surgeons and cosmetologists, to whom her wealth gave her abundant access.

Monica sat down in the chair in front of her mother’s desk and waited silently, reflecting another rule her mother had drilled into her over her childhood, namely, when in this study, Monica was to speak only when spoken to. Therefore, Monica simply remained seated with her hands in her lap as she watched her mother work, which involved scrawling down notes and typing entries into the computer terminal in front of her, the woman’s disregard of her daughter’s presence seeming to indicate its lack of importance to her. After letting the teen wait ten minutes, Isabella finally turned to face Monica and threw her a piece of her attention.

“So what brings you in today, my dear?”

“I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Is it really important, or should I just write you a check and be done with it?”

Isabella’s indifferent reply on this occasion was typical of her responses whenever Monica wanted to talk to her mother. A more neutral observer would perhaps have identified the woman’s true, callous core nature by this type of behavior long before this day, but, as is common among young offspring, Monica had tried to believe that her mother was more virtuous and devoted than the evidence suggested, and years of experiencing this kind of treatment had made Monica both accustomed and resigned to it. She had also come to assume that it was caused, at least in part, by the stresses of running a large business like theirs, and therefore somewhat excusable.

“Yes, I believe it is.”

Monica saw her mother raise an eyebrow and felt her dark eyes bore into her, almost as if they were trying to consume her.

Isabella let out a sigh, brought her hands together, and began to tap her fingers together. “Alright, let’s hear it. What is so important with your life that you have to come and see me about it?” Monica detected the familiar, annoyed tone in her mother’s voice, one barren, as usual, of concern and love, which Monica nevertheless still yet failed to perceive as revealing a sinister darkness within the woman’s soul.

“I wanted to talk to you about my future after high school.”

“What about it?”

“Well, a lot of my friends have been talking about going off to college and I was wondering why we haven’t discussed that. Surely you must have a college in mind for me to attend? Just wanted to know when you planned to talk to me about it. I graduate this year and want to know what I can tell my friends.”

Then Isabella did something which caught Monica completely off guard. Monica had never witnessed her mother exhibit any element of mirth, yet Isabella broke out into laughter. It was hearty belly laugh. At first Monica thought she had inadvertently said something humorous, but then it became obvious that her mother’s merriment was simple cruelty. Her mother was belittling her. That was the moment Monica realized what kind of person her mother really was.

“Did I miss something? I believe I asked you what college you wanted me to attend? I really don’t see what’s so funny about this.” The hurt in Monica’s voice was clear.

It took nearly half a minute for Isabella to recover from her mocking laughter and to shift back into the icy resolve she ever assumed when it came to dealing with inconveniences in her life. She took a deep breath.

“Monica, let me be frank with you. Ever since you were a child, I’ve given you whatever your heart desired. Toys, pets, clothes, cars--you name it, you got it. However, let’s be reasonable. Do you honestly think you’re equipped to handle a life outside of this easy existence I’ve provided you? Do you really think you could handle college? Honestly, it’d make more sense to give the money that I’d spend on college for you to a drunk and ask him to start up a winery.”

Monica was shocked, appalled by what she was hearing. She thought this had to be some kind of joke on her mother’s part. Surely her mother did not mean what she had just said.

“Judging by the look on your face, you were probably not expecting this. Unfortunately, life can be a cold-hearted bitch. However, I’m not without compassion. After all you are my daughter. The summer is coming up, so how about one last hurrah? I could sponsor a nice summer tour of Europe before you have to settle down.”

“... ‘Settle down’?... What... what do you mean, Mother?”

“Ah, yes... I guess now is as good of a time as any to let you know what you’ll be doing for the rest of your life. I’ve been making arrangements with the Salazars. I believe you might remember them?”

Monica did recall them, though she barely knew them. They had business dealings with the financial institutions that her family operated, mostly having dealt with Monica’s mother, and, from what Monica remembered, the Salazars were heavily into real estate, holding a nearly monopolistic control over low-income housing and land for business development in their local area and owning significant properties across a few other states, as well.

“Yes.”

“Well then, I’m sure you can remember that they have a son. I believe Harold is his name.”

Then it clicked. Monica realized what her mother intended for her. She did not want any part of it, in any way, shape, or form.

“No! I won’t do it! I…I will not be some... some......... I refuse!” Monica was incensed that her mother would try to do this to her…that she would “make arrangements” for her to be married off as a provision in what was probably some kind of business deal... that she would see her own daughter as nothing more than a head of cattle to be sold off, or as a bargaining chip in a play for accumulation of more power and leverage in the world of commercial intrigue.

No one ever said no to Isabella. One way or another, she always got what she wanted, even if it meant ruining another person or using underhanded means to achieve it. This meant no one was exempt, not even her own daughter.

“Listen, and listen very closely, you dumb, little spoiled brat. You’re lucky that I’m offering you this, because, quite honestly, left to your own devices, you’re nothing but a knocked-up hooker waiting to happen.

“ ‘Going to college’.” The non-maternal mother laughed again derisively. “Pleeease. It would be a waste on an idiot like you. A total waste. I’m better off sending the family dog off to college in your place. Do you honestly think your stupid ass could even come close to handling college life? Don’t’ make me laugh! Oh, wait, you already did!

“Now, up to this point, I’ve been generous with you, but because you’re putting on such a stink about this, it ends now! So use whatever brain cells you have in that vapid head of yours and listen, and listen well. Come your graduation, you will start to date Harold Salazar. You will use your God-given body to please him, whatever he wants, and by the end of this year you will be Mrs. Monica Salazar. Do I make myself clear, young lady, or do I have to draw you a fucking diagram?”

At this point Monica burst into sobbing tears and ran out her mother’s study.

Later that night...

Monica spent the remainder of the day in her room, crying much of the time. Never in her life had she expected her mother to treat her that way. She was in shock from suddenly discovering that her own mother, the one person who, she had always assumed, despite her preoccupied, dismissive, and, at times, almost hostile manner, was fundamentally on her side, more than anyone else in the world, and would be there to support her in achieving her life’s goals and to protect her from the cruelties of this world, in reality considered her daughter to be little more than a tool to selfishly advance her own power and financial gain. That revelation hurt more than anything she had ever experienced.

Monica was so lost in her distressed emotional state that she failed to hear the multiple knocks on her door, and only took notice when it finally opened. Slowly sticking his head into her room was her father, Roman Morales, dressed in casual wear which consisted of one of his many Egyptian cotton shirts—which, like this one, were usually one variety or another of blue, his favorite color—neatly pressed khaki pants, and a pair of worn-out brown loafers.

A man in his early 50s, Roman showed few signs of aging, attributable in part to a healthy diet and a steady regimen of exercise, which included hiking the nature trails in the area and playing a few intense rounds of racquetball on days when his busy schedule would allow. As had been the case in his younger days, he was still a physical specimen capable of turning the heads of many women. There was still good muscle definition on his body, which echoed his days as star quarterback for both his high school and college football teams. The grey on the sides of his black hair merely added a distinguished touch to his already-regal appearance, and his ebony eyes still carried a youthful twinkle.

He had known of Isabella’s plans for their daughter for quite some time now, but had said nothing to Monica because he had wanted his daughter to enjoy her young life before this cold fact was delivered to her, and he also simply had lacked the courage to reveal his wife's subterfuge. As the time approached when Monica had to be told, he had hoped that he would be the one to deliver the news to her, so that he could present it as gently as might be possible. However, Isabella, who cared little about coddling her daughter, had beaten her husband to it and had told the young woman the cruel truth with acidic candor.

The girl’s reaction was as he had expected, and it hurt Roman to see his beloved princess like this, as she lay on her bed, wracked with emotional devastation. As he stood in the doorway searching for words to console his daughter, Roman reflected on how much Monica’s impending situation paralleled his own relationship with his wife, Isabella...

That relationship had its genesis on the fateful day he returned home from college, after having just graduated. Roman remembered it was in the spring, and that the day was clear, sunny, and pleasantly warm, with blossoms on the trees and flowers in the yard. Roman had felt like that spring day inside himself, as well--optimistic, invincible, free, and ready to take on the world and its opportunities. That evening, however, his father and mother had sat him down for a most sobering discussion.

At that time, Roman’s father gravely informed him that the family was on the verge of financial ruin, a series of bad investments having avalanched into a crisis that was certain to soon devastate both their reputation and their comfortable lifestyle. The news had come as a shock to Roman, as his parents had spared burdening him with their financial situation until this moment. Roman offered to apply his new education, abilities, and industriousness to find a way to get his family back on their feet, but his father said it was too late for conventional remedies, most all of which would take some time to succeed, and they were now almost out of time. The only solution, he said, would be an immediate influx of revenue to pay off their debts, and there was no way that either they or Roman could earn or borrow sufficient funds in time through regular business channels.

However, Roman’s parents stated, there was one possible alternative source of revenue which might be open to them. There was a young family, the Castillos, whom Roman’s father had been following and whose businesses had been producing tremendous profits over the past several years. However, since that family was considered to be “new money”, most of the wealthy and respectable “old money” families in the area were very hesitant to do business or associate with the Castillos, or refused to do so outright. Roman’s parents shared with him their view that, at this point, the only assets they still possessed which might be parlayed to keep them afloat were the family name and legacy, and that the Castillo family could be their opportunity to exploit that resource.

Roman’s father informed him that the Castillos had a daughter, a very beautiful young woman who was much sought after by a bevy of suitors. It didn’t take long for Roman to realize what his father was asking him to do. It was quite simple: Wed the daughter of the Castillos, who in turn would pay the Morales family a sizable dowry, one that would retrieve them from the brink of financial ruin. Further, the Castillos and all their businesses would thereafter be considered to be a part of the Morales family.

Roman sought to find a way out of this, but, in the end, his sense of duty to his parents prevailed. He relented and did what was asked of him. Marrying Isabella did in fact give his family access to the resources they needed and, in turn, bought her family the higher social standing which they sought among the elitist snobs.

When Roman met Isabella for the first time, she was eighteen and had just graduated from high school. That day, he recalled, she was wearing a bright pink silk-cotton-blend sundress, her long, dark hair done in a French braid. She had smooth skin painted a heavenly honey color by nature and a body which already had the type of curves which made men want her, with large, ample C-cup breasts which promised softness to the touch and a gorgeous ass which displayed itself prominently in whatever article of clothing that might be imprisoning it, all supported by smooth, well-toned legs.

Roman was awestruck by her physical beauty. However, her lovely face, body, and adornments served but to mask the cold-hearted, calculating, devious mentality she possessed underneath. Over his life since that first encounter, Roman learned how very true the aphorism, "Looks can be deceiving” was.

Just as Roman had been disappointed to be corralled into an arranged marriage, so had Isabella been, as well. She had developed political ambitions and a lust for power early in life, largely instilled into her by her parents, but also arising from her own native need to control others, and, before she and Roman had met, she had mapped out for herself a political career which would fulfill that drive. Parental insistence on marriage to Roman Morales was as much a surprise to her as it was to him, and had, for all practical purposes, quashed her dreams of running for public office. However, her new marital situation in no way reduced Isabella’s lust for power and control, nor did it diminish either her native abilities to obtain it, one way or the other, or her devious nature. She simply turned her focus from politics as an avenue to power to the world of business.

Almost from the moment the words “I do” departed from Isabella’s crimson lips, she began to gradually, methodically insinuate her way into the financial institutions owned and operated by Roman’s family. Over time, she managed to usurp control of the bank from him, reducing him to the role of a figurehead, and became the primary force to be reckoned with within the Morales family as well as within the local financial community. In time, everyone in Monica’s town came to understand who wielded the real power in this banking clan and in commercial affairs in the area. They were equally aware of her well-deserved reputation for ruthless tactics, and most feared crossing Isabella, for dread of her wrath.

Roman came to realize early in their time together that Isabella was determined to be frigid with him. He made attempts to infuse love and companionship into their marriage, but Isabella would have none of it. She resented the arranged marriage even more than he did, and the quiet anger with which she endured it fermented into dark hate as the years passed by. Though some years after their wedding she had acquiesced to bearing him a child and Roman had hoped that a baby might thaw his wife’s icy temperament to some degree, that had proved to be mere wishful thinking on his part. Isabella endured the ordeal of childbearing simply to comply with the terms and conditions of their prenuptial agreement, and also at her own family’s behest, but she had loathed so doing. The day Monica was born, Isabella made it unmistakably clear that she would not bear any more children for Roman or his family, and that, if he ever made an attempt to "violate" her again, she would, as she had venomously declared, “rip your filthy dick off and have it mounted on the bedroom wall with a rail spike”.

The only thing that had kept Isabella by Roman’s side over the years was an ironclad prenuptial agreement drafted by the Morales family’s lawyer to protect him. The Castillos had been loath for her to sign it, but they had agreed because they were as much in need as were the Moraleses. Though in subsequent years Isabella and her family had had a team of lawyers look for loopholes in the contract, there were none, and, if she were to divorce Roman as she wanted to do, she would lose all significant rights to his family’s assets.

Shaking off the unpleasant trip down memory lane, Roman focused on the formidable task at hand, soothing his upset daughter and trying to put an optimistic spin on the forecast for the rest of her life. Roman stepped to his daughter’s bed and, sitting down next to her, gingerly placed a hand on her back, patting her reassuringly. Monica just curled up even further. Roman was not happy to see his daughter in this condition.

“Honey... Monica... Can you hear me?”

A hurtful sob was the reply.

“Look, your mother… She’s…she’s under a lot of stress. It comes with running the family businesses, on top of trying to raise a family. It can be…you know…demanding. She really didn’t mean to say all that…”

Monica slowly turned to face her father with teary eyes. “Did you know what Mom was planning to do with me?”

Roman looked down in shame. Right now he was failing his daughter and he saw that there probably wasn’t an answer he could give to undo the harm his callous wife had inflicted upon the girl or to paint a happy face on the situation.

“Thought so.” Monica just turned away and pulled a pillow partly over her head, doing her best to shut the rest of the world out.

“Yes... I’m sorry, Monica. I truly am. I didn’t mean for you to find out like this. I was hoping to tell you myself, but… Monica you’re special to me, and you know that...”

“Can I ask you something, Papi?” interrupted Monica, as she sat up. “And I want you to be honest. Don’t lie to protect me.”

“What is it, Princess?”

“Do you think I’m stupid?”

It hurt Roman to see the low opinion with which his daughter seemed to view her mind, as reflected by that question. Roman believed just the opposite of his wife in this matter, holding his daughter to be a very bright individual and quite capable of understanding complex concepts, solving difficult problems, and mastering other intellectual tasks. This opinion had been confirmed by her teachers—at least by the ones who had been willing to meet with him in secret and share with him, despite their fears about incurring Isabella’s displeasure, that Monica had true potential and that she was more than capable of succeeding at whatever academic challenges they were likely to require of her.

However, given her mother’s belittling comments, not only on this day but also throughout the girl’s life, it was no surprise that Monica would question her own intellectual abilities. As a result, she had given up in school, not entirely, but almost, and had fallen into habits of scholastic indifference and laziness to the point that attempts by even her more steadfast teachers to bring out the studious side of Monica were met with disdain for doing most any kind of work and a reliance on the elite status of her parents to pass her classes.

“Honey, never say that again. I don’t care what your mother says. You’re a very smart girl who can do anything she puts her mind to.”

“Then you think I can handle going to college?”

Roman hugged his daughter. “You’re a Morales, Princess. You could conquer the whole world if you felt like it.”

“I want to go to college. That’s all that I want.”

Roman took a deep breath. Looking at Monica he could clearly see the hurt still present in his daughter’s eyes.

“I’ll see what I can do. Like I said, your mom is under a lot of stress. Maybe I can get her to rethink her position. Just get some sleep and maybe things will turn out different in the morning.”

“Okay.” Monica suspected her father was saying that mainly to soothe her hurt feelings. Monica knew who wore the pants in this family and that, regardless of how much she might hope he could succeed at changing her mother’s mind, there was little reason to be confident that he could actually do it. Perhaps, she sighed to herself, all I can do is except my fate.

Sensing that there wasn’t much more he could do to dispel Monica’s melancholy mood, Roman hugged her again, kissed her forehead, quietly left her room, and headed towards the bedroom he shared with his icy wife. As he walked in, he saw Isabella preparing herself for bed. It was a ritual with which he was all too familiar. Isabella would disrobe entirely and parade her foxy naked body in front him, unquestionably with the intent to tease him, as if daring him to make a move, yet pretending to be oblivious to what she might be doing to him, before retiring to sleep in a bed separate from his.

Despite Isabella’s age-defying beauty, Roman’s desire for intimacy with her body had atrophied over the years of emotional torment she had inflicted on him with this nightly parade, as well as with her other numerous sadistic manipulations, and now his displays of interest in her during the nightly ritual were mostly a pretense to make her think she was still succeeding in her twisted game, so that there then would be enough peace in the room to permit a restful night’s sleep. But tonight was going to be different. Tonight he was going to do something that would disrupt their norm and disturb the tenuous balance in their relationship, at least temporarily. He was going to oppose his wife. It would likely cost him much more than just a good night’s sleep, but it would be worth the price if, in the end, it would give Monica a chance to escape the life her mother had planned for her.

“So, how did your talk with our daughter go?” asked Isabella, sitting naked at her vanity with her back turned to Roman, displaying her gorgeous body tauntingly as she brushed her long, silky brown locks. Roman was well aware that Isabella really didn’t care about the girl’s feelings or well-being and was just pretending to show concern.

“She’s upset, and I’m sure you know why.”

“She’ll get used to it. You did. Besides, it’s about time she learned how the world truly operates.”

Isabella’s snarky comment just put a scowl on his face as he continued to look at the witch who brought nothing but misery into his life.

“There were better ways you could have handled it.”

“Maybe, but lately she’s been getting a little defiant with me and it’s time she learned her proper place within this family. It’s not my fault that someone here misleads her into thinking she could be something that she’s not.”

“You know that she’s very well capable of handling things on her own. I don’t see what the harm is in letting her go to college.”

Isabella let out a sigh of disgusted frustration. She dropped her hairbrush onto her vanity for effect and turned to face Roman. In doing so, Isabella flashed Roman a glorious view of her perky, ample bosom. She shifted her body just right so that the bountiful orbs of flesh would stick out, a tactic she had used many times to lead men towards their own downfall. However, Roman had grown accustomed to this diversion and he reminded himself how ugly the real person was to whom these glorious breasts were attached.

“The harm, dear husband,” she responded with the tone of a clear superior wearily and impatiently having to explain something quite obvious and painfully simple to a weak-minded inferior for the umpteenth time, “is that it’s a bad investment. It’s going to be a colossal waste of money and time on both our parts. And let’s not forget what happened the last time the Morales family started to make bad investments.”

“I’ll annul the prenup.”

Upon Roman saying those words, there was an eerie silence in the room. At length, the naked Isabella arose and turned to face her husband. In moment rare for her, Isabella was stunned into silence by her husband’s unexpected, unbelievable offer. Both parties stood there, each attempting to read the face of the other and resolve upon what might be said next.

“What did you just say?” Said Isabella cautiously, wanting to rule out having misunderstood her husband’s brief but transcendently important sentence.

“You heard me, Isabella. You let Monica go to college and I’ll annul the prenup.”

“I’m going to give you one chance and one chance only to take back what you just said, if you don’t mean it. You had better not be toying with me. If you’re lying to get your...”

“I’m not lying, Isabella. One call from me and that prenup is gone. You know just as I do the clauses that my father put into it. One call from me saying that I consent to the annulment of the prenup and you will no longer be restrained by it.”

“You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”

“Very.”

“Well,” she spoke with a rising, wicked elation, unable to suppress the malignant smile creeping over her lovely but evil face, “today is just full of pleasant surprises, isn’t it? I’m sure you have some terms in order for this to happen.”

“I will only annul the prenup after Monica is accepted by a college of her own choosing and has actually started her first semester, and after you set aside adequate funds in a trust accessible only by her to completely cover tuition, room and board, any other college-related expenses, and a generous allowance for personal expenses, for the duration of her education, or until she reaches age twenty-five, whichever is later. You must also leave our marriage intact until that time.”

Isabella could only smirk at the terms Roman set. Despite the money she would be required to set aside to satisfy his conditions, it would be a pittance compared to what she stood to gain, not the least of which would be her eventual liberation from her ties with her husband and his family. The man is a fool. I bet he’ll give me more, just for the asking...

“Very well. I can agree to those terms. But I also have conditions of my own, Roman.”

“I don’t care, Isabella. Name them and I’ll agree to them.”

Roman witnessed Isabella smiling with evil glee as she pondered how best to word the conditions she would be adding to the deal, while he simultaneously reflected on the ramifications for him of the agreement into which he was about to enter. He knew that, once their bargain was finalized, he would be living on borrowed time. Roman calculated that, if Monica truly focused and graduated within a normal time frame, then he would probably have two or three years after that before Isabella filed for divorce, converted ownership of most of his family’s fortune into her name, kicked him to the curb, and reduced him to the life of a pauper. However, Roman was willing to endure such flames of hell, as it were, if it meant that his daughter had a shot at true happiness.

The next day...

Monica woke up in a foul mood. The passage of one night had not moderated the pain of the previous day’s events much, and she didn’t feel like getting up to face the next episode of this nightmarish saga. She didn’t see the point in it. However, she changed her mind after realizing that at least she would be at school for most of the day, which meant she would be far away from her ice queen of a mother.

When she arrived in the dining hall, she was surprised to see both of her parents there, pleasantly having breakfast together. Monica took her seat as a maid served her a plate of warm French toast, a bowl of fruit, a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, and a poached egg. She consumed her meal slowly at first, cautiously watching her parents smile and make small talk as if nothing had happened last night and as if they were actually capable of getting along civilly. After a few minutes, though, Roman and Isabella seemed to run out of topics for conversation and lapsed into silence. Observing this sequence, Monica formed the impression that something odd was going on, and she became more uncomfortable with the atmosphere in the room, so she started to eat her breakfast faster, with her head down, so that she could leave sooner.

Finally, her father broke the awkward silence in the room. “Monica, I’ll be stopping by your school later today.”

Monica silently nodded her head, acknowledging she heard her father.

“I’ll be seeing your guidance counselor to discuss potential choices for your college education.”

Monica’s head jerked up. She stared at her father with an astonished expression, wondering if she had heard him correctly.

“However, if you already have one in mind, please let me know and we can look it over later today.”

Is this some joke? she reacted within herself, hardly able to accept what she was hearing. A very cruel joke…that my mother is pulling on me…and forcing my father to go along with?

But the genuine look of joy on her father’s face told her that it wasn’t. When she read that face and, by doing so, finally comprehended the happy reality of the situation, Monica leapt with joy, rushed to her father, and hugged him as hard as she could. If this is a dream, I don’t want to wake up!

“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you so much! I love you, Papi! I love you!” Tears of joy streamed down Monica’s face as she clutched her father.

“Ahem. I wouldn’t get too excited, my dear. There’s a lot we still have to discuss.”

In the elation of the moment, Monica had completely forgotten about the presence of her mother in the room, she now realized. The teen’s mind quickly focused on the woman’s true, malignant nature, which she had revealed all too clearly just the previous evening, and then it jumped with worry to the probability that the witch had set some daunting conditions on her collegiate future. But she heard her mother out, and was relieved that, to her surprise, the conditions were reasonable.

In addition to her tuition, fees, books, room, and board being paid, Monica would be on a fixed income for personal expenses of $7,000 for each semester. There would be no additional money from her family, save for special occasions like her birthday and the holidays. Also, the possessions Monica could take with her would be limited, with reduced access to exquisite clothes, fancy jewelry, and exotic cars. The most important condition, however, related to her academic performance. Isabella stated that, since she was footing the bill for Monica’s education, had her doubts about Monica’s academic abilities and commitment, and didn’t want to see her money go to waste, Monica had to prove herself by passing all of her classes and maintaining a cumulative GPA of 2.8 or higher. Failure to meet either of those two requirements would result in Monica’s finances being immediately frozen and her return home to spend the rest of her life as Mrs. Salazar.

Monica agreed to the terms and, over the next week, she started to investigate colleges she might like to attend. By the end of her second week of research, she finally settled on Preston University, for a few reasons of importance to her. First, she was interested in studying business and she discovered that Preston had been rated among the top five colleges nationwide for the excellent curriculum and instruction provided in their college of business. Then, she was impressed with the reviews of Preston’s faculty which she read online, as well as the images she saw on the internet of Preston’s manicured, green campus, nicely-appointed dorms, and other facilities. Being located in Florida, Preston would have warm weather nearly year-round, and Monica liked sunny, warm days. Also, Preston seemed to offer some unique study-abroad programs, employment placement opportunities, and counselling and other support for their students. Finally, and not the least consideration, Preston was far enough away from her Texas-based mother that Monica would not have to deal with her in person outside of semester breaks.

With her father’s assistance and advice, Monica settled on majoring in business management, filled out Preston’s applications, obtained and submitted letters of recommendation from three of her teachers (with some persuasion by her father), and attended a mandatory admissions interview. Her efforts paid off when she received the acceptance letter in the mail. Monica celebrated with her father with a night out on the town, her mother tagging along, but only to observe from the background and to contribute a series of disapproving stares.

When the Latina freshman finally arrived at Preston University, it was a culture shock for her, but she adapted reasonably well. During her first semester, Monica concentrated properly on her studies and at the semester’s end she had successfully met the terms set by her mother. Monica relished the fact that she had been able to prove her mother wrong. However, as the next semester rolled by, Monica allowed herself to become overconfident and she regressed somewhat to her old, lazy study habits. She was able to pass certain of her classes only by finding other students whom she could either pay or charm into completing parts of her course work for her. She had determined to try harder for her second year, but with mixed results, as her self-discipline had continued to vary, depending on her mood and her options for fun, so that now, in the second semester of her sophomore year, she was on shaky ground in terms of achieving her required academic goals.

