The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Two days after having received notice that “her” request for student residential relocation had been approved by the university’s bursar’s office, Claire was still riding high on the giddy rush of a renewed sense of hope as she went about her morning routine. In fact, she felt invincible, as if nothing could touch her.

And who could blame her? But a few days before, Claire was on the verge of having her future destroyed and her life upturned due to the callous greed of others, as it had appeared to her. However a shining beacon of hope in the form of a beautiful woman had come to her rescue, guiding her through her troubles as she managed to secure a new source of funding for her scholastic future and made some exciting new friends—fetching female friends—along the way, not to mention getting elevated, along with her beloved roommates, into the most awesome student housing conceivable. Yes, this was a marvelous day for Claire Amanda Love-Livingston, and she was determined to let nothing bring her down…not that anything could…

It had started off like most any other typical day, except for a difference in Claire’s approach to her preparation after getting out of the shower. In her room about to get dressed, she marveled at her nude form in the mirror, as she had done a few nights before, feeling mysterious impulses to focus on her appearance, and she paused the acts of selecting clothes and drawing them onto her body to gaze at herself.

Before her good fortune, Claire had always selected clothing and adjusted her looks to fit along the lines of modesty and sensibility which her mother had taught her, and part of her mind even now whispered to her to comply with that standard. Yet, this time Claire also felt an urge for something more, as had been the case each of the past three mornings, increasingly so. This morning, more than before, she could hear competing whispers in her mind urging her to turn heads and to attract attention to her sexy form. And these whispers told her she didn’t want everyone’s attention; no, she only wanted the stares of females, of sexy women and gorgeous gals. That was the attention and the only attention the second kind of mental whisperings told her she wanted. In fact, she found that she craved such notice.

Claire smiled at her reflection, playfully cupping her breasts, gently squeezing them together, groping them, shrugging away qualms. Everyone should see these, she thought absently to herself, “everyone” meaning “every woman”. She was just in too good of a mood to let something as trivial as concerns about hearing voices in her mind—at least those up-tight, goody-goody voices—lower her spirits or stop her from doing what she really wanted to do. She had learned by experience over the last few days that catering to the prudish impulses she felt, while questioning and resisting her liberated and sensual promptings, only brought headaches, and that discarding the thoughts and behavior urged on her by her moral side, and welcoming the sexier, more depraved voices and yielding to them, brought elation and pleasure. And Claire wanted to feel good. So her mind ignored prudish sensibilities that she shouldn’t pose naked for herself and shouldn’t try to be drop dead sexy, focusing, rather, on becoming so.

Unfortunately, Claire knew she didn’t have a wardrobe that could be considered sexy, or sexually enticing. All of her clothing could be described as plain and safe, projecting modest and wholesome values…antiquated, passé, and prudish values…values she was growing out of, as she matured into adulthood and became her own woman, as she had been starting to see it over the past few days. However, as she pondered the possibilities and one in particular struck her, her concern evaporated. She realized that she knew someone who had the kind of outfits she was seeking—her sexy, gorgeous Latina roommate, Monica. Claire reasoned that if she had been permitted to wear Monica’s business outfit without any issues, then surely she could help herself to wearing anything else that Monica had. If there were any objections, she would deal with them later.

Monica and Jessica had morning classes and would be gone for a while, so Claire didn’t need to worry about being caught by Monica or to concern herself with such niceties as asking for permission. While Claire knew that in the past she would have considered such a presumptive act to be unethical, her need to look sexy outweighed the limiting ethics of her past. Further, Claire justified herself, even if Monica were there, she would raise no objections to Claire raiding her wardrobe for something better, especially if it made Claire look sizzling hot. They were friends and it was okay for friends to borrow a thing or two. Surely Monica wouldn’t mind seeing Claire look more like the babe she ought to look like.

Walking into Monica’s room, Claire took note of some packed boxes. After settling things with the bursar’s office yesterday, today was the day that Claire and her roommates had settled on to move into their new, elegant, and luxurious location. Monica and Jessica only had morning classes and Meredith had the whole day free. When Monica and Jessica got back, they would start the process to move into their new apartment in the Preston Suites.

As Claire rummaged through Monica’s clothing she let out a naughty giggle. It dawned on Claire that she was in the bedroom of one of her best friends, naked. As she was going through Monica’s closet, Claire caught another glimpse of herself in Monica’s mirror and, as she had been in her own bedroom mirror, she was once again entranced by her audaciously nude form.

Claire took notice of how hard her nipples were, jutting out from her large, firm, tantalizing breasts, tingling with sexual excitement, tempting her to give them a gentle pinch. Claire could feel a slow build up of rhythmic pulses of lust in her body.

My own body...is turning me on…

A soft moan rolled out her mouth and her eyes closed. Before she was quite aware of what she was doing, her right hand was on her left breast and began to gently massage it.

I’m turned on by...by myself… How strange...and yet it feels...so natural...and so good...my sexy body...my curvy body...so soft...so feminine… A girl’s body is so...so sweet...so yummy…mmmmmm………….. More……..I want more……

She could hear a voice egging her on, to let loose and sexually explore her body in Monica’s room. The voice made her feel sexy and she let it lead both her thoughts and actions, as her hands roved with increasing liberty over her body.

You love being naked...feeling up your sexy body… Do it…

This is cool…standing naked…and feeling myself up…in my sexy friend’s room…

Monica wouldn’t mind if I were to… masturbate…in her room…

Foxy friends like her understand that a sexy woman like me has needs…

She would probably love to see me naked like this…and jilling off…

I should take a naughty selfie and send it to Monica. I’m sure she would love that.

You want to be naked with Monica… You want to feel Monica’s hands on your breasts…

It would be great if Monica were here…with me…and if she were naked, too…

I would love to see her naked…

I would love it if Monica’s hands were…

Wait, Claire! Noooo!!!!

Claire’s eyes bolted open and her body seized as she used all her will to stop herself.

I…I can’t think like this………and…and I have a class... Need to stop or I’ll be late……….although……....this is kinda fun………… Skipping a class or two wouldn’t be so bad…to do something like this…

Stay, Claire… Think about Monica… Think about her sexy body… You’d like to do things with her…to her… Think what you could do…together… Touch yourself…thinking about Monica… Make yourself cum…You’d like her to catch you…and join you… Look at yourself… Play with yourself…until she comes… You want to…

The voice made a very compelling argument. Claire could feel her will slipping, her mind becoming eager to succumb to her lusty desires, but, summoning every last ounce of will, she stepped away from the mirror and focused on getting dressed asap and headed out for her morning class.

Next time… I’ll finish what I started… I’ll do this again… I promise.

As she made the mental comment, Claire felt as if she was making the promise to someone else instead of to herself. Regardless, at the next opportunity to pleasure herself, when she had more time, she would not pass it up. She’d pounce on it. And if she wanted to think about a babe like Monica as she did so, she would.

Focusing on the task at hand, Claire first looked through the top drawer of Monica’s dresser and saw a delectable array of bras and panties.

“Ooh la la, Monica!” Claire squealed in a giddy tone

Looking through a good variety of styles and colors, Claire quickly settled on a matching bright cherry-red lace cotton bra and panty set. Putting them on, Claire felt a naughty thrill as she realized she was putting on clothing that had made contact with Monica’s intimate, private areas. Now the undergarments were touching hers. A wicked idea popped into her mind: What if she put the bra and panties back without washing them? The scandalous visualization of Monica wearing something that shortly before had slithered over intimate parts of Claire’s body made the pretty thief smile to herself.

Maybe later, but I need to hurry up.

After putting the bra and panties on, Claire looked through the rest of the dresser and explored some boxes and Monica’s closet. A few minutes later she had picked out and put on a pair of dark-blue hip-hugger jeans with a swirling pattern of glittery stars on the side and a black, long-sleeve silk button-up blouse, on which she buttoned up only the bottom four of the eight buttons. While not fully exposing her cleavage, it did give a very teasing partial view of it, as well as occasional red flashes of her (or, to be more precise, Monica’s) spicy bra.

Looking into the closet mirror, Claire loved the ensemble that she had managed to put together, but couldn’t resist the impression that it could use a little something more. Then something a few feet away caught her eye. Intrigued, Claire walked over to it. As she got closer she saw a small assortment of heels and flats that Monica had not packed away. Claire knew she had to select a pair to help complete the sexy look she was going for. It didn’t take long, as Claire was automatically drawn to a pair of beautiful, dark emerald green four-inch leather closed-toe heels with silver studs on the top.

As she held them in her hands, admiring their color, their craftsmanship, and the exquisite length of the heel stems, she reflected on the fact that she had never worn anything like them, the closest being her black two-inch pumps which she saved for special occasions.

Heels...high ones…….. I wonder what it’s like to wear them?....... They...they would be the perfect touch… I would look hot…... Pretty girls...should wear shoes like these…

Slipping them on, Claire felt an exquisite rush as soft leather made contact with the skin of her feet, as well as, when she stood, she saw and felt her ankles open downward, her legs appear to elongate sexily, and she grew taller. The sensations felt so good, so sensual, and also so natural, as if wearing very high heels was her destiny. Her first tentative steps in the precarious heels were wobbly, but sitting, standing, and striding in them became an ever growing and intuitive pleasure over the morning. She knew almost immediately that shodding herself with this kind of footwear would be something she should and would do regularly in the future.

After modeling for herself in the mirror with them on, Claire knew she had made a great choice, so much so that Claire began to think that maybe she didn’t have to return everything she borrowed from Monica. Monica has so many, I doubt she’ll notice one pair missing, Claire thought as she continued to look at the alluring heels encasing her feet.

After that, Claire continued to look around Monica’s room and she saw the next two things she needed—Monica’s jewelry box and cosmetics kit sitting on a bookcase next to a large opened cardboard box. Picking up the jewelry box, Claire set it on Monica’s desk and began to rummage through it.

She saw an assortment of earrings—glittering gold hoops, silver studs crowned with diamonds, exotic patterns entwining with gems, and dangling creations of fine chains and jewels—all of them so beautiful, Claire thought, as she held a one-inch-diameter silver hoop earring with a small ruby set in the bottom of the circle.

That triggered a memory, one that had been altered to be a special one. In her real life, sometime after her high school graduation, as Claire had been getting ready to leave home and head off towards her life at college in a week, as a way of marking the occasion, Claire had wanted to get her ears pierced. She had known her mother disdained most bodily decorations, and piercings of any kind in particular, and in desiring this she was seeking that which ran counter to her mother’s conservative values. Further, it would not be the first time she had rebelled against those values, having dated a young man in high school more than her mother had wanted her to and having allowed that boy to take some physical liberties with her, although they were not that extensive. At the time, she had also recently almost dyed her hair blonde, without consulting Mary, but had then decided against it, for the time being, mainly because she thought it might be too far out of character for her and her planned conservative direction in life, and, even moreso, because she didn’t want to do one more thing that could disappoint Mary.

Otherwise, however, Claire had been a faithful disciple of her beloved mother’s precepts of natural beauty and proper personal conduct, and did not want to get her ears pierced without first securing Mary’s approval, or at least something close to an approval. The original memory was that Mary had been reluctant to agree, as Claire had expected her to be, but that Claire had managed to assure her mother that she would only be getting one piercing in each ear, and never any more in her ears or anywhere else on her body in the future, that she would not wear earrings often, that, when she did, she would only use simple, tasteful earrings, that she had obediently waited until she was eighteen years old to do this, and that, now that she was on the brink of adulthood, it was her right to make this decision as a soon-to-be independent young woman.

Seeing that Claire’s intentions were reasonable, feeling reassured that she would still generally maintain and practice the wholesome values which she, as a dedicated mother, had imparted to her, and concurring that it was now Claire’s right to make this slight break from her mother’s values, Mary relented. Seeking to still be a guide and a support, though she wasn’t that onboard with Claire’s wish, Mary went with Claire to get her ears pierced and even helped Claire select a few earrings that were not audacious for a young woman of her conservative upbringing.

Claire didn’t know why the memory was triggering such pleasant feelings in her; after all, it had just been her getting her ears pierced. But maybe there was more to it, it occurred to it, as she reflected….

A reconstituted memory now arose and clarified before the eyes of her mind, overriding her real memory. Oh...oh, wait… There is more...more happened… Yes! What she now “remembered” featured Mary in it prominently, not as a reluctant, minor observer in the scene, but as an enthusiastic, engaged, and even flirtatious participant in it. Claire’s mind focused on the two of them being together, just her and Mary, as if they were…oh…on a date with each other.

Yes...that’s right...it was...definitely...a...a date…

Of course, Claire was unaware that her mind and some of her memories had been altered with intense brainwashing techniques, some of them experimental, during her two sessions at the Artemis Centre. This particular memory had been changed so it wouldn’t be seen as simply the day she got her ears pierced as much as a cheerful, fateful day centered around the time she spent with her mother, during which she came to feel closer to her mom emotionally than she ever had before and started looking at her with new eyes. It now became the origin of Claire starting to develop and acknowledge stronger feelings for her mother, Mary—feelings of lust, intimacy, and a desire to get to know Mary on another level. Those feelings entered Claire’s mind that day, according to her new memory, and would stay with her throughout the rest of her days.

...and that was the day I...I started to see Mom...for who she really was...and what she could be...in my life...

When Claire had been getting her ears pierced, as she felt the metal pin pierce the soft flesh of her earlobes, Mary had held her hands for reassurance . However, now, as she began to recall how Mary’s right hand had felt so warm and soft against hers, driving away any worry she had, she remembered also that there had been something about it which was in some way beyond a mother touching her daughter. It had been...it had been...electric...and...romantic...and...and even...erotic....

As Claire scrutinized the scene in her mind, the only shortcoming in it was that Mary, true to her natural beauty ideals, hadn’t lavished any polish on her fingernails, or on Claire’s, nor had either worn makeup for their date. Claire focused on the mental image of holding her mother’s hand with hers, and felt that the moment would have been even more enchanting if their nails had been coated with a glossy nail polish, maybe a bright blue…or a glossy pink...or vibrate candy cane red...or an alluring emerald green. Nevertheless, it still had been a magical, watershed event between them.

Claire now recognized that this had been the moment she had no longer been able to regard Mary strictly, or even primarily, as a maternal figure. That day, Claire’s mom became “Mary” in her eyes, a mature, beautiful, sexually-attractive woman whom she couldn’t help but feel a need to know on a deeper intimate level. It was the day she fell in love with her own birth mother, a woman who at that point became to her more of an object of carnal and romantic desire than a maternal figure.

But Claire had at first felt insecure and awkward with her sudden attraction to her biological mother. She had been uncertain about the exact manner she could act on her new-found feelings, as well as whether Mary felt something similar for her and might reciprocate.

The situation was complicated by the fact she recalled that her father—and her father alone—had beaten it into her head that feelings of attraction between women and between family members were taboo, wrong and unacceptable. Her mother, her memory now told her, had never been around when her father had discussed these matters with her. Claire was now not sure what Mary’s opinions about “special” loving relationships between two females or between two family members really were. Had Mary actually ever spoken against them? Possibly Claire had merely made some assumptions, and simply imagined her mother opposing them.

But Dad, her new memory told her, had been argumentative and vocal in forcibly driving into her psyche the notion that romantic female-female and inter-family interests and acts were wrong, if not perverted. Ohh...yeah...of course...it was Dad who had me thinking like that...in that...intolerant way...and maybe he made Mom go along with it...without her really believing it… “Remembering” now that she had grasped this possibility in the period following that momentous day with Mary, Claire “recalled” that hope had arisen within her that Mary might be open to attractions and relationships of those types herself.

In contrast, her father had insisted that a woman would find satisfaction only by entering into a relationship with a man. Since the day of her ear-piercing, Claire had wondered, according to her new memory, whether such expressions were merely a ploy to keep Mary to himself and away from her. As she had weighed her father’s disposition, her memory told her, Claire had concluded that not only her father but all men were conniving and selfish, and otherwise simply disgusting in so many ways. No…in all ways…

Consciously, Claire had not yet associated her exciting new desires for Mary with labels such as lesbianism and incest. Instead, she saw them simply as a naturally progressive and healthy step of love for the beautiful woman who just happened to have given her birth. She would have to endure a few more brainwashing sessions in the future before she would willfully acknowledge that she wanted to take her biological mother as a lesbian lover.

Yes, she sensed there was something of a dark, taboo, and even wicked nature about the way she felt, but, she figured, according to her modified memory, she only had that impression because she had been misled by her father’s poisonous views—he, it seemed, promoted hate, control, and intolerance, while Claire, in contrast, only felt love, joy, and freedom in the matter—and that probably she was not the only daughter who felt like this about a beautiful mother. And, even if that weren’t true, it didn’t matter, because she enjoyed the way she felt, and was even starting to become addicted to the new sensations. She deeply relished the thrill which this new way of thinking about and being close to Mary gave her.

In her reshaped mindscape, Claire had, since coming back to college this semester, decided to take her relationship with her biological mother to the next level, whatever that entailed, when they were together again. She had resolved to do something to express how she felt about Mary and to get closer to her, much closer, emotionally and physically, and hoped that Mary might reciprocate the feelings.

Claire realized that if she was really set on initiating this journey of discovery, she would have to act on her plan on her next visit home. Claire would have to find ways to initiate more physical contact with Mary, such as hugging, more than they had shared before. Tighter, longer, and more sensual hugs was what her strategy called for.

Claire wanted to act on her repressed feelings and obtain some sense of closure. She would have to take advantage of any situation or occasion to initiate some kind of intimate contact with Mary. Maybe there could be kisses...on the cheek, and even on the lips…yes… Definitely, they would have to go out together… Claire felt she could easily convince Mary to go out under the guise of a mother-daughter outing to get reacquainted with one another. Of course, to Claire they would actually be dates… In fact, they had already dated, hadn’t they, when Claire got her ears pierced? They could build on that first one. They would have dinners together…quiet, romantic dinners…and go shopping…and go to movies...and take leisurely walks together...and more...

As she began to lay down an outline of the plan she would execute to let Mary know of her true feelings for her, Claire also realized that Mary’s philosophy of natural beauty and her self-imposed restrictions on the use of cosmetics, jewelry, and provocative attire were at odds with the course of action she was considering for Mary and herself. She would have to convince and maybe even deceive Mary into using makeup, nail polish, and sexier clothes… Claire knew she would have to set the example… show Mary the fun and joy of cosmetics and feminine sex appeal and lure her into it, if need be…

They could try on clothes together… Maybe Mary would let Claire look at her in skimpy attire…or, better…naked……… Maybe Claire could set the stage for that by parading around Mary with very little on herself…like, she could walk around the house in her underwear…or, better, come out of the bathroom after a shower and walk down the hallway naked… “accidentally” ……… Maybe when bedtime came, they would sleep…in the same bed…

Maybe, Claire now remembered thinking, she could get Mary into another of those intimate mother-daughter discussions, like they had had the summer before Claire had left for college, as she now recalled it, the one in which Mary had revealed her love of masturbation and had encouraged Claire to do it more. Maybe Mary could be coaxed to give her detailed pointers, or, even a…a demonstration…next time. Maybe next time, Claire could get Mary to talk more about sex, about her preferences, about her fantasies, and Claire could share hers…including her feelings about Mary…

There would be compliments and confessions and cuddling and touches…a lot of intimate touches…

Yes, Claire, thought, she couldn’t wait to go home again and see Mary…the lovely woman about whom Monica’s earrings were making her think…

More details sprang forth from the shadows of what Claire assumed to be heretofore suppressed but true memories: Now that she thought about it, Mary had not been quite as straight-laced and reserved as she pretended to be. Whereas Claire had previously remembered Mary not to have been a physically demonstrative mother, not a touchy-feely-huggy type, and one who always had set a personal example of self-restraint and propriety to match her teachings of the same to her daughters, Claire now seemed to recall Mary being the opposite on various occasions.

She now thought she remembered that when Mary’s daughters were in the bathtub or shower as children and teens, she would come in, uninvited, to “help” them wash, dry off, and get dressed and undressed, touching their bodies adventurously as she did, her face and voice not infrequently bearing a sensual, if not a lustful, expression, which Claire thought she now recognized as such, in retrospect. And at other times there had been other caresses, and hugs, and some kisses, too, many of them not truly motherly, such as on the occasions when Mary would slyly, silently slip her hand into young Claire’s panties, whether “accidentally” or “because a mother has to check her daughter’s body from time to time” or simply without any excuse or explanation.

Plus, there had been times when Mary, when Bruce had been absent, had drawn on see-through lingerie and paraded around her daughters, as if to draw their attention to her body. Other times, she would go braless and wear a snug t-shirt, making sure to show her big, jiggling tits off like that until she was sure her daughters had caught an eyeful. In fact, she had occasionally let them see her completely naked, like coming and going in the bathroom, bedrooms, or hallway, hadn’t she?

Now more details “came back” to her about the private talk between Mary and herself about masturbation. The setting had been in Mary’s bedroom, while they both were in their nightclothes, Mary’s being scanty and sheer. The atmosphere had had an erotic edge to it and Mary’s voice and manner had seemed sultrier than normal. Mary had laid a hand on Claire’s thigh as she unexpectedly advocated self pleasure. Then, from somewhere, she had pulled out a glossy magazine. Mary opened it to a full-page photo of a naked young woman with her legs spread wide for the camera, then to another page depicting two young women in lingerie kissing, Mary explaining that a woman can get herself off more easily with something spicy to look at, whether it be something like the magazine or something online or a video. A very surprised Claire, who wanted to be respectful to her mother, agreed to consider that practice, although she had not yet since then acted on it. Before their chat ended, Mary had offered to sometime show Claire how she conducted a typical session of masturbation, and to give Claire practical and specific pointers, and she had even suggested that at some point they could have a joint self-love session, and get off together.

Now that Claire was “remembering” that, she wondered about Mary. Could it be that Mary, underneath it all, was kind of...kind of wanton? And, too, was she secretly a...a lesbian? And maybe even had a particular thing for girls and young women? And what about her vaunted “standards” of personal conduct, of speech and culture? Come to think of it, hadn’t Claire heard her mother swear, especially when she spoke of Dad, and speak some vulgar, sexy words, from time to time, and listen to some rowdy rock music on the radio now and then? Further, even though Mary had claimed to be adamantly opposed to smoking, Claire now thought she recalled times when she smelled cigarette smoke in the kitchen, and other times some smoke on Mary, who always had an excuse prepared—”Oh, I burned something in the oven” or “I had to spend some time today with a client or a co-worker who was smoking at work”—enough to make Claire question how staunch her mother’s non-smoking stance really was.

Not that Claire had minded any of it, her memory now told her. While Claire couldn’t speak for Wendy, she herself had, over the years, ever found Mary’s exhibitions, secret intimate caresses, and private risque behavior, whether speculated or directly observed and experienced, to be wickedly intoxicating. Mary’s occasional teasing, naughty conduct had probably been a factor in the rise of Claire’s infatuation for her, it now seemed. But was it possible that Mary was a bit of a hypocrite, and had been all along? Hmmmm. Claire found the thought intriguing. It made her wonder whether her naive little sister, Wendy, had noticed, and what kind of relationship had been developing between her and Mom since she, Claire, had left home. That sent a twinge of jealousy into Claire, but it quickly passed. Claire knew that it would not be long before she would return home, to stake her own claim to Mary...or...maybe to Wendy…

The idea that Mary might be two-faced regarding her supposedly lofty moral rules, the ones she had pushed so insistently on her daughters, played on her mind. A word came to her mind which she had learned in her third-year German class in high school. The teacher had been explaining that many German words are made by joining two or three simpler words together, and had given as an example the word “Scheinheilige”, which means “hypocrite”. The two component words, “scheinen” and “Heilige”, meant “to appear” and “saint”. The resultant combined word referred to someone who appeared to be a saint, or holy, yet was not. In this moment, standing in Monica’s bedroom, it struck Claire that her birth mother might very well be moral and decent in appearance only, and have a hidden darker nature.

But, again, the possibility that Mary could have a secret wild streak did not bother Claire; in fact, Claire found it rather exciting and, for some reason unknown to her, wanted it to be true. What bothered her was Mary’s dishonesty in trying to hide it.

What is Mary so worried about? Why does she think she has to act like a prude most of the time, especially when Dad and others, like the church people, are watching her, while she really wants to be someone else? Isn’t she living a lie?

Yes...that’s right… I think Mary is probably a...a liar. Unlike Regina. Regina is so candid and genuine. She would never hide something like that from a daughter, or pretend to be something she was not. Why could I not have been born to someone like her? Instead of a fake, like Mary?,/p>

It further dawned on Claire that one important qualification of a good mother was the ability and willingness to artificially enhance and display her beauty, and to be alluring, even sexy, as a womanly role model to her daughter. Regina always wore lovely makeup, and colored her hair, and wore it in a variety of captivating styles, and dressed enticingly, and wore jewelry and high heels. Regina was clearly superior to Mary in this department.

While Mary is pretty enough, she doesn’t know how to get the most out of her looks...or to have a good time...to enjoy herself...or to guide a young woman along, like me……….but Regina does……….

Then it struck Claire that possibly Regina was also the better woman because she was a lesbian. She had not tangled up her life unhappily with a man, in contrast to Mary, and she knew what she wanted sexually. No confusion or pretense there. She wanted women, and, now Claire understood, there was nothing wrong with that at all; in fact, perhaps a woman loving other women and girls was a preferable way to go.

So, Regina was smarter, freer, more honest, more beautiful, sexier, and, probably, much happier than Mary. She was certainly much more the type of woman Claire wanted to emulate, and Claire was grateful to have figured all this out by this point in her life...thanks to Regina, the woman she loved like none other.

I wish Regina were my mother.

Claire knew that she was doing a fair amount of speculation about her mother, but it did make her curious about what Mary was really like. Was she an inhibited prude or, secretly, a lascivious wildcat? If she was the latter, she wanted to see that side of Mary step into the light next time she went home, and decided to help bring that to pass. If she was the former, truly a pure and saintly woman, Claire wondered if she could be corrupted and thought it might be fun to see what she could do to lure Mary into a measure of depravity. Both possibilities caused a naughty little smile to play along Claire’s lips.

Then Claire perceived a dark shadow lurking in her mind… Someone whose existence posed a threat to the happiness of her family… A figure whom Claire used to like and love and respect, but who, Claire now felt, was undeserving of that.

Mary… I wish you would ditch that... loser… ….. You… I mean, we...would be so much better off without him.

Claire felt a bit unnerved by the sudden hostile attitude she had towards her father, Bruce. A frail voice within Claire’s mind attempted to counter her new negative impressions about him, reminding her that her father didn’t like being an absentee parent, having expressed more than once his regret over having missed participating in the on-going lives of his family and wishing there was a better way. There was also a constructive purpose behind his absences from their lives, namely, to provide support for her mom, herself, and her sister, Wendy. Still...Claire couldn’t ignore lingering thoughts of how her father’s absentee lifestyle had put emotional strain on her mother. And now, she realized, she didn’t mind him being gone, and was actually happy he wasn’t around much, for, like most all men, he seemed largely self-serving, his character was questionable, and he was, when it came frankly down to it, an asshole.

Not wanting to let bad memories and painful realizations sully her good mood, Claire pushed the thoughts out of her head and focused on the jewelry in front of her. After going over what was present, Claire took the silver hoop earrings with the rubies embedded at the bottom and a silver tennis bracelet adorned with sapphires, put them on, and then turned her gaze toward Monica’s cosmetic kit.

Claire looked through what cosmetics Monica had out and immediately fell in love with a tube of bright candy-apple red lipstick, applying two coats on her lips, as well as some eyeliner and mascara to bring out the blue in her eyes. Not having much time to do her hair, Claire took a red hairband from Monica’s desk, brushed her glossy black hair back, and put it in a ponytail.

She paused, looking in the mirror at her black hair, as she had been finding herself doing with some frequency lately. It did not contrast adequately with the black blouse she wore. But most any other hair color would.

If my hair were red, it would. Hmmm. That would be nice...very nice... Or...hair colored like Regina’s...brown and blonde… That is sooo beautiful… Or...hair like Mary’s...blonde...completely, 100% blonde... Wow... Or, even better than Mary’s medium honey blonde shade, what about blonde hair like Serena Powers’ ultra pale pearl shade? She is so incredible. Claire felt a rush of arousal, as she always did when Serena passed through her mind. Or...I could even go lighter...maximum light...to silvery white platinum. Oh, that would be so awesome. Or...even into silvery greys...or darker greys...like I have seen on some celebrities...such as Korean k-pop girls. They experiment with all kinds of hair colors...blues...pinks...lavenders...brilliant reds…various browns and blondes and blacks and greys and pastels...

I could, too. I can experiment with my looks. I want to. I don’t have to follow Mary’s timid example, or do what she thinks I ought to do. I don’t care what she thinks. I am going to do what I want to do. Or what Regina wants me to do...

But...like this...black hair...blue eyes...some eye makeup...cherry red lips...cool, sleek, eye-catching clothes...heels… I look pretty hot like this, too. If I ran into a girl like me...I’d be interested...very... I couldn’t resist her!,/p>

Glancing at her reflection in the small mirror in Monica’s cosmetic kit, Claire felt a sense of satisfaction with her appearance and blew a kiss to the gorgeous reflection staring back at her. Feeling that her task was complete, Claire strutted out of Monica’s room, heels clacking spicily on the hard flooring of the hallway.

As Claire passed by Meredith’s room, she noticed that the door was slightly ajar. Claire knew her cute redheaded roommate was still sleeping due to her working all night in the campus computer labs and coming home early in the morning. However, an urge to take a peek and check Meredith out, under the pretense of making sure Meredith had made it back to the apartment safe and sound, began to bounce around in her head.

Why not? I just want to make sure Meredith made it back okay. After all, she’s like a sister to me.