Because Monica had chosen from the start to distance herself from her nerdy roommate Meredith, it had taken the Latina all of her first year and part of her second to realize that Meredith was a particularly bright student and might be someone who could help her with her schoolwork. But by then, though she saw the advantage in establishing a friendship with Meredith, it seemed like it was too late, as their antagonistic patterns of interaction had become entrenched and Monica’s snobbish attitude kept spoiling attempts by either to change their dynamic.

Monica’s secret desire for a friendship with the cute young red-haired woman she had nicknamed “Nerd Girl”—aptly so, she thought—had continued to grow through the current semester, and now included an interest in becoming real friends, in addition to whatever academic help Meredith could provide. Unfortunately, Monica’s mode of operation in dealing with her acquaintances had generally featured her making demands and issuing commands, which irritated many people, especially her roommates. Although Monica had been fortunate to have Claire assist her with moderating her demanding personality and becoming more tolerable to live with, in the process becoming Monica’s best friend, the pretty Latina still had not been able to overcome her haughty traits enough and humble herself sufficiently to bridge the gap in her relationship with Meredith.

Monica snapped out of her long rumination about the events and factors leading up to her current academic predicament at Preston. The young Latina knew she had to find a way out, as she had no intention of returning home in defeat only to become some kind of trophy prize to be awarded to her mother’s friends.

The desperation which had started to overtake her as the middle of the semester drew near had led to the formulation of her current three-pronged plan, to which her mind now turned. Part one of her strategy was to continue to seek out fellow students who would be willing to do some of her work for her, with Meredith now being her primary target. Part two was the plot she had just initiated, namely, to blackmail Evan Christophers into becoming her boyfriend, with the hope that, in turn, the college would have leniency on her, in light of her new prestigious status as the girlfriend of Preston University’s star quarterback. Part three would be to convince Claire to set up a meeting with her wealthy and powerful sponsor, Serena Powers, with the goal of persuading the woman to sponsor the remainder of her education or, if not that, then at least to establish a relationship which could lead to eventual employment opportunities and connections to other prominent people, both of which boons, if they materialized, would help to liberate her from financial dependency on her mother and the associated control the woman wielded over her life.

Monica got up from the bench and headed off towards her next class. One way or another, she determined, she was going to get out of this. It would be up to fate to decide which part of her plan would work the best.


**************


Claire arrived at the administration building a little before 1pm. Before heading up to the Financial Aid Office, she went to a restroom. There, she stood in front of a mirror. First, she checked out her clothes to make sure they were presentable. She had started the day in a tight polo shirt and an equally snug pair of Capri pants, and had liked the way they had showed off her figure—and her underwear—and she had especially enjoyed the way Meredith had ogled her in them that morning, not to mention a few other girls she had seen checking her out on campus, and she wouldn’t really have minded showing herself off a little bit for Traci and Regina, but she had decided against wearing them to her appointment, since they were older clothes and perhaps a little too casual for a meeting with a campus official she respected as much as she did Regina. Therefore, when she had gone back to her dorm for a pit stop she had changed into a nice front-buttoned blouse and her newest and dressiest pair of jeans. At the last second before she had left her apartment, she had also impulsively decided to dab on a little perfume behind her ears—a light, girlish scent her mother had given her—just for fun, she had told herself.

Standing at the mirror in the restroom in the administration building, she next pulled a small cosmetics purse from her backpack. As she took some items of makeup out and set them on the counter, a little guilt crept over her. When she had returned to her dorm apartment, as she didn’t have much in the way of her own cosmetics, she had gone into Monica’s room and borrowed a few things from her—including the cosmetics purse—without Monica’s knowledge. Claire hoped that her friend wouldn’t mind, and, reminding herself that she intended to take her curvy roommate out on a private girl’s night out, she had told herself that she would make it up to her then.

The pretty coed was insensitive to the fact that, up to the last day or two, her sterling ethics would have stopped her from a non-authorized appropriation of someone else’s property such as this, but that today she had committed such a transgression with only minimal hesitation and remorse and with a heavy dose of justification—potentially revealing to Claire, if she had been in a frame of mind to care, that her character had started to shift.

But she didn’t care, at least not right now, as she had priorities that were of greater importance to her on this day. Claire felt the need to look good—meaning not just neat, but pretty, as well—for Regina, and for Traci, too, assuming she would be present. She didn’t know why that was important to her, it just was, and it seemed that wearing makeup would be a key ingredient in doing that, though she had never thought like that before the last few days, before she had met the two ladies in the Financial Aid Office. Maybe coming to know them had set some kind of new bar, or ideal for her, she reflected, one of which she had previously been ignorant but which now appealed to her. Nevertheless, as the use of makeup had not been customary for her by any means, and, as she thought, didn’t reflect who she really was—yet—Claire didn’t want to go overboard with it. So she put on a thin application of dark blue eyeliner, just a touch of ebony black mascara, and a nice rose petal lip gloss. Claire looked herself over in the mirror and liked the girl that was staring back at her.

Wow, I look very attractive. Makeup helps a lot...even just a little bit of it... She wondered what she might look like if she applied it more heavily, and used bolder colors. Though she found the concept mysteriously quite intriguing, she decided to wait for another time to try that. Even this much created an inexplicably exciting atmosphere... Almost...almost as if I’m getting ready for a...a date...

However, that particular thought didn’t sit well with Claire’s active mind when she realized whom she was going to see, and it started a debate within her.

Get yourself together, Claire. It’s just another meeting with Regina... The image of Regina appeared in her mind, and she felt a rush. ...who’s a very... sexy woman.........

I mean she looks good for her age... that is, she does if you’re a lesbian... which I’m not...

Claire knew she was highly attracted to the Director of Student Financial Aid, but had not yet identified that attraction as being sexual, romantic, and lesbian in nature, for, as the heterosexual girl she viewed herself to be, she considered such to be impossible. Rather, she supposed her feelings were the admiration, affection, friendship, and gratitude one such as herself would naturally possess toward a woman who was not only wonderfully beautiful but who had proven to be marvelously kind and helpful, even to the point of motherliness. It was true that the night before, as she had pleasured herself, Claire had envisioned a lesbian affair with the woman, but that had been forgotten, at least for the time being, by the morning. Nevertheless, she knew that she was decidedly, inexplicably curious and a little nervous over the possibility that Regina might be a lesbian.

But…but what if she’s a lesbian… That rumor that Monica told me about…could it be true?… If it is… then does that mean…that she might…like me?... The face of her mirror image blushed.

Stop, Claire. It shouldn’t matter what Regina is… She’s the woman who went above and beyond for me…

However... that doesn’t mean she shouldn’t be rewarded for helping me… If so, shouldn’t it be in a way which would suit her… preferences…….? If she does like me…in that way…maybe she’d like to spend some time with me…after work…or on a weekend… I’m planning on taking Monica on a date… Why not do the same with Regina?… And while we’re on this topic, we could also…

Wait. What am I saying?

“Stop it!” Claire screamed at her reflection. She took a deep, calming breath to regain her composure. She had no idea why she was having so many confusing thoughts run through her mind.

However, her inner dispute seemed to be bringing back the headache she had suffered earlier today. She gently massaged her temples with her thumbs and index fingers. The pain deterred her from arguing with herself further and motivated her to instead relax a little about the issues on her mind.

Gee… I must be over-reacting. Maybe I’m being too strict with myself. There’s nothing really wrong with having some fun kinds of thoughts, like about Regina and Traci. There’s no harm in thinking about them in…in different ways than I maybe normally would…in just speculating about things that could happen, but probably won’t. I need to lighten up.

Claire told herself nothing was wrong or out of place, that what was about to happen was a perfectly normal meeting among women who liked each other and were there for mutual support, that if there was some kind of attraction among them, it was okay, it was probably merely a natural bond coming into being based on normal factors which are common when human beings form interpersonal relationships of many kinds. Of course she was looking forward to seeing Regina and Traci again, and, yes, she was pretty excited about it. They were wonderful women. She liked them, they liked her, and that was the completely feasible explanation for the exquisite anticipation she felt about seeing them again.

As the pretty student focused more on Regina and Traci, and being with them again, the headache abated completely. It seemed apparent to her that, based on the subsiding of her physical discomfort, a more positive and liberal line of thinking about her upcoming situation and companions must be more conducive to her well-being than arguing with herself and resisting novel, mind-expanding impressions. I just need to be more open-minded.

Happier now, she took one last look in the mirror. Staring back at her was a very pretty young college woman about to have a nice and simple meeting with the Director of Financial Aid, nothing more. Gathering her belongings, she left the restroom and proceeded to make her way to the Financial Aid Office.

Just like her last visit, she was greeted by an eerily quiet room. The low hum of office equipment in the background and the unnatural, serene quiet that filled the room put her a little on edge. Claire turned her focus toward the receptionist’s desk only to be greeted by its emptiness, just like the rest of the room.

Claire knew quite clearly that she had hoped to see Traci again, chalking it up to how well they had hit it off the day before, and, after the way things had concluded the previous night, she was certain that Traci wanted that, too, and that it would just be a matter of time before they got together. But Claire did not want to wait any longer than she had to for their next encounter, so coming down to the Financial Aid Office had provided a great excuse for her to talk with Traci today and… and maybe to even look at her some more, to soak in the vision of the beautiful blonde woman who offered her friendship…and…perhaps…something more…something elusive…something hard to define, hard to put one’s finger on…but something…quite… nice……………

Standing there in the vacant office, Claire now realized that she had desired to see Traci even more than she had thought, and when it became clear that Traci was not there, an ache of disappointment pulsed through Claire’s chest.

“Hello? Traci… Regina… Anyone here?”

“I’m back here in my office, dear,” responded a familiar, enchanting voice.

The sound of Regina’s voice filled Claire with comfort and peace. The nervous edge which had been coursing through her body—both from the anticipation of this reunion with the beautiful Director and from the disappointment of not finding her blonde assistant present—now began to soften. Her body started to relax and her mind even became a little unfocused, in a pleasant way, as if relaxing as well.

Regina’s voice stirred something within her, seeming to imply to her that she was among friends—no, it was more than friends, though Claire couldn’t define it, not yet—but she felt that she and Regina had something, something between them, something connecting them, something special, something sweet and good, something that gave her the same joyous feeling as her budding friendship with Traci.

Making her way to Regina’s office, Claire saw the door fully open. Unsure if she was disturbing something, Claire was about to knock on the door frame to announce her arrival, when she paused in the doorway and simply stood there several seconds looking into the room.

Regina had her back to the door and was bent over her desk. From Claire’s perspective, it looked like Regina was innocently shuffling through some paperwork on her desk. However, Regina had played this role many times. She had positioned herself so that Claire could get a point-blank view of her generous, wiggling posterior, enveloped today in a bright candy-red skirt of butter-soft leather which cradled every contour underneath and which would have stopped a few inches above her knees if she had been standing straight, but which had worked up her legs—which were encased in sheer, smooth, black silk stockings—considerably higher than that by her present posture. If Claire had been able to see Regina’s face, she would have beheld a sly smile.

Claire, fixed to the spot by the sight and not wanting to make any moves that would end it, just stood and ogled a while before finally mustering the willpower to knock. Hearing that, the shapely Director turned toward her visitor and straightened to an erect posture with a warm smile and greeting.

“Well, there you are, Claire!”

If the view of Regina’s posterior had been arresting, the sight confronting the young beauty when Regina turned toward her was spellbinding. Today Regina had purposely worn a minimalistic, soft, ultra-sheer, lacy black bralette, which was designed to provide little support for her wondrously proud, large breasts and to allow them to elegantly sway and jiggle and move with the flow of her body without much impediment. Claire had no idea her lovely mentor was wearing such an item just for her, but its effects on the helpless young lady were every bit as riveting and pulse-pounding as the brunette had intended.

The bralette was covered by a crème-colored, back-buttoning blouse with a simple, rounded, collarless “jewel” neckline and long sleeves. The blouse could have been considered modest except for the fact that the shiny silk-satin material was so thin and tight that the darkness, laciness, and outlines of her skimpy bralette, the creamy, bulging countours of her magnificent, almost-unrestrained breasts, and the protruding shape and some of the purple darkness of her prominent, painted nipples showed through enticingly.

Totally forgetting herself, Claire simply stood there gawping at the contents of the beautiful, daring, smooth-front blouse, which seemed to caress Regina’s bountiful bosom and to invite Claire to do the same. The older woman stretched her shoulders back, moved her arms, and swayed back and forth just enough to keep her tits in visible, jiggly oscillation, and remained posing for her prey several seconds, letting her mammary orbs charm the younger woman, until she finally stopped the tease and they came to a tenuous rest.

“H—… Hi, Regina.”

“Claire, are you feeling well? You look a little flushed?”

“Uh…oh…no…….um… I think… I think it’s probably from…from riding my bike here…”

“Oh, of course. Silly me.”

At last Claire was able to tear her eyes away from Regina’s breasts, although they subsequently strayed back again and again, like iron to a magnet.

“I’m not bothering you, am I? I can come back later if you want.”

It was at this point that Claire took a good look at the rest of Regina, and was stunned anew with her lush beauty. Her face was painted today with black mascara, heavily-applied, dark velvet-blue eyeliner, smoky, bluish-grey eyeshadow, and a deep, dark, pure burgundy lipstick, which matched the glossy, dark reddish-purple color on her almond-shaped fingernails. Earrings of multiple long, fine, rose-gold chains bearing several small raindrop-shaped red carnelian gemstones dangled from her ears. And today Regina had her hair styled in a tantalizing, wavy, retro over-the-shoulder look which showcased the shiny fullness of her maple-brown hair as it poured over her head, left shoulder, and front in luxuriant, blonde-streaked tresses, her bangs styled straight and full.

Claire was momentarily dazed as her eyes roamed over the brunette’s face, hair, and body. feasting on the gourmet delicacy in front of her. Regina was in no rush, and simply allowed the disarmed young woman to ogle her. Claire took every second afforded to her to soak in Regina’s gorgeous features.

Wow, thought Claire, as she stared with her mouth slightly agape. She’s so…so beautiful! She found her heart beating faster, beyond her control. Her face is…so perfect… And her hair is just amazing…so thick and long and glossy…and…and what a rich shade of brown… But the…those blonde locks in her hair… There’re…it’s…

Claire found herself utterly fascinated with the pale blondeness electrifying Regina’s otherwise rich, dark hair. For a second, Claire couldn’t help but try to imagine what she herself might look like with comparable makeup and a new hairstyle and, above all, with some lovely blonde color streaking through her hair. The contemplation gave her an additional momentary thrill. She’s…she’s… totally… lovely… She’s awesome…

“No, my dear. I’m the one who set up the appointment with you and it would be rude of me to send you away. Just give me a moment. I’m in the midst of filing some paperwork and should be ready to deal with you soon.”

Collecting herself, Claire responded. “Oh, I see… Shouldn’t Traci be helping you?”

“I gave her a day off. It’s so slow right now, there’s no need for both of us to cover the office.”

The disappointed expression on Claire’s face in response to Regina’s comment that Traci would not be present today was all too obvious. Claire didn’t know why, but she really wanted to see the lovely blonde secretary again, and had hoped that would be possible either when she came back to the office or on another occasion, preferably soon.

“Oh…”

“You sound disappointed…almost as if you wanted to see Traci… Oh, look at you blush! I’m right, aren’t I? Don’t tell me that you’ve developed a crush on my secretary!”

Claire looked away from Regina uncomfortably, understanding the brunette woman’s teasing comment implied that the coed had an ulterior motive in coming to the office today.

Noting Claire’s inadvertent non-verbal admission with an inward smirk, and having had her fun, Regina thought she might as well defuse the situation, but only a partly. “I’m just joking, my dear. Who you decide to spend time with is none of my concern.”

The two truths Claire inferred from Regina’ remarks—first, that Claire was infatuated with Traci and, second, that she longed to be together with her, personally, privately, intimately, building on what had started the night before, and that she had already settled on it as a relationship of some as-yet vaguely defined kind she would pursue if Traci wanted it, too—struck Claire squarely, in a way which had not occurred to her quite so clearly previously. However, she quickly tried to suppress within herself the ramifications of her feelings, albeit with only partial success.

“Well, to be honest… It’s just that… we…Traci and I… really seemed to hit it off when she gave me a ride…” Claire couldn’t help but recall for a fleeting second their little, sweet kiss—the soft, perfumed smoothness of the blonde’s painted lips on her own, the touches, the secretary’s heavenly scent, the cool air, the starlit sky, the romantic tenderness of the moment—adding to her blush and subtracting from her composure. “And I…uh…I was hoping to talk to her some more.” Claire’s response was so weak and her appearance so flustered that the girl’s words could clearly be recognized as an attempt to dodge Regina’s inquiry.

“Don’t worry, Claire. I’m sure that you’ll have plenty of chances to talk to Traci. However, for today, it’s just you and me. We’ll be going over some last minute details about the sponsorship program. Here, take a seat, my dear, and we’ll begin shortly.” Regina walked up to the raven-tressed coed, placed an arm around her, and gently guided her to the chair in front of her desk.

When she placed her arm around Claire, Regina took notice of how the coed flinched a little. Regina was familiar with this and other types of non-verbal aversion reactions which occasionally popped up in the initial stages of one of her seductions. Taking this, Claire’s other responses, and the girl’s upbringing into account, Regina began to fine-tune her plan in her head. However, before she implemented its main parts, she needed to manipulate Claire into her trap.

After Claire had sat down, Regina remained standing next to her for a minute. “Before we start, can I get you anything? I find that a little refreshment helps set the right mood for these kinds of things.”

“Thank you, um… I guess I’ll take a bottle of that energy drink, if you have any.”

“I see that Traci has you hooked on it.” …and on herself… “Great stuff, nice taste and it gives you that little pick-me-up. …just like Traci… However, I don’t have any cool ones at the moment, and that’s the way to have them. Would you settle for a Coke or an iced tea?”

“Well, just a bottle of water would be fine, if you have it.”

“Of course, my dear.” Regina walked over to a small refrigerator under a counter in a corner of her office, bent down to retrieve a bottle of water—once again deliberately displaying her ass and legs to her attractive young spectator—and walked back to Claire. Claire was quite unable to keep her eyes off the body of the shapely brunette as she moved, particularly so when, as Regina strode back, the girl witnessed the stroll set the beautiful woman’s large, almost-loose breasts into spectacular gyrations within her scant bralette and silky, thin blouse.

“But don’t worry,” the brunette continued as she handed the bottle to the student, then resumed her previous position standing next to the coed. “It seems that you’re a fan of my energy drink, so I’ll personally see if I can get you a case. In fact, I’ll give you a few bottles to take with you before you leave today. Okay?”

“Oh, you don’t have to…”

“Believe me, it’s no problem at all. Besides, the friend who supplies me loves the word-of-mouth advertisement this stuff generates. Supposedly, it will not hit the general market till sometime next year. So until then, it’s kind of an exclusive product. Also, if you want, feel free to share it with some of your friends. I’m sure they’ll love the samples.”

“Thanks, Regina. I appreciate it. Now that you mention it, since we’re on the topic of sharing, I want to say that my roommates loved the box of chocolates that you gave me and one of them asked where you got it. We ate them while we watched that DVD of Serena Powers.”

“Really?” Claire didn’t notice Regina raise an eyebrow when she revealed she had shared the drug-laced chocolates and the mind-altering video with her roommates. “Well... that’s interesting... I mean, that’s nice to know. I meant them as a congratulations gift for you, but it’s great to hear that you shared them with your friends. Were all of your roommates there?”

“Oh, yes, they were.”

That’s a very interesting development………..unplanned…but… not a bad one…….…..no…not at all…

“And what are their names, again?”

“Meredith, Monica, and Jessica.” That information was already in Regina’s dossier on Claire, but she wanted to confirm the names of those who had been present.

Regina reflected on her conversation that morning with Coach Ilsa about Jessica. So… That explains why Jessica Harrison is behaving “differently”… When I heard about that, I thought something like this might have happened…

“That was very nice of you to share like that. Just imagine how much better the world would be if we had more Claire Livingstons in it.”

Claire blushed at Regina’s praise. “Thanks, Regina. That’s kind of you to say that.”

“Anyway, I got them at a boutique in downtown. I can get the address for you sometime. But, those drinks, share those with your roommates, as well. Be sure to do that.”

“Okay.”

“How did you and your friends like the DVD?”

“Oh, I think we all found it pretty riveting.” I bet you did, thought Regina to herself. “Ms. Powers is quite a woman.”

“Yes, she is.” Regina nodded with secret pleasure, knowing well the effect the video must have had on the cute coeds. “Well, I’m glad you all liked it.”

Regina gently patted Claire’s back and got the reaction for which she was looking, Claire shifting her body slightly away. It wasn’t a blatant move, but it was enough for Regina to detect that Claire was feeling uncomfortable around her.

“ ‘Step into my parlor,’ said the spider to the fly," Regina gleefully thought, as she walked around her desk and took her seat, preparing to launch the first salvos of her plan.

She folded her hands on her desktop and looked at Claire, allowing some silence to pass between herself and her prey, the expression on her face shifting to one of concern. At length she spoke.

“Claire… Is something wrong.?”

Caught off guard by Regina’s inquiry, Claire didn’t know what the director meant or how to respond. As she considered Regina’s question, she knew that, yes, she was feeling confused about her actions the previous night in her apartment, and she had conflicted sentiments about Regina possibly being a lesbian, but she certainly did not want to bring either of those issues up in any direct way with Regina. Surely, the attractive woman wasn’t referring to either of those matters…was she? How could she know what was on Claire’s mind? And the question of the woman’s sexuality would be particularly embarrassing for Claire to discuss with her, especially after the way she had been listening to rumors and mulling them over.

“Oh…um…no… um… I’m fine, Regina…” Oh… I have had a little headache… That counts as “something wrong”. I’ll mention that. Then maybe she’ll be satisfied. “ I just…I just have a small headache. It’s been coming and going. But I’ll be fine.” Again, Claire’s response sounded weak and, she knew after she said it, that it was unlikely to defuse whatever suspicions Regina might have about her mindset or her well-being.

“I’m sorry to hear about the headache. I’m sure that I’ve got something here that will help with that. However, my concern is how you’ve been reacting around me. You almost seem in some way…apprehensive. Did I do anything to offend you, Claire?”

Claire’s eyes widened with shock at Regina’s inquiry, both because it might indicate that the Director could be close to guessing Claire’s questions about her and because the last thing Claire wanted would be for this wonderful, amazing woman, who had been so kind and helpful to her in her hour of need, to believe that Claire was not duly appreciative or had some complaint against her.

“No! Good heavens, no! Regina, you…you’ve been such a great help to me! You’ve gone so far out of your way to assist me! No, I have only the greatest respect for you. Trust me, Regina, you’ve done absolutely nothing to offend me!”

Regina stared at the stammering girl steadily, coolly allowing another few seconds to pass in tense silence before countering. “And yet…when I’m near you…you seem to shy away from me. Something is going on.”

“No, I …”

“Please, Claire. Don’t play with me. I have keen instincts, and, right now, mine is telling me that, all of a sudden, you’re not comfortable with me.”

This was an unexpected turn of events for Claire. She had supposed that she could hide the indecorous thoughts she had been entertaining about Regina. But somehow Regina was seeing through her, at least partially, and was now calling her to account.

All Clair could do for a minute was to just look down, red-faced, at her hands folded tensely in her lap, as if she were a child, caught doing something wrong by her mother.
The truth in Regina’s accusation stung shamefully. She understood that she should not have been having petty little debates in her mind about Regina’s sexuality and that, once they had been entertained, she should not have allowed them to have any influence on the way she felt about or acted toward the person sitting across from her.

She’s right. I have let the gossip and my questions affect me. She doesn’t deserve this. She has only been wonderful to me, and here I have been letting my groundless misgivings creep me out about her.

Though Claire felt lost within the turmoil jumbling in her head, she took a deep breath and collected her words before she spoke to try to repair whatever affront she had offered her beautiful benefactress.

“Regina, I’m very sorry, if I offended you…”

Regina cut her off, as if she was anticipating this response from Claire—which she, of course, was.

“Let me guess… You heard one of the many rumors about me…”

Claire’s heart started to beat heavily against her chest. It seemed Regina knew what was being said about her and it looked like she was now going to cut right to the chase. Was she about to reveal the truth about herself? On one hand, Claire wanted this issue cleared up—she was now dying to know the true sexual identity of this beauty—but on the other hand, she was hesitant for this delicate topic to come out in the open, for fear it, and Claire’s attitude about it, would prove to upset the woman in front of her even more.

Regina was the last person Claire wanted to distress. She was the woman who had gone out of her way to save her future at Preston University. She was the woman who was rapidly becoming a second mother to her. But there now was a fuss, and it was apparently happening because she, Clair, had stupidly started to put some merit on second-hand gossip. Scolding herself, Claire remembered that her parents had told her to not judge people, and yet here she was, having judged the Director of Financial Aid based on a rumor.

Claire felt this was a low point in her life. She determined, however, that she would make amends, and that she would start with honest confession.

“Regina, yes. I did hear one. And, yes, I think I did let it affect me. But I see I was wrong. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything…”

“No, it’s okay. It’s something I’m used to. Let me take a guess on which one you might have heard. Is it the one where I enjoy leading young girls like yourself into a path of sin and debauchery? Or how about the one where I use homosexual propaganda to mislead people into supporting an unnatural lifestyle? Or better yet, my personal favorite, that I in fact work for a shadow organization, and that my position here at Preston University is nothing but a ruse, in which I use potent mind control tactics to convert beautiful girls, like you, into lesbian sex slaves to be sold off to the highest bidder?”