Nudging the door wider open, carefully trying to avoid disturbing Meredith’s rest, Claire stuck her head in and caught a glimpse of Meredith lying on her bed, her back to the door, her vibrant red hair pouring enchantingly around her head and onto her pillow, her top half wrapped in a mess of blankets, and soft, gentle sounds of breathing emanating from her. As much as that sight enchanted her, what she saw when her eyes descended down the pretty girl to the lower half of her slim body mesmerized her—Meredith’s uncovered smooth legs and sexy rump. Her eyes lingered on that derrière, encased in cute white panties with pink trim and strawberry patterns all over. It was as if the redhead’s darling, sexy ass was saying “good morning” to her, inviting her to come closer for a better look.

A fresh batch of soothing mental voices urged her to walk in, get a closer look, and maybe even cop a feel. She could slide her hand along a tempting, smooth thigh...or, better, she could get a good handful of Meredith’s cute ass and outright molest the sleeping beauty.

Just look at it, Claire….a nice butt going to waste… No one appreciates its beauty...or to feel that curvy, tight flesh...except me…,/p>

I’m betting that Meredith would love to have some company in her bed…

She pictured herself quietly tossing away the blanket, climbing onto the bed, and stealthily curling up behind and next to her sleeping friend.

...someone like me...a girl with soft hands...slipping into those cute panties...and running over her delectable ass…….. Why would she not like that?...

The whispers assured Claire that her pretty, geeky friend wouldn’t mind the sensual physical attention. As a matter of fact, the voices in her head suggested that not only did Meredith outright crave such kinds of touches, but that she, Claire, had every right to be the one to give them to her.

Remember what you discussed with her a few mornings ago… Both of you agreed to pretend to be girlfriends…and as her girlfriend, you’re entitled to cop a feel of her cute butt whenever you want… She has nice legs too...you want to feel them… You deserve to…

But why pretend when you can make it the real thing?... You know she wants it… She wants you… On that morning...alone together...when we cuddled...when we became joined...as girlfriends...you could see it in her eyes… You could feel her heart pounding for you as you held her…

Claire found it most difficult to resist acting on the lustful urges popping up in her mind, and, for the next several seconds, she started to vacantly give in. As she carried on the debate in her head, Claire walked, without noticing, completely into Meredith’s room and managed to get very close to her beloved friend, just an arm’s length away from the sexy ass that was begging her to give it a good squeeze, before realizing what she had done. Shaking her head to chase away the sultry voices, Claire took calming breaths and summoned deep from within her the will to regain her focus and get back on track, then quietly backed out of Meredith’s room without waking her sleeping friend.

After she left Meredith’s room and closed the door, Claire let out a deep breath, feeling spent, as if she had just finished an intense workout.

Wow… Meredith is so cute… I wonder if she realizes what a little fox she is... and how...how tempting her...her legs...and her sweet ass...are…

Slightly unsettled by her wandering thoughts and actions, Claire proceeded to leave the apartment without further digressions. She grabbed her backpack, wheeled her bike outside, and rode off towards her morning class. If she were lucky, she could make it just on time.

When Claire arrived at her Political Theory—Law and Society II class, she was uncharacteristically late. Despite having dallied in her apartment to doll herself up and to ogle Meredith, she could have made it on time if she had peddled fast, but she didn’t want to, as she was more concerned about preserving her new looks than about her punctuality, and she also found riding the bike in her—that is, in Monica’s—high heels to be a bit awkward, as was simply walking in them, as well, as Claire did not personally own heels taller than two inches high and had never worn heels above three inches tall, and even that had been on only a few occasions, whereas these green beauties were a full four inches. As she walked slightly unsteadily through the door, her heels clicking on the hard floor, the lecture had already started. A few students turned to see who came in late, and, wanting to avoid accusatory stares of her classmates, Claire took the first available seat that came into her line of sight.

Settling in, Claire started to relax and tried to focus her attention on the lecture. It wasn’t long, however, before she again felt a tug in her mind which caused her eyes to wander around. Intellectually, she knew she should be concerned about the ease with which she found herself being distracted, but, nevertheless, Claire found that as her gaze drifted to take glances at some of her cute—and, dare she say, sexy—female classmates, she found the view of their sensual curves and other inviting feminine qualities to be captivating and gave her a pleasurable pulse. At length, her eyes settled with special delight on the exquisite professor teaching the class, Ms. Kimberly Edris… drinking in her form, features, and graceful movements without any effort to digest the didactic words coming out of her pretty mouth.

Claire recalled Kim’s introduction at the start of the semester, mentioning that she had obtained her doctorate in public policy at the young age of twenty-five and, instead of accepting generous offers from various political consulting firms, think tanks, and law firms, or even pursuing a personal career in politics, she had turned to the world of academia. She obtained a teaching position at Preston University directly out of her PhD program four years ago and had enjoyed her situation ever since.

Claire was aware that Ms. Edris sought to foster a relaxed and fair atmosphere when she educated her students. She insisted they call her Kim, she was impartial, fair, and generous, and she gave everyone an opportunity to shine in her class.

However, right now Claire found her interest drifting toward what she saw and what she knew, or thought she knew, about the personal details of Ms. Edris’ life and being. For one thing, she reflected on the rumors she had heard that Kim had gone through a very rough divorce the previous year. While Claire had never been one to gossip, she had overheard whispers from some of her classmates, mostly among the bevy of very cute coeds who seemed to disproportionately populate Kim’s classes. The subtle chatter had not, however, seemed malicious to Claire, and indeed it had not been, for Kim was popular, many of her students being not only enamored with her intellect and personality, but with her beauty, as well. Supposedly Kim had married young and, while the marriage started out great, it started to turn sour as both Kim and her husband realized that they may have rushed into it and were not as compatible as they had thought. According to the rumors, her husband’s faithfulness diminished with time and she eventually caught him with another woman in their own marital bed. At that moment she threw him out and rushed to have the marriage ended.

To further get back at her ex, Kim had worked out, kept to a sound diet, had regular spa and salon treatments, and bought a new wardrobe...and it had paid off, big time. There was even some talk that she had some “enhancements” done to her body, and Claire’s eyes told her there might well be some truth to those rumors. Kim truly had a body that earned the attention it drew, and she knew how to display it. It was her way of taunting her unfaithful ex, as if to state, “Look at what you can’t have any more.”

There were also innuendos in circulation that Kim was somewhat of a voracious cougar on the prowl in Preston’s night scene, secretive whispers behind her back that she would from, time to time, take one young college stud or another into her bed and give him a night he would never forget. As Claire weighed whether there might be some truth to such gossip, she found that the possibility of her teacher being promiscuous didn’t bother her—why shouldn’t she enjoy the fruits of her beauty?—but she also found herself feeling that, if they were true, then Kim was wasting her time vying for the attention of young males. After all, it was a man that had broken her heart...and men were so gross, too, so undeserving of such a fox.

However, Claire’s impression, from the personal interactions they had had with each other, was that Kim did not “swing the other way” sexually, nor that she was an unprincipled, promiscuous woman in general, but rather that she probably had traditional, refined leanings. Claire doubted that a woman like Kim would willingly toss aside her conservative nature for some random sexual intercourse with a man. On the other hand, Claire thought, if the rumors had some truth to them, in that Kim was indeed sliding into hedonism and was open to acts of carnal indulgence, then someone should steer Kim away from men. She had already tried one and had been betrayed—the all-too-common consequence of trusting men. This time, it seemed quite logical to Claire, Kim should try dating a woman. In fact, both Claire’s head and heart told her that Kim would find more joy and happiness in the arms of a woman than in those of a man.

Claire eyed the appealing 5′3″, 29-year-old, olive-skinned brunette, drowning in Kim’s delightful, enchanting physical features while almost completely ignoring the educational lecture Kim was presenting to the class.

Kim had her long, dark chocolate locks in a natural waves style with a center part. Her lovely face bore an application of cosmetics most notable for the black eyeliner, a light touch of matte blue eyeshadow, and maroon lipstick and nail polish. Her top half was encased in an imperial purple short-sleeve polyester blouse. Despite it having a relatively loose fit, Claire noticed that it nevertheless showed off a good, detailed outline of Kim’s firm breasts whenever she turned her torso. The blouse was complemented by a pastel-blue, cotton-polyester blend pencil skirt, which, although it stopped at the center of her knees and, in accord with it’s basically modest design, it covered up what Claire surmised must be an amazing pair of gorgeous thighs, the upper half of the skirt nevertheless did a very nice job of showing off the curves of her hips and, when she turned her back to the class, the sexy ass under it.

Oh yes, Claire admired silently. Kim had an amazing ass under that conservative skirt and it seemed to be simply yearning to get out and show itself to the world.

Claire noticed a coed with long, blonde hair sitting on the front row. She wore a skirt which rode a few inches up her legs above her crossed knees. Returning her eyes to the teacher, Claire thought she saw that Kim looked at that young woman more than others in the class, and that her eyes settled on those legs now and then.

That girl… She’s pretty…….. I could do that, too… I’d give Kim a better show… Claire imagined herself with a shorter skirt than the blonde’s, sitting on the front row instead of the blonde. She saw herself uncrossing her legs...and opening them some...Kim’s gaze following… I could be a blonde, too… In her mind, Claire’s hair lightened to the same medium golden blonde shade the coed possessed. The mental image made her pussy twitch slightly……. I could out-blonde that girl… The imagined Claire’s hair lightened to a pale platinum tone. A small but perceptive spasm shot through the real Claire’s womanhood. Wanting to sustain the feelings coming over her, she willed herself to see herself playing with her beautiful hair and openly flirting in other ways with her teacher from her front-row seat. She also pictured her hair color changing a few more times, from platinum to pure silver, then to medium silver-gray, then to lavender gray, then to denim blue, then to bright cherry red. The Kim in Claire’s brief fantasy now stood and stared at Claire with wonder written across her face, arrested in the middle of her lecture.

Letting the vision bathe her mind with pleasure for several seconds before realizing that she was missing out on the lecture, Claire collected herself and told herself that, for the remainder of the class, she ought to make an attempt to balance her concentration at least a little more between her carnal and her academic needs compared to what she had been doing.

Accordingly, Claire kept herself attuned to the lecture just enough so that, should Kim call on her to discuss or answer questions to whatever dull, trivial topic she wanted to cover in today’s lecture, Claire could fake a reasonably adequate response.

However, her resolve to pay even a token amount of proper attention to the lecture was weak indeed, and Claire’s focus returned to Kim personally again and again, as well as to other cute girls in the class. As she ogled, she entertained various provocative possibilities about her professor and about the other nearby females, without getting so risque in most of them as to make herself concerned about the purity of her mind, and of the thoughts that did stray so far beyond decency that she could not ignore that fact, Claire managed to justify them with the memory of what Regina told her a few days ago: “What I want you to do is to think like a lesbian... When you’re by yourself, too. Try to see things from a lesbian point of view...”

Most of the mental images of Kim that went through Claire’s mind were rather tame. Claire envisioned Kim still in her clothes but in sexy poses or, if she truly let her mind wander, Claire would imagine Kim modeling different kind of bras and panties, while flashing Claire a sexy smile, then starting to peel them off her body with a “come-hither” look aimed at Claire. Other images included one of Kim and herself walking leisurely together along an isolated path on campus, holding hands, and another of she and Kim in a meadow on a picnic, both in light, loose, skimpy sundresses blown halfway off their otherwise naked bodies by the wind, as they giggled and touched and kissed. However, with Regina’s continued manipulation of Claire’s mind into becoming that of a ravenous lesbian, it wouldn’t be long before Claire would no longer summon up tamer sapphic images, but instead more provocative, lust-inducing, scandalous images of any woman who came into her sight.

Over the course of the hour, the extracurricular proved to be so much more riveting than the academic that Claire postulated that if it weren’t for her roving eyes and the naughty mental images of Kim and of herself and of the other sexy coeds in the classroom which paraded before her, she would have probably dozed off.

The class went as well as it could for Claire. Kim called on her twice and Claire managed to hold her own. By its end, Claire felt excited, attributing at least some of that sensation to the fact that she only had one more class and then it was off to see her roommates, pack her belongings, and move to their new luxurious living quarters. But as the class ended, Claire also took notice of small feelings of lust in her body, not so pronounced that she needed to relieve herself manually right then and there, but noticeable enough that Claire knew she would have to take care of the matter sometime during the day, to prevent it from building up to the point of becoming an unwieldy distraction.

The bell ending the class period sounded, Kim closed her lecture, and students started leaving. As she was packing up, Claire heard someone call out her name. “Claire?…” Before she could turn her head, Claire knew that it was Kim who was addressing her. Claire was pleased, and turned to look at the fetching brunette yet again. “Hi, Claire… Do you mind seeing me for a moment?”

“Sure thing, Kim,” Claire responded in her friendly demeanor, as she hastily threw her books into her backpack. “Just let me pack up.” Upon finishing, Claire walked over to Kim’s desk.

“Do you mind walking with me to my office? The matter I wish to discuss is something I want to keep private between you and me.”

“Okay.”

Kim led Claire to her office a short walk down a hallway. Claire had no objections to following her teacher, as she was presented with a marvelous view of Kim’s posterior ambulating in the semi-tight skirt. Again Claire fantasized as to what kind of other skirts might be even better suited than the dull pencil skirt for Kim to wear to show off what by all indications was an amazing ass.

Opening the door, Kim gestured to a chair in front of her office desk, which Claire took, and closed the door behind her. Claire wasn’t sure, but she thought she heard an extra click after the door closed, possibly indicating that Kim had also locked the door. Well...she must just want to ensure that we have privacy… Nothing wrong with that…

Claire was a bit nervous. Had Kim noticed her leering at her? Had she figured out that she hadn’t really been paying attention...at least to the lecture? However, Claire recalled the past conversations she had had with Kim and not once during those times had the professor ever criticized or admonished her, leading Claire to doubt that she had any more reason to panic this time than in times past. So she steeled her nerves, pushed the worrisome doubt out of her mind, and put on her normal warm, friendly smile as Kim took her seat behind her desk.

“Well, Claire, I’m sure you’re wondering why I asked to see you after class...”

“If it’s about the status on the group research paper, I just want to say we’re still on track. Right now we’re waiting for the copy of the legal documents of the Ohio v. Hudson Farming Group Ltd circa 1984 case to come in.”

“No worries, Claire. You’re a bright student and I have no doubt you and your group will have the paper done before the deadline, and done well. However, I didn’t bring you here to discuss coursework matters, but something more about your future endeavors.”

After hearing that, Claire could feel a lump build in her throat as she began to wonder more about Kim’s reason for this private meeting. If it wasn’t for some matter related to the class, what could it be? Something of a “personal” nature? How private and how personal might it be? A few quick speculations yielded nothing likely. Unable to come up with a solid hunch, Claire felt that the best course of action was to let Kim take the lead and react accordingly.

“Judging by the expression on your face, I piqued your curiosity.”

“Well, you did say that you didn’t bring me here for coursework reasons. So I’m kind of at a loss as to what you could possibly want to discuss with me.”

“So...I heard a personal detail about you and was wondering if, uh, you would be willing to confirm it for me, you know?”

Claire could only give a puzzled look. What could Kim have heard about her, and from whom? During her time at Preston, she had kept her nose clean, had been socially polite and friendly, and had focused on her studies. She had gone out at times to parties and on inconsequential dates, but had not done anything inappropriate on those occasions. She also was not one to divulge much personal information about herself to casual acquaintances. The only people on campus to whom she provided intimate personal information about herself were her roommates. She would have told Regina anything she wanted to know, of course, but the lovely Director had not asked her that many questions about her life and habits. The personal detail to which Kim was alluding was a mystery.

“Well, all I can hope is what you heard was something good about me,” was the nervous reply Claire gave Kim.

“It was, so no need to worry, my dear. I mean, uh, I think you’ll be pleased.”

“That’s great to hear,” Claire responded, as she felt the tension subside in her body.

“I do apologize for keeping you in suspense. It’s not something that I normally do. As a matter of fact, uh, what I’m about to ask you is completely out of the norm, you know, but when I see an...an opportunity to help my students out, I like to do so whenever I can.”

This time an awkward silence was the only response that Claire could give. The way Kim was talking to her made it almost seem that Kim was struggling to find the right words, which was very uncharacteristic of her teacher. Claire knew her to be an articulate woman, but she appeared to be stalling in revealing the reason for this conversation. Then an entertaining possibility entered Claire’s head.

What if she’s trying to…to ask me out?

Claire found the sudden and novel idea of dating Kim most intriguing. She knew the possibility would never have occurred to her in days past, but, now that she was pretending to have a lesbian viewpoint, it seemed to be within the realm of feasibility, so why not think about it? Claire knew that she was quite pretty, and maybe even came across as sensual, or even sexy—especially on this day, given her adventurous morning preparations—and that a beautiful woman like Kim being attracted to her and seeking her company and wanting her didn’t seem so unfeasible or unnatural or bad. In fact, though the idea came spontaneously out of the blue, as it seemed, it was exciting.

And besides, Claire told herself, in adopting a gay point of view—as she clearly was doing right now in entertaining the possibility of dating her attractive teacher—she was only pretending. No harm was likely to result and nothing really serious was meant to come from this faux lesbiansim other than a better understanding of the world. And she indeed was understanding the world better as a result of her little experiment, it was becoming clear. It was as if a foggy veil had recently been lifted off her and now she was starting to see the world in a different light—perhaps a truer light, and certainly a more intoxicating light.

Just the same, a faint mental whisper suggested that this wasn’t her. Addressing that voice, Claire had to agree that this sudden change in worldview contradicted her established beliefs, but then Claire reasoned that she was now an adult and, as such, she was entitled to experiment and to make changes in her attitudes and core philosophies where she saw fit.

Staring back at Kim, Claire leaned back slightly, retracted her shoulders a little, and lightly brushed a hand over her silkily black-covered breasts, acting as if a change in posture was required for comfort, but chiefly to draw Kim’s gaze to her beautiful body, and gave her a coy smile. For a brief moment Claire thought she saw Kim blush a little and avert her gaze, like a schoolgirl being caught by her secret crush, but before Claire could truly process the image and its significance, Kim’s shy gaze disappeared as if it had never been on her face in the first place and was replaced by her normal professional demeanor. Kim also allowed the awkward silence to continue, leaving Claire again wondering what Kim truly wanted to discuss, a myriad of questions running rampant in her mind. Did she really want to discuss her future? What did that mean? Why was she dragging this out? Was she trying to find a way to ask her out?

But then Claire put a stop to the silly nonsense floating about in her mind and calmed herself. She recalled past interactions with her professor, her sexy professor, reviewing the fact that Kim was normally a person who was straight to the point and wasn’t one to drag conversations out. Also, as appealing as she suddenly found the possibility of dating her professor, Claire thought she knew Kim to be a heterosexual female and also a person that wouldn’t risk her professional career by dating students. So she pushed the silly notions out of her mind and did her best to keep a pleasant demeanor as she waited for Kim to continue her discussion.

“I see that I’m probably creating a bit of an uncomfortable atmosphere. Please excuse me if I’m making it seem intentional. My objective isn’t to create tension between us, but this is the first time I’m actually doing something like this. By the way, I...uh…” Once again, Kim had that momentary flushed, distracted expression on her face, and could not conceal her eyes scanning Claire’s visage and hair with unmistakable interest, and straying for a second or two to Claire’s body. “I...I also want to compliment you on your appearance. You look…you look great… It’s the first time I’ve seen you so…so dressed up.”

Claire felt a pleasant tingle when she heard Kim commend her looks. She sensed that Kim’s remark was genuine and that the pretty teacher truly liked her new fashion statement—and liked her—making Claire feel vindicated in having helped herself to Monica’s clothes, shoes, jewelry, and makeup. Somehow, the fact that it was such an attractive and desirable woman who felt that way about her made it all the more gratifying and, even, thrilling.

She pleasantly nodded her head before Kim resumed giving an explanation for the ungainliness of this conversation. “Well, I guess before I make this more awkward than it already is, let me get to the point. I heard from some academic associates of mine that you’re looking to make your career in the legal profession. Is this true?”

Claire gave Kim a look of surprise before stammering out her response. “Y...ye...yes, I mean it’s a definite part of my life plans that I really want to do.”

How could she know unless… Regina! Of course she must have told Kim. But why?

The mere thought of Regina awakened programmed mental impressions which had been inserted into Claire’s mind during her brainwashing sessions at the Artemis Centre, in Regina’s office, and in Traci’s car. They quickly bubbled up deep within her subconscious, percolated to the surface, and stirred and altered thoughts and feelings in Claire’s active mind.

Of course Regina would look out for me. She’s been concerned about my future…and so thoughtful...and caring...and loving...almost like…a mother…just like a mother... Yes, Regina is like a mother to me……... I know this is bad but… I kind of wish that Regina really was my mom... I’d love to be just like her…. The image of Regina as Claire last saw her in her office came into her mind...blonde-streaked hair wavy and over a shoulder...face beautifully made up...the tight leather skirt...the revealing blouse...those wonderful...big...big...breasts…….the perfume...the soft, musical voice…….. And I have these...these feelings for her……. ,/p>

I think I already think of her as more of a mother than Mary ever was… I trust her so much... and I like her...I even...love her...more than seems...natural… But...I do…And it is right...and good...to feel this way about her….... If Regina was my mom I think it would be awesome… Then maybe Mary and I could…

Thinking of Regina and Mary caused Claire to feel an intense flicker of lust between her legs and a small sensual shudder up her spine. As she continued to think particularly about her beautiful brunette benefactor, Claire realized that she should be more like Regina would be in this current situation. Here she was in the office of her sexy professor, one beautiful woman together and in private with another, yet she had been on edge over what might or might not happen and where the conversation was headed, needlessly so. It had been as if she was back in grade school as an awkward school girl talking to her teacher, worrying over what the teacher thought about her and might want from her. Claire reminded herself that she was a beautiful young woman who could take control of the situation, like Regina would.

And how, exactly, would Regina commandeer the atmosphere of this meeting? Claire reviewed in her mind how Regina had acted and what she had been like in their own private meetings together. For one thing, she had been direct and honest, stating the facts and what she wanted in no uncertain terms. For another, she had been firm, yet pleasant. But then, also...she had seemed to use her...her beauty...her allure...to command...attention...and...cooperation…

In this meeting with Kim, Claire would assume the role of Regina, while Kim would be the one taking direction, the coed told herself. Claire became aware of her looks and how they might be affecting her teacher. She twirled her black ponytail around a finger, tilted her head a little, gave Kim an enigmatic smile, and toyed with a button on the front of her blouse.

She imagined what more she could do if she had magical powers. In her mind, she shook her hair, unraveling her ponytail, until it poured over head, shoulders, and body like Regina’s, with thick, full bangs and two-toned coloring, except Claire’s was charcoal gray with chunky quicksilver highlights. She painted her lips with the same dark burgundy red tint she had seen on Regina when they were last together, and made her nails the same seductive color and longer. She transformed her black blouse into a tight silken t-shirt and made her bra dematerialize, remembering that someone somewhere sometime—she couldn’t place exactly who it had been, but she thought it might possibly have been Regina—had suggested to her that she would look great braless in a tee. Looking down at her front, in her mind’s eye, she noted with satisfaction that her nipples pressed teasingly through the shiny material, which clung enticingly to the curves of her breasts. She decided to transform the color from black to a sparkling ice blue, to crop it to expose her belly, to make it gossamer sheer, to make her nipples longer and her areola wider and more bulging, and to paint them the same dark burgundy red as her lips and nails so that they would blaze loudly and provocatively through her silky tee, and it was so. She turned Monica’s jeans into a pleated black microskirt—in leather too, so as to be, in that way, like the leather skirt Regina wore the last time they were together—and willed sheer black nylons onto her legs. Her panties vanished. She parted her legs, affording Kim a look up her naked crotch. Claire knew that Kim was putty in her hands from her visibly heavy, nearly-panting breathing and the wondering, salivating, helpless expression on her face, as seen in Claire’s mind.

Then Claire saw herself with a lit cigarette in her hand. A little confused by the sight, she quickly realized that it was a hot look, one that she liked, and her envisioned self took a long drag on the cigarette before exhaling a grey-white plume. In addition to a profound enjoyment which she sensed was inherent in this act, this also was power—power over Kim; power over any other helpless woman; sexy, feminine, seductive power.

Realizing then that she may have gone too far in her imagination, and couldn’t conjure this imagined self into reality right then, anyway, Claire shook her head to dismiss the fantasized vision.

As for the direction her future would take, she knew there was no need for her to be fumbling around looking for words to say about it. The plan was something Claire had mapped out multiple times for herself. She shifted herself into a more confident and composed posture and began to explain her plans for her future.

“Well, Kim, I’m working on a bachelor’s in political science here at Preston and then I’ll apply to law school. I hope to go to Stanford Law in my home state. I’m looking at their Trial Advocacy and Clinical Training programs. If everything goes well, I will get my legal degree, take the California Bar, pass, and start my own legal practice.”

“Well, well, I see that you have a good grasp on the whole thing,” Kim complimented, while flashing Claire a friendly smile. “However, you do know that it’s going to be an uphill battle to get there, especially if you’re trying to become a Stanford graduate and then take the California Bar exam. You’re going to need every advantage that you can get.”

“I know…” While Claire had her path planned out, Kim brought up a very good point. She knew that she would be competing against numerous other top applicants, not to mention that costs to Stanford were going to be rough. Claire knew her previous scholarship only covered undergraduate colleges, such as those at Preston. The same was true for the sponsorship program that had replaced her old scholarship. So for graduate levels, she was sure that she would have to take out college loans, but unsure whether she would get the funding to cover everything. Recognizing these details in her plans put her in a sour mood...which, of course, was detected by Kim.

“I’m sorry, Claire., I didn’t mean to rain on your parade. Dear me, I brought you in to try to brighten your day, and instead I just make a mess of it.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Kim, I know that it’s going to be a struggle, but I won’t let it keep me down.”

“That’s good to hear, and I have the impression that you are upbeat about everything. Well, enough with the gloom and doom, and let me get to what I wanted to discuss with you. Out of curiosity, have you heard about the Second Light Organization?”

“No… I mean, should I have?”

“It’s a charity organization that takes a second look at some criminal court cases that might have been handled improperly and left innocent people convicted of crimes they didn’t commit...”

“I’m not sure how that would apply to me. I’m not certified to handle any legal cases and won’t be for several…”

Kim raised her finger, playfully waving it in front of Claire to interrupt her.

“I know that, Claire, but please let me finish.”

Claire, slightly embarrassed, blushed a little and nodded her head in silence.

“As mentioned, Second Light looks at certain court cases to see if the defendant received a fair trial. I happen to have a lawyer friend who volunteers there regularly and is looking for some help. Mind you, the help wouldn’t be in the courtroom, but mostly doing research and some basic investigation. However, I’m sure that this would look splendid on an application. Anyway, she asked if I knew of any eager college students who wouldn’t mind volunteering some of their time during the summer break to help her out.”

Claire’s eyes popped wide open in stunned delight as she realized what Kim was offering her.

“So, Claire….”

“Yes! I mean… I’m… Oh, my goddess!… I mean… Kim, I can’t thank you enough!”

Kim gave Claire a friendly smile in response. She had heard Claire’s usage of the exclamation “goddess”, and noted the student’s apparent obliviousness to having said that interjection instead of “god”, but then she reminded herself that anyone who was within the range of Regina Burke’s influence was indeed liable to make that substitution.

“Now, as mentioned, you won’t be in a courtroom arguing in front of a judge, but it does give you some experience in other aspects and my friend informed me that, while the work is voluntary, she is more than willing to compensate in other ways, such as a letter of recommendation...which I’m sure would benefit your chances into getting into Stanford Law and… if you keep your academic performance up here, I’ll be willing to contribute a letter myself.”

“Kim.. I mean…” Claire almost broke out with tears of joy upon hearing of the additional boons that would be coming her way. While letters of recommendation from a lawyer and from one of her professors wouldn’t outright guarantee admission into Stanford Law, it could well help her odds significantly.

It struck Claire that one good thing after another had happened to her since she had come to know Regina Burke, and that even the good news she had just received from Kim was in some way attributable to the beautiful brunette Director. Certainly, nothing that Kim had told her would have value for her, Claire told herself, if it had not been for the previous workings of Regina in her behalf, to keep her in college. This was the moment that Claire knew—beyond whatever doubt she may have had at some point in the past, but no longer had now in the least—that Regina was the kind, generous person whom Traci had said she was and that most likely none of her recent good fortune, including this morning’s, would have happened, but for Regina. It was clearer to Claire now than ever before that she owed the wonderful woman, and that one way or another she had to pay her back for being the epitome of wisdom, truth, ideal womanhood, beauty, love, and motherly devotion she needed in her life.

There was nothing, Claire determined, that she would not do for Regina. Whatever Regina wanted or needed, she, Claire, would be there for her...as a faithful daughter for her beloved mother...as one faithful friend for another...as one woman for another woman whom she loves…

Claire wanted to hug Kim—she would have had a preference to hug Regina, but she wasn’t there, and Kim was both a wonderful substitute and well-deserving in her own right—so she did, rising from her seat, walking around the desk, and bending over to embrace the seated brunette teacher around her shoulders.

“Thank you, Kim,” the black-haired beauty purred softly. Impulsively, for good measure, she planted a kiss on her cheek, as if to underline her gratitude, although in reality she did it more because she simply desired to touch the foxy woman’s smooth, soft facial skin with her painted lips. Seeing that she had left a red lip print on that delicate skin—the first time Claire had ever left such a deposit, or at least such a noticeable one, compared to the pink lip prints she had given Meredith’s forehead, cheek, and neck (not to mention her lips) a few days before—Claire took a tissue from a box on Kim’s desk and silently wiped it off, smiling to herself and to Kim. Walking back around the desk to her seat, Claire found herself aroused and slightly shaky. A surprised but pleased Kim, also shaking a little, touched her cheek, reflective and secretly elated over the spontaneous affection of her favorite student.

A few minutes later, after the atmosphere in the room had settled down between Claire and her teacher through a little bit of diverting small talk, Kim informed Claire that she would reach out to her friend, keep Claire informed, and, in due time, explore with her the details of the internship, most likely close to the end of the semester.

As Kim walked Claire out the door, both women exchanged pleasant goodbyes, Kim this time being the one to initiate an embrace, one which on the surface seemed intended to convey simple mutual appreciation, but which, of more significance to both of them, afforded each to feel the curves of the other’s body with her own. Then Kim stood in the doorway watching Claire’s swaying backside as the coed click-clacked down the hallway in Monica’s green high heels. Claire noticed that the sound of Kim’s office door closing was delayed beyond what it would have been had the professor shut the door immediately after Claire left. Accurately surmising that Kim had watched her walk away, the small smile on Claire’s face grew into a broad one as she turned the corner into the main hallway.

Claire continued on her way in a pleasant cloud generated by the favors she had just received both career-wise as well as physically from her foxy teacher, and musing over whether dating Kim was a real possibility, what it would be like, and what she might do to provoke it, her mind returning to wearing a very short skirt to class and sitting on the front row, maybe even with hair colored to a brilliant blonde, or possibly to some other eye-catching shade.

She was checking me out. I’m almost sure of that. I bet part of it was the clothes I took from Monica. Kim looked at me like she never has before……..and I wasn’t even really trying that hard. How would she react if...if I actually tried to be sexy? What if I dressed more...more like a...a seductress...than a common student? She mulled over various fashion choices with which she could tease Kim the next time she showed up to class. The possibilities that ran through Claire’s mind definitely made the trip back to her dorm very pleasant. I think... next time...I’ll give Kim...a view worth looking at…

Meanwhile, Kim had closed the door and was leaning her back against it, panting with her eyes closed, bracing herself against the lust which had been sweeping over her during her chat with her seemingly flirtatious, unequivocally sexy, raven-haired student, and particularly in the wake of the two hugs and that one special little kiss near the end of their time together.

Did she know what she was doing to me?

After recovering for a few seconds, she locked her door, wobbled over to her desk, sat down, and reached for her purse. With trembling hands, she pulled out her smartphone and called a contact listed in her phone’s directory.

After a few rings, the call was answered.

“What is it?” was the cold welcome Kim received.

“I… I… did what you wanted. I offered Claire Livingston the internship you…”

Kim was having trouble talking, trying to reign in the intense sexual arousal coursing through her body. She was amazed with herself for having been able to appear outwardly composed during her conversation with Claire. It had taken her utmost self-control to limit herself to eyeing the fetching coed up while her mind went wild with wicked fantasies featuring the young woman who had been sitting in front of her. There had been a few times when Kim had felt she would crack—such as when the lovely student had sat a little askance in her chair and pulled her shoulders back, stretching her shiny black blouse provocatively across her large, thrusting breasts, not to mention when the younger woman had got up to hug and, yes, to kiss her—but she had mustered every ounce of her will to pass through the ordeal. All she had left was to report that her task was complete, and then, she hoped, her trials would be over, at least for today.

“I… I offered Claire the internship you set up, and like… you… you predicted, she accepted.”

“My, my, Kimmy, is something wrong? It sounds as if you’re a bit stressed. I do hope that your job isn’t getting to you.”

“Please… Regina, I did what you wanted,” the professor whined softly in a plaintiff voice unlike any she had used with Claire. “You promised that if I did…”

“Now, now, Kimmy, we’ll get to that issue later. I need to know if Ms. Livingston suspected anything or if your acting was piss-poor and you somehow tipped her off that she might be walking into a trap.”

“No… please, Regina, I… I just told her that it was my friend who was offering the internship. It was the only lie I could come up with off the top of my head. I swear I didn’t bring up your name… oh, god, please, it’s starting to….”

“ ‘Goddess.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I meant ‘goddess’.”

“Well, if that’s all, I guess that concludes our call. I’ll see you next time.”

“Wait!” Kim cried out desperately.

For most of the next minute, the only thing heard over the phone was Kim’s heavy breathing. Regina was silent.

“Regina… Regina?... Are you there?” moaned Kim in a tearful tone.

“Please answer…please…”

A minute later, Regina finally broke the silence. “Yes, I’m still here. Kimmy, I’m a very busy woman and my time is precious. I believe our business is concluded.”

“Please, Regina, you promised me that if I did this for you, and passed Claire Livingston with an A regardless of the quality of her work, you would free me from whatever it is that you did to me.”

“Hmmm, I don’t recall making such a promise, Kimmy. Are you sure that I said that?”

“Regina, please stop this, I’m begging you. I did what you asked. Please free me.”

“I’m very sorry, Kimmy, but I think the problem that you’re having is due to a misunderstanding on your part. I never said that I would free you. Why would I do that? I happen to like the new you. It’s a vast improvement over the self-righteous, holier-than-thou, cock-loving bitch you were before.

“However...now that I think about it...I do happen to recall saying that if I thought you did a good job, I might offer you sexual release...but I can assure you that I have no intention of ever freeing you, in the way you’re talking about it, and undoing months of work.”

“Please Regina… I… I can’t go on like this…”

“Shut up, Kimmy!”

Nothing but silence ensued on both lines. Kim could not see that Regina had a sadistic smile on her face, as she was having immense fun tormenting the college professor on the other end of the line.

“You know what, Kimmy? Now that I think about it, I do happen to have a few minutes to spare you. So here’s the deal: I’ll ask you some questions and if I like what I hear, then maybe, just maybe, I might be gracious and give you something...not that stupid “freedom” you think you want, but what I know you truly desire. However, if you piss me off in the slightest, I’ll hang up and you’ll endure the worst case of sexual frustration you’ve ever had. Catch my drift, Kimmy?”

Kim hated being addressed as “Kimmy”. She felt that the name was demeaningly juvenile and that it somehow inferred that she was some kind of childish ditz—which was exactly the kind of impression Regina wanted the professor to cultivate about herself, at least when it came to her relationship with Regina. Regina was to be the unquestioned, awe-striking superior and “Kimmy” the ditzy little girl, in comparison, who needed correction, direction, and firm control. Moreover, Regina’s attempt to make her see herself in that light was working, Kim feeling herself more every day to be a questionably competent, emotionally tangled, fragile, immature, and sexually desperate woman, one whose major concerns in life were the making of her own image into one of sexy beauty—with Regina as one of her prime ideal models—and drooling over and fantasizing about cute coeds and other attractive women, rather than a dedication to rigorous academia. However, there was nothing she could do when Regina referred to her by that hated name. If anything, she felt she was compelled to obey the evil woman and to feel and act the part of a submissive, insecure, dependent, unprincipled wanton whenever she called her Kimmy.

“... yes...”

“So, let’s see, where to start? I know! Since you brought up the topic of sexual release, when was the last time you had an orgasm, Kimmy?”

“Roughly a month ago.”

“Really, a month? That doesn’t seem so bad, Kimmy. I’ve known a few gals who’ve endured dry spells longer than that and seemed to be okay. But that’s beside the point, Kimmy. So tell me, Kimmy, what were you doing when you had that orgasm?”

“I… I was…” Kim was trying her best to control herself. On one hand, she felt compelled to obey Regina by answering the question. On the other hand, she felt restrained from answering by her belief that what she did in the privacy of her own bedroom was between her and the bedroom walls, and that no one, especially someone as perverted as Regina Burke, was entitled to breach that privacy.

“I’m waiting, Kimmy, and I don’t like to be kept waiting.” There was no mistaking the threatening tone in Regina’s voice.

“M...masturbating. I was masturbating…”

“Masturbating? I don’t recall ever hearing that word before. Can you describe that to me? Tell me what a sexy woman like yourself does when she’s ‘masturbating’.”

Kim let out an uncontrollable sob after Regina commanded her to go into detail on the specifics of female masturbation. Moments like this were now common between Regina and her, and, from the time they started, she had been cursing the day she met Regina Burke.

“She… she takes her finger… or maybe a phallic device and…sob...she puts it into her vagina…”

“Stop right there, Kimmy. I don’t like the words you happen to be using. They sound so vulgar. It’s simply uncouth for a sexy woman like you to use such foul language. Words like ‘vagina’, ‘labia’, ‘clitoris’, ‘coitus’, ‘procreation’, and ‘intercourse’ are beneath you, Kimmy. Now take a deep breath, think it over, and this time I want you to describe it using words that befit a woman of your standing….as a depraved slut. Understand, Kimmy?”

“When a woman… pleasures herself… she uses either her finger or… or a di... dildo and… and…”

“And what, Kimmy? What does a woman do with her finger or a dildo when she is pleasuring herself? What were you doing, Kimmy, when you were masturbating?”

“I…. I…. I was fucking myself! When a woman masturbates, she is fucking her pussy with either her fingers or a dildo! There, are you happy now?!”

“I don’t like that tone, Kimmy. I suggest you be more polite or you’ll find yourself in a worse situation than you’re already in. Understand, bitch?!”

“Yes,” Kim replied meekly.

“Now let’s see… So...before that temper tantrum of yours, you said you were fucking yourself, Kimmy, and that’s how you got that orgasm. Is that correct, Kimmy?”

“Yes, I was fucking myself.”

“You just mentioned that a woman uses her fingers or a dildo when she fucks herself. Tell me, Kimmy, the last time you came, what did you use to fuck yourself with, fingers or dildo?”

“I was using… a dildo.”

“Really? Well, you don’t say. Tell me about your dildo, Kimmy? Describe it to me.”

“It’s nothing special.”

“Oh, come, Kimmy. It’s just between us girls. So tell me about your dildo, Kimmy, and don’t spare any details.”

“It’s a green translucent silicone dildo with a built-in vibrator...about twelve inches in length and an inch and a half diameter...battery compartment and control dial at the base of it.”

“My, my, twelve inches! Kimmy, I never figured you for a size queen. Do you like big, hard things going up your dirty cunt, Kimmy?”

“Yes… I mean.. only when…”

“That’s okay, Kimmy. No need to go into details on that one, yet. So tell me, Kimmy, I recall hearing that when women fuck themselves they often have fantasies that help push them along. Tell me, Kimmy, what were you fantasizing about when you were fucking your pussy with your big green dildo? What...or who...made you cum?”

At this point, Kim broke down again, more than before, and let out uncontrollable sobs. Here she was, a respected professional woman, a woman who in the past had considered herself to be straight and sexually reserved and discrete, who, for reasons unclear to her, was being forced to describe the details of her last orgasm and to do it in vulgar terms. It was supposed to be a private matter for her and yet she was being compelled to divulge every intimate detail to a woman—a lesbian woman, no less—whom she couldn’t stand...who, at the same time, was a woman whom she, not of her own choosing, desired desperately…

Kim first met Regina—and only met her—at a campus function a few months before. Kim had been genial enough to her, but only just enough to meet the bar of civility. By then, it was common knowledge among faculty members at Preston that Regina Burke was an openly gay woman, which was unsettling for a woman like Kim, who saw in the LGBT lifestyle an affront to her conservative values. However, she knew in the current day and age it was best not to be very vocal about her concepts of acceptable sexual practices and family configurations, and so she mostly kept them to herself and her like-minded friends...and Kim did her best to avoid any contact with Regina, both before having inescapably met her at the event, and afterwards.

However, cruel fate, as it seemed, was determined to bring these two women together. A week after the campus function, a member of Regina’s staff named Traci contacted Kim to schedule a meeting with Regina for the alleged purpose of “addressing concerns about” Kim’s “teaching practices”. Kim didn’t have the slightest clue what the staff member was talking about and knew that Regina didn’t have authority over her. Wanting nothing to do with the woman, Kim was set to politely decline the request.

However, then Kim considered rumors she had heard that Regina was a behind-the-scenes player on campus and wielded more influence and power around the school and in the city than her official title would suggest. Certain things, big and small, didn’t happen unless they had her approval, she had heard, and she was capable of being a formidable enemy to those who crossed her, it was said; from funding for research to promotions to tenure, much of it didn’t happen without Regina’s okay, according to the scuttlebutt. While there apparently wasn’t much solid proof backing up that gossip, it was agreed by a majority of Preston’s staff and colleagues that it was best to stay on Regina Burke’s good side. With that in mind and not wanting to risk her career, Kim had reluctantly agreed to meet with Regina.

By the day their meeting arrived, Kim had resolved to try to make it as cordial as possible...but prolonged congeniality would not prove to be the tenor of their get-together. When she arrived at Regina’s office, both women exchanged typical pleasantries as both seated themselves, but that was about as far as pleasantness went. Wasting little time with small talk, Regina brought up supposed rumors of Kim sleeping with male students and accused her of giving favorable grades to those among them who performed well in bed, while harboring a bias against the female students in her classes.

Kim had been furious. To be labeled a wanton trollop who passed her male students based on their sexual prowess was absolutely intolerable to her. She wasn’t that starved for sexual intimacy, nor that reckless, to look at her students as potential partners, and she expressed those and other defensive arguments with unveiled anger. She, in her turn, hurled her own accusations and unflattering appellations at Regina, threatened to file a complaint against her with HR, and promised to take the issue all the way up to the university president himself, unless Regina were to retract and drop the matter promptly.

Unfortunately, Kim had failed to notice Traci sneaking up behind, and by the time she did, it was too late. Traci smothered her face with a drug-soaked rag and, as Kim inhaled the strong sedatives, she felt her body go limp. As wakefulness surrendered to sudden sleep, the last thing she saw was Regina towering over her with a sinister smile.

Kim was unaware that she had come into Hecate’s crosshairs even before graduating with her doctorate. A prime factor in their interest in her was her dissertation, “Mass Psychological Techniques to Alter Public Perceptions and Beliefs”, in which she tapped into her undergrad emphasis as a psychology major on the subject of mass-applied mental manipulation. Her dissertation explored means to persuade the public mindset politically, and thereby to achieve policy victories. Kim’s purpose was not to advocate public mental manipulation, which she did not favor, but rather simply to describe and dissect it academically.

Hecate saw their own applications for her work, in particular the development of methods to alter the way the masses viewed homosexuality and matriarchy, to the end of eventually creating a female-dominated society in which lesbiansim was the norm rather than the exception. Even though Kim was straight, married, and had not demonstrated any particular inclination to favor a society as envisioned by Hecate, the secretive organization saw those facts as surmountable irrelevancies, prizing her for the aid her understanding and insights might give their endeavor to change laws, beliefs, perceptions, and practices in society, once they had her properly converted into an ally.

Consequently, a subsidiary of Hecate approached her after her graduation, inviting her to join their political think tank in Washington D.C. with an offer of grand financial reward and political power, but Kim turned them down, expressing her desire to instead enter the world of academia. Undeterred by her rejection, Hecate kept tabs on her and manipulated her job search, causing her to receive a few rejection letters here and there while opening up a faculty position at Preston University, steering Kim toward it. Regina used her clout within the university to have Kim hired and in turn was given full reign in regards to Kim’s conversion, picking whatever changes she thought would best bring Kim under Hecate’s control. As a reward, Goddess promised Regina unfettered access to the young woman’s body as long as she kept Kim’s sharp political mind intact and made her a loyal servant to Hecate.

Regina had had a special induction planned for Kim, whom she coveted for her beauty and whose decided heterosexuality and morality she disdained. From the dossier Hecate had prepared for her about Kim, Regina had known about her previous marriage—to a man—and rumors had reached her ears about certain occasional after-hours diliances with men after her divorce, although Regina had never been able to substantiate them and suspected that they were simply rumors and nothing more, as Kim struck Regina as an old-fashioned prude underneath all of her good looks and despite her sexy appeal. That combination—beauty, heterosexuality, tenacious morality, and latent fiery sensuality—always caught Regina’s eye. It stirred her imagination as to how she might transform and corrupt such an individual and she viewed it as a personal challenge to bring it to pass, if she could. In Kim’s case, it had indeed proved possible.

Kim’s time under Regina’s care had Kim undergo the brainwashing process over and over again as parts of her psyche and the sexual appetites, passions, and urges of her body were dramatically altered. Regina’s program made Kim’s mind a prisoner in her own body, a captive to new, twisted lusts. By the end of the programming, Kim found herself feeling compelled to carry out Regina’s commands while being fully aware that she was doing so against her will. To ensure absolute compliance and loyalty, Regina introduced a few special personality quirks into parts of Kim’s psyche.

First, Kim’s body, emotions, and subconscious mind were twisted so that they were utterly addicted to sex—not just any kind of sex, of course, but lesbian sex—while leaving her conscious mind and will as they had been. Hecate brainwashed Kim so that, to function with some semblance of sanity in the course of her normal, daily life, she would always need to participate in regular lesbian sex. She was subsequently told that she had the option, a theoretical option, to consciously fight those lesbian urges and stay true to her conservative, heterosexual beliefs, but that resistance would, over time, come to be excruciating for her, as her body had been conditioned to go through withdrawal symptoms like a heroin addict should she not get a timely fix of lesbian sapphic gratification.

A second trait incorporated into Kim was that even if she should finally break down, give in, and indulge herself in sapphic sex, or simply try to get herself off by masturbation, she still couldn’t achieve an orgasm without Regina giving her permission to have one, at least for the time being. The last time she gave such permission for Kim to cum was about a month ago.

Third, it was programmed into Kim’s body that it would take her first intercourse with another woman to activate the brainwashing and conditioning done to her and make her a confirmed lesbian, albeit a temporary one. Her next such experience, if it were voluntary on her part, and if it occurred within three months of her first lesbian sex, would lock in the changes and make her irreversibly, permanently, and ravenously queer. Thus, if Kim would never have had a first-time episode of sex with another woman, she would only have lesbian urges, mixed in with her native heterosexual propensities, and eventually her new queer desires would simply fade away. And if she had a first but not a second round of lesbian love, if she could resist the sapphic storm raging inside her after her initial introduction to lesbian sex, if she could withstand bedding another woman or girl for three months, then, again, she would return to her previous sexuality. This was all explained to Kim immediately after she emerged from her brainwashing.

However, the evening after Kim’s brainwashing had been completed, Regina, playing on Kim’s new emotions and urges, tempted Kim into her first lesbian sex, finishing her new, screaming plaything off with her favorite strap-on. It was a memory Regina relished whenever she saw the nubile professor on campus, a memory of teasing and inflaming the pretty, vulnerable brunette into salivating, helpless surrender with her flirtations and suggestive words and adroit physical displays and disrobing and touches and kisses, of the exultation she had felt in bending Kim over her desk and pummeling the young teacher’s soaking cunt into sexual oblivion, and of the adorable look of absolute shame and horror on Kim’s face after she came crashing down from her erotic bliss and realized that her resolve and faith had failed her in that hour. After she had vowed to Regina and to herself that it would not happen again, Regina recalled bursting into laughter over Kim’s futile oath.

After that, Regina had then let Kim return to her normal life for a while, granting her permission to cum only twice, the first time happening a week after her brainwashing and the second about a week later, which orgasms Kim achieved by using her fingers, glossy cheesecake magazines, and lesbian porn, and by conjuring sapphic fantasies involving various women, real and fictional, including, especially, Regina. Then Regina had let Kim wait over the past month with no further permission to climax, knowing the denial would be excruciating and test, likely beyond Kim’s ability to endure, her resolve to resist a second real-life lesbian encounter over the month and a half remaining on Kim’s ticking time limit.

A fourth quirk drilled into Kim was a love of titillating girly photos and illustrations and of lesbian porn material of all types. She was allowed to use it as a substitute for in-person sex, but it could only hold her for a limited time, and then she would need a real girl or woman, in person. Regina told Kim how and where to obtain such material. Kim resisted at first, believing she didn’t need it or want it, but she felt drawn to it powerfully, she couldn’t get it out of her mind, and her resistance gradually weakened until she finally went out to an adult boutique to make purchases, which was an undertaking of great embarrassment to Kim. Subsequently, Regina directed her to online sources, to which Kim resorted with increasing frequency and passion.

Additionally, Kim had been conditioned to love and to want Regina terribly, to pine for her attention, affection, presence, and touch, and to view her as the epitome of womanhood and a model for herself—all the while still being able to harbor deep-seated hate, disgust, and resentment for her. At times, this warring duality within her emotions made her feel as though she was being torn apart.

Lastly, Hecate made it so that Kim felt compelled to obey any female who addressed her with the nickname “Kimmy”, as Regina had been doing, but,as a side effect, it also created some socially embarrassing situations when a few of her friends used the name in a teasing fashion.

Now back in the present, here she was in her office, hysterically crying over what seemed like an unending string of torments she had had to endure at Regina’s hand—the latest indignity being having been forced to explain her masturbatory habits in vulgar terms—and yet hoping for some ray of mercy, small chance as it appeared, that the Director would grant her the permission to orgasm.

“Kimmy? Kimmy, are you there? I demand you stop this blubbering nonsense and get a hold of yourself. Understand, Kimmy?”

Summoning what remained of her willpower, Kim stifled her sobs as best as she could, wiped away her tears, and tried to regain her composure.

“Ye… yes, Regina. I understand.”

“Good. I have half a mind to end this conversation for that outburst, but it would go against my fair and generous nature.”

Silence was the response that Kim gave, but the scowl on her face more than indicated what she thought of Regina’s supposed generosity and sense of fair play.

“Now, let’s see... I believe I asked you a question before you had your outburst. However, I lost my train of thought, so maybe you can help me, Kimmy. Tell me what I asked you before your hysterics.”

“You asked what I fantasize about when I fuck myself,” Kim responded with a cold tone in her voice.

“Then answer the question.”

“I… I fantasize about women.”

“Really, that’s all? Come on Kimmy, give me the juicy details. After all, we’re friends.”

“I fantasize about women… naked women. I imagine them touching my naked body and doing things like… kissing my… my tits...their hands all over my body...sticking their fingers into my…my pussy...and even… licking it with their tongues.”

“Any specific women in your fantasies, Kimmy?”

“...”

“I believe I asked you a question, Kimmy. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“Friends...female friends...some of the other female teachers...coeds...female celebrities...models...porn actresses...my sister in Ohio...my two nieces……...you……..”

“Me? Why, I’m very flattered that you’ve included me in your sexual fantasies...though I hate to break it to you but, you’re really not my type, Kimmy.”

Since part of Kim’s training was the instillation of a crush for Regina—while her conscious mind detested the woman, now her body and emotions craved her affection deeply, and even the sound of her voice was a thrill, while simultaneously being painful—Regina’s rejection stung all the more.

“Well, I think we’ve done enough talking for now. Tell me, Kimmy, how are you feeling right now? And be honest.”

“Regina...please...I don’t know how much longer I can stand it...I’m...I’m feeling so hot…so h-horny”

“It’s our Miss Love-Livingston, isn’t it? You like her, don’t you? You want her...just like the lezzie slut you now are…”

I don’t know how she knows me and what I’m thinking so well...but...she’s right… She is such a babe……… But...I...shouldn’t let on about her...about how she got me so turned on...like a total lezzie slut....but...I do need relief...and very soon...and only Regina can help me………. Maybe I am a slut…….. I want a woman to get me off…

That part about me having to resist for a certain time...I think I have another month, month and a half, or so, to last…….but…...she can’t mean that. That sounds like hocus pocus to me. No...I just need to get off...whatever it takes…even if it means doing a...a girl……... But...long term...this lesbian stuff isn’t me...and one day Regina has got to release me…. Then I’ll go back to being the old me……..although…….I wouldn’t mind another fling with Regina….mmmmmm… She’s soooo beautiful...and sexy…. even though I hate her……..but...yes...I loved sex with her… I have to have one more time with her...or maybe two………..or….

“I...I really need to cum. I-I really want someone…a woman...a beautiful woman like you...or anyone else you want...to bend me over my desk and ravish my...my pussy. To fff… fuck my c-cunt... Fingers, tongue, a dildo… I don’t care... I just want to be fucked by a woman… My pussy… it’s so wet, Regina... Can I...can I see you?... Could you...could you...uh...fuck me?... Or could you let me have someone else...to...to fuck me?...Or I can even fuck myself!... My pussy is wet and it needs lesbian sex... Please,” Kim tearfully pleaded to her tormentor, “it’s really getting bad! I have another class to teach in thirty minutes. Please, I’m begging you!”

There was a long silence. Kim was nervous as she awaited Regina’s response, praying to Goddess that there was a shred of humanity in Regina and that she would free her, if not permanently, then at least long enough to get a climax from something or somebody today. Kim waited with baited breath until Regina finally broke the uncomfortable silence.

“I guess I can help you out, so here’s the deal, Kimmy. Take off your panties, dear. I’m sure those have been thoroughly soaked by your dripping whore-cunt by now.”

Though feeling desperate enough to simply rip her clothes off and commencing to comply immediately, Kim did her best to exercise a modicum of restraint. She tried to take off her skirt without wrinkling, tearing, soiling, or otherwise ruining it, fumbling with the button and zipper and then gently peeling the pencil skirt down her trembling, smooth thighs. Next Kim rolled down her black sheer nylon stockings, again taking care to not put a run in them. Kim took a few deep breaths to soothe her nerves before she slid down and off the last article of clothing remaining below her waist, her panties. Regina was right; they were wet from Kim’s sexual lust.

Kim stared down at her smooth, shaven mound, a grim reminder to her of her forced servitude under Regina. Kim reflected on the day Regina ordered her to shave her intimate area for the first time, to shave it completely, to shave it smooth, and to shave it in front of her. Worse, Regina had one of her cohorts record the whole episode. “For posterity” was the reason Regina gave, but Kim knew that was ludicrous. Instead, it was probably for blackmail, to keep her further under control, as well as to have something obscene that Regina would share with her deviant friends. Maybe she would even use it in some kind of porn video. Kim shuddered to think that there were other women out there taking sexual delight in her humiliation.

“Done.”

“Took you long enough. Alright, Kimmy, despite you being so flippant with me, I did have a reward ready for you if you completed the task I gave you. If you go to your desk and open the large bottom drawer, you’ll see a package. I want you to open it. Tell me when you do, Kimmy.”

Following Regina’s orders, Kim walked to her desk and, true to Regina’s word, there was a package in the mentioned drawer. It was a medium-sized box, something one would get from a department store for a gift, with a red ribbon wrapped around it. After a few seconds of hesitation, expecting some sort of reprehensible item from this deranged woman, Kim carefully opened it. When the contents of the package were revealed to her, she let out a shocked gasp and dropped the box.

Inside was one item, a pair of shiny candy-red latex panties. Kim’s first impression was that a lesbian like Regina giving an intimate undergarment as a gift to a straight woman like Kim (or like she thought herself to be) was rather audacious, but what then took her by surprise was the fact that there were two large protrusions jutting inward from the crotch area. The larger one, she estimated, was roughly six inches in length and one inch in diameter, with ribs running the length of the shaft, while the other, similar in style and diameter to its big sister, was about two or three inches shorter.

“Judging by your lack of response, I take it you found my gift. Do you like it, Kimmy? I got it just for you.” Regina’s mocking tone added a venomous sting to her transparently insincere statement.

“Y-yes, Regina.”

“Good. You’re going to be wearing that pair of panties for the remainder of the day, with the bigger one up your ass and the smaller one in your cunt. Understand, Kimmy?”

“.......yes…..” Kim answered, with the sound of utter defeat in her voice.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Get to it, Kimmy!”

Staring at the dual-dildo panties, Kim took a deep-breath before she obeyed Regina’s command. Of course she could handle the smaller dildo protrusion in her pussy with no trouble, she figured; she was, after all, no virgin. It was the larger one that caused mental distress within Kim, and in a few minutes it would be physical distress, as well. Kim had never been a fan of anal sex and had only taken it in her ass on two occasions when she and her ex-husband had decided to try to spice up their sex life with something kinky. Her only take away from anal was the discomfort she endured while her husband got the pleasure of shooting a load up her ass.

Knowing from experience that, in order to minimize one’s discomfort with such an item when employed anally, it had to be lubricated first, and with no commercial lube handy and an impatient Regina waiting, Kim saw no other recourse than to wet the tool with her mouth. She brought the larger of the two artificial cocks to her mouth and began to suck on it.

Almost immediately an image popped into her mind of herself kneeling before Regina, the older brunette naked and wearing a red strap-on engulfed in Kim’s mouth, sending a surge of lust through her body and making her current act one permeated with a strong sapphic undertone. Trying to shake the image from her head, she could not, and, knowing she could not delay this act, finally accepted the fantasy and proceeded, but with an inadvertent sensuality and pleasure which she had not anticipated. Now closing her eyes and slurping on it as if it were a candy treat, she drooled and slathered the red phallus with as much of her spit and phlegm as possible, painting the diabolic shaft with her tongue up and down the dildo’s length, over and over, not only to aid in the act of self-buggering she was about to undertake, but also compulsively to please the beauty whose rod she tongued and whose thighs and ass she caressed in her imagination. As Regina could hear the slurping sounds over the phone and suspected what was going on, both in reality and in her victims’ mind, she allowed Kim to continue a little while, before reawakening Kim to the task at hand by clearing her throat.

Kim braced herself, then stepped into the panties and worked them up her legs, pausing below her hips. Knowing she could not stop what was happening, Kim spread her legs as far as the panties would allow for comfort and shimmied them up until she felt the tip of the long dildo brush between buttcheeks. After taking a deep breath and trying to relax herself, she felt the dildo wedge into the globes of her ass and its tip touch her puckered rosebud, making her gasp a quick breath in.

She slowly started to shove the sleek latex phallus in. Closing her eyes and taking shallow breaths, she worked the first few inches of the shaft into her ass. Despite her attempts to prepare herself for the inevitable anal intrusion, Kim still let out a sharp hiss as she felt the spit-covered shaft penetrate her rear.