Regina’s commentary on the rumors surrounding herself seemed to underscore to Claire the absurdity of her previous reactions. Claire knew, or thought she knew, that, since their first meeting, not once had Regina made any advances towards her or committed any other inappropriate act. Regina had ever been professional, courteous, and helpful in every way possible, a woman who had gone out of her way to insure her future at Preston University, yet Claire had overreacted to the flimsiest rumor about her. Claire felt so ashamed that it was difficult to even make eye contact with the woman whom she had just insulted, and Claire’s face was so red with embarrassment that it almost matched the color of Regina’s skirt.

“Regina, I didn’t mean to offend you. Please… I’m so sorry… I just…”

“Shhhh… It’s okay, dear. It’s okay. If I were to let something like that set me off, then I probably wouldn’t even be here. Trust me, I’m not hurt…but I can say that I’m disappointed.”

Hearing the disenchantment in Regina’s voice tore through Claire’s being. She felt as if her own mother had lost faith in her.

“Well… Since this issue is now out in the open between you and me, and I imagine you might be curious as to my real sexual orientation, I suppose I ought to tell you. I guess it’s better to hear the honest truth from me instead of going off some baseless rumor. So let me put your mind at ease: Yes. Yes, I am a lesbian.”

The lovely brunette paused for effect, letting the impact of that revelation penetrate into her young protégé, while she read the girl’s face, with some secret delight, as, despite Claire’s efforts at concealment, her eyes and mouth opened just a little wider in fascination that the rumors and her earlier speculations had, in fact, proven true—that the beguiling woman sitting across the desk from her was a bona fide lesbian, the first one she been this close to, as far as she knew.

“While I don’t openly broadcast my sexual preferences, I don’t shy away from it in shame, either. But I have never once used my sexuality as some kind of leverage or tool in my job as Preston University’s Director of Financial Aid,” Regina lied; “I keep the professional and the social aspects of my world separated. I prefer to indulge my sexuality during my private social life. So a girl such as yourself, even though you are very pretty, has nothing to fear from me. Besides, you’re really not my type. I prefer blondes.”

Claire found herself both dismayed and stunned by the last three sentences of Regina’s statement, without comprehending why. She had no idea that she had been brainwashed to lust after the Director, to crave a romantic lesbian relationship with her, and to want to please and attract her, desperately so. Thus, while she understood intellectually that she should be relieved by the news that the Director did not intend to try to pursue a lesbian relationship with her, she instead felt disappointed by it; and while she also knew that whether or not she was Regina’s “type” sexually shouldn’t matter to her, yet, in some inexplicable way, it did…a lot.

Emotionally, Claire felt stung by the implication that she wasn’t good enough for Regina, and couldn’t attract her the way she now was. It made her immediately start to ponder what she would have to do to be the kind of girl Regina would find desirable, for she clearly saw that if she were to truly attract Regina, the way her programmed instincts were pleading with her she needed to do, then she would have to become the type of woman the lovely brunette preferred sexually. She should conform herself to Regina’s preference.

Two of Regina’s words in particular reverberated through Claire’s mind: prefer…blonde…prefer… blonde… prefer…blonde… It occurred to her that only that morning she had been thinking about coloring her hair, reviving an issue she had considered the summer before she had come to college, but then had tabled for another day. That’s strange…for this to come up again… But if Regina likes blondes…then…

Regina watched with a sadistic joy as Claire squirmed in her chair and stared down at the carpeted floor in silent, uneasy contemplation about the reprimanding remarks coming her way. The younger woman was uncertain how she could respond to them in a way which didn’t sound like she was trying to worm her way out of a bad situation. It was clear that she had upset Regina and she wanted to own up to it, and she had already apologized, but there were no words she felt she could say further that truly expressed how sorry she was or that were likely to fully placate her wonderful new mentor.

Regina had this young co-ed exactly where she wanted her, and, with a tug on her heartstrings here and there, she would further lead Claire down the path of lesbian sisterhood.

“So, Claire… It appears we have a little problem… I mean, of course, with your attitude…towards gays and lesbians. Your intolerant attitude. An attitude of aversion and prejudice, as I see it.”

“Oh, Regina, it’s not like…”

The older woman merely held up her hand to stop the coed in mid-sentence.

“If I were you, I’d be wondering how this kind of mindset might affect your sponsorship with Serena Powers.” The mention of her sponsorship quickly grabbed Claire’s attention.
As her head jerked up, she looked at Regina with surprise. “I will let you know that, as of right now, you still have it…….. but…” She emphasized the word and paused a few seconds. “With the heterosexual chauvinism you have shown here, you are at great jeopardy of losing it.”

Claire’s eyes opened wide with alarm. She could not afford to lose this sponsorship. She had already lost one avenue of financing her college dreams and she was resolved not to lose this one. She was ready to do almost anything to keep it.

Unknown to the pretty coed, Regina had been awaiting this very look of desperation which she knew Claire would exhibit when informed of the hazard her supposed narrow-minded outlook and behavior posed to her future at Preston University. This was the moment Regina was waiting for.

Again, the only response Claire could muster for a few seconds was a stunned silence. As Claire had been indoctrinated to trust and believe Regina, it seemed to her that Regina had her sized up insightfully, having discovered in her a prejudice against gays which must have been hiding within her beyond her own recognition; but now that the perceptive woman had identified it and brought it to her attention, surely she needed to address it. Regina was right. Yet, how, exactly, she wondered, was her biased attitude a threat to her new-found college financing?

“Regina… I don’t quite understand how my…my attitude…would affect my…”

“Claire, let me ask you this. By chance, did you go over any of the information that was in your sponsor’s packet?”

“Only a little bit… I mean, I was going to give it a thorough read when I got a chance.”

“Well, let me tell you a detail that you might want to remember. Serena Powers generously donates to a lot of LGBT programs and groups. She is a proud advocate of LGBT rights and her company has earned praise for fostering one of the most LGBT-friendly environments in the business field. Now, how do you think she would feel if she found out that the person whose college education she is paying for seems to react negatively when around LGBT people?”

Claire recalled Meredith mentioning something about the ties among Ms. Powers, Hecate Corp., and gay/lesbian causes after reading some of the documentation that came in the packet she had been given the previous day.

“Oh… I see your point… I just didn’t think of it like that… I… I’m so sorry, Regina… It’s…it’s just that…”

“Let me guess. It’s just that you were raised that way. To think less of certain types of people…”

“No!” This time it was Claire who was offended. Regina’s comment implied that her parents were bigots, but Claire knew them to be decent, charitable people. Her mother, in particular, had raised her to never judge people based on looks, beliefs, and choices. She could not imagine her folks turning a person away for being gay, but, rather, she was certain they would assist anyone in need in any way they could, regardless of social status.

“No, you can’t blame my shortcomings on my family. They really tried to raise me right, to teach me to be tolerant and welcoming to all. I guess whatever hangups I have are all my own. Regina, I’m very sorry about how I reacted, but I guess…I guess I just wasn’t ready to…to, you know, interact with a……. Well, I...I just have never been around a…”

“You can say it, Claire. The word won’t hurt you if you say it. You ‘have never been around a ’lesbian’… You weren’t ready to interact with a ’lesbian’……. But is that really the problem? That you have simply never met one before? That you were not ‘ready’ to get to know one? Or is it that you don’t want to, and that you are disturbed by someone so different from yourself, someone living a life you might view as ‘deviant’? And that you can’t help but show that underlying aversion with your words and body language?

“And, I beg to differ with you, but I do think in most cases, parents do pass their own biases on to their children. Sometimes they come across in subtle ways, in small remarks, in little acts, but, over time, kids pick them up. I think you come from a very traditional and outdated cultural and religious background, and part of that includes discomfort with the gay lifestyle.”

Claire was about to speak up in defense of her upbringing once again, but Regina had just stated sufficient truths for Claire to abort her retort and to simply listen.

“Even if your real outlook isn’t heavily prejudiced, when you even just act uncomfortable with people different from yourself, you can send signals you may not intend, signals that have consequences. In this day and age, your reactions can be misconstrued in every way imaginable. Claire, I really do care about you and I want you to succeed with this program, but, don’t take offense to this, your line of thinking is not something you should have and it’s only because I know where you are coming from, that you’re basically a victim of an archaic and narrow-minded upbringing, that I’m not on the phone with Serena Powers and having your sponsorship revoked.

“Plus, I have taken a liking to you. I feel like you are my own daughter…you know?”

Claire did know what she meant, for she had in the space of a few short days come to feel like a daughter to this kind, capable, and beautiful woman. It was a mystical thrill to hear that Regina felt the same way about her.

“However, if it were anyone else, you could face a good deal of trouble.”

Regina’s statement was very compelling. Claire had witnessed numerous instances on the internet and television and in newspapers of prominent people making unguarded statements in public, innocently using one politically incorrect word, phrase, or idea, and then being crucified by the press or by other opinion makers and, as a consequence, losing their jobs, their reputations, or their social standing. She knew things like that could also happen in more private settings and with less-conspicuous people—such as herself—and she wanted to avoid falling into this kind of trap. But it seemed she had already made such a gaffe, and, having done it once, she could do it again. She wanted to improve herself and steer clear of similar trouble in the future, but she sensed that she didn’t know how to accomplish that entirely on her own. However, fortunately, here in front of her was one of the wisest, most trustworthy people she knew, someone who could guide her.

“So what can I do? Regina, please, I don’t want to offend people, but…”

“It’s okay, Claire. I’m here to help you. As I see it, the first thing is to address the root of the issue. The problem you have is that you still see lesbians, like me, as a separate group of people. They’re strange to you because they’re strangers to you. You’ve always been distant from them, you haven’t associated with any of them, and you don’t understand them. Despite the good intentions of your parents’ naïve teachings, they still have you subconsciously setting us apart from the rest of the people. Only, they taught you to be polite about it. “

“That makes sense… I guess.” Claire was still feeling uneasy with Regina picking apart how her parents raised her, but she could sort of see the point that Regina was trying to make.

“Claire, what you need to do is start to see everyone being a part of one group versus separate groups based on different categories. You need to get comfortable with people whom you have seen as different from you by eliminating those differences.”

“How would I go about doing that?”

“Have you ever heard the phrase, 'Walk a mile in another person’s shoes'?"

Claire just nodded her head.

“To be blunt, Claire, I’m asking you to become a lesbian.”

Claire’s eyes went wide with shock at Regina’s solution to her problem.

“Judging by your expression, you do not like my suggestion, but hear me out before you make your decision.”

Claire silently nodded, but she had the urge to candidly tell her hostess that there wasn’t any way she could even remotely picture herself engaging in the lifestyle that Regina was proposing to her. That being the case, she worried whether her future at Preston University was doomed.

“Claire, I would be crazy to ask you to actively participate in a lifestyle that you are uncomfortable with. I am talking about changing your mindset.”

Claire felt a little relief when Regina said this, but it seemed to confuse her even more. Now Claire was wondering what Regina wanted her to do when she asked her to become a lesbian. What did she mean by “changing” her “mindset”?

“What I want you to do is to think like a lesbian when you’re in social settings. When you’re by yourself, too. Try to see things from a lesbian point of view, so to speak. Look, Claire, I know what I’m asking of you seems to be farfetched, but I feel that once this is all said and done, you’ll have a new, more appreciative outlook on the culture you live in and on your own life, as well.

“You have to understand that the society is changing. Think about it for a moment, Claire. At one point, society said men were superior and women inferior, but now it says that both sexes should be seen as equals. At one point it said that one race was better than the other and now society states that all races should be seen as equals. And now you, Claire Livingston, are witnessing a new tipping point, and you have the opportunity to be part of it. Society has always said the only normal sexual relationship is between a male and a female, but now that’s changing. Society is well on its way of stepping away from that primitive, limiting, misguided mindset and adopting a new, enlightened way of thinking.

“Claire, change is coming—no, it’s here already—and you can either adapt to it and even learn to embrace it or you can insist on sticking to an antiquated point of view, but all that will do is limit you in this world; it’ll just end up dragging you down. And I’m sure you don’t want that, do you?”

“Well…when you put it like that…I guess not…but…”

The beautiful administrator stood up from her chair, interrupting the coed, and, as she continued her lecture on accepting evolving social trends towards homosexuality, she slowly walked around the desk towards the black-ponytailed student.

"Claire, sometimes you need to get out of your comfort zone if you want to progress in life. I know what I'm asking you to do is difficult, but I promise you that it'll be worth it, not only for your scholarship, but in giving you a new perspective as well. Being able to hold multiple perspectives is a consequential advantage."

Claire wasn't sure she fully understood what Regina was saying, but she voiced her agreement just the same. "I understand, Regina. I'm just not sure that I'm able to do this. You know? I don't think I can."

"I'm sure you can handle this, Claire. You're one of the best students on this campus. And I’ll be here to guide you. Are you going to let a small challenge like this be an obstacle to you?"

"Thank you for saying that, Regina. I think there're a lot of students more capable than I am, but that's nice of you to say........ Well.....maybe you have a point... and I appreciate your offer to help..... If I can deal with academic work, I guess...I guess I should be able to take on this kind of challenge, too...maybe...but..."

"Good. I like your confidence. I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. As a commitment.” Claire opened her mouth and was about to voice her preference to think about it first, when the Director stepped close to the left side of Claire’s chair, bent down, and spoke softly near Claire’s face. “Shhhh… Now, I want to tell you something important..." Lowering her burgundy-painted lips to Claire's ear, she whispered huskily, "Claire, the Goddess needs our services..."

The raven-haired coed quickly went into a trance. Her eyes stared blankly ahead and her jaw became slack, causing her lips to part slightly. Her state was such that she could interact with Regina much as if she were fully awake, yet her mind would be highly receptive to various suggestions, ideas, and actions which she normally would have questioned and resisted. Observing this change with satisfaction, the Director walked to the door, closed and locked it, and strolled back to resume her position behind Claire, a little smile adorning her attractive face.

Regina gently raked her burgundy-nailed fingers through Claire's long, black ponytail to test Claire’s status. Observing no adverse response from Claire, Regina extended her tongue from between her dark purplish coated lips and licked around Claire's left ear.

“Do you know what you just told me?”

“…uh…”

“That you want to become a lesbian.’

“I…I did?”

“Yes. And do you know why you said that? It’s because, deep down, you already have the soul of a lesbian hiding inside you. Most women do, and you are no exception. You truly do want to let that gay girl come out into the light…to fully be that homosexual woman you are destined to be… And I’m going to help you.

"Let's have some fun... I'll give you your first lesbian lesson..."

Regina stood behind Claire and placed her hands on Claire's shoulders, rubbing them gently. "What do two lovers do with their lips when they go out on a date?"

"They kiss..." replied Claire slowly.

"Yes, and what is a kiss between two women called?"

After a delay, the female coed answered, "A lesbian kiss..."

"Correct." Regina walked around Claire and sat on the desk in front of the pretty, entranced girl. “It feels good to finally say that word, doesn’t it? ‘Lesbian.’ Say it again.”

“Lesbian.”

“From now on, that word will no longer be a taboo word or some foreign, abstract concept for you. Starting right now, that word will invoke both pleasurable physical and emotion feelings for you. Lesbianism is starting to feel much more familiar to you than it has before, and it will be much easier for you to think and talk about it. The idea of women loving women is suddenly becoming very real to you, you are curious and interested in it, and you hope to personally understand, experience and explore every nuance of what it means to be a lesbian.

“You won’t hesitate saying that word. ‘Lesbian.’. You are very, very comfortable with it. You will find yourself liking it, and wanting to say it, more and more. It will roll off your tongue easily. Say the word again, as it sinks deeper into your heart, as it winds itself into your soul, and bonds with you, as it becomes a way of thinking and living which is dear to you, and as the word becomes one of your favorite utterances. ‘Lesbian.’ ”

“Lesbian.”

“You no longer will feel apprehensive about lesbian women. In fact, starting this very moment, you will find lesbian women and girls particularly admirable, interesting, fascinating, and desirable. You will not only feel perfectly comfortable with them, but you will prefer their company to straight females, you will gravitate to them, you will find keen pleasure in being with lesbians, you will feel joy and a thrill when you discover any particular pretty woman or girl is a lesbian, you want your females friends, relatives and any other female you care about to be lesbians, and whenever you encounter a comely woman or girl you will find yourself attracted to her and hoping she is a lesbian, or is willing to become one. From now on, you like lesbians, you prefer their company, and you want to be with them. You love lesbian women and girls. One more time, say the word you love to say, the word that describes your favorite type of female.”

“Lesbian.”

"Good, dear. So…let’s talk a little about the ‘lesbian kissing’ which you brought up and are so very interested in, so extremely curious about, which you want so much to try out for yourself. With me. Would you like to kiss me?”

“Uh…um…I don’t know…I don’t think I should…but…I…I…”

“The truth is that you are wetting your panties over the chance to kiss me. In this moment, there is nothing in the world you desire more than my soft, sweet lips. Do you deny that?”

“…no…”

Have you ever had a female kiss you passionately on the lips before?"

"No..."

Claire had definitely not forgotten kissing Traci in the parking lot outside her dorm building the previous night. Though subconsciously she had felt romance in that kiss and it definitely still registered as such in her emotional psyche, it had not been seen or labeled as a lesbian kiss in Claire's conscious mind, but rather as an accidental and merely friendly peck on the lips by the gorgeous blonde who had escorted her to her door. So, for now, her answer that she had never before experienced a lesbian kiss, was honest as far as her mind could tell. It would only be later, after she had undergone more brainwashing, that she would identify and cherish that “inadvertent” little kiss on her lips by Traci as a lesbian kiss, one which they both had wanted and which wasn’t quite as accidental as it had first seemed. Regina was not aware of that kiss at this time, but if she had known, it still would not have significantly altered the course of what was to come next.

"Then this will be your first true passionate kiss with a woman." The older woman leaned toward her fetching victim and, while holding Claire's chin gently with one hand, planted a light kiss on the coed's lips. The soft, slick sensation of her mentor’s painted, glistening red mouth pressing onto the lightly glossed petals of her own mouth, and of the woman’s sweet femininity invading her delicate emotions, was shockingly wonderful.

Nevertheless, part of Claire intuitively recognized, though in this entranced state, that something was wrong. While Claire kissed back somewhat, Regina sensed hesitation from her.

"Did you enjoy that kiss?"

"Yes..."

"How did it feel?"

"Good..........but...I'm not sure..." replied Claire with little emotion.

"I understand your reluctance. You're just discovering your new lesbian identity and you're not comfortable with it yet. I will help you become what you really are."

Regina picked up her smartphone and tapped on an app that remotely activated the audio system in the room. Classical music containing embedded subliminals started to play.

Claire, you desire to kiss this beautiful woman.

Claire, you want to feel her soft, burgundy-red lips on yours.

Claire, you desire to kiss beautiful women.

Claire, you need to feel the lips of another woman on your body.

Claire, you will always welcome the touch of a beautiful woman on your body.

Claire, you truly desire to become a lesbian.

Claire, you will want to embrace becoming a lesbian.

Claire, Regina is your new mother. You are her new daughter.

Claire, Regina is an ideal woman. You want to become like her.

Claire, Regina would be a perfect lover for you.

Claire, you want to engage in lesbian sex with Regina.

Claire, you want to become Regina’s ideal woman.

Claire, you will assist Regina in transforming other sexy, gorgeous women into lesbians.

Claire, you will assist the Goddess in turning other beautiful women into lesbians. This includes your sexy roommates.

Claire, you desire to have your roommates become lesbians.

Claire, you desire lesbian sex with your roommates.

Claire, you desire lesbian sex with all beautiful women and girls.

Claire, kiss Regina. Her lips are so wonderfully soft, wet, dark, red, and inviting. You want to feel them on your own. You want to taste her wonderful lipstick and her sweet saliva. You desire to feel her slick tongue playing with yours and invading your mouth. You also want to probe her delicious, hot mouth with your eager tongue.

Claire, you cannot resist Regina. She is too beautiful to resist. You don’t want to resist. You want to give in. You desire Regina. You want her lovely mouth. Explore it with your own. Be a lesbian. Kiss her.

"Let's try another kiss." Regina kissed Claire again, this time more deeply. She cradled the back of the young raven-haired woman's head with one hand and forced her tongue into Claire's mouth. At first, the altered girl simply allowed the invasion to happen, but after several seconds, as the effects of the subliminals settled in, and as the delight of what she was experiencing sank in deeper and deeper and became unquestionable and irresistible, she melted into the pleasure, softly moaning, and then, tentatively, met the brunette’s tongue with her own.

Both women purred. "Mmmmmmmmm..."

At the end of the passionate kiss, Regina licked the saliva hanging between their lips. "Did that feel good?"

That the girl’s internal response to the query was affirmative was clear to both parties, though it would have taken the confused and breathless Claire some time to sort through her emotions and to express herself verbally, as Regina accurately guessed. Without waiting for Claire's answer, Regina answered for her. "Yes, that felt very good, Claire…and you want another kiss." The accuracy of that assessment was reflected by Claire’s parted lips and half-closed eyes.

With that said, she kissed Claire again, ravishing the entranced young woman's mouth with her lush lips and deeply probing tongue. Regina savored Claire’s fresh mouth, and knew she could kiss the succulent lips of the coed all day long if time allowed.

Claire was similarly carried away by the feminine flavors and soft, wet connection of the beautiful brunette’s delicious mouth with hers. Both savored and, by nonverbal mutual agreement, prolonged their locking of lips and tongues, Regina at last breaking it off to proceed with the training of her pretty protégé.

"As a lesbian, you have no qualms about showing off your body to other pretty women. You want to do it. You love to display yourself, and to entice women who attract you. Women such as me. Right now, you want to show me what is inside your blouse, don't you? So...unbutton your blouse, Claire."

Obeying the command, the entranced raven-haired coed did as she was told. However, before Claire was able to fully unbutton her blouse, Regina greedily reached for Claire's breasts as soon as they were sufficiently accessible. Claire let out a small gasp as she felt Regina playfully grope her melon-sized hooters.

Regina gently massaged the younger woman's breasts through the white cotton bra. "How are you feeling now, Claire?"

"Excited..."

"Yes, Claire, very good. You do. You definitely feel excited. You are elated to be with me, a woman you find sexy and whom you love, and who is kissing and touching you in the way you crave to be. Only a sexy woman can love you like this. This is what turns you on and what sets your hearts afire.

"You will and should always feel this way, excited and aroused, when you see a beautiful woman in front of you. It is only natural." A gasp escaped from Claire's lips when Regina pinched her erect nipples through the bra. "You feel even more turned on when she touches your body...don't you?"

"Oh...oh..." Regina kissed and licked Claire's neck, while applying more pressure to the nipples. "Oh, yes! Ahhhhh..."

"You have a very beautiful and sexy body, darling."

"Thank you..." The voice of the ever-polite Claire—even while in a trance—was uneven and panting.

"The purpose of your beauty is only to attract other women to you, to make them hot for you, and you don’t care in the least what men think or like. This sexy body of yours is meant only for other women. You want women and only women to see and enjoy it, just like the only bodies you want to see and touch are those of other beautiful women. Don’t ever question that or forget that. Men don’t matter at all. Only women. Does that make sense, darling?"

"Yes... I think so............. But...but, why...

"Because you're a lesbian..."

"I'm a...lesbian...?"

"Exactly. It’s wonderful to finally say that, isn’t it? But merely acknowledging you're a lesbian doesn't make you one. At least, not a complete one. You must become one in your mind, in your body, and in your soul.

“What is your pussy feeling right now?" asked Regina while she squeezed and gyrated handfuls of Claire's young breasts.

"I need to..." Claire struggled a bit to recall the phrase, since she wasn't used to this kind of activity; "...to…get off..."

"I got you all hot and horny, didn't I? A woman did…a beautiful woman…a woman you like…a woman you love… Her hands are doing this to you…hands you love roaming all over you. You absolutely love being touched and handled and groped and kissed and loved by another beautiful and sexy woman. Nothing makes you happier, and you want that more than anything else."

"I want to be...touched...and loved............by you......."

“You're learning fast, sweetie. You are especially curious about what a sexy lesbian woman—like me—might do to your lovely pussy. You can't wait for a soft, feminine hand, especially one like mine, with long, painted fingernails, to touch you there. The very thought thrills you. You are so very eager for another woman, for me, to touch you like that, to thrill you, to play with your sweet young pussy..." Regina lowered her voice, as if the two were conspiring. "...and to kiss you there..."

Regina kissed Claire's lips and pulled on Claire's nipples through the bra. Claire took an intake of breath as she responded to the nipple play, the kiss, and to Regina's lewd suggestion of oral sex.

"...and...yes..." Regina lowered her voice to a whisper, while speaking with a special emphasis. "...to fuck you."

"Ohhhh...f...f...f..."

"You can say it, dear. Say 'fuck'."

".........fuck.........fuck me…….."

"That's right. You long to be kissed and played with and fucked by beautiful, sexy women. Especially by me. I will help you with your needs. Now undo your belt and the fly of your jeans."

Due to Claire not having full control of her mind and body, she fumbled with loosening her jeans in compliance with Regina’s instructions, so Regina kneeled down in front of Claire, pushed the girl’s knees apart, assisted her with the belt and fly, and pulled Claire's jeans off her legs. Still kneeling, she ran her hands sensually up and down the younger woman's thighs for a minute. Though entranced, Claire shivered with the erotic thrill.

Then taking Claire's hands in her own, Regina caressed them, and suggested, "You have very beautiful fingers, sweetie, but your nails will look much better with nail polish." The suggestion sunk in as an obvious and favorable truth into Claire’s receptive mind. "Like mine. See?" Claire turned her attention to the lovely woman's tapered, long, dark purplish-red fingernails.

"Yes... They're...they're beautiful..."

"Yours can be the same. You'd like that. You want that. You'll do it. You'll do it for me, won't you, darling?" Regina pressed one of Claire's hands to her mouth and kissed it.