A small form of relief came when she felt the tip of the smaller dildo touch the entrance to her dripping pussy. Spikes of pleasure rippled from her heated groin and a small moan rushed out her lips. Given a second wind by the pleasure emanating from her sexually charged cunt, Kim managed to work both shafts all the way into her two holes as her body shuddered in response. Kim took calming breaths as she felt her pussy and ass convulse on the shafts that filled them, the dildos in her body only provoking the sexual arousal in her body. She was on a sexual razor’s edge and yet could do nothing to appease the lust raging in her body.

“D-Done… I’m w-wearing the underwear… oh, god… I mean, ‘goddess’. Regina, please. I’m begging you. You gotta help me! Please!”

“Alright, Kimmy, for today, and today only, I will do this for you: I’ll let you sniff your old panties and every time you smell them it will make your arousal subside to manageable levels. However, that effect will only last for about thirty minutes and then the arousal will return, stronger than before. So I suggest you hold on to those for dear life if you want to make it through to the end of the day, Kimmy.”

“But… but what about letting me cum? Regina, I did everything you said. Please... let me cum,” pleaded Kim

“Don’t rush me, Kimmy. Now in regards to relieving you of sexual frustration, I believe I have the perfect solution for you, especially since you shared such intimate details about yourself with me.

“In a few seconds you should be getting a text message from me. That text will have an address to a particular club in it. Arrive there at the designated time and you will get the orgasm you desperately need.”

On cue the message arrived on Kim’s smartphone and, to her shock, she recognized the name of the club she had to go to, Sapphire Bliss. It was a popular hangout for the LGBT community in Preston.

“Regina, please, not there, anywhere but there. Some… of the gay students and staff go there. What if someone recognizes me?”

“Not my problem, Kimmy. If you want to cum, that’s the place you need to go to, got it?”

Kim hung her head in defeat as she responded. “Yes.”

“Good, dear. Now, I doubt you’ll be attracting the desired attention with your current outfit. So I took the liberty of having a package dropped off at your apartment. After your last class, go back to your apartment, open the package, wear everything that’s inside, and then head off to the club. Understand what I’m saying, Kimmy?”

“Yes.”

“When you get to the club you’ll have your pick from the litter of cute, sexy girls who’re there to be seduced by a hot foxy woman like yourself. I don’t care who, but your goal is to seduce a girl at that club, take her home, and beg her to fuck your brains out. Turn her on and get her to have all-out lesbian sex with you. Then and only then, you may cum. Think you can handle that, Kimmy?”

“Yes.”

“But I have to warn you, Kimmy. If you do this, once you sweet-talk some girl and have your way with her like a horny lesbian whore, it will count as your second episode of lesbian fornication. After that act, you’ll be a lesbian forever, and you won’t ever be able to go back. That is what you will be from that moment on.”

“Oh...but…” Kim didn’t believe that would happen. Regina must be just tormenting her again, this time with some baseless threat. “But...you don’t really mean that, right?”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Uh...okay…”

“Good. I’m done with you for today and this call is over. Don’t bother calling me. I’ll call you. Do you understand Kimmy?”

“Yes.”

“Well then, I guess I’ll let you go so you can teach your classes. Goodbye, Kimmy.”

After ending the call, Kim pulled on her nylons, skirt, and heels and did her best to otherwise straighten out her appearance and compose herself, trying to pretend that nothing was wrong and that everything was as normal as before she fell into Regina’s clutches. After a few minutes she felt everything was as good as it could get. Kim was set to walk out when she noticed she was clutching her panties, the ones she had been wearing up to a few minutes before, in her right hand.

Slowly bringing them up to her nose, Kim took a deep sniff, inhaling her own sexual musk, and discovered that Regina had been right; Kim could indeed feel the sexual need and frustration abate. And the smell wasn’t that bad, either, which seemed to make sense since, after all, it was her own scent. Deciding that, in fact, her female aroma was pretty nice, she took three more deep breaths, before she stuffed her panties back into her purse and headed out the door.

Looking at her watch, it was a little past 11 am. She only had six more hours to endure at the university, tortuously restraining herself, and then she would be off that evening to the gay club to pick up a girl so she could get her rocks off. But, she thought to herself, this would be a one-time event....because she wasn’t really a lesbian...and then she would be done having sex with girls… After this, surely she could prevail on Regina to reconsider and release her and, if not, there would have to be some other way of escaping, she told herself. She was a decent woman, a straight woman; she knew that God would not let a perverted woman like Regina lead her astray, corrupt her, and force her to perform sinful acts and worship a false idol called “Goddess” indefinitely, and no way would she allow herself to continue to feel and behave like a lesbian and a slut in the future.

Walking out the door, Kim had no idea how much her life would take a turn after today, but it would indeed unfold according to Regina’s design. Following Regina’s plan, Kim would seduce a college girl tonight and, at last, find the release for which she sought. It would be a high like none other. After reporting to Regina all the details, she would beg for and be granted permission for another orgasm sometime soon with another girl, despite her resolutions and expectations to the contrary, knowing it would be the only way Regina would let her cum again...and, after the fate-sealing second act of lesbian intercourse, she would crave more of the same even more desperately than she had before. This time Regina would grant permission, with a false merciful and generous tone, and leave the timetable up to Kim. She would not be able to resist repeating the act within the next day or two, and, again, the reward would be heavenly. From then on, any and all instructions Regina would give her, no matter how questionable or demeaning, she would readily follow, not only because she had to obey when addressed as “Kimmy”, but also because she needed her next fix and only through her pusher, Regina, could she have it.

Regina would then unleash her, giving her the green light to seek climaxes at will, knowing that Kim would find herself seeking her sexual highs frequently and exclusively with other women, as well as in numerous sessions with lesbian porn. Soon, lesbian sex would be an addiction so powerful that it would come to dominate her everyday world. It would not be long before she would indulge with acquaintances as well as with total strangers, and would come to have a number of steady girlfriends and lovers.

As an effect of her brainwashing and new attractions, she finds that all of her former sexual feelings for men were extinguished and that she, in fact, was repulsed by them. Her new direction becoming impossible for her to deny, and losing the desire to do so, she would accept and embrace what she now was—a lesbian, through and though, and a greedy, needy, slutty lesbian whore, at that.

Within the next couple of weeks, a new style of dress and self-beautification would start turning heads, though she would tone it down a little for her job, and new rumors would spread about her, but this time they would be ones touting her preference for ladies, and they would have much more truth behind them than the previous round of gossip. Not long after that, those rumors would be confirmed by an increasing number of voices until Kim would be outed rather publicly and she would have to admit her new sexual orientation to the world.

Subsequently, her conservative friends would avoid her—except for a few who pretended to try to reclaim her, while secretly using her to indulge their sexual curiosity—leading her to spend her free time increasingly with loose, homosexual women and girls.

Her female students would start to whisper among each other, with some accuracy, that all they had to do to pass her classes was dress provocatively and be willing to spread their legs during private one-on-one sessions. Increasingly, Kim would find the pretty coeds at Preston to be irresistible, and she would start flaunting the applicable rules to have flings with them, whether the coeds were lesbian, bisexual, bi-curious, or merely susceptible to sapphic seduction. In time, in fact, she would start to find perverse enjoyment in the challenge of converting cute, innocent straight girls into lesbians as thoroughly queer and promiscuous as she now was. Eventually, Kim would seduce and take into her bed her own older sister, followed by her twin nieces, who graduated from high school a year ago, when they visited her during the summer break.

When Hecate judged Kim ready, they would recruit her into their organization, and this time, after they explained their overall plan to change society, Kim, as a dyed-in-the-wool, man-hating lesbian, and because Regina recommended it, and because her twisted emotions overruled her intellectual resistance, would consent to helping them.

Through all of this, Kim’s physical and emotional desire for Regina, and her longing for her body and approval and companionship, would only grow, despite the simultaneous mental revulsion she continued to harbor for her. From time to time, Regina would call Kim into her office for a quickie or over to her house for a night of hard-core sapphic play, each time Kim being unable to not feel like the most favored young woman on the planet, despite Regina continuing to shame her and jerk her around, and despite Kim’s guilt and great contempt for Regina and for what she had done and was doing to her. Nevertheless, Regina became the center of her world. Kim would hang on her every word and wish, and, finding the evil, manipulative, seductive woman utterly fascinating, would seek to emulate her, eventually adopting many features of Regina’s appearance, style, mannerisms, talk, habits, and morals—including becoming a smoker, despite having not long before viewed the habit with complete aversion.

Despite all this, one thing remained constant in Kim’s new lifestyle. Deep within her mind was the same Kim Edris trapped in her own body, witnessing and experiencing every perverse action and deed and unable to do anything about it, except to mentally scream in horror.

Earlier in the day…

The sound of the apartment door opening and closing gently nudged Meredith awake. She lay there with her eyes closed, surrendering for a few minutes to the urge to remain in the comfort of her bed, until reflecting that it was probably best to not waste much more of the day there, as she had to finish packing her stuff, upon which she slowly roused herself more awake.

That must’ve been Claire heading out for class.

Untangling herself from her blankets, Meredith stretched and let out a yawn as she continued the process of shaking off the shackles of sleep, noting how good her young, smooth, rested body felt. She felt like running her hands all over it, although she did not.

Sitting up, Meredith suddenly felt a bit uneasy, as if she wasn’t alone; yet, looking around her room, she could see that it was undisturbed. Everything was as it should be. Still, she couldn’t help but feel that somebody was in her room...or maybe had been there…

She perceived a faint fragrance lingering in the air… It was familiar in some way… She tried to place it…. Then she realized it reminded her of the soap Claire used… No, it was more than similar to it… It was the same… Although the scent was subtle, the air in her room smelled like Claire would smell after a shower.

Could Claire have… ? Nah, that’s so not like her.

Meredith laughed at the ridiculous idea that her roommate had snuck into her room...and to what end? There was nothing in her room, really, that would draw the furtive interest of any of her roommates...not her posters...not her anime figures...not her t-shirts...not…

But… what if… what if she came in to see...me…?

Meredith recalled the morning before last when Claire had proposed an intriguing—no, an exciting—scheme to get her and Monica together. She and Claire would feign interest—romantic and sexual interest—in one another whenever in front of Monica and attempt to elicit feelings of jealousy from the fiery Latina sex goddess, who, Claire had informed Meredith earlier, was interested in improving the friendship they currently had. While Meredith wasn’t sure how far she was willing to go, merely reviewing the idea called forth faint spikes of pleasure within her body. Meredith didn’t notice, but she was rubbing her inner thighs together as she thought about Claire and her plan. And deep within Meredith’s subconscious mind, the mental alterations made by Regina and Hecate began to nudge and push her conscious thinking toward believing that an intimate friendship, one that would be built upon the foundation of sexual attraction, would be better suited for her and Monica than a mere platonic or sisterly understanding.

Remnants of her damaged heterosexual psyche tried to resist that notion, seeking to push it out of her mind before it could gain traction within her conscious desires, tapping into Meredith’s own insecurities to steer her away from such thoughts, thoughts that had been foreign to her but a week before. Throughout her high school years, Meredith had regarded her body to be inferior to her peers in various ways. At best, if someone would have described her as just a plain, ordinary girl, an average person with nothing special going on, she would have felt fortunate. But she didn’t ever feel that she was even simply ordinary, much less better than ordinary, having a body loaded with so many flaws, as she had come to see it, that no boy could possibly show interest in her and, it seemed, none did. So wouldn’t the same be true for women, here and now?

Even… even if Monica… and Claire were… lesbians...which they’re not...but if they were...there’s no way that girls as sexy as them would find me attractive…

However, the inverse was not true, that is, it wasn’t true that Meredith couldn’t find sexy girls attractive. She now did. The brainwashing done to her mind insured that Meredith would feel varying degrees of arousal when thinking about women, and looking at them, and being near them, women such as her alluring roommates, especially Monica.

… Monica… She knows how to look good… and sexy… If she wasn’t such a bitch all the time, she might be pleasant to be with.

Another product of her brainwashing was a new tendency to entertain various ideas of sexual domination when she thought specifically of Monica. The redhead’s new subconscious program was formulated to trigger ideas in Meredith’s mind about sexually subjugating the Latina vixen, to control Monica and make her bend to Meredith’s every whim, more specifically her sexual whims.

But she is a bitch… She’s just like them, all of them, every single stuck-up bitch who thought they were better than me. Claire’s right. Maybe it’s best that I manipulate her into a better form of friendship...a more...sensual one... one to my liking...one on my terms...one where I get what I want… She’s been used to having her way… Now it’s my turn...to have it my way... She’ll end up liking it, too, anyway, probably… I’ll make sure she does… She’d better like it... As a matter of fact, I think Monica really doesn’t know what she wants in her vapid life, and, if she really wants to be friends with me, then it would be better if I took a more...controlling interest in this friendship of ours.

She envisioned their roles reversed, Monica as the meek, insecure, nerdy girl so desperately wanting to befriend the self-confident, strikingly-beautiful red-haired lass, on her knees begging Meredith for her friendship. A satisfied smirk appeared on Meredith’s face, while pleasurable tingles raced through her body.

“Please… please be my friend, Meredith… I’m so sorry I treated you so badly. I didn’t know what kind of woman you truly are, how beautiful you could be. You have to forgive me. Please,” begged the fantasy version of the Latina vixen on her knees groveling for Meredith’s friendship, “I want us to be girlfriends for life.”

The Monica in Meredith’s power-trip fantasy was not dressed in the fashionable attire she normally wore. Instead, Monica had on the kind of attire Meredith usually would wear, including a pink tee showing Deadpool riding a unicorn. While not typical for the Hispanic hottie, the tee was tight enough to show off the curves and fullness of Monica’s perky breasts nicely. The jeans Monica wore, despite their worn out and faded look, displayed her sexy legs and her very cute butt in an eye-catching fashion. Meredith couldn’t help but be impressed by what Monica’s body could do to these kinds of clothes.

“I don’t know, Monica. You’ve been nothing but an absolute pain in my ass ever since I got here. How do I know you’re sincere about being my girlfriend?” inquired Meredith.

Meredith saw that, in this fantasy, she, herself, was dressed in a manner that would befit the real Monica and, up to that point, never the real Meredith. She had on an elegant V-neck, spaghetti-strap, backless, dark-green silk minidress that had a side split. The dress did an amazing job of showing off Meredith’s tantalizing mammaries and the split gave a teasing view of the seductive curves of her left hip and leg. Her auburn locks were styled fashionably in gentle curls that flowed a little past her shoulders, with her bangs combed to the right.

The fantasy Meredith had on an array of cosmetics. Her nails were painted a glossy plum purple, along with her lips. Emerald-green eyeshadow, mascara, and pitch-black eyeliner adorned her eyes. Two-inch hoop earrings, a fine chain necklace, bracelets, and an anklet chain, all of gold encrusted with emeralds, decorated her body.

“Please… Meredith, I’m so sorry. You have to believe me. I...I really like you...more than you could possibly know. All I want, all I’ve ever really wanted, is for us, you and me, to be together...as we should be.”

Meredith looked down at the former haughty bitch who had made her life at Preston unbearable at times. To see Monica prostrated before her put a smug smile on her face. Plus, she didn’t mind the teasing view of the bronze-skinned hottie’s rear.

“You always say that you’re sorry, and yet here we are. If there only was something you could do to prove to me just how sorry you really are...”

“I’ll do anything!”

“Anything?”

Monica in Meredith’s fantasy eagerly nodded her head in response, her pretty black curls bobbing adorably around her gorgeous face.

Meredith gently raised her foot, encased in a gold four-inch high heel sandal and enwrapped in silver-colored leather straps, towards Monica’s face. Meredith playfully wiggled her painted toes in front of Monica’s desire-laden face.

“Prove it, you sexy bitch!”

Without Meredith issuing a more specific command, Monica hungrily jumped into action first commencing to plant soft, worshipful kisses on her crush’s toes and instep. Then her tongue began to lick leather and flesh. After a few minutes, Monica removed the shiny golden sandal off the foot and sucked her red-headed friend’s toes.

After worshiping Meredith’s foot with her mouth, Monica planted a trail of butterfly kisses up Meredith’s sexy calf, then up her succulently smooth thigh and around to her soft inner thigh, at length approaching quite close to Meredith’s intimate area between her legs.

The fantasy, kinky from the start, was becoming more clearly sexual with every imagined kiss and lick, and Meredith was finding it increasingly impossible to overlook that aspect. All of a sudden she felt an exquisite sexual pulse between her legs, accompanied by a sexy little gasp. Recognizing her feelings and responses as unmistakably sexual now, she snapped out of her lustful haze. Looking down, Meredith saw her right hand inside her panties. She was definitely surprised that her hand, seemingly on its own, had drifted between her legs and was playing with her moist fuck hole without her consciously electing and realizing it.

Startled that she caught herself masturbating to a fantasy—an erotic fantasy—centered around Monica, or, more to the point, around Monica and herself, together, Meredith withdrew her hand. Inspecting it, she took notice of the glistening wetness on her index and middle fingers. Beguiled by the slick sexual fluid on her fingers, Meredith brought them close to her face. Feeling compelled, she took a sniff. The sensual musk of her own sexual juices took her off guard. Meredith had expected somewhat of an unappealing aroma, but, to her surprise, she found the scent of her pussy to be pleasing, even enticing.

Never noticed how pleasant the smell of my own pussy could be. Wonder if all girls smell this nice.

As she pondered the sensual scents of women, Meredith felt a sudden impulse to go beyond enjoying the fragrance of her womanly flower to tasting the sexual nectar clinging to her fingers. The nascent idea of imbibing a woman’s love juice—and, as the implied, linked act, doing so directly from its source while commiting lesbian cunnilingus—was attempting to take root in Meredith’s conscious mind, having been planted within her subconscious mind during her recent stay at Hecate’s underground lab at the Artemis Centre; however, Meredith wasn’t quite ready for that jump, so she quickly pushed the thought out and wiped her fingers clean on her bedsheets.

Maybe… maybe another time. I-I got to get ready. Can’t spend all day jilling off. Gotta get ready for the big move.

Deciding that she had already wasted too much time, Meredith bolted up from her bed and made her way towards the bathroom to start the day with a relaxing shower.

It took a while for the water to hit the right temperature. Meredith wasn’t fond of the old dorm apartments’ antiquated plumbing and wasn’t in the mood to blast herself with shivering cold by not waiting long enough. Having a shower that didn’t require her to wait for comfortable warm water was one of the benefits she eagerly anticipated in their move into the Suites.

Having waited long enough, Meredith finally stepped into the tub and moaned softly as warm water hit her flesh. Sighing, she felt the fast streams of water wash her worries off her body, as it seemed. Little did Meredith realize, however, that the more she relaxed under the warm deluge and surrendered to this carnal enjoyment, the lower her mental defenses sank and the higher her attunement became to her body and its new lusts, allowing Hecate’s brainwashing to assault her soul with renewed vigor.

Her sensations of physical pleasure, now intertwined completely with the joys of relaxation, came to dominate her mind. Meredith once again felt the sensual tingle that had visited her both when she had awakened, guessing that Claire might have been in her room watching her as she slept, maybe even touching her, and when she fantasized about Monica a minute later, but this time she was in the shower rubbing soap over her wet, naked body.

So good…

As the pleasures of the flesh began to stir and increase within Meredith’s body, she lost focus on the task of actually washing, although she did eventually accomplish that, in favor of letting her hands roam over her sudsy body to caress herself. Her left hand skated over her slick skin and found delight in massaging her left breast, while the fingers of her right hand began to play affectionately with her excited pussy.

My...my body…it feels sooo good… I wonder why I have never noticed, quite, until now...and why I never liked my body before… It’s actually...pretty...and has certain distinct...charms… My skin…it’s so soft...and smooth...my legs...so slim and so nice...and I’m...I’m curvy…….not like my roommates, quite...but...I’m not the same skinny girl I used to be… My little titties...they’re so creamy...and jiggly……… Who...who wouldn’t just love these?... Although...I want them bigger...much bigger…….. And my...my pussy…….. Oooo...so wet and juicy....... It wants to...to get its kicks…

Her mind began to drift toward crafting a sexual fantasy to aid in delivering the orgasm she was now seeking. Over the past year or so, Meredith had grown fond of fantasizing about one or more of the three Chris’s, actors from various Marvel movies—Chris Evans, Chris Pratt, and Chris Hemsworth—and now seemed like a good time to envision them, to help her get off.

However, Meredith found it nigh to impossible to conjure even a simple mental image of these three, or of any other men, and certainly not anything arousing associated with the masculine. Concentrating as hard as she might, not a single image of a dashing, stirring male would come. Frustrated by being unable to appease her increasing arousal with an appeal to her supposed heterosexual mindset, Meredith tried to relax, took some deep breaths to calm herself, and, letting go of her aim to specifically latch onto something masculine, but instead letting herself be open to whatever might come to her, she again let her mind drift, hoping it would this time settle on some scenario or some person she would find erotically exciting.

As she relaxed, her mind at last began to create a fantasy, one she desperately hoped would aid in her masturbation. As it unfolded, Meredith had the impression that, while it had elements she had experienced in some previous fantasies, this one would also have something new for her.

Within Meredith’s mental landscape, she envisioned herself wearing a sexy, feminized version of a Star Lord costume, the maroon leather jacket being shorter by several inches than the standard male waist jacket and the male-version gray t-shirt being replaced by a skimpy, shiny, tight charcoal-gray tube top that exposed her midriff, pressed her now-generous tits together, and showed off a wondrous amount of her fantasy cleavage. The trademark black leather flight pants were now of a skin-tight, low-riding hip-hugger leggings design which left her waist and the tops of her hips bare and showed off the womanly curves of her rear and legs, which strode on black, knee-length, four-inch, spike-heeled boots.

So clad, she pictured herself fighting through a horde of alien thugs through the corridors of an alien ship until she reached her goal, a prison cell. Behind the solid, locked metal door was her prize. She knew that the hero—or, in her case, the heroine—always got to woo, most always with great and easy success, whatever eternally grateful person she rescued—for romance...for marriage...or for a quick fuck...or for whatever.

Hmmm, wonder who’s waiting for me to rescue them. I can’t wait to see who it is.

Eager to get to her prize, Meredith drew her elemental blaster gun from its holster and vaporized the small keypad next to the cell door, which was immediately followed by an explosion of sparks and a plume of smoke arising from the damaged keypad console. Meredith witnessed the cell door open and, looking into the dim room, could make out that a figure was rushing out, so Meredith stepped out of the way to let the released inmate past her, but instead of running by Meredith, and before Meredith could react, she felt the mysterious hostage leap into her arms and embrace her ardently.

“My hero!”

The voice was distinctly feminine, pretty, lightly accented, and familiar. A quick glance down at the rescued captive’s body revealed that it was attired in a scanty Princess Leia slave costume. Before Meredith could quite process that, she was kissed on her lips. She was the heroine and a kiss was her reward for risking life and limb in this daring rescue. Once the kiss started, it prolonged, coming to have a life of its own, those soft, wet, ardent lips she was tasting proving to be most compelling. Of course, Meredith was unaware that her tastes and proclivities had been altered at the Artemis Center. While she was not quite fully converted yet, many parts of her mind already embraced their sapphic conversion, and her imaging and unhesitant vicarious enjoyment of this lesbian kiss was born of that.

As the showering Meredith let out a moan, her hands, which had earlier paused their play on her body when she had started, with some difficulty, concentrating on getting an abetting fantasy started, began once again to pleasure her skin and curves and pussy. It wasn’t long before Meredith was mentally envisioning herself and the mysterious hostage in a tighter, more erotic embrace, trading kisses and adventurous caresses with increasing fervor in the prison of the alien ship.

That it was a woman whom she saw herself kissing not only inexplicably and surprisingly was of no concern to her, but it made it, in fact, all the more wonderful, more so than anything similar she had fantasized about with a man. Somehow, it seemed so natural and so very exciting and, despite all other considerations, it was working. She was getting very turned on. An envisioned woman was doing this to her and she didn’t care. All that mattered was that each kiss brought her closer to the orgasm she desired.

The redhead lifted her leg and propped her right foot on the edge of the bathtub, giving her digits easier access to her sexually aching loins. She used her thumb to rub her stiff clit, while her index and middle fingers worked themselves in and out of her excited love tunnel in synchronization with the imaginary kisses. Shortly, she felt the familiar feelings of sexual release start to flow through her body. As her orgasm exploded in her spasming snatch, the identity of the rescued hostage with whom she was making out clarified in her mind’s eye. To Meredith’s shock and arousal, it was Monica!

The Meredith in her vision took a step back to have a better look. Monica’s long, silky black locks draped in a single, thick braid over a shoulder. Her face was painted with seductive cosmetics, black mascara complimenting gold eyeshadow, and dark red wine lipstick coating her full lips, along with matching polish on her fingers and toenails. Her voluptuous breasts were restrained within a brassiere of coiled brass, and her hips were seductively shown off by revealing brass panties, with a flowing red veil loincloth attached, just to tease any observer into attention aimed at and speculation about the treasure behind the long, silky cloth.

The near-speechless red-haired vixen blurted out, “M-Monica!”

Before Meredith could ask how or why she was having a sexual fantasy involving the Latina hottie she otherwise knew as a roommate, the images in her head began to crumble and fall apart, although the last thing she saw was Monica seductively blowing her a kiss. Suddenly, Meredith was jolted back into her normal state of awareness, and she realized she was standing in the shower, her legs trembling, with her hand between her legs, coming down from the high of a wonderful climax. It had been one of the most intense orgasms she had ever experienced. She could not deny that she wanted to experience that same sensation again in the future, sooner rather than later.

While Meredith waited a few minutes in the shower to calm herself, many of the details of the fantasy faded from her conscious mind, similar to the way dreams often grow obscure to us within minutes of awakening. Within a short time, all she could recall was that the fantasy was a scenario fairly typical of one she would normally call forth, although something in the back of her mind told her that something was definitely different about it in some fundamental, exciting way. She was left pondering what could have caused such an intense sexual rush, and how she might capture that bliss again.

Not wanting to dwell on the subject any longer, Meredith got out of the shower and began to towel off. Wiping the condensation off the bathroom mirror, Meredith eyed the naked woman staring back. Her body had changed so much from her days in high school, it struck her. Gone was the scrawny, flat-chested, geeky high schooler and in her place was a young adult woman whose body was developing nicely at college.

As Meredith scanned her novelly gratifying body in the mirror, there was one area that she still found lacking—her breasts. Yes, they exuded their own charm and she had been coming to appreciate and enjoy them more than ever before...yet...Meredith nevertheless considered them inferior relative to other women. She often compared herself to her roommates, and each time she did, it resulted in her rating herself in last place. Meredith ranked Claire in first, as having the largest pair among the quartet, with a bust she guestimated to be somewhere around a robust 38D or 36DD. Monica came in a very close second at what she estimated to be a perky 36D—and in their new apartment, maybe it would be easier to sneak a peek at her bras to find out for sure. She was followed by Jessica with a very ample 38C. Finally, there was Meredith, coming in last, at a relatively teeensy-weensy 32B.

Meredith wondered, as she often had before, what her life would be like if she had more voluptuous mounds, like those which defined her roommates. As she pondered the desirability of large breasts, she recalled how she had whiled away a couple of hours the previous night at the computer labs looking up big breasts on the internet. Meredith’s search had pulled up amazing images of women’s breasts of various sizes and shapes. She had been so entranced by the array of sensual pictures of female bosoms that, she figured, maybe that explained why she felt a little extra randy when she woke up this morning.

She also remembered having looked up plastic surgeons and breast augmentation, but this memory evoked mixed emotions. On the one hand, she had learned that marvelous results were indeed available under the knife of certain skilled surgeons; yet, on the other hand, the ones who could give her a majestic pair of large breasts without making it look like some gaudy boob job were definitely out of her price range. There was no way a college girl like her could afford it.

As much as she wanted to continue the mental deliberation of female breasts within her mind, Meredith knew she had some packing to finish. Feeling that she had wasted enough time, she decided to shuffle the topic into her mind for a later occasion. Who knows, Meredith thought; if I get a good job that pays well, then maybe I can get a nice pair like Claire’s. Maybe even bigger.

Finishing what she needed to do in the bathroom, Meredith made her way to her room to get ready for the big move.

Sweat was dripping down Jessica’s forehead, her legs ached, and she was gasping for breath. Jessica recalled how, as recent as just last week, she used to revel in sensations like this, or thought she did; but now she had come to the realization that she had been deluding herself, that she never really liked strenuous physical workouts like this one, and certainly did not like them now. How she had wasted her time and gotten icky and worn out for no good reason. How foolish she had been.

A few days ago she realized she didn’t want athletic glory, nor to pursue a career as a professional athlete, nor any kind of life involving athletics or anything else that was rough, strenuous, and demanding. Jessica now sought a life of femininity, to be dainty, gentle, and soft. She would rather spend her time looking for makeup, jewelry, stylish shoes, sexy lingerie, and cute dresses—which she hadn’t had the opportunity to do yet, but wanted to—than dribbling a stupid basketball down a stupid court.

Furthermore, within the last week or so, Jessica had come to some out-of-nowhere conclusions about some key aspects of her social and sexual life. One, she was gay. Two, she was madly in love with her friend, Claire. Three, she wanted a future with Claire. And, four, she would do anything to make that dream of becoming Claire’s beloved wife a reality. Seemingly, the near-loss of Claire, who had almost had to drop out of school and move out, had shocked Jessica into coming to terms with her sexuality and her infatuation, and now Jessica could not fathom a life that didn’t include love and sex with girls and women generally and didn’t have Claire specifically as the romantic and sexual center of it.

Currently she was doing a two-on-two drill. She felt like just quitting and walking off the court, and might have if she didn’t have her pretty, sexually appealing teammates to occupy her eyes. Watching girls had started becoming one of the new Jessica’s favorite pastimes, and here she was surrounded by them. However, a small streak of guilt tempered her enjoyment in ogling her teammates when she recalled Coach Ilsa’s words from her private session with her a few days before: “If you’re on my court, Harrison, I’m the only woman you need to be thinking about!” She didn’t want to disappoint her beloved coach, nor did she want to draw her ire, so she did what she could to focus herself on the practice for the next few minutes, not daring even to look at her coach, knowing that would undermine her ability to concentrate on anything or anyone else.

At last unable to resist, Jessica looked over at Coach Ilsa and couldn’t help but marvel at how gorgeous her coach was. To the common eye, Coach Ilsa was in her typical gym attire, a simple nylon windbreaker jacket and pants outfit in the team colors, with the jacket open to expose a loose-fitting white cotton tee. Ilsa’s hair was, as usual, in her typical crop-cut style and her face, while painted, bore only a small application of cosmetics. This was not a combination which most would consider particularly sexually provocative, but Jessica saw beyond that. Looking with the eyes of a new lesbian at one she had merely respected, and even feared, as a tough and able coach up to a few days ago, she now saw as a captivating mature woman who exuded an alluring mystique that just begged to be unraveled. Under it all, her previous private encounter with the coach had taught her, was a lush, ravishing woman who could guide her in the pleasures of female flesh. She now loved Coach Ilsa with a very unchaste love, was fascinated with her, wanted to be her favorite—not as a basketball player, but as a lover—and longed for more “private time” with her, much more.

As Jessica, now rather preoccupied, ran by Ilsa during her drills she could see the woman give herself and the other young women on the team a predatory gaze, which no one else on the team noticed besides Jessica, who was now on the same sexual wavelength as the coach and could recognize the same kind of girl-lust in another which she herself felt. That was fine with Jessica, as long as the coach didn’t overlook her. But after a moment’s reflection, she didn’t want to share the coach’s leering attention that much with the others. No...actually, she wanted the coach to keep looking at her exclusively, with that lusting look. She started thinking about what she might do to grab the coach’s eye and keep it fastened on her. She turned her head around to check the coach out again as she pondered the question.

Mmmmm… Coach… She’s soooo…

“Jessica! Look out!” called out her teammate, Rebecca Santos, the team’s point guard. Jessica had been so lost in her admiration of her coach that she had failed to notice Courtney Ellen, the team’s shooting guard, dribble past her, stop at the three-point line, and set herself to attempt a jump shot. Summoning what reserves of stamina she had left, Jessica did an abrupt 180 turn, chased after the ball, and leapt with all her might. With her fingers outstretched, she barely managed to tap the basketball, just a bit, as it left Courtney’s hand. As she fell toward the floor, Jessica watched the basketball veer just enough off course to hit the right side of the hoop and bounce off, followed immediately by her hitting the court on her back with a thud.

“Dammit! So close!” cursed her cute teammate. Jessica’s recovery and partial block had been instinctive and quite athletic, an action which the other girls had noticed with admiration, while also having noticed the way she had seemed distracted and lethargic before that. In the past, such a feat would have given Jessica a distinctive feeling of pride, but now she only noticed how it had tired her out and didn’t seem like anything special.

Soon after that, Ilsa blew her whistle to signal that the practice session was over.

“Alright ladies! You did good, but I’ve seen better. Santos, you always rush out at the start and end up exhausting yourself near the end. I need you to focus on pacing yourself. Ms. Ellen, not bad with the 3-point attempt. The rest of you are shaping up to be a fine caliber team, but there’s a huge difference between championship winning and championship potential.

“Alright, ladies, before I dismiss you all, I know that the start of next season is still a long ways away; however, my confidential, reliable sources tell me that when the schedule is released, our first match will be against Tennessee. So as an assignment, I want each and every one of you to come up with an offensive and defensive plan on how to handle Tennessee and have it ready by the end of next week. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Coach Ilsa, yes!” shouted the young women in unison.

“Alright, dismissed! Oh, and one more thing. Harrison, I need to see you in my office after this.”

Her teammates all reacted with “oooooo” as they heard Ilsa call out Jessica’s name. Jessica only blushed, but not because she was embarrassed with her coach calling her out; rather, it was due to the fact that she couldn’t help but feel excited by the prospect of being alone with the statuesque blonde beauty in private.

“Enough! You girls hit the showers, and remember, focus on those strategies.”

Jessica’s team started to make its way back toward the women’s locker room. While Jessica knew her first destination was Coach Ilsa’s office, she lingered with her teammates as they exited the gym, wanting to talk to a particular young woman there. She shouted out Courtney’s name to grab her attention.

“Hey, Courtney! Wait up!”

The lithe strawberry-blonde vixen of a shooting guard turned back to see Jessica waving at her as she ran closer.

“What’s up, Jessie?”

“I was wondering if you had any plans for the weekend. I mean, if you’re not busy with anything…” Jessica almost followed that with “...so...maybe you’d like to go out…”, but she caught herself, saving that invitation for another day. Instead she offered, “I thought maybe you and I could go over some Tennessee gameplay footage and come up with some strategies together.”

Courtney mulled Jessica’s offer in her head. While Jessica’s stated purpose for the proposed get-together seemed reasonable, she wasn’t so sure if she wanted to take up the athletic mulatto beauty’s offer. Courtney had been noticing over the past few days that Jessica didn’t seem like herself. Their just-completed 2-on-2 was evidence for her of that. The Jessica she knew would never have allowed her to get into position to get off that 3-point shot. Her athletic prowess, her effort, and her attentiveness seemed to have diminished and she could even start to become a liability to the team’s championship future if she didn’t snap out of it.

Courtney had heard tales of college athletes who ended up throwing away their entire futures because they couldn’t handle the pressure. Was Jessica on the verge of succumbing to the stresses of a college athlete’s life? Or could even drugs be involved? Things like that might explain why Coach Ilsa wanted to see her. Yet, both possibilities seemed far-fetched. She didn’t see Jessica as a person who snapped at the first sign of trouble or who would resort to drugs. She had always been too level-headed, too self-possessed, too strong for that. No, Courtney reasoned, Jessica might simply be going through a slump, like most all players do from time to time, or she might be having some kind of common personal trouble, such as a death in her family or a struggle with a difficult class, or maybe it was just her time of the month, which, in turn, made Courtney feel a little foolish for even having entertained the idea that something sinister might be going on with the girl. Besides, she had always liked Jessica and wouldn’t mind spending some time with her.

While Courtney paused a few seconds to consider Jessica’s proposal, Jessica took the opportunity to ogle her teammate. Jessica loved and eyed the girl’s shiny, long hair, which, though naturally light brown, had been colored to a slightly unnatural but beautiful shade of reddish blonde best described as rose gold, although she and most others called it strawberry blonde. Her eyes drifted over the guard’s pretty face, then down to her C-cup breasts, the shape of which was emphasized by her sweat-wet, clingy t-shirt, then down to her slim waist and shapely hips. Jessica had always liked this young woman, but now she hungered for her.

“Sure, I don’t have any weekend plans, other than to relax and goof off.”

“Cool. You can come over to my place.”

“Sounds great. You live in the dorms, right? Which one?”

“The Preston Suites.”

Courtney’s eyes went wide in surprise as soon as Jessica mentioned which dormitory apartment she was residing in. The Suites were well known to be an opulent student housing facility on the campus and to discover that her teammate Jessica was residing in it was quite a shocker. There was a brief moment of silence before Courtney regained her composure.

“So… um… how did you manage to land a dorm in the Suites?”

“Well, I really had nothing to do with it. I kind of fell into it by association.”

“By association?”

“It’s a bit of a long and unlikely story, but the short version is that one of my roommates managed to get someone with some pull with the university to move her with all of her roommates into the Suites.”

“Wow. I agree with one thing. That is one hard-to-believe story,” Courtney said in a playful tone.

“Hey, you asked and I answered,” Jessica replied, smiling and twirling a lock of her hair, unconsciously flirting.

The allure of stepping into such lavish grounds was too tempting an opportunity for Courtney to pass up. Not sure if she would get a chance like this again, she knew that she had to accept Jessica’s offer. She did feel guilty to use her teammate like this, but then again Jessica did make the offer first. Plus, despite Jessica’s strange behavior lately and a slightly odd feeling her and about the situation she was proposing—the manner Jessica employed in inviting her over reminded her of being asked out by a guy, for date, and she felt some intuitive reluctance about being alone with Jessica in a private setting, for some reason she couldn’t figure out—Courtney did like her, considering her one of her friends on the team, and didn’t find the idea of getting to know her better a bad one at all. Besides, they would be accomplishing Coach’s assignment, and doing so together figured to be easier than alone.

“Well, seeing is believing. So what time do you want me to stop by?”

Jessica thought it over for a brief moment. “So how about a little after three tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I think I can do that,” replied Courtney. “I’ll call or text you when I’m on my way.”

“That works. I guess I’ll see you then.”

“Later, Jessica.”

Though she was able to restrain herself from showing it, Jessica was giddy. From her point of view, she had just asked her first girl out. She knew that Courtney, as a presumed straight girl, was unlikely to see it like that, to see their planned get-together as a date in any way, the way Jessica did, but Jessica believed she had heard somewhere lately—where and from whom, she had no recollection—that there hides a lesbian inside most all females, and all it takes is the right conditions, the right person or persons, and the right temptation and coaxing to bring that hidden sapphic persona out into the open. At the least, she could get to know Courtney better during their rendezvous, as a step toward their friendship eventually developing into something more between them. But it would be even better to find Courtney receptive right away.

Who knows what could happen?...two pretty girls...alone together…

Though she had no plan, no experience other than that one time with Coach Ilsa, no seduction skills, and no paraphernalia, like the right clothes and cosmetics, to accompany such an endeavor, she did have hope, hope that one thing might lead to another once they were alone.

Courtney was not the only girl on the team for whom Jessica had the hots. Among others, there was Rebecca Santos, the pretty point guard. Jessica knew she would love to get closer to her...if possible, date her...and...get into...her panties...too…

Jessica watched as Courtney took her leave and made her way towards the women’s locker room. Unaware she was doing so, Courtney gave Jessica a pleasant view of her athletic rear shifting side to side. Jessica could barely contain her excitement over the possibility that she might get to run her hands over that cute derriere and commit other wicked deeds on it at some point soon.

However, that was for another time. Jessica didn’t want to keep Ilsa waiting any longer, and headed off towards Ilsa’s office.

Jessica knocked on the doorway to announce her presence and waited to be invited in. She didn’t have to wait long.

“Come in,” came the familiar, authoritative, feminine tone to which Jessica was accustomed and with which she was even starting to become enamored. She entered the office and closed the door behind her.

“You needed to see me about something, Coach?”

Ilsa gave Jessica a piercing stare, as if she was trying to see into her very being.

“Yes. Tell me, Harrison, you seemed to be off your game, again, on my court. Care to tell me why?”

Under Ilsa’s piercing gaze, which Jessica tried to avoid, the young woman found herself unable to respond quickly enough.

“I’m waiting for an answer, Harrison, and remember what I said last time. I want an honest answer. Don’t you dare try to lie to me.” Jessica didn’t miss the icy, threatening tone laced into the end of the demand.

“I was thinking about how I wished I wasn’t so sweaty. I wanted to do girly things. Coach, I was wishing that I was trying on cute dresses, trying different types of makeup, taking a nice, long bubblebath, talking about fashion with my friends, and…and I was distracted by...uh...I was admiring...the girls...and...you.”

Ilsa raised an eyebrow at the last part of Jessica’s statement. It seemed to confirm the sentiments expressed in a message she had received from Regina in her private email earlier in the day telling her that some significant progress had been made with Jessica, and that Ilsa was to encourage Jessica’s new sapphic interest in girls, especially her infatuation for her roommate, Claire. Isla specifically remembered a particularly welcome sentence in that email.

She likes you. Make her love you. Addict her to you. More than welcome to do what you want. Just don’t do anything that will leave any kind of permanent damage.

Ilsa speculated that Jessica’s mind had been altered to the point where her sexuality was now that of a lesbian, but she wondered what else had been changed, what evil, depraved impulses had been implanted within her, what wild, wicked acts of sex was her mind open to. She could feel her nipples stiffen and the heat in her loins start to build towards a raging fire of carnal lust as she contemplated what she could make Jessica do.

“I’m not fond that you were thinking of wanting to do girly things while practicing. That’s a big no-no in my books. Is that understood?”

“Yes…” Jessica responded in a rebuked tone.

“However, you do have me intrigued in the part where you confessed to admiring the girls...and me. Tell me more about that.”

Jessica wasn’t sure if she should divulge such intimate details to her coach, but strong feelings deep within her urged her to go on.

“I was staring at them, Coach,” Jessica stated meekly. “More specifically, parts of their bodies...like their breasts...their butts...and their legs.”

“What about me, Harrison? What parts of my body were you staring at? What part gave you that naughty tingle between your legs?”

“I wasn’t staring at you…. Okay, I mean, I was… I wasn’t trying to, but… I mean, I didn’t want to disappoint you and tried to focus on practice. But I couldn’t help myself. You’re so...so pretty…I think you’re very pretty. I can’t help wanting to look at you, and thinking about you, and...”

“I see.”

The final part of Jessica’s statement all but confirmed Ilsa’s suspicions. She had the girl wrapped around her finger.

“Are you in love with me, Harrison? Or do you just lust after my body?”

“Oh...uh...I don’t know…… Both?...”

“So you liked what we did last time. And you want more...”

“Yes…”

“Are you willing to do anything for me?”

“Yes, Coach… Anything you want me to do...or to be…”

“For my love?”

“...yes…” Jessica responded with a lustful tremble in her voice. She didn’t know why but she could feel her nipples stiffen and her pussy moisten at the thought of obeying her Coach. Her corrupted mind telling her that she found sexual pleasure in being dominated, to know that a woman could command her to do anything and she would obey willingly.

“Would you be a whore for me? A slut?”

Jessica had never viewed herself as a whore, or a slut, or a loose, sexy girl, or anything similar, or ever considered possibly being one, nor did she have much of a concept of how a young woman would go about becoming one, or acting like one, or looking like one, as wrapped up in athletics as she had been and having never kept company with or paid much attention to that kind of girl before. Certainly her drill sergeant father would never have tolerated anything like that, either, while she was growing up. But now that Coach was suggesting her potential as one, the idea started to rumble around her head. And the rumble, while at first distasteful, quickly assumed a more appealing flavor, as the first person who came to mind as kind of a slut was her beautiful roommate Monica. Jessica did not classify Monica as a real slut, only as someone with a certain sluttiness about her style and some of the things she did, but she found the thought of being more like the sexy Monica to be an exciting one.

“You will be one. A grade-A slut. My own special little whore. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Harrison?”

“I...I…”

“Harrison, I have some powerful friends and with their assistance I intend to turn every last girl on this team… no, to make every one of them into a flaming lesbian...like you now are. By the end of this season everyone on this team will be a cunt hungry dyke, more so my personal fuck slaves. Are you willing to help me do that?”

“Um...you mean…”

“Yes. I mean exactly what I’m saying. But I need your help. Maybe I’ll use you as bait. Or some other way. Of course, I’ll let you in on as much of the action as you want. Maybe I’ll even let you have a couple of them as your special girlfriends. Can I count on you?”

“I...uh…….. Sure, Coach…” Jessica looked down at the floor, confused about what she was getting herself into.

Standing up from her desk, Ilsa made her way around it until she was standing in front of the now-timid caramel-skinned beauty. Ilsa couldn’t help but dawn a predatory smile as she drew closer to her prey.

“I can applaud you on your efforts, trying to keep your mind on the task at hand in practice. However, I understand your difficulty focusing on basketball when I’m around. So, from now on, Harrison, for you, I’ll make an exception. I’m going to give you the green light to focus on something more important to you than basketball. Or someone, that is. Me. And I think, as your coach, I should help you keep your mind focused...on me. Tell me, Harrison, do you want to see my body? More specifically, what part of me do you want to see the most? My lovely breasts? My beautiful legs? My cute ass?”

Jessica shifted her gaze from the floor towards her coach and gave her a surprised look. Was she dreaming? Did she hear Ilsa right? Did her sexy coach offer to give her an unfettered view of her naked body? All Jessica could do was try to force the words out of her mouth, and yet she couldn’t make any kind of vocal response.

Instead, her body answered Ilsa’s question for her. Jessica could feel her body tremble with sexual excitement, her cheeks blush, her nipples stiffen, and her pussy moisten at the prospect of seeing Isla in the nude.

“Is something wrong, Harrison? Did my comment offend you in some way? I do apologize. That was very inappropriate of me. Why don’t we forget that I even made that silly offer. It’s getting late…”

“No! I mean, you didn’t offend me. It’s just that… I mean... I want to…but…”

Jessica felt Ilsa slip her fingers under her chin and tilt her head upwards, causing Jessica to stare into Ilsa’s eyes. Jessica could feel herself losing herself in the two gray pools, and in seemingly staring into Ilsa’s very being. Jessica’s only conceivable response, it seemed to her, was utter awe of the sexually dominating woman standing in front of her.

Jessica never felt so timid in her life but nothing could prepare for what happened next. In a bold move, Ilsa leaned in and planted a sensual kiss on Jessica’s lips. Jessica’s eyes went wide but then calmed when she felt Ilsa work her tongue past her lips. In response Jessica opened her lips and sent out her tongue to meet Ilsa’s.

A passionate moan Jessica’s response as she felt Ilsa’s hands roam over her body and molest it. This went on for a few more minutes before Ilsa broke the kiss. A thin glossy thread of saliva connecting their lips and indicating what passionate deed had occurred in Ilsa’s office.

“Tell you what, Harrison. I think I know just how to help you. Ever play a game called “I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours’ as a kid?”

Jessica could feel her heart beat rapidly in her chest with sexual excitement. It was clear where this was going. Not only would she have an opportunity to see her gorgeous coach naked, but she would also get to display her own nude form. Her willpower was working overtime to contain the raging lust flowing through her body. Jessica felt as if her heart would burst through her chest.

“Uh-huh.”

“Good. I’ll only go as far as you want, Harrison. Whatever you feel comfortable with. Understand?”

“Yes, Coach.”

“ ‘Mistress’,” corrected Ilsa. “I think that our relationship has progressed to the point that whenever we’re together in private, you can call me ‘Mistress’ or ‘Mistress Ilsa’. That means that you are my submissive until I say otherwise. I am everything to you, and you my plaything. You do whatever I tell you to do, and you worship me, no questions asked. Would you like that? Would you like to belong to me?”

“Yes, my Mistress. I’d love that.”

“Outside in public it will be the typical ‘Coach’ or ‘Coach Ilsa’. Understand, Harrison?”

“Yes, Mistress Ilsa.”

“Excellent. Then let’s begin, Harrison. Show me how far you want to go.”

Standing before Jessica was her mistress wearing the drab clothing representative of her role in Preston’s athletic program, but who was a vision of sexy loveliness to Jessica despite the nondescript wrapping, and now like a puzzle box waiting to be solved. Jessica would soon get to see her beautiful mistress in all her glory.

The first thing the pretty coed did was bend over, fumbling as she took off her shoes and socks and cast them aside. Afterwards, she looked back at Ilsa to see the mature vixen mimic her actions. She gazed at Ilsa’s feet and took note that her toenails were painted in a glossy red wine color. Even the woman’s beautiful toes and feet were simply bewitching. Ilsa, taking note of Jessica’s downward gaze, wiggled her toes a bit.

“Do you like what you see, Harrison?”

“Mmmm hmmm” was the only response that Jessica could muster.

“I’m disappointed that you didn’t paint your nails. Honestly, for someone who wants to be so girly, there doesn’t seem to be a good deal of cosmetics on you.”

“Sorry, Mistress.”

“We’ll have to fix that. Tell me, Harrison...that girl you have the hots for...the one that you so desperately want to get in bed with...”

“Claire?”

“Yes, Claire. What’s her favorite color?”

“She likes green.”

Isla’s eyes narrowed at the response. “Hmmm. I don’t think green is a good color for you, but who am I to judge? Going forward, I want you to wear cosmetics that match your crush’s favorite color. If it’s green, so be it. If she changes her mind, then you have to change your style. Do you understand, Harrison?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I doubt you want to stop at just seeing my feet. So what else do you want to see?”

Shivering with sexual excitement, Jessica pulled her sweaty tee off her torso, feeling the sweat-drenched tee clinging to her with its wetness. The sensation of wet cloth peeling off her skin led to the uncomfortable realization of just how sweaty she was, but she persevered, understanding this to be a necessary step towards the prize awaiting her. Ilsa followed without hesitation, starting with languidly unzipping the windbreaker jacket, sloughing it off, and throwing it casually across the room, followed by the removal of the plain white cotton tee off her body, which she swiftly pulled over her head and discarded on her desk, revealing to a captivated Jessica her shimmering rose gold bra, the only obstacle now between Jessica’s eyes and her mistress’s promising mammary charms. Both women stood facing each other in their bras, both eager to see and show the succulent orbs hidden in them.

Jessica fumbled with the elastic bands of her sports bra and awkwardly tugged the confining article of clothing over her head, this being the first time she had ever intentionally exposed herself like this specifically for the eyes of another person. But she found a sense of release and freedom when she felt the air kiss her exposed erect nipples. It was exhilarating to free her breasts, especially while showing them to Ilsa.

With a slight, sultry smile aimed at Jessica, Ilsa reached behind her back, unsnapped her bra’s back band, and, with a little tug on her shoulder straps and a shrug of the shoulders, allowed the beautiful bra to slip off her body and fall to the floor. Jessica gasped audibly and her eyes widened with delight, as she now had an unfettered view of her sexy mistress’ ample bosom. Despite Ilsa’s age, they were still firm, large breasts covered in milky smooth skin, the areola and nipples a bewitching shade of cherry pink. The sight was so tantalizing that Jessica couldn’t help but lick her lips, which did not go unnoticed by Ilsa. The older woman propped her rear on the edge of her desk, pulled her shoulders back,and leaned a bit back, brazenly teasing Jessica with her thrust-out tits and their bulging cleavage.

“Enjoying the view Harrison?” Ilsa said in a seductive tone.

Jessica nodded her head in response. Eyeing Ilsa’s breasts, her mind ran rampant with salacious fantasies of what she would love to do with the beautiful tits in her view. Jessica desperately wanted to reach out, grab them, play with them, suckle on the luscious-looking, cherry-pink nipples, and rub the smooth fleshy orbs against her cheeks.

Ilsa smirked as she saw her player tremble with uncontrollable sexual fervor. The look of lust on Jessica’s face was one which she easily recognized and for which she had been aiming. She had seen it on the faces of many of the sexual partners she had dominated, and each time she found it to be exquisite. But it had been a while since the last time Regina had altered any of her players into something that suited her sexual tastes. She wanted to savor this one.

However, Ilsa felt she could and would get more out of Jessica. She could turn her on more, and turn her into even more, more of a slutty, wanton, beauty-and sex-obsessed lesbian, than Regina had made of her. Yes, she would certainly support Regina’s aiming of the girl directly at this roomate of hers, this Claire, and make sure that Jessica would be able to seduce her and become her ultimate, optimum lover, but she would also match her with other girls, and encourage her into abandoned promiscuity. And she would make this one completely crazy for herself, in addition to being irreversibly homosexual. She would entrench Regina’s brainwashing into the girl and add to it until she would never dream of trying to resist it or depart from the path on which it had set her. She would convert this lovely coed into a depraved, ravenous slut and the most rabid of lesbians.

“Is this it, Harrison? All you want from me is a tit show? Very dull, my dear girl, very dull.”

Jessica was doing her best to focus on the task at hand, which was to remove her own clothes so that her tempting mistress would remove hers, as well, and to let this woman she wanted to entice have a good look at all of her female assets. But proceeding was difficult, as she was so in awe of the beautiful womanly melons quivering in front of her in such shocking, splendid nakedness, and she so wanted to simply leap at and sexually ravish the woman standing before her without further delay, to molest her body and appease the torrent of sexual desire flooding her very core, her identity, and her sense of self.

Taking a deep breath, Jessica steadied herself and slipped her thumbs under the elastic waistbands of both her gym shorts and her panties, and, in one quick, fluid motion, slid them down her legs and off her feet, and cast them casually aside, similar to the way she had observed Ilsa toss away her windbreaker and tee. Jessica stood proud and did nothing to hide her body from Ilsa’s view.

Ilsa surveyed the naked form of her player in her office, drinking in every detail that she could see. She saw subtle muscle definition wrapped within the smooth, flawless, caramel-colored skin, naturally large breasts gracefully rising and falling as Jessica drew breath, and the neatly trimmed bush, with a small nub jutting out below it, erect in all its glistening glory, and two glistening lips.

Not bad, Ilsa thought to herself as she took in the pleasing sight of Jessica standing au naturel in her office. Giving Jessica a dominating, approving gaze, Ilsa entertained thoughts on how to ravish the athletic beauty in front of her.

“Well, I guess it’s my turn,” said Ilsa in a sultry tone.

She slipped her thumbs into the waistbands of her gym pants and her panties, similar to Jessica’s act a minute before, and started to pull down. She slowly leaned over, to purposely give Jessica a tantalizing view of her gorgeous tits as they dangled downward. It wasn’t hard for Ilsa to read the look Jessica was giving her. She could see Jessica bite her lip in excitement over her breasts and in anticipation as her gym pants and panties cleared her sexy hips and then traveled down her well-toned long legs, sliding down her smooth thighs, past her knees, and down her calves, until they finally hit the ground. Ilsa stepped out of and over the discarded garments and presented her naked figure to the equally nude, awestruck young woman standing in front of her.

“Mmm…. You like this, don’t you, Harrison? Go ahead. Look all you want. I don’t mind.”

Jessica could only nod her head. The only sounds coming from her mouth were the fitful soft sounds of arousal, as her eyes roved hungrily all over Ilsa’s nude form, taking in the electric, sensual sight that was standing before her.

Despite Ilsa’s mature age, there was not a single disappointing blemish or mark that took away from her arousingly toned, voluptuous, and smooth form. Time seemed to have done nothing to her body but enhance her sexual maturity. Ilsa’s tits were still firm and proud, her figure was still curvaceous, and her body exuded an aura of sexual invitation and dominance.

“Too bad your teammates can’t join in on the fun. I’m willing to bet you would love to take a peek at their naked bodies also,” Ilsa insinuated slyly. “We really shouldn’t...it would be so wrong...so naughty...but...then again...maybe one little look wouldn’t be so bad...”

Upon finishing the statement, Ilsa picked up a remote from her desk. Of course, in the process she turned around and gave Jessica a blatant view of her firm, naked ass, which in turn caused the nude coed to literally drool at the sight of the magnificent globes of Ilsa’s seductive rear. Ilsa tapped on a button and within seconds the TV mounted on her office wall came to life. Ilsa clicked through some channels until she stopped at a particular one.

On the screen was a view of the women’s locker room, more specifically its showers. Jessica’s eyes lit up as Ilsa gave her unfettered and glorious visual access to her teammates. She marveled at their wet, naked bodies as they washed and rinsed themselves.

“Judging by the look on your face, I’m thinking you want to do more than just look at their naked bodies.”

Jessica saw Courtney washing her hair and, as if on cue, Ilsa zoomed in on her teammate’s sexy features. Courtney’s eyes closed as she let the water hit her face while she massaged shampoo into her scalp, her breasts shifting along with her arms. Jessica’s pulse raced a little more and she blushed, both over the fact that she had the hots for Courtney, and being able to watch her—naked, wet, alluring, vulnerable, and unaware—was a very unexpected, very welcome, and very guilty pleasure, and the fact that she had asked her out just within the last hour. Did Mistress Ilsa know of both facts?

“Beautiful aren’t they? Especially that one. Courtney. I had an associate install hidden cameras in the women’s locker room a few years back,” Ilsa whispered into Jessica’s ear, while slipping a manicured hand onto her shoulder. “You can’t imagine the wonderful views I’ve seen.” Jessica was slightly taken aback as she heard her mistress behind her and felt her hand, and then a spin-tingling, arousing thrill overtook her when she felt Ilsa slide her smooth, womanly hand across her shoulders and start down her naked back. Her initial surprise quickly gave way to feelings of irresistible, unmitigated erotic pleasure when Ilsa seductively slithered her soft, insistent hands further over her body, until she was roaming everywhere. Jessica let out a moan. She trembled as she felt Ilsa’s long-nailed left hand gently play with her left nipple, followed shortly by Ilsa’s equally lovely right hand tease her drenched pussy, not entering her sexually-heated slit but barely grazing the adjacent hot flesh, more than sufficient to thoroughly sexually tease her student.

“M-Mistress…”

“I saw you talking to Courtney before coming to my office. Care to let me in on that conversation?” Ilsa’s statement sounded more like a command than a genuine inquiry.

“I-I just invi…oh, Goddess!……..invited her over to my place o-over the weekend to go... oh!…over some Tennessee footage.” It was becoming very hard for Jessica to restrain the lust consuming her body.

“Is that it? You invited that cute thing over just to watch some old basketball footage? I don’t believe that. You like her, don’t you? You’d looove to get into her panties, wouldn’t you?”

“I mean, I was… I was hoping that...that something might happen…I don’t know...you know, between us… I do like her...a lot...and I thought gasp...maybe Courtney might be bi-curious...or I could help her become curious...and we could...maybe...fool around…you know?” By this point Ilsa had closed the distance between her and Jessica. Placing herself behind the young nubile 18-year old. One hand massaging Jessica’s left breast while the other stroked and played with Jessica’s excited pussy. In response Jessica spread her legs further apart as she screamed “Oh! Please don’t stop! I’m begging you!”

“Can’t blame you, Harrison. Look at that sexy young thing. Look at how lovely her face is… Look at the way the water drips from her tits…and runs into the crevice of her ass... You can even see her sweet, wet pussy when she turns… There!... Mmmmm... I can’t fault you wanting to get between her legs.” As Ilsa said this, she shifted her hand ever so slightly so that her fingers were able to reach over and play with Jessica’s excited clit. Jessica could no longer control the sexual tremors coursing through her body.