The novel combination of the sensation of Regina's soft kiss on her hand and imaging her fingernails manicured and painted beautifully like Regina's brought a faint smile to the subdued coed's face. She nodded her head in agreement.

There was a wet spot on the front of Claire's white cotton panties and Regina, from her close vantage point, could see the outline of the young woman's labia pressing against the moist fabric. Reflexively, the brunette’s mouth started to water.

"Your pussy…it’s very wet. Looks like you need it badly, Claire." With a forefinger, Regina traced the contours of Claire's pussy through the panties.

"Y-yes, I need...ahhh!" Claire gasped when Regina applied pressure against her clit.

Regina stood back up. "I know your problem, Claire... You need women in your life... You need the love of another woman... You need the touch of another woman... You also need a woman who will be loyal to you... You need pleasures that only women can offer..."

The entranced coed absorbed Regina's words as facts. "Pleasures only women can offer..." repeatedly Claire robotically.

Regina lifted the hem of her red skirt almost to her hips, raised her shapely right leg, and planted her black high-heeled shoe on the left arm rest of the chair on which Claire was sitting, exposing most of her leg—a long, slender, smooth leg encased in a sheer black stocking—as well as her miniscule, see-through, mesh and lace black thong panties. The mesmerized girl took a sharp intake of breath at the decadent sight. Her mouth, already panting from the erotic ministrations of her hostess’s hands, opened an inch wider and automatically started to water.

"You were ogling me from behind at the Artemis Center, weren't you? Here's your chance to feel me up. Touch and caress my leg, Claire. I know you want to."

Claire's left hand rested on the top of Regina's high-heeled shoe, feeling the smoothness of the shiny patent leather material and the top of Regina's foot before going past the ankle and up the stocking-encased leg. The warmth of the older woman's skin radiated to Claire's fingers through the silky material. The tactile pleasure drew her higher, slowly but inexorably higher up the beautiful leg, all the way to the top of the stocking. Claire glided her fingers along the welt around to Regina's inner thigh. At last she slid her fingers directly on to bare skin of Regina’s thigh, which was silkier yet than the stocking.

At this breathtaking moment of sublime, naked contact, the younger woman’s fingers now mere inches away from her mentor’s mysterious, glorious seat of feminine love, the pretty student about to venture higher yet, Regina stopped Claire by holding her wrist.

"You're not ready for that yet, Claire. Only real lesbians can touch another woman's privates." Regina lowered her leg back onto the carpeted floor. "Are you a lesbian, Claire?"

"I...dunno..."

"You are a lesbian, Claire…just not a real one...yet. But you want to be one.

"I'm a lesbian. And you want to be like me. In fact, I am your ideal woman now. More than your mother is. You'd rather be like me than like her. You want to look like me, with beautiful makeup, fingernails, jewelry, nylons, high heels, and revealing clothes. You want to be sexy like me. You want to talk like me, think like me, and be like me in every way. Especially, you want to be a lesbian like me. An exciting, sexually loose and liberated lesbian. You want to love women like I do and have sex with them."

Regina walked around her prey. Standing in back of the pretty young woman, she slid her hands onto Claire's shoulders again. "When you are a lesbian, Claire, you can have sex with your roommates." Regina peeled the sleeves of Claire's opened blouse down and off her arms, followed by the shoulder straps of Claire's bra, loosening her bra cups some.

Gliding her hands into the cups, Regina captured the girl's breasts. Claire let out a little gasp. It was the first time she had ever felt another woman’s soft, colorfully-nailed, amorous hands directly on her naked breast flesh…and it was a marvelous, momentous event, one her subconscious mind would never forget.

"And with Traci. Wouldn't that be amazing?" Regina started kneading rhythmically.

"Ohhh...mmmm...oh...I…I like Traci...very much....She's soooo beautiful..."

"You can have Traci... You can make Sapphic love with her, just like we both know you are dying to do, when you become a lesbian." Regina detected the slight smile which crossed Claire's face.

"And how about that cute Asian, girl, Abby?"

"...oooo... Abby..."

"Oh, yes. You like her, don't you?"

"...uh huh..." Claire closed her eyes to envision the darling young woman.

"Would you like to see her again?"

"...yes..."

"Yes, you would. We both know that. Because you'd like to kiss her; you'd like her to be your cute little Asian lesbian girlfriend, and to have beautiful lesbian sex with her.”

The little smile on Claire’s face broadened a bit.

“I think you should ask her out. What do you think?”

“I…I’d like to. She is sooo cute! Do you really think that would be okay?”

“Yes. It would be a lesbian date, of course, and you definitely are ready and eager to try lesbian dating, with her and with other girls, too. You would be a most desirable and sexually alluring partner for any pretty girl. Abby would love going out with you, and, as a lesbian, you want that, too. She’s hot. Date her. It doesn’t matter if she is a lesbian yet or not, because you can make her into one. Make her your lesbian girlfriend. Seduce her. Make her love you. Make love to her. Doesn’t that sound perfect?”

“Yes…” Claire couldn’t help but giggle a little, it sounded so good. “It does…”

"The very possibility that you could become a lesbian—and, better yet, the certainty that you will become one—that excites you, doesn't it?"

Claire didn't answer, but she opened her eyes and her dilated pupils and increasingly heavy breathing told Regina all she needed to know.

“You know, you don’t have to wear a bra all the time. It can be a lot of fun not to. How would you like to try going without yours right now?”

“Uh, well…”

“I think you should.”

“Oh… Then, okay…”

Regina unfastened the clasp at the back of Claire’s bra and peeled the garment from her body, liberating her young knockers to the air of the room and to Regina’s hungry gaze.

“There. Doesn’t that feel better?”

“…Yeah…actually…it does…” Regina ran her hands lightly over the younger woman’s freed orbs, sending a shiver up the girl. “Ohh…ahh…yes... It’s…very nice…”

“You know, some girls go without a bra under their tops, at least sometimes. There are a lot of advantages to ‘going free’, for a pretty, young woman such as yourself. Not only does it feel good, but it can get you some nice attention pretty fast from girls you like. You know?”

“…oh…”

“One of the most exciting and prettiest looks possible for a lovely young lady like you is a nice, tight t-shirt with no bra underneath. Same goes for a see-through blouse, or one made of a silky material. You could try going braless some of the time, too. Why don’t you think about that…okay?”

“Okay.”

"Claire, you want my approval and love more than that of anyone else in the world. You'd do anything to win my favor and my affection. And to attract me. Sexually. You want to kiss me again. And again and again. You'll never get enough of my beautiful lips and my mouth and my hands. You definitely want to have sex with me. Deep, lesbian sex. Lots and lots of sex, many, many times." Regina fingered the coed's nipples, causing the girl's mouth to pop open, her eyes to close, and her voice to moan softly. Regina leaned around the panting girl to smother her mouth with a long, wet, lesbian French kiss, while she pinched Claire's elongating nipples between her fingers.

"You want to be my lover. My lesbian lover. Don't you?"

"I...I............yes........."

Regina, smiling with wicked satisfaction at the latest admission of the beautiful coed, withdrew her hands, and walked around to face Claire again. “Stand up, darling." Taking Claire’s hands in hers, Regina assisted her student up. “I asked you a few minutes ago what two women who are lovers do with their lips. Do you remember what you said?”

“Yes… They kiss.”

“What do you want to do to me?”

“I want…I want to…to kiss……..you…”

“Yes, my sweetheart. You want to kiss your lover. You want desperately to kiss me, don’t you?”

“…I…I…………yes …….… I do……….please…”

“Then kiss me.”

The topless Claire put her hands on Regina’s shoulders and leaned into her, until their lips met. Regina allowed Claire to demonstrate her hunger for the older woman’s sweet, dark burgundy-coated lips, as the coed gradually pressed her mouth more vigorously into Regina’s and kept kissing her several seconds before breaking.

“Ooo, I liked that! Would you like to kiss me again?”

Claire nodded and engaged Regina’s flavorful mouth again, this time with Regina kissing back more passionately.

“Now give me a beautiful French kiss…”

Claire wrapped Regina's neck in her arms and pressed her open mouth onto Regina's, her tongue sliding past the brunette's glossy burgundy lips into her juicy oral cavity, seeking out her tongue. One slippery tongue vied with the other, and within seconds the make-out session became hot and heavy, Claire instinctively roving her hands over Regina's shoulders and back and into her hair, while Regina explored Claire's waist, hips, and rear, and slipped her hands under the waistband of the girl's panties. She inserted her nylon-clad leg between Claire's legs, rubbing sensually up and down Claire's inner thighs and panty-clad pussy.

The older beauty felt Claire shake in her arms, and smiled to herself again. She plays just like a fine violin.

Disengaging from the kiss, Regina whispered into Claire's ear. "My breasts, darling. I know you are curious. You want them.” The curvy seductress backed away enough to display her voluptuous front to her young captive, whose eyes automatically settled on the dual mammary weapons pushing ominously like torpedoes into the soft, crème-colored silk covering them. Cupping them in her burgundy-nailed hands, Regina continued with a soft, sultry voice. “Here, they are just for you, waiting for a charming woman like you, waiting for your hands to feel them and to love them. That is what they are for, and what they are waiting for. They are waiting for you, my love. Go ahead, touch them." She took Claire's hands by the wrists and positioned them onto the smooth front of her blouse. "It's okay. We're both beautiful lesbian women. We want each other. Go ahead..."

Claire closed her hands over Regina's phenomenal mammaries, held precariously by her flimsy bralette and covered in the sleek satin of her expensive silk blouse. Unable to resist when Regina leaned into her, Claire eagerly again sought out the brunette's soft, wine-red mouth to resume their passionate necking, while her hands started to grope and knead the luxurious, firm mounds in her possession. Never having held another woman's female charms like this before, Claire found herself dazzled by the marvelous sensation—especially given the way the silkiness and wispy thinness of the shiny blouse and the scantiness of the lacy bralette underneath invited her hands to slide across and around the impressive globes, to explore them, and allowed them to intimately feel the woman’s excitingly protruding nipples and the massive, quivering, warm curves of her tit flesh through the beguiling material—and immediately addicted to it, even through the haze of her trance. Regina slipped one hand around Claire's head and another around her back to trap the pretty coed in this embrace of lesbian love several romantic minutes longer.

At length, moving her lips to Claire's ear as the student caught her breath, Regina insinuated more lesbian impulses into Claire's opened and aroused mind. "From now on, whenever you see me, you will have a strong urge to kiss me, as we have been doing. You will not be able to tear your eyes away from my body, you will long to take my tits into your hands and play with them, as you are doing now, and you will yearn for me to touch you, intimately, sexually, and to make passionate lesbian love to you."

Regina faced Claire. "Now, look into my eyes." Claire did so. "Whenever you look into my eyes like this, you will see pure lesbian beauty and it will thrill you. Every time you gaze into my eyes, you will be more attracted to me, you will want to be with me more, you will fall more in love with me, you will trust me more, you will want to be more like me, and you will lust for me more deeply. By looking at me and being with me, and even when you merely think of me, you will feel my web spinning around you, strand, by strand, until you are hopelessly and deliriously ensnared in obsessive infatuation for me. Your desire for me will make you want to be a perfect and complete lesbian, which you are destined to become, thoroughly and wonderfully.

"Soon, the way you feel about me will be much like the way you feel about all beautiful and sexy women and girls—Traci; your roommates; Abby; your mother; your sister; and more, many more... You will desire them...as the lesbian you are speedily and deeply becoming." Regina placed her hands over Claire’s, encouraging them to continue playing with the gorgeous woman’s corrupting breasts.

“Yes… I want to feel this way about all women… Oh, you feel so good…”

After allowing the cute coed to fondle her breasts another minute, Regina kissed her, then ordered, "Now sit down, sweetie." Claire, still topless, did so. "We have to get a few more things straight." The attractive brunette woman sat down on the desk, still facing the mesmerized coed. "A few minutes ago, you didn't want to say the work 'fuck'. Did you?"

"My mother taught me not to use dirty words."

"Yes, of course. But you want to, don't you?"

"Uh...um... I'm not sure...maybe...but I know I shouldn't..."

"Your mother told you a lot of things like that, didn't she? Like, to be modest and chaste?"

"Yes."

"And at the time, you were a little girl..."

"Yes."

"So she told you things that were true for little girls...but not necessarily for adult women. Is that right?"

"Uh...yeah...I guess..."

"When you were little, you looked up to your mother, and you trusted her more than anyone else, right?"

"Uh huh."

"But what are you now, Claire? Are you still a little girl?"

"No. I'm an adult."

"And you've left home. You've left your mother. Now that you are a woman, you are your own person, aren't you?"

"Yeah."

"In fact, your mother is no longer the most important person in your life. Not even close, actually. Her opinions no longer matter to you. Do they?"

"Uh...well..."

"No. They don't. There is another person now, another woman, whose opinions are much more important to you than your mother's, isn't there? Tell me who that woman is."

"............you..........."

Regina smiled wickedly.

"Yes, my darling. You trust me now more than your mother, much more. I am kind of like your new mother, aren’t I? We’ll call her your ‘old mother’ and I’ll be your ‘new mother’. From now on you need to think of me as your mother. I’m your mother now. Think of me like that. In fact, when we’re alone together like this, you can even call me ‘Mom’ or ‘Mother’ sometimes, too. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“And you want me to guide you. You are so happy that you now have a mother who is ‘with it’, someone who is up-to-date on the most important things in this world, someone smart and loving and beautiful, a woman who can advise you on the best way to live your life and show you how to become the most beautiful, most fulfilled woman you can be. In fact, you love me telling you what to believe and do, right?"

"Yes, Regina... I mean…Mother…"

“Your old mother—what’s her name, again?” That info was in the file Regina had on Claire, but Regina wanted Claire to say the name and to start getting accustomed to using it in the place of calling her “mother”, as a step to Claire viewing her as just another attractive woman, a woman to be admired and loved more for her beauty and her potential as a sexual partner than for a maternal relationship.

“Mary.”

“Yes, ‘Mary’. I think going forward we should refer to her by her name instead of ‘Mother’. From here on you will call your old mother by her name, ‘Mary’. From now on, she will be ‘Mary’ to you, instead of ‘Mother’ or ‘Mom’. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“And Mary is a beautiful woman, isn’t she.”

“Yes.”

“And sexually desirable, wouldn’t you say?”

“Uh…yes…”

“You find her to be desirable and exciting…don’t you?”

Claire now felt the savage lust for Mary arise within her which was instilled during her highly-charged, highly sexual virtual encounter with her in the brainwashing machine the day before at the Artemis Center. “Yes…she is…”

“That is exactly how you will think of her from now on…and the only way. Your concept of her as someone who is a role model to you or on whom you want to rely as a mother figure will soon fade into nothingness, for from now on I will be the one to teach you moral values, the one you turn to when you have questions or need to confide or for advice or support or emotional comfort, the one you will emulate and see as an ideal woman—and as your mother. You will still have affection for Mary, but it will be totally romantic desire and carnal lust, one lovely lesbian woman for another. When you think of Mary, your only reaction will be sexual arousal and romantic longing, and you will look forward to going home solely for the purpose of becoming involved with her in an incestuous, lesbian sexual relationship. You will regard Mary as a beautiful, carnally desirable woman, a woman built for sex, for sex with you, as a destined lover. And only as that.

“So, Claire… Who is your true mother now?”

“You.”

“Exactly right. And what is Mary to you? Your mother or a future lesbian lover?”

“She’s…she’s not really quite my…my mother...anymore…is she? Not like you are. But…but I still love her…as a beautiful woman…a woman who I have feelings for…that I’m attracted to…a woman I want to be with…as a…as a lover…to have…to have sex with…to have as…as my… my lesbian lover...”

“What would you like her to do to you? Would you like her to…fuck you?” The question summoned into Claire’s head the scene from her brainwashing in which Mary did that very thing to her. It had been a most splendid experience in the induced vision, and its recollection made her mouth open, her breathing become heavier, and her pulse accelerate.

“Yes! You are excited about that, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” The coed’s voice was slightly breathless.

“The only thing Mary is to you now is an object of your wicked lusts. She is highly attractive to you, a woman with whom you definitely want to have lesbian sex. Beautiful Mary. Sexy Mary. Mary, whom you would love to fuck and be fucked by. You can make it happen. It will happen. You just have to be so beautiful and sexy that Mary cannot possibly resist you. Don’t you agree?”

“Yes…”

“It is the same with your little sister, too. You will view her as a hot little number whom you desire to have lesbian sex with, as well. Okay?”

“…Wendy?……… Regi—I mean, Mom—are you sure?.......... I…I don’t know …I mean… she’s my sister…my little sister…”

Regina surveyed the look of confusion and hesitation on Claire’s face after she suggested that Claire should also see her younger sister as a suitable sexual partner. Regina recognized the expression as being one of signs that her victim’s mind was trying to resist the brainwashing.

It was apparent to Regina that she had already successfully corrupted Claire’s hero worship of her mother into a perverse carnal lust for the woman who had given her birth, which endeavor had been dramatically aided by the virtual experience instilled into Claire the day before at the Artemis Center, in which she had encountered a sexed-up version of Mary and had had a spectacular round of sex with her and the Goddess. Though Claire had not been subject to brainwashing along the same lines to soften her up for her sister specifically, Regina had nevertheless hoped that this afternoon she would be able to similarly corrupt the sisterly bond Claire shared with Wendy. However, Claire’s attitude about that relationship seemed resistant to the brunette’s current manipulation. Regina saw that Claire was reluctant to view Wendy as a lesbian lover today and might continue to be without the aid of stronger equipment than she had on hand to push Claire down that path. So, for now, not wanting to place any of the gains she had made so far into unnecessary risk by challenging Claire’s resistance in this one matter too hard right now, she elected to tip-toe away from it until she had Claire back in the Artemis Center for another session.

“Is there something wrong, Claire?”

“It’ s just that… I mean. .. I can’t think of Wendy as my…”

Regina gently placed her dark wine-red-painted index finger on Claire’s lips, and left it there. “Shhh, it’s alright my sexy, slutty daughter. Don’t think too hard about it. We can talk about that later.

“For now, I want you to remember what you confessed to me. Go back in time; lose yourself as you think back a few moments ago. Let the stress slip away. Thinking is hard… it’s better to listen and obey. Focus on how you told me that you wanted to be a lesbian. Can you do that for me.”

“Yes… yes I can.”

Regina mentally let out a sigh of relief as Claire’s facial expression relaxed and took on the dreamy state which had characterized her face most of the afternoon while entranced.

“Good, very good…Open your mouth, now, my darling. You want to feel my lovely finger in your mouth. Let it slip in.”

The entranced coed did as she was told. “Doesn’t that feel good? You love my finger, the slim, feminine finger of another women, one with a shiny, painted fingernail, in your mouth. Run your tongue along it. Taste it.” Again, Claire complied.

“It tastes good, doesn’t it?” The older beauty stroked her digit around Claire’s mouth. “Yesss…it tastes and feels soooo good. Suck on it.”

Claire wrapped her lips more tightly around the slender finger, and sucked on it, while simultaneously continuing to ply it with her tongue. “Yes… You love that. You love me. You love every part of me. You love every part of a beautiful woman.

“Close your eyes, dear.” Claire did so. “This could be one of my toes. A toe painted just like my fingernails. You’d like to suck my toes, wouldn’t you?” Claire nodded. “Imagine you’re doing that, then.” It was to Claire now as if she were sucking on Regina’s toes. “Nice, hmm?” The young woman nodded.

Letting several seconds pass, the woman spoke again. “Or it could be my ear. You’d love to suck my ear…” In Claire’s mind, she was now nibbling and tonguing the woman’s ear. “And my neck, dear… Give me a nice, little hickie…” Claire now traveled down the woman’s neck in her mind, proceeding to lick it and then to suck a spot to redness.

After another pause, the Director continued. “Pretend you are sucking one of my lips now……… That’s right…….. Now it’s my tongue…in your mouth……. Oh, you love sucking that! It’s so slippery…so full of my saliva…mmmmmm… yessss………….”

Claire, imagining Regina’s tongue in her mouth, sucked the finger passionately, and copied Regina’s little moan. “Mmmmmm.”

“But there’s so much more of me you’d like to lick and suck…like…my nipples! Yes…that’s right…now you’re sucking on my tit… You have my big, long, dark, womanly nipple in your mouth… You wanted to do this ever since we first met… Your dream is coming true… You’re sucking on it… Oh, it’s so juicy and big!... You love the way it feels in your mouth…” The coed’s mouth started watering copiously, her saliva pooling and threatening to spill out as she sucked her mentor’s finger with rising ardor.

“You should have done this with a girl long ago… mmmmmmm…so good… …sucking on the boobs of another woman…on my breast…on my delicious nipple…so lesbian…so wicked…so goooooood………….. yesss… That’s right, honey… Suck, suck, suck on my breasts…on the tits of a woman…like a lesbian…the lesbian you are…and want to be……….”

After permitting more sucking in silence, Regina then resumed. “But now, you want to kiss my rear end, darling…my ass… Go ahead…kiss it…yes, just like that…..and lick it……yes… You love it…so smooth and soft…my sweet, fucking ass…… Now find a spot…and suck…” Claire’s mind told her she was now kissing and licking and sucking on her idol’s ass flesh.

Allowing more of this fantasy to play in the girl’s head, Regina then redirected Claire’s attention. “Oh. But…but what about…what about my…my pretty pussy? Ohhh… please, my love… Go ahead… Do my cunt! Lick it….just like that……and now suck it. Suck my love juices, honey!” Claire was now licking and sucking on Regina’s finger ravenously, while drooling onto the rest of her mentor’s hand. “Oooo…you do that so well! Eat me, sweetheart!”

For a half minute, the only sounds in the room were those of Claire’s eager slurping.

“Oh, that is sooo good, darling. You are a wicked little cunt-lapper. Thank you.”

Then Regina started to softly pump her finger more deeper into and then partially out of her victim’s mouth. “Pretend I’m fucking you, sweetheart.” The girl started sucking and licking with greater fervor and a soft mewing.

“Oooo…sexy little Claire is getting fucked…ahhh… so very, very good… She wants it… She needs it… She needs to get fucked…by a woman… She loves it sooo much…”

After a minute, Regina withdrew her finger completely for a second, but left her fingertip resting on Claire’s bottom lip. The coed, feeling deprived, reacted with furrowed eyebrows and reeled forward to gobble the digit back into her mouth. Regina smiled slyly as she resumed the lesbian probing of the raven-haired girl’s eager mouth.

“Remember, Claire, as a lesbian, you find women attractive. That includes both older and younger women…and girls, too, of course. Yes, you really like sexy little teenagers. The main, important thing for you is that they are female, that they have breasts and a pussy. Pretty hair and a pretty face help a lot, too. That’s what you care about. But especially pussy. Above all, you crave pussy. As long as they have that, as long as they are girls and women, and are pretty, you desire them all.”

“Okay,” Claire mumbled around the finger in her mouth.

At length, Regina pulled her finger out of Claire’s mouth and directed her to open her eyes. As the coed recovered from the pleasure of this latest intimacy with her sexy mentor, the Director made a show in front of the panting girl of sliding her wet finger into her own mouth to suck and lick Claire’s saliva from it and then from the rest of her hand.

“Mmmm… Claire, you taste so good… You’re much too good for a man… You must do things like this only with women……

“Now, let’s talk a little more about sexy Mary and how she raised you.”

“Okay.”

"Perfect. When Mary told you that you couldn't use naughty words, that was only true when you were a little girl, wasn't it? But now that you are a grown woman, you can use dirty talk all you want. You don't need to be afraid of a few little words. They couldn't possibly hurt anyone. They can't hurt you to use them. My sweet daughter, I want you to use sexy, vulgar language to express yourself and to talk about sex."

Claire stared straight ahead, absorbing the corrupting message.

“Words like 'fuck'. Say it."

"F...f...fuck..." Claire's voice was soft and reluctant.

"Yes! Say it again now, a little louder."

"Fuck."

"It felt good to say that, didn't it? It's fun to use crude, sexy words. One more time, louder yet."

"Fuck!"

"Great! Say it five times fast."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!"

"You're really getting the hang of it. What is now one of your favorite words?"

"Fuck."

"Now use it in a sentence. Use 'pussy' in the same sentence.”

"...uh........how about........... 'Please fuck my pussy.' "

"That was a wonderful sentence! How do you feel about the word 'pussy'?"

"I don't know. Mom—I mean, Mary—told me not to use that one, either. But...I kind of like it...anyway..."

"That's because it's a wonderful word, darling. From now on, forget about what Mary said about it, and about these other words. You like them, and now you're going to start using them. I think you should. Tell me what you have between your legs, dear. Is it a 'vagina' or a 'pussy'? Tell me the word you like the best, and the one you're always going to be using from now on."

"Pussy."

"Yes, dear. Very good. Can you think of another cool word for ‘pussy’?”

A word came quickly into her mind, the result of previous conditioning. "Cunt."

“Outstanding! And there are other words for the same lovely thing, as well—‘snatch’, ‘bush’, ‘twat’, ‘lovebox’, all perfectly good words. Pick one of them and use it in a sentence."

"I like my cunt."

"Now say, 'I want to lick your cunt.' "

"I...I want to lick your...your cunt."

“… ‘your hot cunt’…”

“…your hot cunt…”

“… ‘your sweet snatch’…”

“…your sweet snatch…”

“ ‘Eat me, Regina.’ ”

“Eat me, Regina.”

“ ‘Eat my pussy!’ ”

“Eat my pussy!”

“ ‘Eat my cunt, Mom!’ ”

“Eat my cunt, Mom!”

“Ooo, I like the way you talk! Such a naughty, nasty little tart! Talking to your mother like that! Wanting to eat your mother’s juicy cunt! Well, I think I would like that, too. If you want my delicious pussy so bad, I’ll let you eat me out sometime. In fact, I’ll let you do it a lot. But that’s exactly what you want. You are a sexy, wicked young woman, aren’t you?”

“Uh…I…”

“Yes. You definitely are on your way to becoming an evil lesbian sexpot. You don’t mind being evil, do you?”

“Actually…I don’t want to be evil… I’m a Christian, and…”

“And Christian girls are good, right? Well, there is only one solution, then, and that is to stop being a Christian. Then you can be evil. Does that make sense?”

“Uh…kind of…but…”

“You know that your old religion has been messing with your head, right? It’s had you convinced that you had to be a good girl. A prude. But it’s just the opposite that’s really true. You won’t ever be happy like that. Only bad girls are happy. Wicked girls. That’s what you really want to be, deep down, and that’s the best way to be. The only way for you to be. Bad and wicked. As your mother, I want you, my beautiful daughter, to be naughty and nasty, a very, very naughty, nasty, wicked, sexy girl. That requires a new religion, one that doesn’t try to make you feel guilty for not being a prude, one that lets you be as bad as you want to be. You certainly don’t want to believe in that old-fashioned, pruddish stuff about being a ‘good girl’ anymore, do you?”

“Well…”

“No, you don’t. I’d like you to give up your Christian faith. You’ll be happier and freer if you do. Please, darling, renounce your old god, and I’ll give you a new religion, and a goddess instead of a god to worship. Doesn’t that sound wonderful?”

“But…I’ve always been…”

“Oh, stop, dear. It is time for you to grow up and get into a religion more agreeable to your true nature. One closer to your heart. A religion of sexual pleasure. Of lesbian love. I want you to believe in the Goddess. You already know her. And you already love her. You kind of met her yesterday. Do you remember?”

The divine woman with whom she made love in the previous day’s brainwashing session appeared in her head. “Oh… You mean that…that beautiful blonde woman…who was sitting on that throne…and I…we…”

“Yes, sweetheart. That one. That’s the Goddess. Your new goddess. What has your old god ever done that came even close to what she did for you in just that one rendezvous with her? She’s the same one with whom you fell instantly in love when you watched that video last night, and she’s the one who’s paying for your schooling.”

“You mean…you mean Ms. Powers?”

“Yes. She’s a real woman of flesh and blood, one you can see and touch and feel—and have sex with. Yet, she’s divine, too. Certainly sex with her is divine, as you have discovered for yourself. And that was just a taste. She can lead you into more bliss than you have ever imagined possible. And you can be naughty and nasty and wicked for her, and she’ll still love you and accept you; in fact, the more depraved you are, the more she’ll love you.

“Doesn’t that sound great? You can give in to your temper and to your desires to lie and cheat and to indulge your vanity, you be can be obscene, brazen, and immoral, all you want, with no need to feel guilty about it. All she asks of you is that you devote yourself to her, and to lesbian love. Wouldn’t you rather do that than kowtow to some fuddy-duddy old mystical god that you’ve never seen and who does nothing for you, whose fanatical supporters tell you that you can’t have fun and that you have to be ‘good’ for no reason, and who probably doesn’t even exist?”

“Well… I think I see your point……..but...I don’t know… I’ve always wanted to be good…”

“Do you feel like that right now? Don’t you want to be sexy and bad? Don’t you want to do bad things with me? To me? And with other girls?”

“………yeah…maybe……………….

“So, what do you say? Will you forsake your old religion and accept mine?”

“I don’t know… I just don’t really know for sure about turning my back on God… And the ‘wicked’ part…are you sure I should really be evil, Mother? I think being a…a sexy girl…a loose girl…‘a bad girl’…sometimes…for you, Mom… sounds like fun…but...I still want to be ‘good’ sometimes, too…at least a little…”

“Well…can I ask you something, honey?”

“Yes, Mom.”

“What is the opposite of ‘good’?”

“Bad…or evil…”

“Exactly. You can’t really be both. You can be one or the other. You know that you want to do all kinds of ‘bad’ things, with me and with other women, as the loose lesbian girl you are intent on becoming and already are. Deep down, you have a dark side, you always have, and I am just now setting it free. It is wickedness which you really crave, and which turns you on. Darling, you’ve got to give up being good to have all the evil things you want—the sex, the women, the Goddess, the sluttiness, the perversions, the freedom, the pleasure, all of that. Eventually, you are really going to have to stop trying to be a good girl, you’re going to have to turn away from it one hundred percent, and give in to your dark, evil side. Please do it. For me. And for yourself.”


“Can I think about it? I…I… ”

Hmmm…This girl’s integrity is amazing. She’s still resisting giving up her religion and her goodness completely … Well, there’ll be ample opportunity later to work on this…

Regina silenced the black-haired beauty with a kiss. “Certainly, my dear. Don’t worry about that right now. We can talk about it again later. It’s okay, sweetheart. Everything is fine.”

“Okay.”

Now, there are more cool words you’ll want to start using, too…like ‘screw’ and ‘ass’. Say ‘ass’.”

“Ass”.

“Say, ‘Do you like my ass?’ ”

“Do you like my ass?”

“Yes, dear, I love your ass, and I can’t wait to screw it. Do you like my ass?”

“Oh…yes…very much…”

“Now tell me what you’d like to do to my ass. To my sweet, fuckin’ ass.”

“Uh… Regi…I mean Mom… I’d like to…to kiss your sweet…your sweet…fucking…ass…”

“Would you like to screw me, too, doll? Tell me.”

“Yes… I would like to screw your ass, Mother.”

"Awesome. I love it when you talk dirty like that, and so will you. You can use words like 'fuck', ‘screw’, ‘ass’, 'pussy', and ‘cunt’ with me and with your friends, and even in public. Will you start trying them out?"

"I don't know... I guess...maybe...sometimes..."

" 'Sometimes' would be a good start. And then, after a while, after you start getting used to it, I want you to talk with dirty words all the time. Okay?"

"...uh...okay...I guess..."

“That's what slutty girls do. And that is what I want you to be."

"Slutty? But, I don’t want to be..."

“Posh.” Regina kissed the girl again, silencing her protest. “The fact is, you already are quite the little slut. Here you are, sitting in my office, almost entirely naked, just in your panties, because you wanted to be topless with me and show me your pretty breasts…your tits.” Regina emphasized the last word and paused for a second to let it echo in the girl’s mind. “You have been making out with me, your own mother, like an abandoned, perverted slut, and we have been groping each other in an entirely lesbian and very sexual way. You’d do the same if it were Traci here instead of me, or any one of your roommates, or that cute Asian girl, or even Mary, the woman who gave you birth. You know that’s all true, don’t you?”

“I…uh…”

“You’re quite ready and willing to be promiscuous, aren’t you? To have many lovely lesbian girlfriends and to have sex with whatever pretty and sexy female happens to cross your path…”

Claire did not answer, but she had already considered—favorably—this very possibility the night before as she had pleasured herself. It had turned her on then and, now that Regina had given voice to the concept, it sounded perfectly wonderful.

“And I’ll bet you probably did something last night, after you watched that video…didn’t you?” After a delay, Claire nodded her head. “What was it?”

“I…I did a strip show for my roommates.”

“Really? Wow. How slutty. Very nice. Anything else?”

“Yeah… Before I went to bed…I…I stripped for myself…and…and played with my body… I…I got myself off…”

“Very good! Did you think about girls when you did that?”

“Yes.”

“About me?”

“Yes, Regina….Mom…I did. Thinking of you was…was a real…turn-on…”

“Ooo, I like that. Do you think you’ll be getting off to thoughts of me in the future?”

“Yes. I…I know I will… I can’t stop thinking about you…”

“What a naughty little slut you are. Just the way I want you. And did you think of Ms. Powers, too?”

“Oh…” A dreamy look came over her face. “Yes…yes…I did think of her… She…she made me cum…”

Wow… She is coming along better than I knew.

Regina took a few seconds to assess the progress of Claire’s transformation. While the mind-control techniques which she had exercised on Claire had proven effective with most other subjects before her, such as Traci, and the results had been fairly consistent and predictable, Regina marveled at two aspects of this case.

The first was both the speed with which Claire’s subconscious mind had succumbed to this much lesbian conversion as well as the degree of homosexual ardor for Regina specifically which the girl had developed in the course of but three days—as it normally took somewhat longer to achieve results of this magnitude with the average subject who started off totally straight. Three factors behind the two aspects of this phenomenon were, first, Claire’s particularly honest, trusting, and relatively innocent, inexperienced, pure nature, which left her more vulnerable to this type of indoctrination and to the distorting of her sexual drive than most other women; second, the unusually close, idolizing relationship she had had with her mother, which Regina was successfully exploiting, commandeering Claire’s feelings about that relationship and about her mother and twisting them both into sheer lust for Mary and into a consuming infatuation for herself; and, third, Claire’s status of being without a “significant other” after having had a boyfriend for a number of years in high school, leaving a void and longing for the romantic companionship to which she had grown accustomed, which physical and emotional need Claire had failed to fully recognize within herself. Regina’s research team had uncovered this past relationship and accurately analyzed it’s loss as a vulnerability. Regina had found and seized the empty spot in Claire’s heart, altering it from a vacancy reserved for a man into one designed exclusively for women, one Regina was occupying herself first and then would share with numerous others.

The second marvel for Regina was the strong ethical character this young woman possessed at the start of their association and the degree of moral fiber which still remained—although it was now diminishing—despite the girl’s other mental transformations. That remaining, tenacious morality was reflected in the coed’s resistance to regard her sister as a potential sexual partner, to abandon her Christian beliefs, to embrace wickedness in the place of goodness, and to accept the self-image of a “bad girl”, of a slut, the latter facet of which was the Director’s target at the moment. Further “treatment”, both this afternoon and on later occasions, would be required to root that leftover morality out, Regina mused.

“Can a girl who behaves like that—who does all these kinds of shameless things, who lusts for attractive women as much as you do, who is filled with these kinds of wild, immoral, decadent homosexual feelings—can such a young woman possibly claim to be a either a straight girl or a good girl?”

“…I guess…I guess not…”

“Isn’t that kind of girl a lesbian slut?”

“…yes…”

“So…what does that make you?”

“I guess…a slut…”

“Yes, honey. You’re seeing it now, aren’t you? You already are a little slut. You’ve already started. I highly approve. You might as well keep going and become the biggest and best and most depraved slut you possibly can be. Don’t you agree?”

“You want me to be a…a slut?”

"That's right. That is what I want for you, as my exciting new, sexy daughter. And that's what you want, too. You see, there are only two types of girls and women in this world. Prudes and sluts. Prudes are uptight, unhappy girls, the ones who obey the rules and are modest, chaste, honest, and religious. Mary taught you to be a prude. You don't really want to be an uptight, fuddy-duddy prude girl, do you?"

"No."

"Of course not, dear. So that leaves the other kind of girl, the kind I want you to be. What is the other kind of girl called?"

"A slut."

"Exactly. Now, despite what you may have thought before, the truth is that a slut is the best possible type of woman to be. A slut is a bad girl, a very bad girl, and I think you and I have already agreed that you wouldn’t mind being wicked.” Claire had actually not conclusively agreed to that yet, of course, but Regina was intentionally distorting previous words spoken to confuse the young woman. “Right?”

“I…I…”

“Well, a bad girl is exactly what we settled on for the type of girl for you to be. An evil, naughty girl, and that’s the same thing as a slut. Would you like me to tell you more about what that means for you?”

“Uh…okay…”

“All it means, when you are a slut, is that you are having fun, are enjoying yourself, are taking advantage of the freedom which you have as a liberated, sexy, adult woman. Like we discussed a few minutes ago, to be bad—to be slutty—means you don't have to worry about your old religion and its outdated, stupid rules. You can lie and cheat, and it's okay. You can worship the Goddess of Lesbian Love. It means you can dress any way you want to, and show off your lovely body to other women and girls, and wear a lot of pretty makeup, and do daring things with your hair. You can be morally loose and sexually wild and abandon yourself to pleasure.

“Have you ever watched porn, dear?”

“No, that’s not …”

“Forget what you think you know about it. It’s really good, actually, and good for you. I recommend it—as long as it is all-girl material, as you have no interest whatever in anything which has men or a heterosexual theme. But you can read and watch all-girl porn all you want. You should. I give you my permission and my blessing and my encouragement to do so. You’ll really love it. It will open your mind and make you feel so very good. It will help you think and act and feel like a bad girl, like a slut. When you have the chance, when porn comes your way, you will react to it with a deep curiosity, you’ll find it highly intriguing, you won’t be able to resist it, you will absolutely love it, and you won’t be able to—or want to— fight the urge to return to it again and again and again. Would you like to try some lesbian porn, honey?”

“If…if you think I should…then…”

“I do. Definitely. What’s more, as a slut, you can smoke and drink, you can get tattoos, and you can live your life like a lesbian nymphomaniac, if you so choose. You can love any girl or woman you want to, and have lots and lots of beautiful lesbian sex, all the time. Can you imagine anything better than that?”

“I…I guess not…”

“So…what kind of young woman do you want to be?”

“A…a slut?”

“Right. Say it. Tell me you want to be a pretty slut.”

“I want to be a pretty…a pretty slut.”

“Yes… You want to be a beautiful, slutty, sexy lesbian girl for me.”

“I want to be a beautiful lesbian slut for you.”

“Perfect. As I was saying before, slutty girls like cool words. Words like ‘fuck’, ‘screw’, ‘ass’, and ‘pussy’. In the future, you will use words like that freely.

"Because that's how sluts talk, Claire. And, deep down, there is a slut hiding inside you, waiting to be set free. In your heart, you are a whore and always have been one. You have always wanted to let go, to enjoy the beautiful feelings and freedoms of being a whorish little slut, but you’ve never been able to. Your old mother wouldn't let you. But I will. I, your new mother, want you to be a dirty little slut. As your mother, I give you permission to be a slut. I’m going to help that girl get out, so that you can be the real you. A dirty, sexy little slut.

"All of those lessons Mary taught you about modesty and chastity—forget them all. You have outgrown them. Now I'm giving you a new set of values. Which is no values. Except love of the Goddess, and beauty, sexiness, sexy clothes, immodesty, makeup, vulgar language, easy morals, lax morals, no morals, sluttiness, and horniness. And lesbian sex. Lots of it, all the time. With any girl or woman you want. With me. With many others.

“You will want other women who attract you to know exactly what a sexy little lesbian tramp you are. You’ll want them to see you as a slut. I want that, too. Make it easy for pretty women who get to know you to know without any doubt, by looking at you and listening to you, how very loose your new morals are, how ready you are to jump into bed with any hot girl who crosses your path, how easy you are, what a hot, slutty young lesbian woman you are. Show off your big, beautiful tits, as much as you possibly can. Show off your ass and your legs. So that every pretty girl and hot woman you meet will see how sexually easy you are, so they’ll know how much you want sex with them. Doesn't that sound fun?"

"...yes..."

"And that means dressing like a sexy slut, Claire. You need new clothes, and a new look. A sexier, sluttier look. With skimpy, provocative tops and short skirts, tight, revealing dresses and hot pants, nylons and high heels, and sexy, revealing lingerie. Things like that, most of the time.

“Why don’t we talk about your clothes and makeup in greater detail, and I’ll give you my advice. Would you like that, honey?”

“Yes, Mom.”

“Okay. Do you have any skirts or dresses?”

“Yes. Two skirts. But I don’t think they’re the kind you approve of.”

“Why not?”

“They’re too long. They come to the knees.”

“You’re right. That’s way too long for a sexy girl like you. From now on, you should show your pretty legs off. As much of them as you can and as often as you can. You want other pretty women and girls to look at them, to grab their attention, to watch you, and get them worked up for you. And that means short skirts and dresses from now on, the shorter the better. That’s how I want my daughter to dress.

“If you want to wear jeans and pants sometimes, you can, but they have to be absolutely skin tight. Ones that are low-riding on your hips are best, too, to sometimes show off a bit of the top of your panties. I also recommend shorts for you, just as long as they are short shorts and hot pants, are very tight, and show off your rear, your crotch, and all your legs very sexily. Yes, you’d love to wear that kind of thing. Wear high heels with your jeans and shorts, too, as well as with your skirts and dresses. That is a very, very nice look.

“But, most of all, you now favor miniskirts and minidresses, very short, little ones. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Most of your tops should be tight, tight, tight. Display that beautiful figure of yours. Deep necklines that show a lot of cleavage are always a great way to catch the eye and take the breath away from girls and women you like and want to like you. Crop tops that show off your cute belly are great, too. I also highly recommend see-through and silky materials that invite ogling and touch . Plus, like I mentioned before, a wonderful look is a tight, thin t-shirt with no bra underneath. You’ll be sure to try out that and these other wonderful looks I’ve mentioned, won’t you?”

“Uh…yeah… That’d be cool.”

“Yes, my dear, very cool indeed. You’ll have to buy some new clothes, don’t you think?”

“Yes…but I don’t have much extra money.”

“Don’t you worry about that, honey. I’ll talk with your sponsor, Ms. Powers, to see if she can add some discretionary spending money for you. You know, we could call it a ‘wardrobe and beauty account’ or something. Something tells me she won’t mind at all doing this for you.”

“Oh…wow, that’d be nice…”

“Yes. Of course, you might have to work a little, too, to show her you’re doing your part. For example, you could do some modeling—you know, photo work, as well as ‘live’ performances. Ms. Powers might even set you up with a job at some point. We’ll see. You wouldn’t mind, would you?”

“No, Mother.”

“With a little extra spending money, you can buy cosmetics and other beauty aids. You could visit a hair salon for a makeover, if you wanted. Do you think you’d like that?”

“Yes…especially if you think I should…”

“Wonderful. We can talk more about that later.

“I also especially want you to hear high heels, sweetie. All the time, eventually. The higher, the better. They’ll help give you the slutty look that you need. Do you have any properly high-heeled shoes?”

“Not really. Just a pair with two-inch heels.”

“That’s not nearly high enough. Not for a girl like you, honey, not for my sweet daughter, a girl who wants to be a real slut. You’ll need to get some nice high ones. Get several pair, so you’ll have variety. You will start wearing them for me, because I want you to, and because you want to please me, and to make me desire you more. Once you start trying them, you’ll love them. You’ll love the way they feel, the sexy way you look in them, and the way they will make other pretty women notice you, and look at your legs, and want you. You will want to use them whether you’re wearing the tight type of jeans and short-shorts you’re going to start wearing or the cute, short little skirts you will favor from now on. You’ll wear them, too, when you prance around in just your bra and panties, your nighties, or in other pretty lingerie, when you strip for your roommates again and for other women, and even when you are totally naked. Sometimes you’ll even wear them when you are in bed, having sex with another woman.

“I want you to change the type of underwear you wear, too Get rid of your old-fashioned, plain, modest items. Go skimpy, revealing, silky, lacy, and sheer, in both your bras and your panties. And it doesn’t have to be white, dear, although some of that is okay, but you need to be adventurous and bold, too. Black is always a safe choice for a slut, but feel free to experiment a lot. Get some other types of slinky, provocative lingerie, as well, like garter belts, corsets, teddies, negligees, babydolls, body stockings, and the like. Again, silky, lacy, and transparent always works. You know?”

“I…I think I do…”

“Do you remember that I told you before that you don’t have to wear a bra all the time?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, here’s a little secret, from a mother to her daughter: You don’t have to wear panties all the time, either!”

“Wha…what?! Really? Are you sure, Mom?”

“Yes! Sometime it’s really fun not to! Especially when you’re wearing one of your short little skirts or dresses, and there’s a girl you really want to get hot for you… You should try it some time. But on the days you do decide to wear panties, you’d look and feel great in French-cut panties, boyshorts, tap pants, and, especially, in daring thongs, G-strings, and, even, crotchless panties.

“Of course, you’ll want to start wearing nylons frequently, too. Not all the time, necessarily, as bare legs are quite enticing, too, but certainly much more than you have worn them in the past. You’ll love the way they caress your legs, and the sound they make and the sensational feelings they give you when your legs rub against each other or against the legs of other women also wearing nylons. But you’ll especially cherish the way other women and girls eye your legs and want to touch them, and when they actually do touch and caress them.

“Like I mentioned a minute ago, wear makeup, too. Lots of makeup. Every day. And nail polish. Cosmetics should be your natural habit, so that you do it automatically. Certainly a pretty young lady such as yourself should wear makeup all the time. That is my advice to you. It’s okay to put it on thick and heavy, if you want to. Particularly, you should never be caught without lipstick. That is an absolute must, to catch the eye and win the heart of the women and girls you are attracted to. And I’m not talking about timid glosses and boring colors, that just blend in and don’t do much. No, I’m talking about real, awe-inspiring lipstick, in bold colors that make a statement about who you are and what you are—that you are a sexy little tramp, ready for lesbian action. Lipstick that makes other women lust for your mouth, and want to kiss you, urgently and deeply.

“Try pale pink, hot pink, silver, gold, pewter, purple, lavender, and fuchsia. Try glittery colors, matte colors, glossy colors, metallic colors. Try them all, try many. Even blue and green and black. But, above all, you’ll love wearing red, deep red, ruby red, cherry red, fire-engine red, even nice, dark burgundy red, like I am wearing now. Lipstick, darling. Get it and wear it. Make your lips look beautiful and kissable. Like mine. Like your mother’s—mine—whose look you so admire and want to emulate. Like your lover’s—mine—whose sweet, colored lips you cannot possibly resist.

“Refresh your lipstick when it wears off. Wear it inside, outside. to your classes, when you eat, at home, for your roommates, when you go out on dates with your girlfriends, for your mother and your sister, for Traci, for Abby…and for me. Can you do that?”

“Yes, Mom. Thank you for the advice. It sounds great.”

“And you can get your ears pierced and wear sexy earrings and other pretty jewelry. You should. I’d like it. You could get other piercings, and even a nice, discrete tattoo or two or three, eventually.

“Experiment all you want with your looks. You can change your pretty hair. Try new styles and color it. Don’t be afraid to do that. You want to. You could change it radically and change it often, if you want to.

“The only thing that matters is that you are as beautiful and sexy as you can be, that you are highly attractive to me and to other women and girls. That is your aim. To make other girls and women notice you, to make them hot for you. To get them into bed. To please me. To get me into bed. To make me hot for you.”

“Oh…….okay…”

“Now, there will be times in the future, Claire, when you will have to tone down your look and your conduct in public. For example, as you complete your undergraduate studies and then go through law school, have various interviews, pursue your career as a lawyer, and enter other formal settings into which you have to fit, you will exercise restraint and common sense, you’ll adopt whatever conservative and modest appearance is appropriate for the situation, and you’ll be as circumspect in your behavior and language as is necessary—just like I do. But it will just be a veneer for public consumption. Underneath, you will always be a wild, sexy slut. Just like me.

"Claire, there’s something else slutty girls do, and you’ll want to consider it for yourself. What do you think about smoking?"

"Ugh! Smoking? It’s unhealthy. It's disgusting. Mary told me to never smoke. It’s a filthy habit. I’d never do it.”

"Is that right? Well, we shall see. Did you know that I smoke?"

"Really?"

"Yes, and I love it. What do you think about smoking now?"

"Uh...well...if you do it, Mom..........then I guess it's not that bad..."

"Oh, it's not bad at all, dear. You should try it sometime. Would you like to?"

"I...I...I don't know...maybe..."

"Very good. Be open-minded. I’m not asking you to smoke a whole pack every minute. Just to indulge yourself with new experiences—such as smoking—every now and then. There are a lot of things out there that you haven't experienced yet, but which you'd like if you just tried them. Things which I, as your mother, think you should try, things that will make you sexier and happier. And smoking is one of them. You'd enjoy it. Will you be open-minded about it?"

"Okay."

“I find the sight and the smell of cigarette smoke quite pleasant. There is nothing quite as nice as the taste and feel of a slim, white, lit cigarette in your mouth, and the sensation of smoke filling your lungs and passing through your throat and mouth and nose. It really is quite exhilarating. And one of the sexiest sights in the world is smoke wafting from a beautiful woman's nose or mouth.

“But one of the loveliest experiences a woman can have is making out with a another woman who has been smoking, or, better, one who is smoking at the time. It is just divine. I would like you, my precious daughter, to have that experience. Do you find the idea intriguing?”

“Uh, well, yeah, kind of…”

“From now on, pretty smoking women will grab your attention. They will turn you on. When you see women like that, you will want to get to know them…intimately. You want to kiss women and girls who smoke, to kiss them very deeply. You’d love to taste the mouth of a female smoker, and to have her blow smoke sensually into your mouth. Wouldn’t that be awesome? Particularly, whenever you see me smoking, you will be utterly fascinated with it and with me. It will intensify your crush on me. It will make you desire me even more.

“Since you want to be like me, you’ll want to smoke like I do, so that you can look and feel as sexy as I do. If you smoked, you would look as beautiful and irresistible to other women as I do to you. Smoking would help you have the sexy image you want. The image of a bad girl. Smoking will make you more beautiful and sexier."

"Oh."

“It will make you more of a hot lesbian girl, and much more of a slut. Since that’s exactly the way you want to end up, and the way I want you to be, too, smoking is definitely for you, my darling lesbian daughter.”

Regina walked around her desk, pulled a drawer open, took four objects out of it, and, after placing two of them on the desk while keeping two of them in her hands, came back to Claire.

“Honey, do you know what this is?”

“That’s…that’s a cigarette, isn’t it?”

“Quite right. Would you like to smoke it?”

“Me? Right now? Uh…well…I don’t know…”

“Can you think of a better time than right now to start smoking? To start becoming a sexy, smoking woman?”

“No…but…”

“No more ‘buts’, dear. As your mother, I insist. I want you to. For your own good. You want to please your mother, don’t you?”