“Uhhh… so fucking good…” The coed started to press back against Ilsa’s naked body behind her, rotating her ass into Ilsa’s thighs and crotch, and reaching back with her hands to run them as best she could over the older woman’s bare lower back, rear, and thighs, to feel as much of the older woman’s skin and curves as possible.

Ilsa smirked as she felt Jessica rub against her body and tremble in her arms, felt her hands try to touch her body, heard her heavy breathing, and noted her resort to a sexual vulgarity to express her emotions, which she knew was not a normal part of the coed’s vocabulary, determining that this would only be the start of this fetching, naive girl acting like this and using such terms. The enjoyment of having successfully corrupted the young coed to this extent so fast, and of feeling her deliberately grinding her smooth, sexy body against hers with such obvious passion, was an exhilarating rush.

“Harrison, despite your proclamations of love for this Claire woman, you seem to be enjoying grinding this sexy ass of yours against me, you get hot and bothered by seeing your teammates in the shower, and you invited Courtney over to your place for the weekend, hoping for sex with her. Tell me, Harrison, do you know what kind of woman does these kinds of things?”

Jessica’s only response was to moan and writhe against Ilsa’s body, her mind fully seized by a feverish lust and her loins wet with sexual need. The only thing that could satisfy her right here and now would be to engage in lesbian sex. However, Ilsa had no intention of giving Jessica immediate sexual gratification. She wanted to savor the exquisite feeling of holding a woman’s orgasm over her without quite giving it to her, at least yet.

“Would you like me to tell you what kind of woman would behave like you’re behaving?”

Once again, Jessica didn’t bother to respond to Ilsa’s comment. Instead, she flung herself onto Ilsa’s desk, bent over it completely, spread her legs, displaying her most intimate female part to her coach, and panted with sexual want, need, and invitation. Ilsa rewarded the whorish posture by inserting two manicured fingers into the horny player’s steaming cunt.

“Oh!!”

“A slut, Harrison. A horny little whore who gets wet and drops her panties at the slightest hint of tit or pussy. That’s what you are, isn’t it, Harrison?” Ilsa’s authoritative tone made her inquiry into a declaration.

“... Yes, Mistress… I’m a...I’m a slut… Please...” It was the only response her sex-crazed mind could muster. If saying she was a slut, if admitting to it, if being it, was the only way to get more of what Ilsa was giving her, then she would be Ilsa’s lesbian slut.

“Yesssss… What kind of a slut are you, pretty Jessica? A fucking little slut?” The woman rammed her fingers further into Jessica’s twat, and stirred them around.

“Oh, yes!! I’m your fucking little slut!....”

“I love it when you say nasty words like ‘fuck’. Keep doing that. Talk like a slut. Say ‘fuck, fuck, fuck’.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“Yesss...and you’re nothing but a fucking, dirty whore...a nasty, trashy dyke slut...a loose, cheap tramp. Is that what you are and want to be?”

“Ohhhh, yesss...a fucking, dirty whore…a dyke...a nasty slut... I want to be that for you…. Ooooo… Please, Mistress… Just...just keep fucking me...”

With a satisfied smile, the coach let the coed have her wish, probing and pistoning her for another minute, before at last the mulatto let out a wail of ecstasy as she came.

After letting the younger woman savor her sapphic climax and recover somewhat, Ilsa then smacked Jessica’s rear firmly . The sound of her palm slapping the tantalizing ass of her player reverberated through her office. Ilsa landed a few more smacks and in return was rewarded with Jessica letting out a sharp moan of pleasure each time her mistresses’ hand made contact with that sexy ass.

Ilsa walked around her victim, who was sprawled out over the desk but was still eager for more lesbian sex, and seated herself right next to the athletic mulatto beauty, who turned her head to look at her.

“It doesn’t seem fair that I’ve been giving you all my attention and I haven’t gotten any in return, don’t you think, Harrison?” Ilsa asked as she opened her legs and pointed to her crotch. Jessica propped herself up on her elbows to have a better look. The awaiting pussy was clean-shaven and succulent-looking. It looked good enough to eat, Jessica thought to herself.

Jessica’s previous sexual encounter with Coach Ilsa had whetted her appetite for more lesbian acts with the coach, yet her memory of exactly what had happened between them was somewhat clouded and, being a relative novice to sapphic sex, she only had a vague idea consciously of what two women might do to each other. Additionally, her lusty state of mind made it hard for her to think clearly. Nevertheless, Jessica understood basically what her coach was asking for. She did know that sometimes one lesbian might kiss and lick the vulva of another, although, as far as she could remember, she had never seen it or thought much about it before this last week, nor had she wanted to.

At first, she had mixed feelings about doing that to Ilsa, but almost immediately a siren voice in the back of her mind whispered to her that it was the most natural thing in the world to do when two hot women were alone together, and that she wanted to try it, to kiss her beloved coach between the legs, to taste another woman. The desire became a sharp one the more she thought about it and the more she gazed upon Ilsa’s expectant, ripe pussy.

Arising from the coach’s desk, Jessica dropped to her knees in front of Ilsa and rested her hands and forearms on the coach’s thighs, which Ilsa spread invitingly apart even more with her prey in position. The sexy woman’s sexy, moist pussy lips gaped open slightly, riveting Jessica’s eyes to them.

“I-I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“Don’t worry that pretty head of yours. You’re a bright girl. I’m sure that you’ll figure it out.” Ilsa was banking on the facts that Regina’s brainwashing would have introduced Jessica to this act subconsciously and that the sapphic lessons she had imparted during the earlier session she had with Jessica a few days ago were still somewhere in her mind—and she was right.

Jessica looked up into her mentor’s attractive face upon hearing her last statement, but immediately her eyes drifted down and fastened on the woman’s cherry-pink nipples. Her pupils dilated and her mouth watered at the brazenly beautiful sight. Without any will to resist and without waiting for an invitation, she gently leaned in and kissed Ilsa’s right breast once, then again and again. Then she shifted her attention to Ilsa’s left breast, leading to Jessica wrapping her lips around Ilsa’s lovely, firm nipples and to gently lick and nibble them.

Ilsa slid her left hand onto Jessica’s head to keep her cute disciple’s mouth on her tits, and then to guide that mouth over her chest, arms, and belly, immensely enjoying the sensation of Jessica’s lips planting sensual kisses over her body. Then with a gentle push, Ilsa lowered Jessica’s head towards her final destination—her pussy. Both understood this to be a fateful, momentous, pivotal, conclusive jump into lesbianism for the mulatto beauty.

As the sight of Ilsa’s bald quim came into Jessica’s view, she licked her lips in anticipation. It would only be seconds now before she would know what a woman’s pussy tasted like...and, more to the point, what her beloved mistress’ pussy tasted like. The coed leaned in to have her closest look yet at another woman’s sex, her eyes tracing the curves and dark-pink color of the plump labia, the slightly gaping crevice between them, the droplets of a turned-on female’s sex juice on them, and the inviting, finger-like clitoris peeking through them at the top, and caught a heavenly whiff of female arousal emanating from the organ of sex.

Again the seditious voice within her prodded her to act. Mmmm...so pretty...so natural...so delicious...so fragrant...so good……. Pussy…… You want it…sweet pussy… Kiss it… lovely pussy...Taste it… delicious pussy… Eat it… wonderful pussy… Love it… beautiful pussy…

Jessica closed the final few inches and took a small lick of Ilsa’s wet pussy. Her brainwashing had ingrained into her a predisposition to love the taste of pussy and this level of intimacy with another woman, and so she found herself savoring this first lick immediately and wildly.

Oh! Mmmmmm…. This is sooooo good!!

Invigorated by the taste of Ilsa’s female nectar, Jessica dove in and assaulted Ilsa’s sex with her tongue, slurping and sucking on Ilsa’s heavenly gate. After a minute of feasting, she looked up to meet the coach’s eyes with her own, attempting to gauge her mistress’ acceptance of her oral love and seeking a green light to continue. Ilsa stared back down in approval. With both hands on the back of Jessica’s head, she pulled the young woman’s face tightly into her vulva and started to grind her crotch into that pretty, wet face.

“Good…very good, Harrison. Fuck, you’re a fast learner. Oh, yes! Right there!”

Picking up on Ilsa’s responses to her oral ministrations, Jessica settled on a repeating sequence of tracing Ilsa’s outer labia with her tongue, poking and flicking the inner labia, and then digging into Ilsa’s vagina. At length, Jessica could sense that she was being effective and that her beautiful coach was close to sexual release by the urgent way she was pulling Jessica’s head into her pussy, pressing her crotch hard into the coed’s face, shaking, trembling,and moaning passionately.

Shortly, Jessica was rewarded as Ilsa let out a deep, throaty moan and as she felt Ilsa’s drenched love hole pulse with her probing lips and tongue and warm female love juice flow down her throat.

“Oh, fuck, yes! Fuck, Harrison, your girlfriend should be thanking me for this! No fucking way you’re going to become an expert in eating cunt without practice like this, but I’ve got to say, honey, you are one fast learner!”

Jessica continued working her tongue eagerly in Ilsa’s snatch, as she listened to Ilsa let loose with praise and expletives about her budding oral expertise. After Ilsa had cum again, this time screaming her ecstasy loudly and even more profanely, she pushed Jessica away from her crotch, panting. Deprived of the tasty treat between Ilsa’s legs, Jessica looked up into her coach’s eyes with a disappointed expression, looking like a dog who has been devouring a steak only to have it jerked away.

“Oh, don’t give me that look, Harrison.” Although she does look adorable. And she is so fucking hot. We’ll definitely get together again soon. But now she needs my help. “Don’t worry. There’s going to be more, much more, of my body, and especially this beautiful pussy, for you in the future. But we have to take a break right now so that we can talk about you and that Claire girl you like so much...what you’re going to do about her...and, then, about tomorrow...you and Courtney. I haven’t forgotten about your needs.”

Arising and pulling her disciple to her feet, as well, Ilsa opened a drawer, extracted a small black bottle, and placed it into Jessica’s hands.

“When Courtney visits you this weekend, sneak two drops of this into her drink, and I promise you that Courtney will be very agreeable to the fun you want to have with her.”

Jessica nodded as she stared at the black bottle that her coach had given her. However, before she could give it much thought, she felt Ilsa’s hand on her cheek and gently turned her head to face her.

“And now, how about we take care of this?” Ilsa whispered as she slid her hand between Jessica’s legs onto her sex and began to gently finger Jessica’s wet fuck tunnel. Jessica let out a moan as Ilsa drew her in and embraced her in a passionate kiss. Only then did Jessica fully realize, it seemed, just how much she loved Ilsa and how much she had been hungering to meet her beautiful coach’s mouth with her own. She responded with quick and fervent ardor. The two lesbian women stood making out and caressing each other adventurously for the next several minutes.

With Harrison’s help, I’ll soon have two lesbian fuck sluts, her and Courtney, at my beck and call. And then...next...why settle for just two?

Machinations began to form in Ilsa’s mind as to how to use Jessica in ensnaring the rest of her team into becoming a sexual harem for her. As she pondered, though, she realized that there would be some obstacles. One might be the pressure on her to take the team to the championship and win it next year. If she messed with the players and made their number one priority looking hot and rolling around in bed with other girls—and with herself—then...well...that could affect their performance. Yes...that could be a problem………. And even if they could still play well, they would need a lot of practice time, and she and her assistants would need to spend hours and hours watching game films, plotting strategies, and recruiting, as usual for a top-notch team, and, if so, when would she have enough time to spend alone with and enjoy all of her new playmates?

Hmmmm… I’ll have to think this through a little more… But for now, I have this sexy beauty in my office...and I’m going to ravish her…

Some time later, Jessica left Ilsa’s office with a medium-sized purple drawstring bag in one hand and a grin of sexual satisfaction etched on her face. The drawstring bag contained a small assortment of cosmetics and sexy clothing. It was Ilsa’s custom to give gifts to lovers who pleased her well, but these were selected specifically to help Jessica with Claire and Courtney.

The amorous bliss Jessica had just experienced with her coach was something which she had never felt before in her life, she mused as she walked down the hallway. Lesbian lovemaking was very new to her and today Jessica found that she enjoyed it immensely. Her deep enjoyment of the carnal acts which she had committed today with Ilsa reaffirmed her new belief that she was a lesbian, that she was meant to be a lesbian, that she may always have been a lesbian, and that she would be a lesbian from this point on. She felt that so intensely now, and was so addicted to her new lusts, and was now so devoted to her beautiful new mistress, Ilsa, and was also so powerfully attracted to other pretty females, especially her dear Claire, that Jessica knew she wouldn’t raise any objections or have any qualms about dropping her panties whenever Ilsa or any other woman she found enticing told her to do so.

Plus, if she had learned anything from the sexual acts she had performed with Ilsa and the sensations of love she had felt for her, it was that she was meant to love women, and that, deep inside, she had places reserved for special women. She had found such a spot within her for Ilsa, and through that discovery sensed that she held another spot, and even bigger spot, within her for someone even more special to her than Ilsa. She felt, indeed, that it had been confirmed to her that she was meant to be Claire’s sexual partner...and, if things played out well, maybe more. Hopefully more. Much more.

Claire…

As Jessica thought of the woman to whom she desired to become an intimate companion, she started to think over a few other things. She loved Claire, and yet she had just had sex with her coach, and was trying to start something with Courtney. Jessica enjoyed lesbian sex, she saw clearly, she craved it now, in fact, and seemed not to be too particular about where she got it. Jessica recalled the conversation she had had with Ilsa during their private session, and the depraved kind of girl which Coach had told her she was, or was becoming.

“A slut, Harrison. A horny little whore who gets wet and drops her panties at the slightest hint of tit or pussy.”

Yes...Coach had a point… On top of playing the whore with Coach Ilsa, she was going to try to do the same thing with Courtney. She had invited Courtney over for the weekend under the pretense of studying basketball footage, yet, she recalled, she had confessed to Ilsa that it was all a thinly veiled excuse to try to get intimate with Courtney...to, as her mistress had suggested, “get into her panties”. That sounded really good.

Jessica felt the small glass bottle in the pocket of her gym shorts, something that Ilsa told her would increase her odds of getting between Courtney’s legs. If she used it, Jessica knew, she would be drugging her teammate, a friend who trusted her, and taking advantage of Courtney while she would be in some kind of mentally inhibited state, unable to object to whatever Jessica would be doing to her.

Then there was the brief conversation she and Ilsa had had while basking in the afterglow of their fuck session. Ilsa had asked—no, commanded—that Jessica help her in drugging or seducing or otherwise ensnaring her teammates to become sexual playthings for Mistress’ own wicked pleasures, and Jessica had eagerly agreed to become an accomplice in the perpetration of her coach’s corrupt deeds.

What kind of girl would do these things? I guess I’m not as pure as I thought I was. I’m not as good. I’m not really good at all. I’m kind of...perverted. I’m...I’m a slut.

Jessica searched her feelings about herself, her new self, or newly-emerging self, and discovered something surprising: She didn’t really feel repulsed by her inclinations, her behavior, her indulgences, and her self-serving acts, those of this day and those she had planned for the future, nor did she even feel guilty about them. If anything, as she thought it over, Jessica felt more emboldened and sure. Jessica reasoned that indulging herself with many lesbian lovers would better help her in becoming a well-rounded lover for Claire, and someone who could help Claire see the advantages of the lesbian way and tempt her into it. Jessica saw that Claire deserved a woman who had a firm understanding of the intricacies of female intimacy and sensuality, and was highly skilled and practiced in them.

Of course, Jessica was intentionally discounting the fact that, as far as she knew, Claire was not a lesbian. Not yet. That could be a significant obstacle, to say the least, to the fulfilling of her dreams, yet Jessica was unaccountably optimistic about her prospects. Maybe Claire had a lesbian hiding inside her which just needed to be awakened; and even if not, then Jessica would simply have to find a way to convert Claire into a lesbian, and she felt good about the odds of finding that way, even though she didn’t know why she felt like that. It was almost as if she could will Claire into it, or felt she could, if she just sought for that way persistently, played her part well enough, and gave the process—and Claire’s heart—a chance.

Regarding Ilsa’s plan to transform the members of the basketball team into lesbian sex thralls, and the role Ilsa wanted Jessica to play, whether by drugging them or by tempting them or by whatever, Jessica had been warming to the idea since Ilsa had first proposed it. Yes, it would constitute betrayal, in a way, and would be highly unethical, from a certain point of view...but...just the same...Jessica wanted it to happen. She wanted them all to be lesbians. She secretly wanted all those pretty girls, wanted to hold them in her arms, to kiss their lips, to feel their tits, and to eat their pussies.

Grasping for some reasonable justifications for helping bring Ilsa’ scheme to pass, Jessica told herself that at least part of what would drive a great coach and a good woman like Ilsa in a plan such as this must be the benefit of her players and her team. If all the players were lesbians, then surely they would play together better, so the plan could be viewed largely as a method used by Ilsa to build teamwork. At worst, Jessica told herself, one could consider it to be a method of tough love for her teammates, to keep them disciplined and thinking alike. Besides, wouldn’t these girls, as would most other girls, be happier and more fulfilled as lesbians? Being transformed would probably be the best thing that could happen to them!

Jessica understood that most or all of the players, presumably being predominantly straight, would find the idea of engaging in wanton lesbian sex at the commands of Ilsa repulsive at best, but she foresaw that, once they experienced the pure exhilaration of female-on-female intimacy, they might well cast aside their foolish objections and embrace lesbianism. As for them becoming Ilsa’s sex slaves, Jessica reasoned that her mistress was entitled to a few “special” perks; after all, Ilsa invested so much of her time in the team and gave so much of herself in getting the team to an elite level.

As she thought it all over, Jessica found a new clarity of purpose coming to her. She would indeed help Ilsa ensnare her teammates, eagerly so; it would help the team reach its full potential, it would help the individual players find true happiness, it would please Mistress, and it would supply Jessica with some of the many lovers and sex she needed to gain experience in preparing to be an artful lover for Claire. And what fun would all of that sapphic sex with those cute girls be! Yes!

Realizing that she was running a bit late, Jessica dashed towards the women’s locker room to take a shower and then head back to her soon-to-be-old dorm to help her roommates with the move. Her sexy roommates. The thought of being with them again sent a thrill through her...especially the consideration that she would get to spend much of the rest of the day with her beloved Claire. Wow.

As Jessica made her way, she remembered the hidden cameras that Ilsa had installed in the women’s showers. A naughty smile appeared on Jessica’s face as she wondered if Ilsa would be peeking in on her. Jessica decided to put on a little show for her coach, just in case, humming a merry tune as she continued her way to the showers.

Monica was growing impatient. This was the last class of the day for her and after this she and her friends would be relocating to living accommodations better befitting a person of her stature. All she had to do was to endure this business management class, but the combination of her impatience and excitement made it hard for her to focus on the lecture being given in the class. It was as if time was crawling to a standstill, and seconds were becoming long hours.

She chose to let her mind wander. As she did so, some of the nascent brainwashing she had received at the Artemis Centre a few days before began to surface, flexing control in her subconscious mind and spilling over into her cognitive psyche.

Monica started to contemplate holding a party at her lavish digs. It was a sure-fire way to spread the word that she, not only as the well-bred, beautiful, and stylish daughter of a wealthy, prominent family, but now also as a resident of the coveted, exclusive Preston Suites student apartments, was one of the truly favored elite among her fellow students. From there it was a matter of networking with the other residents there to further build a social base that might expand her options and fortify her position against her treacherous mother and the machinations which the woman had planned for her daughter’s future. Granted, Monica would have to convince her roommates to go along with throwing a bash, but she hoped that it wouldn’t be too hard to persuade them on the benefits of having social gatherings at their new residence.

As she silently concocted a guest list, Monica found, oddly enough, that the list of those whom she wanted to invite was unexpectedly short. Little did she understand that her altered subconscious mindset ruled out potential male attendees and only allowed her to consider the females she knew in her circle of friends. When Monica noticed the exclusion, it struck her as being perfectly natural and logical—who in their right mind would really want men at a nice shindig, to ruin it?—shrugging off the peculiarity as something she might deal with later, or never.

As time passed, the professor’s lecture became nothing more than a low, barely-audible buzz in Monica’s ears, bypassing her mind almost completely, and her gaze drifted aimlessly. At first, she looked over some of the guys in the class, but found them all uninteresting. In fact, she had been noticing over the last few days, she noted to herself, that the quality of the male students in her classes and on campus, generally, had seemed to be declining. She reasoned that the admissions department at Preston University must have been having some problems lately recruiting decent men, and it had taken her until now to notice it. Yes...these guys in this class and in her other classes certainly were boring. What a bunch of losers, in fact.

The opposite, however, was true regarding the girls at Preston. Monica had been remarking to herself, just over the course of this week, how many cute coeds Preston had right now, starting, of course, with her beautiful roommates.

Monica stopped herself when she thought that. She had meant all of her roommates...including Meredith. Wow. That was quite an enlightenment. Yes, she did indeed think of Meredith like that...as pretty. When had that happened? She didn’t know, but maybe she was just maturing and seeing some things more clearly. Maybe she had thought that all along, and had not wanted to admit it because of the friction between them. But, definitely, she now classified Meredith as one of the pretty girls she knew. One of the prettiest, in fact.

In this classroom, there were three young women in front of Monica within her field of view, visible without turning her head much. One sat two rows in front of her, one seat to the right, and Monica looked at her. Her hair was beautiful—long, thick, and wavy, with various shades of brown intermingling. With such hair, Monica wondered what her face looked like, but from her angle, she could not tell. Then there was another girl three rows straight in front of her with shiny black hair in a shoulder-length blunt cut of some kind—Monica had thought she had seen the girl with bangs, making this an attractive page-boy style, but she wasn’t sure. Again, all she could see was the girl’s back view. She noted to herself that when class ended, she would be sure to watch for both the brunette and the black-haired girl to get up and turn around so that she could have a better look at them.

The third female classmate was in the row just in front of Monica and to the left three seats, yielding a clear side view of her. At length, Monica’s eyes landed on her, and froze. Wow. She’s...she’s really cool… Monica wondered why she had never noticed this interesting young woman until now. Monica didn’t know her name and had never tried to learn it. She felt a little disappointed in herself for this omission.

Monica stared at the girl, trying to not be too obvious—though her gawking would have been noticed by anyone paying attention to her—taking in various details, in a way she sensed she never would have in the past, at least when it came to another girl, but she didn’t care. The young woman was just too...too...well, interesting, and she couldn’t take her eyes off her. She observed that the girl was following the lecture, jotting down notes, and giving the professor her full attention. The girl’s dirty ash-blonde hair was combed back and held by a hairband in a minimalistic ponytail. Her facial features were quite nice—a small, straight nose, dainty lips, clear, lightly-tanned skin, light blue eyes, and high cheekbones, and she was slim and fit-looking. She appeared to Monica to be of Nordic heritage.

Monica felt a little disappointment when she noticed that the coed appeared to be wearing no makeup, giving the impression that she didn’t seem to be one to go all out to enhance her looks. The Latina pictured some cosmetics that she felt would suit the girl, and how they might look on her. Maybe a nice application of a matted pink lipstick, along with matching nail polish, a touch of rose-tinted rouge, some black eyeliner, and a gentle touch of purple eyeshadow. Monica knew she wouldn’t mind seeing that at all.

Hmmm...yes...not bad… She’s very cute, and could be so much cuter, even… It struck her that the coed would be an outright babe if her hair were the same beautiful red color as Meredith’s. The thought came and went without Monica analyzing it, but she found the brief recollection of Meredith delightful, and started to recognize a few similarities between the blonde and her redheaded roommate.

The fetching girl had on eyeglasses with a rather thick, black frame, which some might have considered to be too dominant on such a pretty face, but which Monica found to be enchanting, mainly because they were on that attractive face, and also because Meredith had a pair of glasses like that which she wore when she didn’t use her contact lenses, and the association was a favorable one, as it now struck the Latina. The girl’s clothes were definitely on the froppish side, as she wore a plain, red tee overlaid by a loose, long-sleeved shirt of dark blue and black flannel, which hid the specifics of her form from Monica’s gaze, as well as a mundane type of jeans patched here and there with humdrum materials, a look that most would not consider particularly enticing. Monica found herself undeterred, however, by the blonde’s choice of attire, feeling oddly comfortable with seeing such clothes—as they were the kind her similarly nerdy roommate Meredith might wear, also—yet imagining that she wore sexier clothes on other occasions. Monica tried to picture how good she would look in them.

As she continued to observe her fellow class member, Monica took note of her backpack, perched in the seat to the girl’s right, which had various illustrated patches sewn onto it. Monica couldn’t identify what most of them depicted, but she did recognize that a few of them bore characters from cartoons that her roommate Meredith enjoyed watching.

……...oh……...nerd girl………

In scanning the mysterious blonde classmate and her belongings sitting nearby, Monica began to connect her more with the lithe red-haired beauty she had as a roommate. Feelings started to stir within Monica. Her mind, seeking a further escape from the boredom she was experiencing due to the lecture and feeling herself drawn along by her attraction to the blonde and, through her, to Meredith, lapsed into a fantasy.

All of sudden the cute classmate she was ogling took off her glasses and stood up from her seat, turned to face Monica—showing her visage, at least in Monica’s imagination, to look like Meredith’s more than she had before supposed—and addressed her with a voice reminiscent of Meredith’s, except this voice was sultry, unlike any inflection she had ever heard from the redhead.

“You’ve been checking me out, haven’t you, pretty girl? I know why. You want me, don’t you?”

Monica wasn’t sure that the girl was addressing her. Turning her head to look around, she was surprised to see that she was all of a sudden alone in the classroom with this enchanting female.

“Maybe… I mean, uh, I don’t want you, want you,” Monica replied in an anxious manner, trying to dodge the question. “It’s just…I...I’d like to get to know you...” She wasn’t sure why she was so nervous and why she didn’t have her normal confident manner. This was a new sensation for her. She sensed that the girl was about to get domineering with her unless she mustered some resolve to stand up to her, but Monica was finding the prospect of being bullied a little by her bewitching classmate to be enjoyable, in some perverted way.

“I saw you staring at me. Eyeing me up. The way you were looking at me, I’m willing to bet that nerdy, geeky girls get you all hot and bothered, don’t they? Brainy girls must really make your cunt drip. Girls like me...and Meredith. You know I’m right, don’t you? Why don’t you just admit it?”

The blonde slowly strolled closer. Before Monica knew it, her unknown classmate was towering over her, standing in the row in front of her. The Latina tried to avoid her gaze but couldn’t. Monica could feel the blonde’s eyes pierce into her soul, as if she already knew the answers to the questions she was hurling at her.

Monica felt a lump form in her throat. She wanted to say something, anything to the nerdy blonde...to ask her name, her major, her hometown, her hobbies—maybe even if she was seeing anyone in particular—but she could not muster the voice to say anything.

“Then again, maybe it isn’t just female geeks and nerds that get your heart racing.” Monica noticed that now the voice of the blonde girl sounded more familiar than before. Meanwhile, the blonde girl removed her flannel shirt, followed by her loose red cotton tee transforming to one in black satin, her now-braless state being obvious and riveting the Latina’s attention. Monica noted the sensual change with an ever more excited carnal attraction to the girl. “Maybe it’s all girls...especially sexy girls...girls just like me, Monica.”

Monica looked up in surprise when the blonde said her name. They didn’t know each other, so how could she know her name? And what did she just say about Monica liking girls? Of course, she didn’t like girls like that. That would be absurd. I’m as straight as they come.

Gazing intently at the young woman, Monica saw her seductively pull her ponytail free from its hair band and shake her blonde hair loose. Entranced, Monica then witnessed the blonde coed transform. She turned her head rapidly from side to side five or six times. As her dirty blonde locks whipped back and forth across her face, the blonde hair darkened and recolored until it settled on a vibrant auburn hue. Monica saw that the hair rearranged to a cute, just-beyond-shoulder-length cut and style with bangs and added some voluminous, loose curls. The coed’s skin took on a smooth, creamy color and a cute display of faint freckles sprinkled across her face.

Monica also saw the now-red-haired classmate’s body begin to shift and alter, shrinking and expanding a bit here and there. The satin tee became cropped, leaving her midriff bare, and her beat-up denim jeans became glossy hip-hugger jeans of sleek black leather. Her clothes then all shrank noticeably, becoming much tighter around her breasts, hips, legs and ass to better show off the sensual curves belonging to a woman. As if being painted with a quick, invisible brush, her lips and nails assumed a metallic reddish gold color, or rose gold, and her eyelids shades of black, charcoal, and gold. Large golden hoop earrings peaked through her fiery, curled hair. Monica felt her nipples twitch and her pussy tingle with desire in reaction to this beautifully

sexy girl.

Then it all clicked into place as Monica recognized who the blonde had become.

“N-Nerd girl! What are yo… ?”

The fantasy Meredith placed her index finger on Monica’s lips and made a shhhh gesture with her lips. Monica’s heart raced wildly.

“You didn’t answer my question, Monica. Do I turn you on?”

However, before Monica could give a response, she heard her name being called over and over, at first faintly, but then with increasing volume, as it seemed. The mental fantasy in which she was engrossed suddenly disintegrated. Monica quickly came to her senses as she perceived that everyone was staring at her, including the cute blonde. Monica, in turn, found that she had been gawking at the blonde student without letup, and blushed. After making brief eye contact with her, sending a little thrill up her spine, the Latina beauty turned her attention to the front of the class, where her teacher waited, looking at her with his arms crossed.

“Ms. Morales... I’m waiting for your answer. Do you know the fifth platform of David Williams’s Hierarchy of Corporate Management?”

“...Uh……. Delegated peer supervisors and peer coaches,” Monica blurted out hastily.

“Very good, Ms. Morales. For a moment there I thought your attention was elsewhere. Good to see that you’re keeping up with the material.”

Monica breathed out a sigh of relief for having avoided being caught in an embarrassing situation, or more accurately, for having escaped an embarrassing situation after having been caught in it. Soon the attention of the class shifted back to their professor as he continued his lecture.

Monica stared at her watch and could only scowl after noticing that only twenty minutes had passed. She still had another twenty five long minutes before this class ended and sensed it was going to take severe discipline to keep herself at least semi-focused on the teacher, sufficient to avoid another close call or worse. Nevertheless, she did manage to muster adequate attention for most of the rest of the lecture.

The one exception was a three-minute period in which Monica couldn’t help trying to review the daydream she had had. For some reason, Monica couldn’t really recall the specifics of what she had been fantasizing about, although she knew it had something to do with the blonde girl, Meredith, someone transforming in a sexy manner, and one or both of them talking to Monica, maybe even coming on to her, although she, as a straight girl, didn’t know why that would pop up in her mind, but if it did, it could do no harm, she told herself. Her impressions about it were, thus, both exciting and a little uncomfortable. She felt tempted to drift off again, and let her mind wander, and see if she couldn’t regain a full recollection and continuation of her fantasy, rather than endure the boredom of the lecture, but there was something in the back of her mind that was telling her not to let that happen again.

Monica just sighed and decided to focus on her class again during the remaining lecture time. After all, she did have to pass her courses in order for her mother to pay her tuition, and it would now only be another ten minutes of this torture. After that, she would be moving into the Preston Suites with her roommates, including with her friend Meredith, which prospect put a warm smile on her face.

However, by the end of class, two more things happened which Monica found inexplicably rewarding. For one, the blonde girl looked over at her two different times, for a few moments each time, with a slightly bewildered, questioning look on her face, which Monica saw and understood, as the girl had caught her checking her out when the professor had caused all in the room to look Monica’s way, and had the right to be wondering about it. The second time, Monica gave her a little smile, to which the blonde, seemingly unsure what to make of it, at length returned an equally small, enigmatic smile. Second, when the lecture ended, Monica stole a frontal view of both the brunette and the black-haired girl in front of her as they got up to leave and was gratified to see that they, like the blonde, were also quite cute, and even moreso. The brunette, a true blue-eyed beauty, noticed Monica looking at her and smiled at her before leaving the classroom. The other coed was Asian, of Chinese ancestry, Monica guessed.

Seeing that the black-haired girl was Asian reminded Monica of another young woman she had noticed for the first time in another class she had had the previous day, a once-a-week seminar on Impressionistic art which Monica was taking to help satisfy her humanities requirement. That coed had come in late and had sat two seats away from her on the same row, the girl’s late arrival having been the initial draw to Monica’s eyes. She was an Asian whom Monica speculated, accurately so, to be of Japanese descent, and her delicate beauty, Monica had taken in with an inaudible uptake of air, was perfect. Monica couldn’t take her eyes off of her for several seconds, up to the point that staring at her more would have drawn attention, but she turned her head back to have another look two or three times during the class. Perhaps the most memorable aspect of the student was her long, raven-black hair which sported a number of prominent veins of crimson red slashing through her locks.

The red in the girl’s hair had reminded Monica of how much she liked red hair. Not only did her cute roommate, Meredith, have lovely red hair, but she, Monica, had once in high school wanted to experiment with a red rinse in her own hair. It wouldn’t have made a dramatic difference, she had said as she had tried to convince her mother, leaving her with a reddish-black, or black-cherry, look, but her mother had nixed the idea—“I can’t have someone representing this family looking like a showgirl!” she had objected—but Monica had ever since nevertheless wondered how she would look with at least some degree of reddishness in her hair, if not an all-out, brilliant red shade, although she did love her thick, black hair as it was, too, and was vain about it, quite rightfully so.

One thing, however, that had been striking Monica the last few days when she looked in the mirror was just how black her hair was now. It was a deep, profound black, with a slight bluish tinge, and had an extra fullness and gloss beyond what she remembered in the past. Little did she know those were gifts from the agents of Hecate Corp., bestowed during her recent “treatment” by them, nor did she question them, but she rather simply assumed she was getting naturally more beautiful as she matured in her late teen years, and that she hadn’t noticed before simply because she had had other things on her mind. Her roommates had noticed, as well, although without deciphering what exactly was new, and their new attraction to her had swollen partly because of it.

On this day, Monica wanted to time her exit so that she could pass into the hallway at the same time as the blonde, the brunette, or the Chinese girl, but she had dilly-dallied daydreaming of the Japanese fox in her class of the yesterday too much and hadn’t gathered her iPad, pen, textbook, and notepad into her backpack fast enough, missing the opportunity.

………….next time………..

Meanwhile at the Artemis Center…

An African-American woman who appeared to be in her early thirties was lying on her back on top of a work desk. While her top was covered with a short-sleeved, button up, sapphire-blue blouse, her lower garments were scattered over the floor of the office, her legs held up in the air by a red-haired lass assaulting her dripping love hole with her skilled tongue.

“Fu-Fuck… Oh, Goddess! Julie, you bitch, you can’t do this to me! Oh, fuck!” The woman arched her back as she felt another intense pulse of pleasure travel from her groin towards her sexually heated brain.

Julie dragged her tongue over the hapless woman’s clit before disengaging to speak. “Like I said, Cindy, you have the power to stop this. All you have to do is just give me what I want.” After saying this, Julie went back to working over Cindy’s trembling and gushing fuck hole with her tongue, savoring the sexy flavor of the mahogany vixen quivering before her.

“Ughhh… Do you have a-any… ohhh…please!… Do you know what you’re asking for? It can get both of us in deep shit,” Cindy whimpered with tears of frustration streaming down her eyes.

The only response Julie gave were the sounds of her tongue slurping Cindy’s snatch with virtuoso skill, which caused Cindy to try to grind her crotch against Julie’s lips, although the movements of Cindy’s lower body were restricted by Julie’s hands.

Despite the fact that Cindy looked and sounded like she was suffering, Julie knew better. As a matter of fact, Julie knew a few things about Cindy. One, she worked in the IT department of the Artemis Center. Two, she had security access to a few files that Julie was hoping to get a look at. And, three, this wasn’t Julie’s first rodeo with the quivering and bucking dark-skinned beauty. Julie knew every intimate detail about Cindy’s body, as well as where her sexual breaking point was. She planned to keep Cindy on the edge of sexual release until one of two things happened: Either Cindy would give Julie the files for which she was looking or Cindy’s brains would come pouring out of her ears and the Artemis Center would subsequently be looking for a new IT department head.

“F-Fuck, please, Goddess, let me cum, you fucking cunt!” That was the closest thing to a coherent sentence that Cindy could utter in the vain hope that Julie would relent and grant her sexual release.

Julie continued to lick and nibble Cindy’s over-excited pussy with no remorse as she stared up at the face of her writhing co-worker. Julie ravished the dripping wet cunt for a few more minutes before disengaging.

“This is the last time I play nice. Now, you can end it all just by giving me what I want. Give me access to the files and I let you cum your brains out.”

Cindy used the small break to recover as fast as she could. “If Monaghan, Burke, or Kelly find out, do you know the trouble we would both be in?”

“I have no intention of telling them. Do you?”

“N-no...but…”

Before she could finish, Julie stood up on her knees, leaned forward, placed her finger on Cindy’s lips, and let out a sigh of disappointment.

“Cindy, I already explained it to you. Despite how smart Dr. Monaghan is, she doesn’t know the ins and outs of our computer systems. There’s no way she’ll know that someone accessed her files. Regina and her pet, Kelly, need people like you to tell them that something’s up with the computer system. That’s why they have people like you. I’m not asking you to delete or alter any of the doc’s files. Just a print out of any files involving a target named Claire Love-Livingston.”

“But, you know that we’re not allowed to interfere or get involved with the acquisitions unless we have…”

Julie rolled her eyes in frustration at Cindy’s continued hesitation in helping her get to Claire. Ever since she saw the raven-haired beauty at the Artemis Center two days before, Julie had not been able to get her out of her mind. Julie figured the best way to address her infatuation with Claire was to try to set up a discreet, “accidental” encounter, but Julie had no clue where Claire lived nor how far along she was in being reprogrammed. That’s why she desperately needed a printout of Monaghan’s files on Claire.

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” promised Julie, as she eyed Cindy’s groin, wet with female arousal, pulsating with desire, begging her for release. “Now, enough with the stalling. You give me what I want and I give you what you want.”

Julie dove back into eating out Cindy’s pussy with renewed vigor. Cindy could beg and plead all she wanted, but Julie wouldn’t stop until she got what she sought, her tongue slithering in and out of Cindy’s hole, squirming around the edges, and occasionally flicking Cindy’s erect clit with the tip of her tongue.

Finally her persistence finally paid off. Cindy surrendered, relenting to Julie’s oral assault on her trembling quim.

“You win! Y-you fucking bitch, you win!”

Despite hearing Cindy give in, Julie kept eating Cindy’s tortured pussy and, she made clear, she would not stop until she heard the sound of the printer spewing forth the coveted files she was seeking.

“I-I c-can’t access the files like this. Please, j-just give me a break. I could make a mistake… Oh, fuck, that feels good!” It required no small effort for Cindy to focus enough to say what she needed to say. She felt her pussy contract around Julie’s tongue, but hoped that Cindy was smart enough to listen to reason.

“Make it quick.”

Letting out a sigh of relief, Cindy took a few deep breaths to calm herself. When she felt that she had better control over herself, Cindy shifted her body on the desk, reached over, and grabbed the wireless keyboard and mouse.

The sound of fingertips clicking keys and of the mouse sliding and scrolling filled the room. Cindy had to be careful as she navigated through various network connections and drives to find what Julie was asking for.

A few minutes later, the hum and whir of the laser printer in Cindy’s office signaled the churning of page after page from the file which Julie sought. As she picked up the warm pages, she couldn’t help but imagine that she would get the same warm sensation when she played with Claire’s breasts or roamed her hands all over the raven-haired vixen’s sweet rear.

After sliding the papers into a large manilla envelope, Julie tucked it into a satchel and zipped it secure. It would spend the rest of the day hiding in the satchel, but when she got off work she would go over every page in order to come up with a plan to create an encounter with Claire.

Julie then returned her focus back on Cindy...more specifically, on the moist, trembling fuck tunnel between Cindy’s legs.

“I’m a woman of my word, Cindy. Just lean back and enjoy.” As soon as Julie finished her sentence, she resumed her oral play on Cindy’s delicious snatch. This time, Cindy didn’t offer any resistance. She fully enjoyed the sensation of Julie’s skilled tongue probing and exploring her excited cunt, Julie’s hands roaming over and massaging her legs, and the oncoming orgasm that would shatter her senses.

Soon Cindy let out a shriek of intense pleasure as she felt the intense, long overdue orgasm rip through her body like a freight train crashing through a brick wall. The wail of intense passion could be heard all the way down the hallway, but no one paid it any attention, as the screams of satisfying lesbian sex were the norm at the Artemis Center. Some working there would hear it like a hunter’s call, prompting them to seek out a female colleague for pleasure. To Julie it meant that she had won her prize. If everything went as she hoped, it wouldn’t be long before she would be able to give Claire the same treatment and to hear the same ecstatic screams gush from her mouth.

It was a hectic time for Claire and her roommates later in the day as they returned to their dorm apartment and completed the final preparations to move out of it and into the luxurious Preston Suites. Having already packed the greater part of their belongings, they had to cram what remained into empty cardboard boxes.

It had been a bit more frenzied than that for Claire. After her meeting with Kim and the class after, she had made a mad dash for the old dorm, trying to beat Monica there. Luck was on her side, as, with a strenuous effort, Claire did manage to arrive before her Latina roommate. She found that only Meredith was there before her, and she was in her room preparing for the big move, too occupied to mind what Claire would be doing.

After they exchanged pleasantries from across the hall, Claire went to the bathroom to wash off the makeup—Monica’s makeup—which she had applied to her face earlier in the day. She didn’t want to, but, at the same time, she didn’t wish to draw any suspicion to herself in Monica’s mind. For the same reason, she promptly replaced the items of clothing and jewelry she had appropriated from Monica’s bedroom back where she had found them…….that is, most of them. Claire kept the heels.

For a moment, it struck Claire that her having invaded Monica’s private space, helped herself to her property, and acted so covertly about it was unlike her normal self; but then, she rationalized to herself that she had more or less had to do what she had done, as she didn’t have such items of her own, and that it had been kind of fun, anyway. No one and nothing got hurt, so why feel guilty about it? She did not, not much, and, smiling to herself, quickly dismissed the question of wrongdoing from her mind.

Scampering back to her room naked, except for the heels, Claire then changed into something more appropriate for the move—a pair of relaxed-fit jeans, a simple, light green cotton button-up blouse, and, begrudgingly, her tennis shoes. The heels had grown on her immeasurably and unaccountably over the time she had worn them, and she wished she could have worn them for the move, although the need to hide them from Monica and to have maximum stability when carrying things made that impractical.

Claire was in the final stages packing for the big move by the time Jessica and Monica arrived, going over boxes and double checking to make sure she wouldn’t leave anything behind. She was mostly done when she heard a knock on her doorway.

“Hey, Clairebear, you almost done? Because I am. Think you’ll need some help?”

Claire turned to see her roommate and close friend, Jessica, leaning against the bedroom’s doorway. The tone in her voice had been different somehow than the normal Jessica, somehow more tender, soft, and playful than Claire was used to hearing coming from her blunt jock of a friend, plus there was something more casual and inviting in her posture at the moment. But what caught Claire’s attention most was Jessica’s attire and face.

Jessica was wearing clothing that Claire had never seen her friend wear before. She had never known that her roommate even owned such tantalizing clothing—which, until earlier today, up to her visit with Coach Ilsa, Jessica had not. The athlete had on a very tight, cropped, baby blue polyester tee that showed off her perky breasts and exposed her midriff, complemented by a pair of skintight, bright-pink spandex hot-pants-style shorts that did a wonderful job of showing off her firm, round ass and exposing her long, bare, sexy legs. The material of the outfit was thin enough to disclose an outline of Jessica’s bra and panties if one looked for it—which Claire found herself doing—and its snug fit put the smooth, seductive curves of Jessica’s body on conspicuous exhibition.

Claire’s eyes immediately started to roam greedily all over Jessica’s gorgeous body, but when they landed on the young woman’s pretty face, they abruptly halted there. Jessica was wearing makeup. It was not extremely heavily applied, but it was clearly, prominently there, on the previously tomboyish girl who, in the past, had hardly ever gone out of her way to be very girlish. Claire knew that occasionally Jessica had applied a bit of makeup—a little, tiny bit—sometimes when they went out for a night on the town,or when she went out on the rare date, but this was different. This was more. A lot more. Bolder. This was a statement. And it was awesome.

To see her best friend’s face adorned with makeup, in divergence from her past practice, was, at first, a bit jarring, but that sensation was quickly overridden by being totally enamored with it. Claire found the bright cherry-red lipstick entrancing and the black mascara alluring, accenting the already beautiful features of Jessica’s face. Claire had never seen Jessica like this before, but she knew one thing: She liked it.

“Oh...uh...hi, Jessica…. Um...yeah...thanks... I’m close to being done, but if you could pack those books into that box, and use that sheet to wrap around that desk lamp, that’d be great.”

Dropping her eyes again to the taller girl’s body, Claire assessed how she felt about her roommate’s attire. The tee is a bit tighter than she normally wears...and the shorts are a little short...and revealing...but...but not bad....not bad at all… They look great on her… Hmmmm….yes….definitely…. A beautiful woman like Jessica should flaunt her figure, Claire nonchalantly thought as she went back to focusing on finishing the packing of her belongings.

This was certainly not the last time over the move that Claire would sneak lingering glances at her best friend and think about how much she liked this version of the young woman. She particularly found herself frequently scanning up and down those long, light-chocolatey legs and dwelling on that derriere packed so tightly in shiny pink—so tightly, in fact, that the material would cling visibly into Jessica’s ass crevice much of the time and would even faintly outline her camel toe in front—not knowing why she felt like doing so, but grateful that she could and wondering why she had not noticed them like this before. It seemed like some kind of wonderful discovery.

“Okay,” Claire announced at length, as she finished going through a small pile of odds and ends on her bed, “I think I’m pretty much done. I just have to make sure I have everything before we leave.” Having her back to Jessica, Claire didn’t notice Jessica eyeing her cute ass and seductively licking her lips, as wicked fantasies whirled through her mind concerning what she wanted to do to her friend’s tantalizing butt.

“Hey, what’s that?” Jessica asked when she noticed a large, padded manila envelope lying on top of Claire’s desk, pointing at it from ten feet away. “Does that have anything to do with that sponsorship program of yours?”

“Huh? What are you talking about?”

Jessica walked over to Claire’s desk and picked up the envelope in question in response to Claire’s inquiry.

“I have no id… Oh, my goddess! I completely forgot about that!” Claire said as she finally realized what Jessica was talking about. The envelope was something that she and Traci found when the alluring blonde dropped her off at the dorm after the sponsorship program at the Artemis Center.

“Traci…” Claire said in a soft whisper, as memories of that night and of her lovely companion at the time came back. Pleasurable tingles traveled between her legs.

“Uh… Claire? Hello… umm… Claire are you there?” queried Jessica, unsure of what to do when she noticed that her friend was spacing out. It was only after Jessica began to snap her fingers in front of Claire’s face that Claire came out of the lustful reminiscence of her evening with Traci.

“Wh-what…? Oh, Jessica, I’m sorry… I kinda lost my train of thought for a moment.”

“I saw that. So, care to let me in on your thoughts? That look on your face seemed to indicate it was something nice. Or someone nice?” guessed Jessica in a suggestive, flirtatious tone, her hands behind her back, while leaning forward some, batting her eyelashes, and flashing Claire a warm smile.

“I… um… the envelope reminded me of the day I got my college sponsorship,” she answered, quickly gathering her wits enough to provide a general and true statement without disclosing the more exact reason for her momentary loss of speech. “My life’s taken a turn for the better since that day. I guess I completely forgot about this.” Claire picked up the envelope from the desk. She wondered for a moment whether this envelope would in some way prove to be propitious for her, as had been the envelope she had received at the Artemis Center introducing her to Serena Powers, and felt intuitively that it would be.

“I see… Is the envelope part of your sponsorship program?” asked Jessica

“No, I found this outside, in the parking lot near our dorm. I was going to post a lost-and-found notice on the dormitory message board, but I completely forgot about it.”

“So, what were you going to say? ‘Found: One large manilla envelope. Please contact me if it’s yours.’?”

Claire recognized the point Jessica was making. It wouldn’t do any good for her or for the envelope’s rightful owner if she just left a generic message about a manilla envelope. She decided to open the envelope to get the specifics she’d need. Besides, having felt the contents through the paper, she was fairly certain that there were some CDs or DVDs inside, and she was curious about what kind they were. In the past, Claire would have judged it unethical to invade someone else’s privacy and property rights by doing something like opening this envelope, and would have tried some other way to find the one who lost it, but this Claire, without a second thought, tore the top off the envelope and dumped its contents onto her desk. Three DVDs in thin plastic cases came out. Picking one up, Claire was shocked. She had expected to see a music CD or a DVD of a mainstream movie, but instead her eyes and sensitivities were assaulted by what was readily seen to be a pornographic DVD.

The cover of the disk in her hand depicted two women naked, one blonde, the other a redhead, side by side and facing the viewer. The title of the one in Claire’s hand was Beckie & Jamie Join a Sorority: No Boys Allowed Edition.

Claire’s eyes were drawn to the blonde on the DVD case and observed her nude form, the sensual curves of her body, her tantalizing exposed tits, and a gorgeous ass that seemed to be begging to be groped. Claire took note of the cosmetics the blonde had applied. Bright ruby red lipstick drew her attention to the blonde’s luscious lips and black eyeliner combined with a pink eyeshadow showcased the blonde’s blue eyes. However, as appealing as those and the young woman’s other physical charms were, Claire found herself most captivated by and focusing on the blonde’s hair. It was a messy bob style of shimmering bright golden blonde hair that extended to the woman’s shoulders. Claire was so tantalized by the blonde’s hair that she paid little further attention to the woman’s other desirable features, even though she wanted to look at them more.

In the meantime, Jessica walked to the desk to have a better look for herself. When she saw the nature of the DVDs, her pupils dilated and she felt immediate, sharp interest, and, wanting Claire to be interested, too, she sought to offer a remark to defuse whatever abhorrence Claire might be feeling right now.

“Well, I guess this would make for a very interesting post on the dormitory message board,” Jessica joked as she held up one of the other pornographic DVDs. The jest was sufficient to make Claire smile. Good, Jessica thought. We’ll make this light, and show her it won’t bite, and get her curious.

Claire turned to face her friend and noticed the title was The Mothers & Babysitters Club: Vol 8 Hispanic Milfs & Latina Teen Hotties. This DVD’s cover picture consisted of a sexually vibrant Hispanic woman on the left side of the picture, facing the viewer, standing in what appeared to be a kitchen, and a pretty Latina teen on the right standing in a doorway off to the side and about ten feet in back of the woman. The woman had her silky black mane in a soft, wavy bob with a low side part, while the only thing covering her upper body was a frilly but transparent apron, all the intimate details of her body underneath on blatant display. She had her head partly turned in the direction of the teen, her face showing off her bright pearly whites in a smile, her lips painted with a glossy alluring candy red. She was making a come-hither gesture with her finger to the girl, who likewise wore a sheer piece, a soft-blue babydoll nightie in her case, accompanied by nylons, garter belt, and heels, and eyeing the woman’s backside with sexual curiosity in her eyes.

Jessica showed the DVD to Claire, who uttered a simple “hmmmm”—reflecting her internal conflicted reaction, which initially had been one of mild disdain, but which negativity had been quickly fading, mixed with a mysterious, overshadowing, and keen fascination.

Claire picked up the third DVD, observing that its label was all black save for two intertwined hot-pink Venus symbols and the words ‘Elite Members Only’ stamped in red.

“Well…….I...I definitely wasn’t expecting this.”

“What are you going to do?”

Jessica raised a significant question, Claire realized. She couldn’t really put up a post that she had somehow come across someone’s pornographic material and was looking to reunite it with its owner. The remaining alternatives were to discard the DVDs or to keep them. Her first impression was that she should throw them away, as the garbage they were—of course—which was the course Claire knew she likely would have taken in the past. But then, as she weighed her options, the new, morally looser side of Claire asserted itself. Observing that the contents of the DVDs centered around lesbians, the idea of keeping them started to appeal to her and, as she stretched her reasoning to accommodate that new desire, it started to make sense to her logically, as well. She justified to herself that the DVDs could provide her another perspective on the lesbian lifestyle on which Regina had advised her to focus, and to which she had agreed.

“I’ll keep them,” Claire finally announced pensively, still looking over the covers of the DVDs.

“Wow, that’s a first. I can’t believe that you, of all people, would want to keep something that didn’t belong to you. Especially porn.”

Claire turned to face Jessica and narrowed her eyes. All of a sudden, Claire seemed to switch personalities. Her posture became more assertive, her eyes became piercing, and her aura assumed a tone of dominant, offended authority. Jessica, seeing the mood shift on Claire’s face, began to back away a bit. It was the first time she had ever seen her best friend’s face display hostility and she found it frightening.

“Do you have a problem with what I just said?” The words coming from Claire’s mouth sounded cold and authoritative, with no trace of Claire’s trademark compassion and warmth.

“N-no, it’s your call. I’ll back you up on whatever you want to do.”

“Good.” Claire’s attitude seemed to soften again a little, though not completely. “Besides, I think there’s an educational opportunity that could be gained from these.”

Jessica gave Claire a puzzled look, as she couldn’t really see what kind of education a bunch of lesbian porn DVDs could give. However, who was she to disagree with her crush? If Claire said that lesbian porn was educational, then so be it. Jessica then reflected on the type of education that Claire might have in mind.

This moment gave Jessica a strong sense of hope. After all, if her crush showed an interest in lesbian porn, then couldn’t it mean that Claire might have that kind of leaning as well, or that she was at least curious enough to want to investigate? She could feel her body react accordingly. Her nipples began to stiffen and her pussy to moisten, sending erotic tingles through her body. Maybe these DVDs were the exact opening she needed to get Claire on the path that would make Claire hers.

Jessica so wanted to settle her relationship with Claire as one in which they were “together”. Her urge was to simply confess her undying love for her Clairebear, to bear her soul to the woman with whom she sought a bright future as a couple, and to take Claire into her arms and into her bed to experience pleasures with her dream girl beyond her imagination—and yet she knew she couldn’t. It wouldn’t be that simple, that easy.

Jessica couldn’t read the Claire that was standing in front of her, not enough. She thought she knew her best friend, but Jessica was uncertain whether Claire’s sexuality was flexible enough, at least at this point, for her to consider Jessica as a mate, and the authoritative version of her which had just flashed out was a complete mystery to her, making Jessica even more uncertain about the surest route to pursue her hopes, about how much she should do and how fast she should do it. The safest course, she knew, was to simply wait and see, hoping for the best possible outcome to evolve over time. But...did she want to play it safe? Did she want to wait? Or did she want to provoke Claire into a response to her, one way or the other? Did she want to do something?

Jessica reflected on the fact that she indeed had done something already...in that she had put on some of the new attire and makeup that Mistress Ilsa had given her. And it was obvious that it had had an effect on Claire...the way her eyes had almost popped out of her head when she had seen her like that...and the way they had kept returning to her, in a way they never had before… Yes… That had worked… But how much further could she push it? How much further should she go? And when?

“Anyway, can’t do anything about this now. Still got to finish packing.” With that said, Claire grabbed the DVDs and packed them away in a box next to her, Jessica noting which box it was. Soon after, Claire picked up the box and dumped it into Jessica’s arms. “Here, take this to the front hallway.” The assignment was given not as a request, but as an order. Jessica understood it as such, too, and simply nodded meekly as she quickly adjusted to the heavy box which had been thrust into her arms and began to carry it away.

As Jessica left her room, Claire took a good glimpse of her friend’s butt and again marveled at how cute it looked in the pink shorts. Jessica, wondering if Claire was looking at her, turned her head enough to evaluate that possibility just before she was out of sight, then faced forward again as she walked down the hallway with a little smile of naughty gratification on her face. Jessica was starting to like wearing shorts like these, and showing off her legs and rear, very much.

The rest of the move was uneventful. The girls finished packing up, carried their belongings to the three cars they owned among themselves, and drove to their new living quarters with excitement and joy.

The Preston Suites complex consisted of four large apartment buildings of exquisite modern artistic architectural design, surrounding a grassy, garden-like quad—which included a commons building at one end and a large white oak tree in the center of the quad—and surrounded by a zone of lush, peaceful greenery. In the quad and the encircling green belt, there were verdant, manicured lawns; ubiquitous flowers, decorative plants, and neatly-trimmed bushes and hedges; trees in abundance, including shade trees and decorative varieties such as weeping willows, aspens, and, it being Florida, numerous palms of diverse types and heights; picnic tables here and there; a meditation pond with lilies and a waterfall; a jungle-landscaped, grotto-like swimming pool, also with a waterfall; neat, curving walkways, which were lined with small lights at night; some semi-hidden, trellised, grassy patio-like niches, some with lockable gates, surrounded by high hedges, designed for privacy, and furnished with tables, comfortable chairs, and plushly upholstered, double-wide chaise lounges; and elegantly sculpted statues and stone benches throughout.

Although they all had walked through the Preston Suites area before, as many students did occasionally to admire, to wonder, and to covet, none of the girls had done so more than once, as the Suites were on an out-of-the-way edge of campus, and when they had been there before, they had not paused or explored the various buildings and facilities of the complex, so that when they arrived at their new dormitory residence on this day, the young women were amazed anew at what they saw.

“Wow, if it looks this good outside, I can’t wait to see what our dorm apartment looks like inside!” Monica enthused, after they all had gotten out of their cars, which they had parked one in front of the other along a curb next to a grassy strip and had gathered together on an adjacent sidewalk near one of the apartment buildings, gawking around at the complex.

“Agreed,” Jessica concurred, surveying the new dormitory buildings in awe. “This place makes our old dorm look like a slum.”

“So how do we know which building is ours?” asked Meredith. “All we got from the student housing office is that we’re in Suite-PH2 in D-Building.”

“I called the number the Bursar’s office gave us before we left and they said they would have a resident advisor waiting for us to show us around,” Claire responded.

Just then, the young women heard a friendly voice call out to them from behind.

“Hey, guys,” saluted the cheerful, young, feminine voice. “You must be the new tenants that’s moving in today.”

As Claire turned to face the person who was greeting her and her friends, her eyes went wide with surprise, an acutely delighted surprise. Walking up to them was Abby, the young Japanese college co-ed whom she had met at the Artemis Center a few days before during the sponsorship selection program. A flood of pleasant feelings came rushing into Claire’s mind and body as she recalled the brief interaction they had had with each other then and as she drank in the Asian’s beauty again now.

Abby was wearing a long-sleeved, front-buttoning white polyester blouse and, while it was plain, the blouse had some alluring qualities. One was that the fabric of the shirt was so thin that the fact that Abby was wearing nothing underneath it was on constant, teasing display. Another was that the shirt was also tight enough that it clearly showed off the feminine curves of Abby’s upper body. The blouse was neatly tucked into a shiny black leather miniskirt, the hem of which stopped about five inches above her knees. The tight skirt molded itself over her smooth hips, sexy ass, and slim thighs, showcasing those features and the rest of her long, sexy legs marvelously. She also wore black leather sandals with red edging and three-inch heels.