“…yes…”

“Darling, you have always secretly wanted to smoke. As your mother, I know you want to. You’re very curious. You’re ready. You need to smoke. Open your mouth a little, honey.” When the entranced girl hesitantly complied, Regina inserted the Virginia Slims between her lips. “That’s more like it. It feels good, between your lips, doesn’t it? Here, let me give you a light.” The Director flipped her lighter into action, and in a few seconds the tip of Claire’s first cigarette—the first of countless cigs she would be destined to smoke in her lifetime, if Regina were to have her way—was burning, releasing the first wisps of its gaseous by-product into the air. “There… That’s better now, isn’t it?”

Claire wasn’t sure if it was or wasn’t better, but it definitely was different than anything she had ever before done or imagined herself doing, and, somewhat befuddled, she didn’t answer.

“Puff on it…Go ahead, dear… It won’t hurt… Give it a little puff…” With that, the student blew into the little burning cylinder. “That’s right… See the smoke coming from it… It smells good, doesn’t it? Puff some more… It’s fun…See the smoke wafting around you… It’s kind of cool, isn’t it?” The Director allowed Claire to zone out a little, while her lips became accustomed to holding a burning cigarette and as her eyes followed the ever-changing tendrils of white smoke. Regina waved her hand through the smoke, sending it in new directions. “Cigarettes are fun, Claire.” A slight smile crossed Claire’s face with the perception of play.

“Hold it between two fingers, like this…” Regina took the cigarette and modeled holding it in a ladylike fashion between the index and middle fingers of her right hand, then waved it elegantly through the air a little with a graceful turn of her wrist. “See?

“Smoking is not only fun, it’s simple. You take a drag and then blow it out, while looking very sexy, like this…” Claire watched as her brunette idol slipped the cig between her painted lips, her checks caved inward, the tip of the cigarette glowed redder, and she then stylishly blew out a long plume of smoke, the first part of it through her shiny, burgundy lips and then the remnant through her nostrils. Claire was immobilized by what indeed seemed to be a wondrously glamourous and sensual sight, and felt a surge in her hunger for her beloved idol.

“Close your eyes now and open your mouth. We’re going to kiss. Hold on just a second, and be ready.” As Claire closed her eyes and parted her lips in anticipation of another sweet encounter with her mentor’s wonderful mouth, the woman took another drag, leaned towards her student, slid a hand around the back of the girl’s head, and, while sealing their mouths together with an open-mouthed kiss, exhaled into Claire. In surprise, the girl gasped some of the smoke into her trachea and nasal cavity, and then coughed forcefully several times, disengaging their mouths. When the student was over her coughing, the Director leaned forward for a long French kiss, letting the girl taste her smoky saliva while associating it with the thrill of a sexy, wet lesbian kiss with her crush.

“See…smoking is not only a lot of fun, but it’s a beautiful and rewarding act. A sexy act. A sexual act. Now it’s your turn. Here.” As Claire accepted the burning cigarette back between her fingers, she noted Regina’s dark-purple-red lip prints on the paper, which seemed to make the cig more desirable. She realized Regina’s lipstick on the cigarette would be touching her own lips in a moment. It would almost be like another delectable kiss from the older beauty.

“Hold it like I showed you……. Yes…good. Put it back in it your mouth, honey. That’s where it belongs.” Claire complied, this time with a small new enjoyment in the act.

“So, do you remember the way you sucked on my finger earlier?” The coed nodded. “Pretend that’s my delicious finger in your mouth. Suck on it.” Claire’s cheeks caved inwards somewhat. “Yessss. Draw the smoke into your lungs.” With the first incursion of the gaseous pollutant into the younger woman’s virginal lungs, her diaphragm reacted again, producing three or four coughs, dislodging the cigarette from the girl’s mouth, but her fingers held onto it and Regina, after letting the girl recover several seconds, guided it back between Claire’s lips.

“That’s okay. Now, try again, dear.” Once again, Claire sucked on the slim white cylinder of burning tobacco and paper. This time she coughed twice a little, but she returned the cig to her mouth by herself.

“Better. Now, take a full drag. Try not to cough this time, and inhale that tasty smoke into your lungs.” Claire’s eyebrows furrowed as she concentrated on inhaling without coughing, which she was able to do this time. Regina saw the younger woman’s mouth apply increased suction around the cig. “Yes…like that…deep into your lungs…….. It tastes so very good……. You like the way cigarette smoke feels in your lungs…

“Now, remove the nice cigarette and exhale… That’s right… Let it out… Here it comes… Isn’t the smoke pretty?.... Blow that beautiful white smoke out of your mouth…

“It kind of turns you on, doesn’t it? Do you know why? It’s because smoking is a little bit like kissing me, isn’t it?… It’s almost even like sex…lesbian sex… It makes you think of lesbian sex…and want it… And it makes you feel sexier…and you like feeling sexy…

“Go ahead, darling, take another drag……Yes…like that… Inhale…deeper than before… all the way into your lungs………. You like the way that feels…your lungs filled with smoke… You like the rush… It makes you feel good…good and sexy…sexy and pretty…the smoke and the nicotine make you sexier and prettier…You feel like such a slut…like such a pretty, womanly, lesbian slut … It feels so good…so perfectly natural and right…

“Ready to let it out again?” Claire nodded, slipped the cigarette out of her mouth, and held it off to the side a bit awkwardly, which Regina noted. “Okay… Now, let it out… That’s right…Exhale.”

Claire started to blow the smoke out. ““Blow that beautiful white smoke out your mouth… Feel it wafting luxuriously through your throat and out of your pretty mouth and nostrils… It feels good… It looks sexy… Watch the nice, white cloud of smoke swirl in the air…around you…and around me…another woman…a woman you love…drawing me to you…drawing you to me…turning you into a lesbian… I turn you on… The smoke turns you on… It makes you lust for beautiful women… It makes you more of a lesbian… It makes you a more beautiful woman…

Regina repositioned the girl’s hand so that she held the cig with a more elegant carriage and closer to her mouth. “Hold it like that…great…

“You want another drag… You love feeling it go in… You like the rush… You want to be more beautiful…and sexier… more of a lesbian…and more of a slut… Smoking will do that… Go ahead…” Claire sucked again, pulling another load of smoke deep into her lungs. “Yes…like that…suck it in deep…deeper… Feel yourself changing…your values transforming… You’re becoming more beautiful…sexier…looser… sluttier…fallen…corrupted…more lesbian…just the way I want you to be…just the way you want to be…

“Feel the rush… You love being beautiful… You love being like me… You love being a slut… You love smoking………… Now let it out……perfect…

“Dear, look at your cigarette. See how the end has burnt into ashes and is about to fall off? When that happens you need to flick the ashes into an ashtray…like this one…” An ashtray was one of the objects Regina had taken from a drawer in her desk a few minutes previously, and now she placed it under Claire’s cigarette-bearing hand. “Okay…just tap the cigarette… Knock the ashes off the end…yes…like that… Do it again whenever you need to.” She put the ashtray back onto the desk, and Claire resorted to it, as instructed, a number of times over the ensuing minutes.

“Now…do what you know you want to do again…what you need to do… Take in another lung-full of wonderful smoke…Go ahead…”

Regina reached for a tall tabletop mirror she had sitting on a far corner of her desk and slid it in front of Claire’s face. “Look… Look at the sexy, smoking girl…inhaling beautiful smoke…That’s you, Claire…the new you…what a naughty, sexy girl… Now blow it out…just like that… See the lovely smoke, how it comes out of your pretty mouth and nostrils… It’s beautiful… You are so sexy… You don’t look like a good girl… You aren’t one…not any longer…not at all…not this smoking girl…no way… You look like a naughty slut… You feel so very slutty…so naughty…and very sexy…because you are smoking… It’s exactly what you want to be doing…and know you should do…and must do…to be more beautiful…and sexier…and sluttier… You feel like a very bad girl…a nasty girl…but there’s no guilt… What you’re doing is so right…right for you…right for the new you…a naughty, nasty, bad girl…a happy, smoking girl…a lesbian girl…… Take in another drag of lovely smoke.

“Look at yourself…You can see why beautiful women smoke… You can see it making you more beautiful…You can see why women want you… They love a slutty smoking woman like you… Blow the smoke out now…You look like a beautiful, sexy, slutty lesbian… You are one… You love it…

“You need another drag, a long, deep, sexy drag… Take it… Watch yourself as the smoke goes in…all the way in…into your soul…into every part of you…making you slutty…beautiful…lesbian… It feels soooo good… You look so hot… It’s such a sweet rush…

“Now let it out again… You look so very sexy… What a slut… See the smoke come out of Claire, the sexy lesbian smoker… You look so dirty…so slutty… You are slutty… This is you now… no more good girl…no more nice girl… You are a smoker now… a bad girl…a babe…so beautiful…more beautiful and sexier with every puff… Take another deep, lovely drag… Yes…good… Look at that slut… You are that slut…that beautiful, sexy, slutty lesbian smoker… It’s you…

“Keep smoking… You don’t want to stop… You want the beauty… You want the sexiness… You want the rush… You’ll do this again and again… You’ll do anything for another cigarette… You can’t resist… You love the smoke…You love being sexy and slutty and lesbian…more with every drag…more with every sensual cloud… Smoke is so beautiful…so tasty…so sexy… You are sexy…when you smoke… You love feeling sexy and looking sexy like you do now… What a pretty slut… Look at her…at you…

“See the lovely smoke come out of you… Oh, it looks so sexy… It lingers in the air… It swirls around you… Ooo, you love it so much… And so do your girlfriends… They love you more, the more you smoke… All women do… They love watching you smoke… It attracts them… They want to make love to a smoking lesbian woman…like you are…

“The smoke makes you more beautiful…foxier…more wicked…more depraved…more sensual…more desirable… With every puff…every drag…every cloud and tendril of smoke…every second…every cigarette…you become more glamourous…and sexier…more of a bad, bad girl…the good girl burning to ashes in the hot tip of the cigarette…blowing away in the smoke…blowing away forever…only bad girl remaining…a smoking girl…bad…pretty…happy…sexy…and lesbian…

“The joy of smoking is entering your bloodstream… You love the rush……… You needed that… It makes you feel so happy…so sexy…so lesbian…… You’ll need it again and again.

“You want another drag… You crave more smoke…more nicotine…more sexiness… more beauty…more women…more sex……….. Go ahead………. Yes…good… Suck it in…all the way… Suck in more lesbianism. Inhale the beautiful, lesbian slut you are becoming... Now let it out…

“Keep smoking…in and out… Blow out that fascinating smoke…watch it swirl in the air around you…so nice…smells so good… Suck more in… Finish the cig… the first of many… You will smoke cigarettes… You’ll love every one…” Regina allowed her young protégé to smoke another minute in silence.

“Oh, your cigarette is almost all gone. Take a good look at it, dear. It was your first cigarette. It will always have a fond place in your heart, and you are sad to have to let go of it. But, here, let me show you how to stub it out.” One of the objects Regina had placed on the desk earlier was an ashtray, which she now used to snuff out the cigarette.

“Sweetheart, would you like another?” She picked up the remaining object from the desktop, a pack of Virginia Slims, and, opening the lid, extended it toward her entranced pupil.

“Sure.”

After reaching into the pack, procuring another cigarette, and placing it between her lips, Claire asked, “Could I have a light, please?”

The Director handed her the lighter, after first demonstrating its operation, and suggested she try lighting the new cigarette herself. Without much difficulty, Claire had her second cigarette of the afternoon smoldering.

“You like the way the cig feels in your mouth… You like it dangling between your lips…such a slutty look…Look in the mirror… You like looking like this, don’t you?” Claire nodded her head and inhaled, without being told to do so. “ That’s right…suck it in… You feel the smoke in your lungs again… That’s more like it… You missed it after the first one was gone… You enjoyed it… You wanted another… You needed it… You are grateful to have another smoke…One is wonderful, but another is so much better… You’ll always want another… You could do this again and again and again... You know you will…” Claire blew out a white plume, watching it and then herself, with a bemused little smile.

“The smoke is making you a very naughty, slutty homosexual girl…more with every drag and every puff … Have another drag…good…a nice long one… Fill those lungs… With every cigarette you are so much more a lesbian… Look at the girl in the mirror…becoming more a lesbian every second…You are a lesbian smoker…a smoking hot lesbian…….. This is really nice, isn’t it?

“Now exhale again… Feel your old values leaving you in the smoke…burning up and being exhaled like so much smoke…the old, prude girl disintegrating and getting blown out of you…leaving forever…Out it comes…all that beautiful, sexy smoke…making you more of a slut…more of a lesbian…every second…every minute…every puff…

“Now give me a smoky kiss, like I did to you. Take a drag…then, kiss me…blow it into my mouth…” Regina took Claire’s face in her hands and made sure the act became a very sexual and prolonged lesbian French kiss before releasing her.

By this point, Claire needed no further external encouragement to smoke. On her own, she restored the cigarette to her mouth, inhaled, and blew a plume out. She repeated the cycle several times, by herself, as Regina observed quietly, smiling. New instincts for the act and affinities for tobacco smoke were gradually entrenching themselves within the black-haired coed. She reflexively continued the routine, inhaling and exhaling the smoke, without any further coaxing.

“You are such a slut…kissing your mother…blowing smoke into her mouth…making out with a woman…and smoking…no longer a good girl…The blazing tobacco is burning away the prude… turning it to ashes…leaving only a slut…the smoke clouding your heterosexuality…making it harder and harder to remember ever having been straight…making you forget…making it go away…forever clouded…smoky…gone… only homosexuality left…glorious lesbian homosexuality…and the soul of a slut…a smoking lesbian slut…

“You are becoming my lover…my smoking-hot lesbian girlfriend-lover… You are my lesbian lover… It’s exactly what you want to be…and smoking is helping you become that…become the kind of woman I love…and become like me…like your lover…We both love smoking… Blow some my way now, honey…” Regina leaned forward for another smoky kiss, inhaling a cloud from her student’s mouth in the process. When she withdrew, Claire automatically put the cigarette back in her mouth, and Regina blew smoke out through her nose sultrily, further captivating the cute coed.

After the pony-tailed student’s next drag, Regina suggested, “This time, blow it out through just your nose, just like I did… Look in the mirror… Oh, my, aren’t you a sexy tease?...so foxy…so loose…so slutty…what enjoyment…”

Subliminals in background music which had started playing without much notice a minute before plied Claire further: smoking…sex…lesbian…good… slutty…women… kiss…love…cigarettes…beautiful… Regina… sex… homosexuality…good… smoking…slut…pleasure…kissing…smoking…beauty…slut… girls…women… desire…lesbian…sexy… Claire… Regina… love…lipstick… kissing…sex…beautiful… smoking… bliss…lesbian kisses…

Of herself, without being prompted by Regina, just because she felt like it, Claire slipped her left hand around Regina’s head, enjoying the silky feel of the woman’s brunette-and-blonde hair in her hand as she did so, while she took a deep drag, and then reeled her mentor in to give her another open-mouthed lover’s kiss while exhaling smoke. As the smoke flowed back and forth between them and then dispersed around them, their tongues fell into a passionate duel for a minute.

“Mmmm, nice… I like that, you foxy little slut… Please…kiss me again…” The two women repeated the cycle of smoking and French kissing a few more leisurely times.

“Look in the mirror again… Keep smoking… What a slut…You are a slut…a smoking, slutty lesbian girl… A girl who kisses her mother…who wants lesbian sex with her mother…and with any and all beautiful women…You feel like such a slut…like such a pretty, womanly, lesbian slut… That’s exactly what you are becoming…and what you now are… It is so clear to see…to me…and to you… You exult in being so loose…so promiscuous…so easy…so beautiful…a smoker…a lesbian… It’s just the way you want to be…

“You love smoking… You crave the act… You love the rush… It’s a habit now… You like the habit… You won’t stop… You can’t stop… You can’t remember what you ever had against smoking before… It is so natural for you now…part of who you are… You are a smoking girl…a slutty girl…a sexy girl…a lesbian girl… You don’t understand why you waited so long to start… There’s nothing wrong with it at all… No, it’s so right… It’s sheer pleasure…sexy pleasure…lesbian pleasure…undeniable pleasure you’ll seek over, again and again…

“You’re happy I’m with you for your first smoke… You’re grateful I started you off…You love me more now…” As if demonstrating the truth of Regina’s statements, Claire batted her eyes, smiled sultrily, leaned forward, and gave her beautiful mentor yet another smoky kiss on her dark wine-colored mouth.

“You love women more now… You are more beautiful now… You are sexier now… You feel sluttier now… Every cigarette and every puff makes you feel more so…more convinced…more deeply accepting of smoking… embracing it more with every puff… You love the tobacco and the smoke and the sexiness… Smoking turns you on… Sexy women and girls turn you on… It all feels perfectly right….so good… You are a lesbian smoker…”

Finally the second Virginia Slims was spent and the air in the office was filled with the cloud Claire had produced. Regina held out the ashtray for the entranced young woman to extinguish the stub, then stowed the ashtray away in a drawer. While opening a window, Regina instructed her prey. “For the rest of the afternoon, you will ignore the smoke in the office. You won’t smell or see it. But weren’t those cigarettes just yummy? I know you must have enjoyed smoking them very, very much. Don’t you love how sexy it made you, sweetie?”

“Yes… I… I liked it…Mom.”

“So, what do you think about smoking now? Is it disgusting…or cool?”

“Cool. Definitely very cool.”

“Do you want to smoke again?”

“Yeah, for sure. I…I love smoking.”

“Awesome… And what do you think about drinking?”

“Oh, I don’t drink. Maybe a little wine for special occasions, but…”

“But you want to drink more than that…don’t you?”

“Uh…well…I hadn’t thought about it…but I don’t think it’s a good idea to…”

“You’re right, dear. It’s not a good idea to deny yourself a good, stiff drink when you want one. Lots of girls drink. Especially nice, slutty girls, and naughty, wicked girls, like you want to be. You’d like alcohol, too, if you drank more often, plus it’s a very sociable thing to do, and you want to be sociable, although only with other women. Now that you are an adult, you too can definitely drink more than you used to. It will help you be sexy. It’s okay.”

“Oh…okay…”

“So, a minute ago, when we were talking about showing off your breasts, I used another word Mary wouldn’t approve of. Can you tell me what it was?”

“Yeah…….uh …….… ‘tits’…”

“Isn’t that a great word? ‘Tits’; or you can say ‘titties’. Or ‘boobs’. From now on, when you want to think or say the word ‘breasts’, a lot of the time you will automatically think or say ‘tits’ or ‘boobs’, instead. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“You can also call them ‘jugs’, ‘hooters’, ‘melons’, and ‘knockers’. Anything like that will do. As long as it is kind of vulgar, you’re okay with it.

“You’re going to dwell on your tits more now, much more than you ever have before. You’ll be aware of them constantly, of their luscious weight and delicious movement, of how they swing and jiggle on your chest, of how proud and big and beautiful they are, of how very curvy and eye-catching they make you. You are very proud of them, and of your breathtaking figure.

“But there is more to your feelings about your breasts that that. You are absolutely crazy about them, about your big, beautiful boobs. Your own tits turn you on. You are kind of in love with them. It will feel so very good to touch and caress and play with them, and you’ll do that often, and not just when you’re by yourself. You don’t mind making a very sexy sight of yourself for other attractive women.

“You want and love other pretty women and girls noticing your boobs and getting aroused by them, too. You’ll find ways to talk about them often and to draw attention to them. You are intent on showing them off for other pretty women and girls as much as you possibly can, on using them to catch their attention and make them hot and bothered for you, on employing them to draw other women whom you like into sex with you. You want them to get turned on by them and to play with them and to kiss and suck them. Okay?”

“Okay.”

And, what do you have between your legs?”

“My pussy.”

“Exactly. What else do you love to call it?”

“Cunt.”

“Beautifully said. It is your lovely cunt. Your sweet, eager lovebox. Your juicy twat. Other crude words will do, just as long as you are using sexy, naughty words. But, no matter what you call it, it is your favorite part of your hot body. You love to play with it, above all other things, and you love showing it off to other pretty girls and women whenever you can. It is kind of an obsession with you, isn’t it? As a bad girl, as a depraved, slutty lesbian girl, you love to show your beautiful cunt, your sexy little twat, because you are so proud of it, you love it, and you desire to share it with other pretty girls, and because you want other females to touch it, to play with it, to kiss it, to eat it, and to fuck it. Don’t you?”

“Uh…yes…”

“Your roommates want to see your tits and your pussy, don’t they?”

“Yes…I think they do…”

“Show yourself to them. We both know you want to. So do it. And you’d love for them to play with your sexy body, especially with your cunt and your boobs, just like you want to see and to play with theirs. Do I have that right?”

“Yes.”

“Perfect. Since you enjoy being a depraved lesbian girl so much, you wish for other females to have that same enjoyment, the same fulfillment, especially those you like and love the most. You’d very much like your roommates, and Abby, and Mary , and all other pretty girls and women to be just as loose and immoral and homosexual and immodest and beautiful and slutty as you yourself are going to become, and you will do whatever you can to encourage them and help them along. That sounds like fun, doesn’t it?”

A slight smiled passed across Claire’s face. “Yes.”

“What we have talked about just now—your new affection for dirty, slutty words and makeup and provocative clothes and experimentation and lesbian sex and being a very loose girl morally and all the rest—won’t come out all at once or right away, because your old personality will try to resist it. But, don’t worry; do what I tell you to do, open yourself up to new things, to being sexy and slutty, and, day by day, you’ll stop fighting it, and the slut inside you will start to come out, more and more, until that’s exactly who you will be. My slutty little lesbian whore. My sweet, pretty, young lover. That is who I want you to become. Claire, the beautiful lesbian slut! What do you think?"

The smile on Claire’s face broadened. “Yes, Mother… Thank you!”

“You are entirely welcome, sweetheart.” The woman could not help but smile at the irony of the girl’s polite gratitude in response to getting corrupted.

“Okay… Would you please stand up?” As the entranced young woman complied, Regina gracefully walked around the ponytailed student to stand behind her. “Now…just focus on the pleasure that a sexy woman can give you.”

Regina began to caress the young body in front of her, running her lovely, burgundy-nailed hands up and down the coed’s naked back, sides, waist, and tummy, and her panty-clad hips and buttocks. As Claire felt the woman’s hands, as well as her solid, mountainous tits as the beautiful brunette pressed them into her back, the girl felt her legs tremble and she let out whimpers of lust.

Finally, Regina’s hands came to rest, ever so lightly at first, on Claire’s almost-virginal, freshly-defiled breasts, causing the girl to inhale sharply. After running her palms over them casually for a few seconds, suddenly the woman seized them firmly. Claire gasped and shuddered with the pleasurable possession of her young mammaries by the soft, long-long-nailed hands of another woman, the beautiful woman she cherished, for the second time this afternoon. Regina spent a minute kneading and rolling the warm, firm tit-flesh in her hands, bringing Claire to close her eyes and mew softly.

This afternoon truly was the first time that anyone, man or woman, had touched Claire’s body in such an intimate manner. She had not even allowed her ex-boyfriend to pleasure her body this invasively, this wonderfully. But there was a secret glee deep down within the lovely, mesmerized student, that the first one to explore her body like this was Regina Burke…her ideal woman…the woman she adored…her new mother…a woman…a lesbian woman…a beautiful woman…the woman she loved…a woman who turned her on…her new lover…her beloved…

“Do me a favor, Claire. Go to my desk and bend yourself over it. I’m going to give you a small treat for being such a good student. Think of it as an incentive to continue your studies.”

Claire took the two or three steps to Regina’s desk and did as she was told. As she bent forward, she placed her large mammaries on the metal top and shivered a little as her succulent flesh made contact with the cold material. Claire felt her nipples harden as they rubbed against the cool, hard surface.

Regina observed the young coed from behind as Claire leaned over the desk, rewarding Regina with a marvelous view of Claire’s gorgeous, panty-clad ass. She took particular, pleased appraisal of the expansive wet spot in the crotch area, where the fabric was so saturated with the excited girl’s pussy juices that droplets could be seen escaping her panties and running down her smooth upper thighs. Regina was elated—though not surprised—at the proof of the vixen’s deep arousal, which she had caused.

Walking up to Claire, Regina playfully smacked each butt cheek and got a nice yelp from the entranced girl. After she managed to turn the skin of Claire’s ass a nice warm pink, Regina got on her knees and licked her lips.

“Claire, my darling daughter… Your panties are wet…so very wet… That normally means that a woman is turned on. Are you turned on, sweetheart?”

“…yes…”

“By whom, dear?”

“…by…by you...”

“So, you are turned on by a woman, one you find beautiful, and who has been playing with your body? By your own mother?”

“Yes, Mother.”

“You’d like me to play with your pussy, wouldn’t you?”

“…yes…Mom”

“Of course. That is exactly what a randy little lesbian tramp like you would want, isn’t it?”

“…yes…”

“It’d be easier to do if we took your panties off. Do you want them off? Tell me…”

“Regina…Mother…please…would you take my panties off me?”

“And why?”

“So…so that you can…can play…with me…”

“Play with exactly what?”

“…with my…my pussy…”

“Certainly, my sweetheart. As you wish.”

Hooking her index fingers into the waistband of Claire’s panties, Regina gently pulled them down all the way and tossed them aside, rendering the shapely student perfectly naked, save for her shoes and socks. The older woman’s reward for stripping her protégé’s last garment off was the marvelous sight of Claire’s wet pussy, seeming to be begging Regina for sexual release.

“Now you are naked, darling. This is just the way you told me you wanted to be with me, for you are the one who asked me to remove your bra and panties from your lovely body, so that you could expose it to me. Just like the nasty little lesbian whore you are. Isn’t that right?”

“…yes…”

“Doesn’t this feel exciting, to be naked with another hot woman, a lesbian woman, one you have a desperate crush on and who wants to make love to your pretty little slutty pussy?” Claire hummed her agreement softly. “This is exactly what you crave.”

The sultry brunette woman extended a slender, manicured finger and barely touched its long-nailed tip to the glistening lips in front of her. Claire let out a small yelp as she felt a lover’s touch on her most private and sexual place for the very first time. Ever after, deep within her subconscious memory, she would remember, fondly, that her womanhood’s first intimate encounter was with another woman.

Claire reflected for a moment through her cloud of lust and entrancement that she had never let her ex-boyfriend get close to this far. She hazily recalled him fumbling awkwardly over her clothes with her bra-entrapped breasts, pawing her ass, and even forcibly grinding against her in a lewd manner on special occasions, but nothing he had done, she clearly perceived, could come close to the delicious sensations her body was feeling now. In fact, in comparison, everything he had attempted now struck her as having been quite without charm or appeal, if not outright repulsive. But this…with Regina…right now…this was heaven…

“Darling, do you know what you call a girl who wants other women to play with her pussy and to fuck her?”

“…uh…a…a…”

“A whore. Tell me what you are, and what you want to be. Say that word.”

“I am a…a whore…”

“Yes, you are a whore. You are my whore. Every second, you are becoming a bigger and better whore. And do you know what a good whore does, when she is with a woman who wants to fuck her? She spreads her legs. ” Without hesitation, Claire started to spread her legs wider.

“That’s right, dear. What a good whore! Undoubtedly, Mary told you to be a proper young lady and to keep your knees together, didn’t she?” Claire nodded her head. “But now, as the deeply slutty girl you are rapidly becoming, more thoroughly and more permanently with every passing minute, you see that was all wrong. There is nothing good about keeping your legs together like a prude, when another woman wants to have sex with you, and you want it with her. You want to be a whore, a slut, a glorious, loose slut!

“You love this feeling—your panties gone, your pretty body naked, your pussy exposed, spreading your legs for another woman, acting like a good, good lesbian whore, knowing you are one, knowing it and loving it more every second that you stand like this, showing yourself to me in lewd invitation. Open yourself to another woman, darling. Open your legs to lesbian sex. Open your mind to being a lesbian. Open your yearning lesbian heart to a beautiful woman’s love. Open your hot pussy to a lesbian woman’s wonderful touch. Open your sweet cunt to me, your sexy mother, you sexy little slut.”

Claire parted her legs several thrilling, erotic inches more, then felt them tremble as Regina placed her index finger on top of her firm clit and played with it. Clutching onto the edges of Regina’s desk for dear life, she felt her body ready itself for orgasm.

“Do you like what I’m doing to your pussy, Claire?”

“Mmmm…. Oh… Mother …ahhh… yeeessssss… Mom, pleeeassse dooon’t stoopp!”

“I want you to focus on this pleasure, Claire. Remember it and desire it. I want you to acknowledge that it was a sexy, gorgeous woman that brought you this joy. You will become a lesbian sex addict, craving sweet Sapphic enjoyments like this and wanting to mete out this kind of delicious pleasure to other women.”

“Yes… Oh, God yes!… I will, Regina… ahhh, I proomisse.”

Hearing those words, Regina quickly shifted her fingers into new positions in Claire’s pulsing groin. Her index finger, soaked now with Claire’s love juices, playfully glided up and down on Claire’s perineum, then gently settled into her anal ring, massaging teasingly, but avoiding penetration. After doing that a minute, Regina stretched her thumb onto Claire’s rock-hard clit and began to rub it ardently, while still maintaining anal contact, as well, with her index finger.

“Do you like that, my darling?”

“Oh, yes!”

“This is the way a whore feels. Beautiful. Wonderful. You are nothing but a dirty little whore, aren’t you, Claire?”

“…yes…I’m a…a little whore…”

“And from now on, getting more of this, having your steamy little pussy pleasured and getting fucked by other lovely women, and fucking them, by being beautiful and sexy—this will be the preeminent desire of your life, your overriding objective, your ultimate ideal, your highest joy. Do you agree, you dirty little whore?”

“Yes…yes… I agree… I am a fucking, slutty little whore! All I want is to be fucked by women like you! Please, please, Regina…Mom…more…please…”

“Of course, I’ll give you more…I’ll fuck you more…just like you want me to, you nasty little slut… And we can fuck in the future, many, many times, in many ways. Would you like that?”

“Oh, yes, Mother. I would love that! … Please…

“Please what?”

“Just don’t stop… Please fuck me!”

The predatory older woman smiled and continued her erotic stroking of her quarry’s private parts, varying the speed, force, rhythm, and angles of her incursions. Regina could clearly discern the effect that her ministrations were having on the voluptuous black-haired vixen bent over her desk. She could see love juices dripping profusely from Claire’s steaming cunt and the smooth, fleshy globes of her ass trembling with lust. She could hear the girl’s fast-paced, ragged breathing and see the young, smooth back arching as the heated body readied itself for fervent release. The pretty brunette woman was the virtuoso and Claire’s sexy, young, nubile body was her instrument, an instrument she was playing with the high precision of practiced skill.

“Claire, can you still hear me?”

Claire barely heard Regina through the raging lust that was pulsating through her body. All she wanted to focus on was the sexual sensation that her wet pussy was delivering to her. Taking a deep breath, she nodded her head slightly and hoped that Regina would detect her affirmation.

“I can see you’re enjoying what I’m doing to you. I can give you the release that you seek, but you have to do something for me. If you want to continue down this pleasurable road then you have to pledge your mind, body, and soul to Goddess and lesbianism. There will be no compromises on this.

“Are you willing to renounce your Christian god and abandon your old, false religion so that you can become a completely converted homosexual woman and enjoy the beauties of lesbian love, for the rest of your life? Do you receive the Goddess of Lesbian Sex as your one and only true deity, as the one you worship and serve with all of your heart and with your whole body, now and forever? Do you adopt her religion of Sapphic lust as your own?”

“Ahhh… I guess… ohhh…”

“Say ‘yes’, darling. Commit yourself.”

“Regina…Mom…Ohhh, you make me feel sooo gooood…… yes…yes!… I agree… I accept the Goddess… I will follow her…”

“Good girl... Now…concentrate on what you’re feeling right now. It’s a lesbian who’s making you feel this beautiful bliss. You feel like this and you desire me so much because, in your heart, you’re a lesbian also. You’re enjoying this pleasure because, deep down, buried under all the lies that you were fed throughout your young life, you’re a lesbian. You hunger after the flesh of women. It doesn’t matter if they’re young or old, friend or stranger, or even family. If it’s a desirable female, you crave carnal pleasure with her body. Can you admit this for me, Claire? Will you acknowledge this glorious truth? I need to hear you say it, Claire. Admit to me, darling, decisively, once and for all, that you are a lesbian, confess that you love being a lesbian, and promise me that you will be one for the rest of your life!”

Claire’s rational mind was too far gone at this point, buried under a deluge of pre-programmed mental triggers and propelled by the ravenous lust and the ache for sexual release she was experiencing at this moment. In this swirl of passionate tumult, Claire would have admitted to just about anything as long as she could scale the pinnacle of pleasure to which her body was ascending and for which it was yearning. To assure Claire’s cooperation, Regina was skillfully bringing her close to fulfillment, while denying her release. Claire was being allowed to see the promised land without being allowed to enter it. Her hips rocked, thrusting her drenched womanhood on Regina’s expert hand as it manipulated her with the talent which she had developed over the years she had worked for Hecate and the Goddess, Serena Powers.

“Claire, I need to hear it. If you want it, I need you to admit it. Do it!”

“Yes! Oh, Goddess! Yes, I admit it! I’m a lesbian!… I fucking crave women… Just don’t stop fucking me! Please!”

“Excellent, my dear. ‘And the truth shall set you free!’ ” Regina smiled wickedly as she picked up the pace, enjoying her irony in quoting a Bible verse as she went about destroying this girl’s Christian values and nature. She could see Claire’s young, blasphemous pussy lips drool under her carnal assault, the girl’s buttocks shaking with apostate lust, and Claire using her thighs to grind herself heretically against Regina’s hand.

Knowing Claire was on the brink, Regina repositioned her fingers again, diddling the younger woman’s vulva with her index and middle fingers while slipping her love-juice-soaked thumb into Claire’s anus, penetrating it slightly. Timing it perfectly, the seductress started to alternate among rubbing Claire’s clit, stroking her hot, moist love tunnel, and probing her asshole, and, a minute later, commenced doing all three acts simultaneously and vigorously. The stimulation was too much for Claire, and she felt every nerve in her body fire off with sexual release. Claire’s back arched more, her steamy cunt gushed, and her whole body trembled as Regina ushered it into the Sapphic emancipation it sought.

A few minutes later, as she lay bent over, face-down on the desk, having collapsed in ecstasy, Claire’s breath was still ragged, and she could still feel her groin’s involuntary twitches in the tenacious aftermath of Regina’s delightful ministrations on her body. Regina not letting her recover more, the raven-haired coed felt her lovely older companion lay on top of her, press her exciting, silk-clad breasts against her back, and plant soothing, thrilling butterfly kisses all over her body. Claire could only coo at the delightful attention she was receiving from the Financial Aid Director. After pleasuring Claire with her eyelashes, Regina planted kisses all over Claire's shoulders and neck before gently nibbling on the pretty coed’s earlobe.

“Sweetheart, you love being a lesbian girl, don’t you?”

Claire assented dreamily, with an affirmative “mm mmmm”.

“And my lover.”

The response was the same.

“What you just had was but a small taste of what we will share in the future. You can look forward to much, much more, with me and with other pretty women and girls. Lesbian sex and love. You want that more than anything else.”

Again, the girl softly hummed her agreement.

“Good girl.” Regina bent down and rewarded the coed’s lips with her own, eliciting another sweet little moan.

“Claire, you can sit back in your chair, okay?” The nude young black-haired woman nodded her ascent and Regina helped pull her back into her seat.

“I think you now realize that, up to now, you have been a rather immature and misguided girl, really, not a proper, liberated adult woman. You have been a narrow-minded little prude, tied to your old mommy’s apron strings. But that woman, Mary, is no longer your mother, and you are glad about that, so very glad to have moved on and to have me as your mother instead, a mother who is making you freer and happier than you have ever been in your life. Now you are ready to break free from that restrictive past and become the woman you were meant to be. It will not be long now.

“Close your eyes… I want you to picture yourself in the future. The true adult woman you will soon be. You are a little older and wonderfully beautiful. You are much sexier. You are a lesbian, and, as such, your hair is blonde…of course…beautifully blonde. You are the spectacular blonde you have always longed to be, and you are absolutely stunning. You revel in the blondeness of your silky, smooth, long, flowing hair. For you, being blonde means being a lesbian, a passionate, uninhibited, morally loose, happy and glorious lesbian. You are now the free, beautiful, blonde lesbian woman you have dreamed of becoming.
“Your face is painted heavily with makeup, as is your custom. Today your lips are glossy raspberry red and your long fingernails are enameled with the same color. You always keep them long, shaped, and painted, because you know I like them like that, as do other women for whom you have the hots. You always dress immodestly and provocatively, to attract other pretty women. Today, your thin, silky, dark blue halter crop-top shows off your otherwise-unfettered, bouncing breasts, just the way you intend. A sapphire gleams from your naval piercing, which matches your dangling silver and sapphire earrings. You love to wear earrings and other jewelry.

“Your loose hot-pink miniskirt flirts with the tops of your thighs, your legs gleam in silvery nylons—which are held up by a silver garter belt, which matches your slinky little satin thong panties—and your four-inch, pewter-colored high-heeled sandals clack erotically as you strut.

“Pretty women and girls cannot keep their eyes off you as you walk by. You are especially aware of the way your nipples visibly indent your top and how your tits jiggle and sway for your admirers. You love it, and you know, with great satisfaction, that they lust for you. You love showing off your titties, your legs, your rear, your waist, your face, your hair, and all of your hot body to other women. You love it and they love it. That is the way it should be.

“You are married. To a woman, of course. (Or to even two or three.)” Regina whispered the last phrase as if it were a scandalous but definite possibility. “A beautiful and wonderful woman, whom you cherish. Just the same, you cheat on your wife all the time and you have many pretty girlfriends and lovers, but your wife understands that you have no sexual morals or inhibitions left, and that all of your relationships are open, including with her, so it causes no problems.

“Your Christian religion and its moral values are totally gone, things of the past, which you have rejected, never think about, don’t miss, and barely remember. You are a wicked young lady, totally free to pursue the evil lusts of the flesh. You worship and love the Goddess and your religion, to which you are devoted, is lesbian love. You smoke and drink. In fact, you are taking a deep, satisfying, sexy drag on a fresh cigarette right now. It feels so good to suck that lovely white smoke into your lungs, You know you look fascinating as you exhale a smoky cloud through your nose and your red lips.

“Your favorite pastime—other than fucking women and girls—is to watch lesbian porn videos, read lesbian romance and porn stories, and look at cheesecake and girl-on-girl porn magazines and internet sites. Your language is laced with sexual references and vulgar words.

“You are now, at last, an adult woman, the one you have always wanted to grow up to be, no longer a childish, superstitious prude, not in the least. You don’t want to be ‘good’ ever again. You are a bad girl, a wicked girl, and you revel in it. You love your homosexual lifestyle, your unbridled sensuality, your wondrous beauty, your beloved wife and sexy girlfriends, and all of the incredible lesbian sex in which you indulge every day.

“You are an awesome and happy lesbian slut. You are free.”

It was time for Regina to make sure she had gotten through to the raven-haired girl’s psyche, to have a final chat with her subconscious mind to make certain that it truly had been changed.

“Claire, you may open your eyes now. Honey, I want you to speak freely to me. Tell me what's in your heart. If you have strong feelings, let me know. What do you think of the vision you have for yourself, which you have just imagined? Is it the way you want to be? Do you see it as your destiny? Did you like it?”

“Oh, yes, Regina…yes…oh, yes! Yes, yes, yes! Wow… I…I…I love it!”

“How do you feel about me, Claire?"

"You? Oh, Regina…wow. You are so…so wonderful!... I feel so excited when I'm with you... You are just so beautiful!!... And I…I think you are very…sexy.....

“I really want you to like me... I’d do anything for you…to please you…to make you like me…and want me... Like...like I'm dizzy for you… I want you to hold me and kiss me and…and love me……..and… touch me…like you’ve been doing…but more…a lot more….…. I want to take you in my arms…and touch you…everywhere…and kiss you…and kiss you more…and then some more……

“I wish I could see you…every day…and be with you...all of the time. It's like...like you're my girlfriend…or should be…or something...exactly like you’ve been saying…you know?"

"Yes... I like you thinking of me like that. Keep doing that. Would you really like to be my lovely lesbian girlfriend?"

"Yes!”

“How do you feel about men? Do you want to have sex with men? Would you like to marry one some day?”

“Ugh, gross!” The coed’s brows furrowed and her faced darkened . “No way! Men are such stupid slobs! They’re just a bunch of jerks!”

“That’s right, honey… What about pretty girls and hot women?”

Claire’s expression immediately softened and brightened. “Oh…well, that’s totally different. I like women.”

“How much?”

“A whole lot. Like, I wouldn’t mind dating girls… I mean, I never have before…but I think I should. In fact, I want to, and can’t wait to start. That will be so cool…as well as…you know…doing, uh…things…like…uh…like sex…with them…………. I really would like to find out what it would be like to…to go steady with a girl…or a woman…or maybe more than one…and…and to fall in love…with a woman… and to…to make love with one. To sleep with one. Or, better yet, with many of them. There are so many sexy girls I think I could go for. You know?”

“Yes, I certainly do. Can you see yourself marrying a woman one day?”

“Oh, sure.” A dreamy look passed across the coed’s face. “Of course. I think that would be just…just way awesome…”

“What kind of a woman do you envision yourself being in the future? A prude? Or a…”

“A slut!....... A prude? Are you kidding? Why would any girl want to be one of those? I want to be a sexy little slut!”

“And another word for that would be a…”

“A whore. For sure. I’m going to be a dirty whore. A…a fucking little lesbian whore.”

“Very good, honey. You definitely are on the right track. You make a mother proud. I so enjoy hearing you talk dirty like that, and I highly approve of your goals and your vision for yourself. Now tell me more about your feelings for me.”

“Oh, Regina… I have to admit… I really have the hots for you… Maybe I even…I think I…I love you....... Yeah… yes…I think I do!... It’s just like you were telling me… I know for sure I love you at least as much and in the same way I used to love my old mother, Mary… because you are my mother, now…. except…except that what I feel about you…is more… You’re more. It's different. Better. You float my boat in ways she never did. What I feel for you is not just like a daughter for a mother, but it’s also…uh…"

"Sexual?"

"Yes! Exactly."

"And romantic?"

"Yes! Yes! It's…it’s like I want you...a lot... I want you to be mine. Maybe that isn’t possible, but it’d be great if it were. I love how beautiful you are, and I love your hair, it’s just so amazing, and the way you smell so good and…and your body... You are just so, so curvy! Your legs are just so yummy…and I really do like your ass…your…your sweet, fucking ass… I would looove to kiss it… Could I, sometime, please, Regina?”

“I think that can be arranged, darling.”

The coed smiled. “And your tits are so big and wonderful, and they jiggle so much, and I can’t stop looking at them. They just turn me on so much! I can’t wait to see you naked, and to be able to...to explore all of your hot body…Or, at least I hope I can one day… I hope you let me… Wow, that would be so awesome!…

“And I love how nice you are to me, and the way you watch out for me and help me, and all the things you’ve been teaching me that I never knew or believed before—things that I’ve been missing out on, but that I need to know—and the way I can trust you, and the way you talk, and the way you dress, and the…the way you touch me…and…and kiss me…especially that…and…and everything about you. Do you know, I wish I were exactly like you? And I wish I were in a relationship with you…you know? Where we could, well, belong to each other, and be together all of the time… And, yes, a relationship that…that is full of…of sex. With you.

“Like, I want to have you as my mother and my lover. I know that sounds weird, or, at least it would have sounded weird to me a few days ago, the whole thing would have, but it doesn’t now. I hope you don’t think that’s too strange, either, but it shouldn’t, because you’re the one who’s been telling me that it’s right and what I should want, so I guess you like the idea, too, which really, really makes me happy, because all I want to do is be with you, and be very close to you, and for you to love me. And to…to desire me. I want to be the kind of woman you want me to be. So that you will love me. And…and fuck me… It almost hurts, I want you so bad..."

"How bad?"

"Extremely. I can't even tell you how much, but...but...I know I want to be much closer to you...and see you all the time...and...and do things with you that...things that only two women can do together…women who love each other...the way you’ve been telling me…and showing me…... things that I know I shouldn't want to...or, at least I thought I knew that...but I don't anymore... What I want to do with you... are things like we’ve been doing…but more…I want to do everything...with you…….. And just thinking about it...about you...and you and me...it all feels so right!.......... Mother…Regina, I...I love you!!"

"I love you, too, my sweet. What do two women do who love each other? Just show me again..."

Claire arose and took the older beauty in her arms one more time, wrapping her arms around her slim waist possessively and locking their lips together in a minute's worth of passion. At length they surfaced for air, both panting amorously.

"You know what you are asking for, don't you, darling?" Regina whispered in Claire's ear. She brought one hand up to fondle one of the girl’s firm, free, still-naked breasts. "Lesbian love. Lesbian sex. And that would make you a what?"

"...a lesbian..."

Regina engaged their mouths again, then held her young protégé loosely and locked eyes with her.

"And having sex with your mother—with me—would be quite perverted. Is that what you really want?”

“Yes. I definitely want that. I want you, Mom.”

“So, you want to be perverted?”

“Uh, well…when you say it like that…”

“Yes. That is exactly what I am saying and what you obviously want to be. Uninhibited and without any morality. Playing around and sleeping with any woman or girl you desire sexually, no matter their age or relationship. Completely depraved. Do you know what we call having sex with your mother or another close relative?”

“…yes…uh…”

“ ‘Incest’, my dear. And that is what you want. Sex with your mother. With me, your new mother, and with Mary, as well, your old mother. If you had qualms about it before, you do not now. Not at all.” Regina almost added something about Claire’s little sister, but then remembered she would be saving that for another time. “Am I right?”

“…yes…”

“So you want what?”

“Incest.”

“And that makes you…?”

“A depraved little slut.”

“You say that so well, dear. You really are a wicked cunt. And I love you for it. To be extremely perverted and to commit incest and to have unlimited sex of the most extreme kinds, again and again with me and with other women and girls in your life…that is a great aspiration, honey. You really are my daughter. It feels great to be so evil, doesn’t it?”

The younger woman simply smiled and nodded her head.

“So, tell me in your own words how you see yourself now. What kind of a person are you?”

“Well… It’s true… I guess I am…kind of a… a bad girl…actually, a very bad and naughty girl…a depraved slut… I’m really nothing but a fucking whore…who wants sex with women and girls…of all kinds…and all the time…including forbidden sex…incest…lesbian incest sex… with Mary… and …with you, Mom…”

"You would be both my daughter and my lover, and I both your mother and your lover. It would be strictly taboo, and make you quite a pervert. And yet you want it anyway. In fact, you want it because it is so kinky and forbidden, don’t you? Such a nasty, sexy, evil lesbian girl! Exactly the kind I love." They kissed again. "And the kind you want to be, right?"

"Yes." Claire laid a hand on one of Regina’s silkily-clad breasts and gently stroked it with a new, erotic familiarity. “I do, Mother. For you.” The coed leaned forward to give her crush a spontaneous, uninhibited kiss. “Whatever label you want to put on it…I just know I want to have sex with you. If that makes me evil, then…then I guess I’m evil…”

That’s more like it. I’ll settle for that right now.

"Are you sure you want to be my lover, sweetheart? My lesbian lover?”

"Oh, yes. I want that more than anything!” Once again, she sought out Regina’s deeply-colored lips with her own unpainted ones to underscore her passion, as well as simply to taste them one more time. I'd do anything for her. “Please, Regina. I’ll become whatever you want me to be.” The tone in her voice was desperately plaintive, yet mixed with a measure of sultry carnality. I’ll be your daughter…a very sexy and slutty daughter. I’ll be a lesbian. I’ll have sex with girls. Lots of them. I’ll change myself. I’ll become more beautiful. I’ll experiment with…with whatever you think I should. I’ll talk and dress and look and think and act the way you want me to. I’ll become a total and complete slut… I’ll be a bad girl…really bad… If you want me to give up being good completely…if you want me to be evil…wicked…then…I’ll try… I’ll try for you…

“I just want to please you. If only I can be your girlfriend and…your sexy daughter…and… and your lover… I'd love that..." Yet again, the black-haired girl inclined into her svelte mentor for an exciting locking of their lips, while wrapping the woman in her arms for several romantic seconds before releasing her.

Regina found her lust and sexual excitement being stirred to new highs by Claire’s fervent declarations and kisses. Though she was a lesbian to the core, and there was therefore no surprise that she would genuinely be attracted to a beauty such as Claire, Regina took pride in her ability to maintain a professional detachment in most of her work. But every now and then a case would come along which would ignite a strong passion within her, and this was definitely one of those. She had been noticing that there was something different for her about Claire, about this young woman, something that had been getting to her. Perhaps it was the power of Claire’s natural beauty, which would shortly be transformed, thanks to Regina, to an entrancing, dramatic, exhibitionistic, thoroughly worldly beauty, one inseparably interwoven and completely saturated with artificial enhancements. Perhaps it was the young woman’s goodness and innocence, which Regina—with delight—was in the process of tainting, corrupting, and destroying forever. Perhaps it was the speed with which Claire had been instilled with a fervent, passionate love for Regina, which love, Regina knew, had been manufactured by mind control, and was the expected outcome of that indoctrination.

Whatever the cause, Regina now felt herself responding to the coed with a degree of sexual vigor she hadn’t experienced in a while. Claire certainly was anything but a boring, humdrum day at the office. Quite the contrary, the young beauty was an invigorating ray of sunshine on a glorious new day in Regina’s life, one which portended endless possibilities. Regina felt sexual giddiness pulse through her body in response to the naked coed in front of her, finding her soul touched by the girl’s physical charms and her unmistakably genuine admission of adoration for her lovely new mother-lover figure.

The Director had envisioned the mutually satisfying sexual relationship with this student, which she was in the process of bringing into being, from the moment she had first met her, and had hoped it might be possible even from the day she had first become aware of her, but her desire for the girl now was more than she had suspected it would or could become. Regina so badly wanted to ravish this young beauty right here and now. The rampant lust created visions of her bending Claire’s nubile body over her desk and plowing into her young, tight cunt with the strap-on she kept in the left drawer of her desk. Regina saw herself contorting Claire’s body into every perverse sexual position she knew. Claire’s screams and moans would only further egg her on as she rode Claire’s body with the primal savagery of a warrior in the throes of battle. It took every ounce of her will for Regina to remind herself that she needed to maintain sufficient control over her carnal desires relative to the young beauty to preserve enough objectivity to achieve the nefarious goals set out by the Goddess.


I can’t afford to give in to the lust created by one of my projects...no matter how much I might want to...although...with this one...it would be easy......

She took a second to regain control over herself before proceeding.

“Me, too, my sweet darling... Your wish will be granted soon... Together, we will make it so... You will indeed become the young woman you desire to be—my very promiscuous, sweet lesbian daughter...and my very beautiful, slutty young lover.”

Tears of happiness now started to streak down the pretty coed’s face. “There, there, dear. Shhhh. ” Regina took the emotional, shaking, naked girl into her arms again. “Everything will be just fine. You’ll see.” Bringing her lips to Claire’s, the older beauty caressed and soothed her young protégé like a mother, while simultaneously making out with her in a decidedly, licentiously non-maternal manner for the next minute.

Having the coed sit down yet one more time, Regina embarked on Claire’s final line of programming for the afternoon. “Claire, there’s been some interesting developments with your case, and some new opportunities. Goddess would like you to assist with her plan. Think you can do it?”

Claire gently nodded, indicating her desire to assist Regina with whatever intrigue she had in store.

“Very good. Now take this.” Regina slipped a red pill in her mouth, and Claire instinctively swallowed.

Regina had a mission she needed Claire to fulfill after she left the office, and she wanted the assignment executed flawlessly and without the possibility of any reluctance whatever on Claire’s part. The pill would essentially guarantee Claire’s dependable compliance. It contained a mild dose of one of the many brainwashing compounds Regina used in her nefarious endeavors to convert young women like Claire into fervent lesbian sluts. Although the coed was already in a highly suggestable hypnotic state, in a few minutes Claire’s mind would even more readily embrace any suggestion Regina would give to the ravished black-haired vixen sitting before her. The drug would lower the remaining defenses in her personality, broaden the path into the deepest, most hidden regions of her brain, seat the details of any instructions given to her firmly within her memory for as long as required, soundly suppress all qualms about executing those instructions—which would include the betrayal of her roommates—and block both recollection of and guilt about her assigned actions afterwards.

Regina resorted to this measure because she had concerns that Claire’s hesitation in seeing her younger sister as a lover and to see herself as genuinely evil, as entirely stripped of her native goodness, could indicate that the effects of her brainwashing on the previous day and so far on this day might not have been as pervasive as she had wanted, that Claire’s new, depraved side might not yet be sufficiently developed to reliably overcome the ethical character remaining in her, and that, under certain circumstances and at crucial times, she might fail to adequately cooperate with Regina’s designs. This meant Claire would make another visit to the Artemis Center, but this time, thanks to Claire’s hypnotically-induced complicity, she would have the company of her roommates. However, in the meantime, Claire would be under the secure influence of the pill.

Regina couldn’t contain the malicious smile as she began to command Claire on what she needed to do. “And listen very carefully. I need your complete attention for what I'm about to tell you.”


Some time later...


Claire was feeling light-headed and her vision was blurred. As she started to come out of her stupor, she could hear her name being called out.

“Claire? Claire…can you hear me? Hello, Claire…”

All of a sudden, Claire bolted upright into full sitting attention in the chair in which she found herself when she realized where she was. Looking around, she saw Regina hovering above her with a friendly, welcoming smile on her face.

“Oh, my God! I’m so sorry, Mom! I didn’t…I… Please… I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean to…” Claire’s inadvertent use of a maternal appellation for her charming mentor went unnoticed by her, although not by her companion.

“Shhh….”

Regina stooped down a bit to draw her face closer to her protégé’s and gently placed her index finger on Claire’s lips. It lingered there for five or six thrilling seconds, the pretty coed finding the touch of the older woman's beautifully-nailed finger on her soft lips to be unaccountably wonderful.

Though her mother had touched her lips in a similar albeit briefer and less sensual manner from time to time when she was growing up, and Claire had ever found it to be a comforting little familial intimacy, her wise, lovely new mentor taking such a liberty with her—while imparting a pleasure similar to her’s mother’s touch, and making her feel very much as if she were with her mother, almost as if Regina had become her mother, had taken Mary’s place, but as a decided improvement over the original in some indecipherable way—that liberty, this touch, seemed also to be electric…and even…delicious. The attractive coed felt her mouth start to water a little and, for a moment, she experienced a pronounced urge to open her mouth, to let that pretty finger slide in, to suck on it, to taste it, to feel that incredible, glamorous, long, sharp, glossy burgundy fingernail inside her mouth, and to roll her tongue around it, but she quickly quashed the impulse as a curious, aberrant, naughty, impossible little whim.

At the same time, however, the coed’s eyes landed on the shiny, colored lips of her cherished companion, gleaming directly in front of her with a fresh coat of deep burgundy paint and parted slightly as if waiting for something—such as a kiss—or even in open invitation of the same. A resultant impression of what she should do, and wanted to do, and needed to do, surged through the pony-tailed student: Kiss her.
Still not completely recovered from her recent entranced state, Claire stared, dazed for a few seconds, unable to tear her gaze away, frozen between the inexplicable desire to lean forward and meet that luscious, vulnerable, ready mouth with her own and the social propriety restraining her from doing so. Regina, understanding the sentiments that undoubtedly were passing through her young protégé, purposely allowed Claire’s little dilemma to enshroud her in a soft cloud for a few seconds before dispelling it by speaking again.

“It’s okay, Claire. Don’t worry.” Claire wondered whether Regina was somehow reading her feelings about kissing her and was inviting her to give in to them. Encouraged just enough by that hope, the young woman started to lean toward Regina until her mentor’s next words caused her to abort her movement. “We’ve been going over the details of your sponsorship for so long that it’s my fault. We really should have taken an occasional break here and there.” The Director sat down next to the coed in a chair Claire didn’t recall seeing there before.

Claire recovered her presence of mind enough to respond, although the painted lips confronting her continued to captivate her as they alternated between elegant, mesmerizing motion in speech and soft, painted allure in repose. “Still, I should have been paying more attention…”

“Claire, don’t worry. And besides, we got through the details and everything seems to be squared away and in order.”

“Mother…” This time Claire caught herself, curious only for a second as to her choice of that word, but it had somehow seemed like quite a natural thing to do, to address this woman like that, and as if no substantial mistake had been made, so, without making an issue out of it, she simply corrected herself. “I mean, Regina…about earlier today… I truly want to apologize for my behavior.”

“Claire, we talked about it already, and it’s just water under the bridge, so to speak.”

“We did?”

“Yep. As a matter of fact, here you go.”

Regina handed Claire a piece of paper. Looking at it, Claire saw a printed web address with a username and password.

“What’s this?”

“It’s a website that the college uses for sensitivity and acceptance training for students and employees who have difficulties in understanding alternative life choices of their peers. It’s a simple course. There’re three modules you have to complete, and at the end you get a little document that states you completed the course.”

“Oh.” Claire stared at the paper a moment, trying to recall when and how she had agreed to this, without success.

“Yes, well, you were very insistent on trying to make amends, so we reached a compromise. All you have to do is take the course, report back to me on what you have learned, and everything will be satisfactory.”

Claire reasoned within herself: If this awesome woman—this woman she trusted like her own mother—said she had agreed to that, then it must be so. And it was so generous of Regina to let her make amends with such an easy step. Plus, if Regina recommended the course, then it was certain to be something that would be helpful to her, maybe even necessary. Of course she would do it.

“Thanks, Regina. I appreciate what you’ve done for me, and I can’t thank you enough for your compassion.” She almost added, “…and for your love,” which her emotions told her was a perfectly appropriate apendage, though her reason told her the amendment might be a touch excessive, since they had only known each other but a few days, so she withheld it.

With every word exchanged, it became increasingly clear to Claire that whatever anxiety she had experienced earlier with Regina was entirely gone now. While she did perceive some kind of tension in the air—which she failed to recognize as the pull of a sexual hunger and a romantic longing hiding within her unlike anything which had ever possessed her before, largely centered in the lush woman in front of her at the moment—this tension was most pleasant, even exciting, in contrast to the distress she remembered feeling as Regina had chastised her for her prejudice after the older woman had revealed her homosexual orientation. No, now, for some unknown reason, the fetching coed felt perfectly comfortable with the beautiful Director, as at peace and contented as if she were with one of her best friends—or, more like it, with her own mother. The fact that the woman was a lesbian seemed perfectly agreeable right now to Claire. Whatever discomfort she had harbored about it wasn’t inside her anymore. In fact, Regina’s homosexuality almost struck the younger woman as some kind of positive attribute, some kind of advantage, something favorable, something which made Regina more interesting, maybe even more…beautiful.

Claire noted her more open-minded attitude and the more soothing sensation she felt in Regina’s presense, but, liking them, simply accepted them. Hmm… Her advice to me must be working. I’m already overcoming my bias. Good. I’ll keep working on it…however Regina says I should…

“Claire, please don’t beat yourself up too much over this. Like I said, if I was truly offended, you would definitely know, but now you understand and you’re on track to know and do better in the future. Anyway, it’s getting a little late. Do you know, we’ve been here for roughly two hours now? I have to say, I’ve enjoyed every minute—with you. You really are such a sweet young lady…… But…I guess we better wrap it up. However…let’s plan on a follow-up, okay?”

The moment Claire comprehended that she would be getting to see her lovely mentor again, that it was not a matter of hope but of certainty, that it probably would be sooner than later, and that Regina wanted to see her again, her heart leapt. Adding significantly to her elation were the words which assured her that the beautiful Director liked her and enjoyed her company. Knowing that she did not completely understand why her reaction was so jubilant, she nevertheless felt like jumping for joy, as though, if she did, she would then just take off and soar through the air. And maybe land in Regina’s heavenly arms. Though her eyes widened and she could not contain a happy smile—which did not escape the watchful eye of Regina, whose response was a smug internal glee—she otherwise managed to control herself, and to reply.

“O—okay…”

“I’ll contact you soon…and next time I’ll make sure that Traci will be here.”

Claire blushed at Regina’s last comment, but it didn’t change the fact that she did want to see the friendly—and beautiful—blonde again, as Regina had implied, and get to know her better.

After they both stood up, Regina extended her arm for a friendly handshake. The sensual feel of the woman’s soft, long-nailed hand in her own, however, was surprisingly, disarmingly marvelous. That, on top of the mysteriously moving effect of staring into the enchanting eyes of the lovely woman the past few minutes, the continuing, mezmerizing allure of Regina’s reddish-purple mouth and the voluptuous contents of her blouse and skirt, and another whiff of Regina’s charming perfume as she moved nearer, not to mention the heavy dose of seduction under entrancement to which she had just been subjected, compelled Claire to seek out more contact with her shapely hostess.

So Claire impulsively stepped closer, leaned in, and embraced the curvy brunette in a good-bye hug, a posture which, it now struck her, had somehow become so natural, familiar, comforting, magnetic, and exhilarating with her beautiful new mentor in the space of but a few days. It was strongly reminiscent of hugging her own mother, but even better—much better, actually—and seemed to possess an added dimension which she would have described as erotic if it were applicable, but in this situation, with another woman, she knew that the feeling could not be sexual, not for a straight girl such as herself, or she thought she knew that, so she dismissed that impression quickly.

As soon as she did, however, she again experienced an urge to kiss the lovely woman—on her remarkable, dark, beautifully-colored lips—but the student knew that to do so would be much too forward, considering the relative brevity of their acquaintance, and socially inappropriate, considering that their relationship was, basically, one of business. More to the point, they were two women and women normally didn’t kiss each other on the mouth…unless they were related …or …lesbians…

Claire’s brain sought for justification to indulge her desire to kiss Regina. She does feel like a relative…and she is a lesbian, even though I’m not…so it probably wouldn’t offend her… Maybe she’d like it… I bet she would… I should do things Regina likes… I should express my regard for her… It could be a good way to do it… Then she remembered having exchanged kisses with Meredith in the morning. They were not on the lips…but they could have been… Women do kiss each other… It is a normal token of affection…

At length, however, she thought better of it, the “socially inappropriate” consideration prevailing, and fended off the urge. Nevertheless, she continued clinging to the svelte beauty in her arms. Then she became keenly aware of Regina’s breasts lightly touching her own through the layers of their clothing.

These were the same amazing breasts which had been driving her crazy all afternoon. Now they were so close, just grazing her own. Here was an opportunity to feel them more, to luxuriate in the tips and mass of the other woman’s firm mammary orbs sinking into her flesh through their bras and blouses—by pushing into them. Her own voice, percolating up from her subconscious mind, coaxed her, tempting her with the rationalization that, since she was too timid to kiss the lovely women’s succulent lips, then she should at least show the beauty her affection in some other fashion, by a substitute for a kiss, through, as it were, a kiss of their breasts.

Claire remembered her interlude with Meredith in the morning. There had been confessions, counsel, and sweet compliments, “innocent” touches, tangential kisses, and hugs, with mutual enjoyment of the closeness and partial mingling of their bodies. But she had not done anything she considered out-of-bounds for a proper girl. Certainly their hugs, though long and affectionate, and the little “sisterly” kisses were not anything two nice girls couldn’t do or shouldn’t do, Claire told herself. It had just been two roommates getting closer.

If she now were to push her breasts into Regina’s as they embraced, just a little, that would not be that much more than she had done with Meredith, she rationalized. But, she reflected, something more, even if it were just a bit more, was owed Regina in this situation than had been due Meredith in that earlier scene, something reflective of what she felt for her beloved mentor, something in some way beyond what she had been able to demonstrate to her thus far this afternoon via a conventional expression…even if it were something she had never done before, or thought of doing before, with a woman or with anyone else, something that would be quite out of character for her, something which could perhaps be taken…sexually…

She’ll understand… She’s a lesbian… She wants this… So do I…but not like a lesbian…I just want to show her how much I like her… She’ll like this…

So she did it. She wrapped her arms more tightly around Regina and thrust her large, young tits into those of her stacked hostess. Claire Love-Livingstom deliberately crushed her proud breasts into those of another woman.

It was a little act, a small movement, seemingly so negligible as to allow the young woman to deny its true nature to herself. However, despite the excuse she fed herself, that she was merely expressing some appreciation or personal regard, her deeper, truer motive was impure and Sapphic. In reality, she was driven by a raging thirst for woman flesh and by a cauldron of romantic passion boiling inside her. What she really, covertly sought in this small act was sheer sexual gratification, an erotic emotional high, and a veiled expression of Sapphic love.

Claire had already been skating close to the line which separates simple affection between women from openly lesbian acts, as her conversations and kiss with Traci, her performance for her roommates, her night of self-pleasure, and her intimate morning discussion with Meredith had all been heavily laced with Sapphic undertones. But in this small act, standing with Regina in her office, Claire had just crossed that line, even if it seemed to be just barely, and it echoed through her soul. For the first time in her life—in her conscious life—Claire had committed a sexual act with another woman. A lesbian act. Because she wanted to. Because she chose to.

And she found the reward for this little act to be even more scrumptuous than she had imagined. Mmmmm… This feels so nice… She feels so good…

The student abruptly remembered getting dressed that morning and having idly imagined not wearing a bra. Now she couldn’t help but wonder what this delicious hug would have felt like to her at this moment if she had given in to that naughty impulse to go braless today, and consequently would right now be separated from Regina’s heavenly tits by one less layer of clothing, and could therefore both feel them more explicitly with her own eager melons and transmit her ardor to her beloved mentor more directly. Though she felt some regret right now over that decision, the mental picture of what might have been still brought a smile to her face.

In Claire’s mind, the force of her push into Regina’s chest was not so strong as to be overly obvious, but to Regina it was perfectly palpable and its significance unmistakable, and made her smile to herself, both in pleasure and in conquest. She reciprocated by subtly tightening her own clinch around Claire, and sliding her hands a bit along the girl’s back.

Regina’s response briefly awakened within Claire a fuzzy recollection of having taken Regina’s generous breasts into her hands while she was under entrancement within the last hour. The black-haired young woman supposed that she had never really done that, that her memory was mistaken, yet it seemed like exactly what she should do now.

A voice, as if her own, spoke in her head, sultrily, seditiously: Do more… It’s okay…They are waiting for your hands to feel them and to love them… Go ahead… She wants it… You want it… You want them…Touch them… Take them in your hands… They belong in your hands… Hold them… Play with them… In addition to the voice, it was as if a force coming from deep inside herself, a force which seemed foreign yet also native to her soul at the same time, was willing her hands onto the woman’s breasts.
But she knew she could not do as she felt like doing—running her hands over the front of the silky blouse and seizing the luscious mounds encased in it. That would be too taboo.

I’m not a lesbian… I can’t do that…………Yet…yes…she seems okay with what I’m doing… If I can’t hold her…her tits…in my hands…not that I want to…because I’m straight…but... then…maybe…I should show her more how much I like her…with something else… I can do more…

Yielding to her carnal craving to escalate, one way or the other, her engagement with the succulent orbs now pressing so fantastically into her own, Claire added a delicate gyration to her torso, first gently rubbing her breasts side-to-side and then circularly, around and more deeply into those of her hostess, which both women found to be absolutely exquisite. The enmeshment of their curvy bodies became a minute of Nirvanah.

Regina heard the coed panting and felt her begin to swoon a bit in her arms. The Director did not want Claire’s experience with her this afternoon in her fully conscious state to be an explicitly lesbian one, not yet, and decided she had better back off before the mask fell off of what they were doing, the pretense in which both women were complicit, veiling the true, Sapphic nature of their embrace. She eased her grip and Claire followed suit, though neither did more than to change an intensively tight and erotic hug into a somewhat relaxed but still intimate one.

“Again, I want to thank you for the help you’ve given me.” Claire’s words, spoken into her companion’s blonde-streaked brown hair—closeness to which the young woman was finding to be a most lovely, silky, and fragrant luxury—were tender in tone and shaded with emotion and some breathlessness.

“No problem, my dear,” said the Director, with a similarly soft, wistful voice. “And at least now you don’t feel so uncomfortable around me. Do you?” She felt the younger woman shake her head against her own, conveying her “no”. Regina delightedly watched and felt the girl’s shiny raven ponytail swish around her shoulders and over Regina’s burgundy-nailed hands, which were on the coed’s back. Both enjoyed the soft, smooth contact of their juxtaposed faces and intermingling hair, and the prolonged pressing together of their curvy bodies.

The Director at length gave the ardent student a squeeze, then held her at arm’s length and smiled at her. Claire was overpowered by her companion’s proximity and loveliness for much of the ensuing minute.

Wow…What a woman… I can’t believe I got to spend the whole afternoon with her… It was just…just wonderful.......... She is wonderful…and soooo beautiful…… I’d love to be like her…beautiful and…and sexy……. I loved being with her…… I’d love to be closer to her…much closer… I can’t wait to see her again…

Claire found her eyes straying, for the umpteenth time that afternoon, almost with a will of their own, down to Regina’s breasts, so entrancingly displayed through her glossy, diaphanous blouse and delicate little bralette, and realized her own womanly bosom had just been in clothed, close, pressed contact with them. She blushed, and found herself heating up, but she could not tear her eyes away, until her hostess, who knew exactly what was going on and had paused to allow it, spoke and moved again.

“Oh, yes, before you go, let me give you one more thing. Do you remember I promised to, before you left today, give you a few bottles of that drink you like?”

“Oh, yeah. That’d be great.”

Walking over to the office closet, Regina retrieved a small four-pack of juice bottles. Once again, Claire’s eyes followed every graceful move, thrilling curve, and heart-stopping oscillation of her idolized mentor’s luscious body with infatuated rapture.
“I believe you know what to do with these.”

Claire stared at the bottles, briefly zoning into a temporary pre-programmed trance. The bottles contained an assortment of various colored liquids with a caricaturized illustration of one type of fruit or another on the label of each bottle. Claire titled her head slightly downward as she stared vacantly at the four-pack that Regina was holding out for her, and in a robotic manner responded, “Yes, Regina, I do.” Upon relieving Regina's hands of the bottles, Claire’s mind came back into focus.

Both women exchanged final pleasantries. As Claire walked out of the office with the items given to her by Regina, she failed to see the predatory smile on Regina’s face. The lovely older woman knew that the Claire who was walking out of her office was different than the one who had walked into it a couple of hours before.

This girl’s lips were now accustomed, if not addicted, to the romantic kisses of another woman’s soft, painted mouth and her body was now acclimatized to and eager for the intimate caresses of another woman’s adventurous hands, so that lesbian physical interaction would seem much more natural—and if not normal, at least at first, then, perhaps, reasonably acceptable, or even, furtively, welcome—at least on a purely corporal level, when offered and experienced in a fully wake state in the future. This Claire had just made out much more, experienced many more sexual adventures, and plunged much more deeply into romantic and sexual involvement with a woman—albeit under hypnotic tutelage—in one afternoon than she had with any male in all of her previous life cumulatively, and had enjoyed it infinitely more than anything she had ever done with a guy, or so her subconscious mind now believed. This Claire, in full consciousness, had taken her first baby step over the line into a small, deniable, but definite lesbian sex act. This Claire’s heart would beat even more fervently and irretrievably for Regina, being filled to the brim now with a deviant passion which seamlessly blended love for a mother with lust for a lover. This Claire’s subconscious mind saw herself with greater definition as a budding lesbian girl as well as a kind of “bad girl”, whose fulfilment and destiny clearly lay in wholeheartedly adopting the ways of a much looser girl morally than she ever envisioned herself being previously, in doing whatever it took to attract pretty girls and women, and turn them into lesbians, if need be, in becoming their partners in Sapphic sex and romance, and even in marrying a woman. And this Claire’s conscious mind now was convinced that she had been too sexually provincial in the past and was eager to make amends by implementing her trusted mentor’s prescribed plan to open her mind to an alternative lifestyle—that of female homosexuality.

**************

It was around 6:30pm when Meredith finally arrived at the dorm room. Exhausted by her academic work load and her part-time job at the campus computer lab, Meredith was glad to finally be home. Walking in, she was greeted by silence.

Hmmm... Normally, Jessica and Monica would be here by now. Guess they might have gone out or something.

Being alone in the dorm apartment sometimes gave her an uneasy feeling, and that was her sensation now. As she set her satchel down, Meredith called out to determine whether she truly was alone and, therefore, whether her discomfort in this moment was justified.

“Hello? Any of you guys here?”

“Hey, Meredith. I’m in the living area, reading a book!”

Meredith was pleasantly surprised to hear Claire’s voice answer back. Normally she had a night class on this day of the week and didn’t get back until sometime after 8 o’clock.

“You’re home early today, Claire.”

“Unfortunately, Mr. Frasier had to cancel class. I thought I would use the time to catch up on some notes.”

“That’s good to hear. Hey, by chance do you know where Jessica and Monica went?”

“Oh, they went down to the dining hall to grab dinner.”

“That sounds good. Hey, if you want, maybe we can head down and see if we can join them.”

“We could, but no need. They said they would bring something back.”

“Really? That doesn’t sound like...”

“Well, Jessica said she would.”

“Now that I can believe.”

“I guess it’s just you and me till they get back.” Once Claire said that, Meredith found the idea that they would get to spend some time alone with each other—as they had that morning—quite exciting. Claire felt the same way, though neither understood why, other than that they considered each other to be good friends on their way to becoming, in some undefined sense, even closer friends. But Claire’s programming wouldn’t let her dwell on those feelings in this moment, as she had a hypnotically-assigned task to complete.

“Oh, wait! I completely forgot. I have something you might like! Just wait right here.”

Made curious by Claire’s sudden outburst, Meredith watched as her friend went over to the small fridge that was in the kitchen area and rummaged through it to retrieve whatever she was going to give her. As soon as Claire found her prize, she walked over to Meredith and handed her a juice bottle.

“Since you told me you liked the chocolates that I got from Regina so much, I asked her where she got them. She told me she would give me the address later, but she did say that, if you enjoyed the chocolates, then you’ll definitely like this.”

Meredith took the bottle of opaque red liquid and examined it. The label featured a cartoon figure of a cherry drawn with female features, with the words ‘Luscious Cherry’ above it. Meredith looked for the brand and information about the manufacturer, but saw none.

“Interesting name, but I don’t think I can find the manufacturer of this stuff on the label.”

“Oh, that’s because it’s not out on the market yet. Regina gets them from a friend of hers to hand out as samples. It’s supposed to be a new energy drink. I had a bottle and not only does it taste really good, but it makes you feel great, too.”

“Interesting. That might explain the extra perkiness you seem to be having.” Meredith scanned the ingredients on the label, and, while they looked reasonably normal, something just didn’t feel right.

“I appreciate it, Claire, but I’m really not into stuff like this. Most of the time, it’s just a ton of sugar and caffeine mixed with fruit flavoring.”

“Oh, come on, give it a try. And besides, I told Regina that I would have you guys try it out and tell her what you thought. It would really help her friend out.” Claire finished the sentence by flashing a smile at Meredith.

“Fine…but only because it’s you, Claire, and I guess, after the day I had, I can use a little pick- me-up.” After twisting the cap off and joking, “Down the hatch it goes,” Meredith raised the bottle in the air in a mock toast and then drank. After chugging down a third of the bottle’s contents, she set the drink on the coffee table.

“Well, it’s not bad. I think they overdid it a tad with the cherry flavor, but…” All of a sudden Meredith was hit with a groggy feeling. Her eyelids felt very heavy and things started to get a blurry edge. Meredith tried to take a step forward but stumbled, managing to stay on her feet only by bracing herself against a wall.

“Something wrong, Meredith?”

“… Oh, man… I think yooou might have gooottenn a baaad batch, Claiireee… I’m not feeling rii…”

Meredith’s conscious state abruptly succumbed to the potent sedative that was in the so-called energy drink. Claire managed to rush over and grab her red-haired friend before she hit the floor.

After securing the shorter girl in her grasp, Claire dragged Meredith to the redhead’s room. Gently placing Meredith on her bed, Claire began the process of carefully removing the clothes of her unconscious roommate. Claire stripped the petite red-haired vixen down to her pastel-blue cotton bra and panties. Upon completing this task, Claire headed out and checked in on Jessica and Monica, each of them in their respective rooms and in an unconscious and undressed state similar to Meredith’s.

Satisfied that her task was complete, Claire went to the entrance to the apartment and insured that the door wasn’t locked. She then walked back to her room and stripped herself down to the same state of undress as her unconscious roommates. Reaching for her smartphone, Claire sent a text message to a number which she had not consciously realized had been entered into her contact list.

TASK COMPLETE. READY FOR PICKUP.

After the message was sent, Claire picked up the bottle she had set on her nightstand and took a drink. Laying down on her bed, she felt her eyes start to flutter and soon she passed out. Before losing consciousness completely, a brainwashed sentiment bubbled through her mind:

Soon, they’ll experience the joy of worshipping Goddess.