Claire noticed Abby’s attire and the body packed into it with keen interest, as well as that Abby still had the lovely crimson streaks running through her otherwise majestically deep-black hair which she had had when they first met. Abby’s beautiful hair was styled in an elegant French-braid ponytail that went down her back, with her bangs given a slight inward curl and parted on the right. The crimson streaks interwoven with the black braiding made her all the more enticing.

Claire also observed that Abby seemed to be using more cosmetics on herself since their last encounter, her lips painted a glossy, dark plum color, her eyelashes thick with black mascara, and her eyelids accented by dark royal blue eyeshadow, complementing her dark mahogany-colored eyes and contrasting with the milky smoothness of her skin.

Abby’s appearance was definitely different from the last time Claire saw the tantalizing Japanese beauty, Claire mulled over within herself. It was bolder and sexier, and it definitely caught Claire’s attention. She thought this look was clearly better suited for Abby than a simple, modest, unembellished style. Claire found it hard to keep her eyes off her, but when she did look around, she detected that her roommates were likewise taken by the Asian girl, not only giving her their rapt attention, but seemingly ogling her, as well, which Claire dismissed as the natural reaction any human being might have to such a foxy girl.

Claire did not realize, however, that Monica was taking a particular interest in Abby. This was the pretty coed who had sat near her, caught her eye, and captured her imagination the previous day in one of her classes. Monica had wanted to meet her, maybe in their next class together, but now here she was…

“My name is Abby Himura and I’ll be your resident advisor for today. I want to welcome you all to the fabled Preston Suites!” beamed Abby as she flashed the girls a welcoming smile. For several seconds, all the roommates stood there speechless, gawking at their fetching host.

“H-Hello, Abby, I’m...I’m Claire and th…” Claire stuttered in a flustered tone, trying to overcome the sexual excitement she was feeling along with the pleasant shock of seeing Abby again. It was at this point that Abby suddenly recognized Claire—having failed to do so immediately partly because the last time they were together, Claire’s hair and attire were of a different style and partly because Abby simply didn’t expect to see Claire in this place on this day—and Claire didn’t have to say much after that for the next minute.

“Claire?! No way!! OMG! I can’t believe that you’re... I mean, I can believe it. It’s just...I...I didn’t know I would be the one to greet you and your group! I thought it would have been somebody else from that sponsorship group… Wow! Claire!!” Abby giddily jumped forward and, without the slightest hesitation, wrapped Claire into a warm hug.

Although Claire had not fantasized about Abby, at least not sexually, that she knew of—although she had thought of her fondly numerous times after having met her and had almost desperately wanted to meet her again, and had every intention of calling her up after she had gotten settled—and had not intentionally chosen this embrace, Claire couldn’t deny how pleasant—no, how wonderful—it was to have Abby in her arms—finally, it seemed like, in some inexplicable way—and to feel Abby’s body against hers. Instinctively, both Claire and Abby pressed their bodies a bit into each other and moved their arms downward, each enjoying the feel of the other’s body under her roving hands, ending with those feminine hands resting just above each other’s hips.

The other girls looked on, their conditioning directing them to think that there was nothing unusual about the two girls in front of them locking onto each other and feeling each other up a little. On the contrary, such a scene between two hot girls struck them as the most natural, and even desirable, of events. In fact, all of them would not have minded seeing them kiss, and were actually subconsciously rooting for that to happen.

Further, the gears in Monica’s mind were spinning about Abby and herself. This Asian girl was even prettier and sexier, now that she was getting a good look at her, than she had thought when she had first noticed her in class. If Claire knew this beauty, as it now most definitely appeared that she did, then Monica had an additional avenue, besides trying to talk to her in class, to also get to know her. What luck… The fact escaped her that such plotting and such an attraction would be more typical of a lesbian than of a straight girl, as she imagined herself to be.

At length, Claire and Abby separated, both appearing somewhat flushed. Abby then rapidly fired off one question and comment after another at Claire. “Wow, Claire, I can’t believe this!” “I’ve been wanting to see you again!” “Where did you guys live before this?” “How did you get into this place?” “This place is so awesome.” “I have so much I want to show you, and to talk to you about!” “Do you remember Regina? Isn’t she great? I’ve gotten to know her better. She’s told me so many nice things about you.” “Have you met your sponsor yet? I hope you can meet mine.” “Wow, like, this is too awesome!” “I’m sooo glad to see you again!”

Unknown to Claire, Abby had not always been this bubbly, excitable, and emotional. Her original personality was one of a quiet, impassive, studious, and, even, occasionally sardonic young woman. However, when Abby’s buyer saw her personality profile, she demanded changes be made. Abby’s buyer wanted a more sparkling, outgoing, fun, and friendly persona instilled into her new acquisition. The buyer also wanted an enthusiastic lesbian fuck bunny who would eagerly embrace every sapphic sexual act proposed to her, no matter how debauched or how foreign to her previous nature, and do so with a fun, positive, engaging disposition.

Abby had come from wealth and a high-class Japanese background. Her late grandfather, Daizō Himura, had been a rich and powerful leading executive with a keiretsu (in Japan, a set of companies with interlocking business relationships and shareholdings), overseeing its interests in America. His public prestige and his status as a generous donor to Preston University and its community gave Abby a decided advantage during admissions.

However, unknown to Abby, the real, secret force behind her family’s success and wealth was her grandmother, Yuriko Ikeda-Himura, who possessed a sharp, analytical mind for business and finance, an aptitude for turning a profit in any undertaking, and a manipulative personality. While Daizō was good, Yuriko was better. The two had married young via an arranged marriage between their families, and, at age fifty-nine, Yuriko was still a much younger-looking, striking Japanese woman for her mature age.

Although Yuriko was born into a culture which dictated that females be only seen, but not heard, she learned to steer her way around many of the limitations with which her society would confine her, treating them as nothing but minor inconveniences, working through her husband. Over time, she developed skill in getting Daizō to carry out a variety of her plans. More often than not, she merely poked at or appealed to his masculine pride, and Daizō was putty in her hands. Nevertheless, despite their worldly good fortune, much of it attributable to her, he still exercised, or sought to exercise, a stifling level of control over her.

Yuriko loathed the traditionalist misogynistic culture of her country and hoped that by moving to America she would gain greater freedom, but Daizō was just as controlling in America as he had been in Japan. Then one day Abby’s grandmother chanced to encounter Serena Powers’s mother, Genevieve, who recognized that Yuriko had a formidable talent in the realm of business. After a friendship formed, Genevieve gauged Yuriko’s desire for power and for greater freedom from men and offered her new, talented Japanese friend the opportunity to join the secret cabal associated with advancing Hecate’s schemes. Yuriko jumped at the chance. Working together they carefully manipulated Daizō into introducing Hecate into the Japanese economy under the guise of one of the keiretsu’s subsidiary partnerships. It didn’t take long before they had agents spread throughout the keiretsu and Japan. In the meantime, Genevieve and others in the Hecate realm introduced Yuriko to lesbian love, to which she took like a duck to water.

This pedigree, a mix of Daizō’s honorable, powerful public persona and Yuriko’s shrewd and stealthy machinations and connections, was the key factor that guaranteed not only Abby’s admittance to the University but also her placement in the Preston Suites, with a job as a student RA.

However, Abby’s father, Yoshi, who had assumed Daizō’s role after her grandfather had stepped down, unfortunately lacked his father’s discipline and his mother’s shrewd business acumen. He exploited the businesses he managed as his own personal piggy bank, to indulge in his expensive vices, the primary one among them being gambling. Yuriko was aghast to see her son squander the family fortune so frivolously and bring shame and dishonor to the family name. The final straw was when his poor business choices and heavy gambling debts caught up to him and were made public. Desperate to escape them, he agreed to step down and relinquish all management over the keiretsu’s American interests and his controlling shares to his mother.

But there was a price Yuriko had to pay. In order to ensure that there would be no opposition to her ascension as the new head of the board of trustees and that it would go as smoothly as possible, Yuriko called upon Hecate for assistance. In return for those favors, Yuriko would have to offer up her beautiful, innocent, blossoming granddaughter as chattel to be sold off in the brainwashing-and-auction operation run by the Hecate operative, Regina Burke. When presented with that choice, it had taken Yuriko less than a minute to settle on selling her granddaughter out. While Yuriko did have plans to groom her granddaughter as her successor, her own lust for personal power overrode all other concerns. Beside, she figured, having Abby spend a few years as a lesbian fuck toy wouldn’t hurt her—well, not that much—and, in fact, could prove beneficial to Abby, if not to Yuriko, as well, in the long run. When the time was right, Yuriko would buy her granddaughter back.

There had been no objections voiced by Abby’s mother, Machiko, now thirty-nine and a petite beauty in her own right, who was a traditional, reserved, stay-at-home Japanese housewife who catered to her husband’s every need and knew little of her husband’s misadventures and her mother-in-law’s secret intrigues. When the time would come for Abby to drop out of college and fly off to become her buyer’s lesbian sex slave, Machiko would be told that her daughter was enrolling in an alternative learning program, or a study-abroad program.

Further, Machiko—for whom Yuriko had lusted from the day the younger woman had married her son—was unaware that Yuriko had requested that Machiko receive brainwashing similar to Abby’s. Before the year’s end, Machiko would become a wanton lesbian slut just like her daughter, Abby, was now becoming. After her conversion was completed, Machiko would be told of her husbands follies and would find herself compelled to make amends to her beautiful mother-in-law for her husband’s dishonorable actions by becoming Yuriko’s personal assistant, both at work and in Yuriko’s home, into which Machiko would move, leaving her husband. Her duties of helping her mother-in-law with the day-to-day tasks of running the keiretsu would give way, when they were alone at home, in their shared bed, to sensual duties of intimacy and pleasure. During their private moments, the daughter-in-law would submit her body and become her mother-in-law’s lesbian fucktoy and whore, at first with reservations, but, in time, with full devotion and fervor, the two becoming ardent lesbian lovers.

For now, however, Machiko was unaware that Abby, her only child, whom she had raised to be quiet, demure, modest, and studious, a girl in whom rebellion in any form and uncontrolled showing of emotion had been out of the question, was on her way to discarding most all of her mother’s lessons in social etiquette, morality, and reserve and changing into a fun-loving, sex-crazed, slutty dyke.

Now in her first year at Preston University, Abby had enjoyed the freedom that had accompanied being away from her controlling parents, but had nevertheless not strayed far from their desires for her—at least she had not until she met Regina Burke.

Abby, like, Claire had been called into Regina’s office one day and informed that her college financing had been withdrawn. In Abby’s case, the story was that the trust fund set up by her grandfather for her education had been depleted by bank mismanagement and that her family was unable to find sufficient funds to compensate for that loss. It didn’t matter that the story wasn’t true; the fact that an authority figure such as Regina said it was so was all that mattered to the trusting and naïve eighteen-year-old, although Abby’s grandmother was prepared to verify Regina’s misleading representations, if need be. Thus, Abby had come to the same afternoon “rescue” at the Artemis Center as had Claire.

Having fallen under Regina’s spell in a manner similar to Claire, Abby “discovered” that she harbored a secret crush for the Director and, having likewise been instilled with implicit trust in her, as a daughter to a mother, took her suggestions directly to heart. While, of herself, Abby would not, at this stage of her life, at least, and not for the foreseeable future, either, have ventured into any style or behavior her parents would have considered indecorous or flamboyant, Regina’s suggestions, combined, of course, with the powerful brainwashing sessions to which she had been subjected, had been steering the delicate Asian beauty in a new direction.

The first manifestation of the new vein of adventure, allure, and decadence in the young woman was to be seen in her hair. After she had, under hypnosis, admitted to fascination with Regina’s beautiful blonde-streaked brown hair, Regina had suggested Abby try something similarly daring with her own hair, and had set the lovely Asian coed up with her own beautician, who had, in addition to the brilliant, chunky cherry-red streaks in the otherwise deep-black color, also given the girl’s long hair a blunt trim at the ends and straight, full bangs. With another few suggestions, Regina had loosened up the Japanese beauty’s wardrobe proclivities and her previous reluctance to use cosmetics much, all accompanying the freer, more engaging, more effervescent personality endowed upon her, as well.

As much as she shared Abby’s excitement about crossing paths again and felt like joining in with Abby’s exuberance, Claire did her best to scale back her expression of it a bit and to stay poised and keep the chit-chat to a minimum, knowing her roommates probably wanted to get on with the business of moving in. So after letting Abby run on for a minute, until she had recaptured her own composure, Claire finally responded back.

“It’s great to see you too, Abby! I meant to give you a call, but I got a little sidetracked.”

“Hey, no problem. We’ve all been busy. So, let me give you guys the grand tour. You can just leave your stuff here for now and come back later for it, okay?”

Saving the showing of their apartment to them for later, Abby first walked the girls around the dormitory grounds, sharing a number of details with Claire and her friends. For one thing, they found out that the small building on the complex’s center quad was a gym/recreational facility, which, while not as comprehensive in scope or as large as the one Preston provided its star athletes, was still a comfortable and luxurious place for its student residents to exercise and relax. Another interesting fact they learned was that the whole Preston Suites complex was maintained by the student residents—more specifically, the male students.

Unknown to Claire and her friends, the Preston Suites served as another place to brainwash, or to further the brainwashing of those Hecate deemed useful to advance its agenda. Many living in the Suites were children of politicians, prominent businessmen and businesswomen, and even those who had strong ties to the criminal underworld. Some residents had been identified as having potential for Hollywood stardom or for noteworthy success in the realms of law, politics, business, fashion, education, medicine, science, and engineering.

The leading staff of the Suites was composed entirely of women. Also, the vast majority of the students chosen to reside in the Suites were female. Here, they would invariably be led along a sapphic course and have the social opportunities and physical, psychological, and emotional environment conducive to that path. The few males who did get the hallowed privilege to reside in the Suites were carefully selected to be pliable or, in some cases, actively or potentially homosexual. Upon their arrival, they would be intensely bombarded with subliminal messages that made them not only complacent and very obedient towards the female staff and residents of the Preston Suites, but also severely minimized all of the sexual urges and desires they possessed, or redirected them toward their same sex. In short order, every male resident of the Suites became passive, completely lost interest in women, and only had desires to focus on their school work and, in many cases, on pursuing relationships with other male students, and on becoming respectable, orderly members of the community and eagerly carrying out any task assigned to them by a female.

As they walked among the trees, shade, flowers, ponds, shrubbery, and statuary of the gardens-like grounds, the girls noticed that virtually all of the students which they saw passing in and out of the buildings and walking or sitting on the grounds were females. However, they did see two young men tending to the grounds. As the attractive coeds passed, the college studs averted their gaze and bowed their heads submissively. All the girls noticed this, but found it refreshing and, somehow, quite appropriate, except initially for Monica. She was used to guys checking out her sexy body, and, in the past, had encouraged and enjoyed that attention, so she found it a bit odd, or even alarming, that the two men completely ignored her as if she wasn’t even there. Then, however, her suspicion quickly evaporated away and was replaced by a measure of relief that guys weren’t eyeing her like a piece of meat.

As they continued their walk, Monica and the other girls found themselves impressed by how romantic a setting it was in which they were going to be living. None of them thought specifically of that word, “romantic”, yet they nevertheless felt romance in the air, and found it enchanting to be there. They all felt further, without analyzing the impression or recognizing it directly, that the absence of a significant masculine presence, as far as they could see, not only was no detriment to their poignant feelings, but it was, rather, a boon to them.

As if to underline those impressions about this place, the group saw two pretty coeds, one a brunette with thick, long, beautiful hair, and one a platinum blonde with a head of cute, shoulder-length curls, dyed to a striking ashy, silvery color, strolling leisurely toward them along the same path. They were holding hands and walking shoulder-to-shoulder, sometimes giggling and sometimes pensive. Each of the roommates in Claire’s apartment had been conditioned to view two girls holding hands like that as quite natural, desirable, and, even, exciting, and that is how they all did regard them as they drew nearer. The two greeted Abby as they approached, she introduced Claire’s group to them as new residents, they all smiled cordially and exchanged pleasantries, and then they passed and moved in their respective directions.

Monica thought that the brunette might be the same blue-eyed beauty she had seen sitting in front of her in her class earlier in the day, but she wasn’t sure, as she had not gotten a good enough look at that coed, though this brunette seemed to look at Monica a little longer than at the others and smile at her a little broader. The brunette might have even winked at her, but that could have been simply because a beam of the sun poked into her eye through the shade . But the blonde was an awesome-looking girl, too, and Monica found her gaze drawn to her just as much as to the brunette, or even more. Several seconds after the two groups had separated, Monica, in the rear of her group, turned around to have one last look at the feminine couple, especially at the blonde, before she moved on. At that moment, the fetching blonde turned around, too, to look again at Monica, her shiny, pale curls swishing attractively around her face and bouncing on her shoulders, waved, and flashed Monica a heart-melting smile, before they both faced to the front and continued on. Monica felt her legs to be shaking a little, her heart beating a bit faster, and her pussy slightly damper than a minute before.

Abby commented afterwards to her group that roommates at the Suites seemed to always get along well and typically became close companions.

During the tour, Claire found herself leering at Abby’s sexy ass regularly as the young Asian woman led them around. It was a bewitching ass, it repeatedly struck Claire, wrapped as it was in the oh-so tight leather miniskirt and swaying side to side in a most teasing fashion. The other roommates were likewise enamored by the show that derriere and that skirt were giving them. Then, when Abby would turn around to make a point, all eyes immediately zoomed in on her braless nipples, which poked most provocatively through the shiny, thin material covering them but not hiding them much, their inviting darkness showing through in erotic contrast to the white color of the blouse. Much of the information Abby shared was lost on the distracted roommates.

As they walked, a thought entered Claire’s mind: If Abby was not wearing a bra, did she also forgo wearing panties under that skirt? She traced over the skirt visually for any tell-tale sign of panty lines and she could see none, but she knew that neither proved nor disproved the presence of panties. It was impossible to tell—unless one could look up the short skirt, which Claire was not likely to get to do—and yet the question lingered in Claire’s thoughts until it became a consuming mystery to her, and she started to want to know desperately. Now that the possibility of looking up Abby’s leather skirt had occurred to her, she found it to be an appealing and desirable one, and she spent a minute speculating on ways she might make that happen this afternoon.

However, it was not long before she turned her focus back on the delicious contents of that exciting blouse. No, there were no bra lines on the back and shoulders, which, in this case, due to the sheerness of the fabric, did confirm the absence of a bra...the wonderful and exciting absence. She wondered what would happen if Abby suddenly stopped the tour, declared the day too beautiful for clothes, and whipped off that white blouse, letting her breasts—from all appearances not particularly big ones, but perfectly shaped, and sporting prominent, dark nipples—explode out free, for all the world to see, unfettered to the view by any covering. She pictured a quick fantasy image of that, and for the rest of the tour found herself longing to see Abby topless or, even better, completely naked.

However, Claire and her roommates weren’t the only ones trying to sneak glances. Abby, as she walked the small group around, found her eyes focusing on Claire’s bountiful bosom, and Claire caught her doing so a couple of times. At those times and when their eyes met, they would flash each other friendly smiles, if not flirtatious smiles, and quickly turn their heads.

Abby was also not oblivious to the way all the coeds in her charge were looking at her, able to almost feel their eyes roving over her, and catching them doing so almost every time she turned around. She had to smile to herself. It was not long ago that girls looking at her like that would have made her quite uncomfortable, but not now. Over the past week or two, her outlook had radically changed. She didn’t know why, other than speculation on her part that having gotten to know the wonderful Regina Burke had broadened her views, or maybe it was just that she was maturing on her own right. But now she loved to wear makeup and dress sexy and to show her body off—at least for other girls, for doing so for boys not only gave her no kicks, for some unknown reason, but even just thinking of doing that actually made her queasy. In any case, she was feeling such a joyful gratification in drawing the eyes of this group of pretty girls toward her charms that it was a high unlike few other things she had ever experienced.

She was especially pleased to see Claire’s obvious attraction to her, for she had not been able to stop thinking about the shapely young raven-haired American beauty since they had met that one time. But then there was also another girl in this group, the lovely Latina, whom she now knew to be named Monica Morales. Abby had seen her in one of her classes the day before. The Asian had come in late, had seen the foxy coed, had felt an instant attraction to her, and had impulsively decided to sit close to her. Unfortunately, the lecture went overtime and, when the class dismissed, Abby had had to leave fast to make it to another obligation on time. But she had not forgotten this beauty. And now, here she was...and ogling her. How cool…

In addition, there were the two other girls in Claire’s group, both of whom Abby found intriguing in their own unique ways—the attractive, tall, athletic-looking girl who appeared to have some African or other brown-skinned ancestry mixed into a European base, and the petite, fair redhead. Abby found herself drawn to the latter coed in particular. She appeared to be the quietest and shyest of the group, which Abby found cute, and her delicate features and striking coloring appealed to the young Japanese woman. Abby caught this redheaded doll checking her out much as the others were doing, although the petite American girl appeared to do it more furtively than her roommates. A few times when she noticed this, Abby looked the girl in the eye until she reciprocated, saw the girl’s milky-skinned face redden, smiled at her—once even running her hand over the front of her blouse as if to make sure it was neat and tucked in, effectively drawing Meredith’s gaze again to her breasts—and turned away to resume her stroll, smiling to herself and turned on by the subtle, flirtatious exchange with the pretty redheaded girl.

Despite all this, Abby continued the tour, as if nothing else was going on. She pointed out that each apartment building could be distinguished by the gemstone color of the walkway leading up to it. The sparkling white stone walkway led to the “Diamond” building, the walkway made of polished blue marble-like stone led to “Sapphire”, the glossy red stone walkway led to “Ruby”, and the glittering green stone walkway led to Emerald. She told them that the letter “D” in their building assignment stood for “Diamond”. Standing outside that building, as the roommates admired its clean, classy exterior design, before the group made its way inside, Abby handed each girl two card keys, each of which would grant the holder access to both their building and their suite inside the building, as well as to the commons building and certain other locked facilities on the grounds.

They entered the building’s front doors and walked through the spacious and luxuriously-appointed common hall on the ground floor. In it, there was a grand piano, a large fireplace, two giant-screen TV’s at opposite ends of the hall, several long leather sofas and comfortable-looking chairs, study carrels with desks, chairs, and computers lining one wall, and, along another long wall and in other places here and there, a number of side rooms and isolated niches furnished with tables, chairs, sofas, mini-refrigerators stocked with beverages and treats, and sofas or futons, where one or more coeds could enjoy privacy, refreshment, study, conversation, play, or whatever else they wished. Decorative plants and flowers punctuated the space generously. Also on the floor was a small kitchen, a ladies’ restroom, the office and living quarters of the dorm manager, and a maintenance office, workroom, and storage space.

On the elevator up to their lavish new living quarters, Abby revealed that they were on their way to the top floor and that the “PH” in their apartment assignment stood for “penthouse”, which was the most coveted type of suite in the luxurious dormitory. Abby also explained that each floor had two wings, each wing composed of two separate suites for its tenants, one across the hallway from the other.

When Claire and her roommates finally reached their destination and entered their new apartment, they were awed by what they saw in their new dormitory unit. Claire was most impressed with the overall, exceptional spaciousness and exquisite design throughout, including such touches as artwork, plants, and flower arrays. Meredith marveled most that there was not only an actual, full kitchen, but that it was one of the largest, nicest, and best equipped and stocked kitchens she had ever seen, with a double-wide refrigerator, a separate freezer, a sophisticated modern stove, two standard ovens, a microwave oven, a toaster oven, an eight-piece toaster, a high-capacity blender, a dishwasher, an island counter, generous amounts of counter space, cabinets, and drawers, and an oversized, commercial-grade divided sink with an ultra modern-looking, pull-out-sprayer faucet. Monica was stunned most by the majestic, sweeping view that the expansive living room offered through its large glass windows, as she looked out on the commons below, the college campus further on, the city sprawling around the campus, and green countryside, a river, a bridge, and a lake in the distance. Jessica was amazed most at the elegance, promise of comfort and convenience, and bounty of the furnishings and the numerous extras that came with the new apartment, noticing, among other things, the leather sofas and stuffed leather recliners, the 60-inch TV and accompanying Blu-Ray/DVD player, and the built-in bookshelves stocked with games, magazines, and books, including paperbacks and what looked like big, glossy-paged picture books. And they hadn’t yet seen the bedrooms and bathrooms, having first only walked through the living room, the kitchen, a study, and a den, nor did they yet know that a complimentary twice-a-week maid and laundry service was included with the suite.

However, while Claire and her friends were marveling at the new apartment into which they were about to move, they did not notice the hidden video cameras, microphones, and sound system stealthily integrated into the various parts of their apartment. None of the girls were aware that they were being observed at that very moment.

“Alright, girls, I want a complete system check. We’re going live now. Maggie, tell me what you got,” barked Sandra as she observed the myriad monitors in front of her.

“Everything checks out, ma’am,” responded Maggie. “Audio and video feeds are a go.”

“Heather, tell me what you got.”

“Gas delivery system is a go, commander.”

“Tanya, Hayley, what’s the sitch on the subliminal servers? Did you guys clear up the feedback issues you found yesterday?”

“All done, commander,” replied both women in unison.

“Alright, girls, we’re doing this slow and steady. Nothing fast or fancy. Just ease the girls into it. Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am!” shouted everyone in unison.

Satisfied that everything was ready to go, Sandra looked at the monitors, observing Abby giving Claire and her friends a tour of their new dormitory apartment. As Abby led them down the hallway, she gestured to the two doors that were across from each other.

“And here we have your bedrooms,” stated Abby brightly, as if this would be the highlight of the tour. She opened one of the bedroom doors and gestured for Claire and her friends to go inside. The bedroom, more palatial in size than all of the girls except Monica had ever seen, was furnished with a sofa, some sitting chairs, two desks with desk chairs, a commodious dresser, an ornate standing tri-fold mirror next to it, two vanities with stools and mirrors, and, as the centerpiece, a spacious, plush, king-sized luxury bed, covered by an exquisite brocaded satin bedspread. Abby pointed to two doors, explaining that they each opened to a sizable walk-in closet, one for each girl, and to a third door, which she opened, revealing a vast and lavishly appointed bathroom, at which they had only a quick but dazzled peak. Abby finished by telling them that the other bedroom was the same as the one in which they now stood.

“Wait a minute,” injected Meredith

“Is something wrong?” responded Abby.

“Yeah… If you haven’t noticed, there’s four of us and two bedrooms. Do you expect us to share a bed?” snapped Monica.

Abby did her best to try to placate Monica’s little flare-up, while noting to herself how cute the Latina looked when she was upset. “Uh… well… um, please understand that when your requests for relocation came in, the school had a limited supply of available apartments. In fact, this was the only unit currently unoccupied in Preston Suites. There is high demand for them, you know. You were actually pretty lucky that one was open at all. The bursar’s office did its best to accommodate you, but you have to understand that you have to make due with what’s available. Besides, sharing a bed isn’t all that bad. In fact, it might be kind of fun. You’re all just girls, you know.”

However, before the issue could be discussed any further, a sharp static hiss stopped everyone in her tracks. It was a weaponized sonic blast that interfered with cognitive thought, leaving its victims in a subdued and dazed state, completely unaware of their surroundings, what they had been up to, and what they had been intending to do.

Soon after, through a series of speakers hidden in the bedroom, a subliminal message began to play.

All of you find the idea of sharing a bed with another woman intriguing.

You have no issues with having another woman in your bed.

There’s nothing wrong with a woman sharing her bed with another woman, especially if the other woman is sexy and cute.

You believe that women should sleep with women.

Young women with older women; friends with friends, and with enemies as well; students with teachers; coeds with coeds; mothers and daughters and sisters and aunts and nieces, all with each other. It’s okay—no, it’s simply wonderful—for them to sleep together, to share a bed, and to touch and to kiss and to be intimate with one another in a bed.

Women should sleep with other women. It is the most desirable sleeping arrangement possible.

You want to sleep with other sexy women.

It’s okay to sleep with another woman in your bra and panties.

It’s even better when you sleep naked with another woman.

A bed is a place where one woman can confess her feelings of love to another woman.

A bed is a place of romance between beautiful women and girls.

A bed is a place where a woman can seduce another woman.

A bed is a place where a woman can be very intimate with another woman.

A bed is one of many places where a woman can make love to another woman.

A bed is a place of love between beautiful, sexy women.

A bed is a place of sex between two women.

A bed is a place where a woman can fuck another woman.

You want to sleep with another desirable woman.

The subliminal messages played for a few minutes before ending. A minute or two after that, everyone present started to come out of their daze. Shaking off the stupor they were under, Claire and her friends could only recall Abby giving them a tour of their new dormitory apartment, ending up in one of the bedrooms, and Monica’s question, now remembered by them all as merely a polite attempt to confirm the apparent situation that they would be rooming and sleeping in pairs, rather than as an objection, for, thanks in large measure to the subliminals, as well as to their other brainwashing, none of them felt an aversion in this moment to sleeping in the same bed as another pretty girl, especially with one of her attractive roommates.

In fact, not only did they all now accept and, secretly, like the fact that they would be sleeping together in some pairing, each of the four roommates immediately started weighing, within herself, her preference for a bedmate. Monica, Meredith, and Jessica all quickly decided on Claire, while Claire’s first, impulsive choice was Monica. Claire was about to suggest that she and Monica share a room and a bed, and, if that arrangement didn’t shake out, then she was prepared to seek for the pretty Meredith as her second choice, when Abby spoke, followed instantly by Jessica.

“So… um… this is your new place! I hope you like it! Any questions?” asked Abby.

“I call dibs on Claire!” Jessica burst out impulsively with excited glee, quickly latching onto her crush’s arm and drawing her close.

Claire was taken by surprise, not being daunted by the idea of sharing a bed with her best friend, but rather being caught off-guard by how quickly, emphatically, and giddily Jessica had declared her preference. For some reason she found it kind of cute that her tomboyish friend was behaving a bit lovey-dovey. Further, though she had had other preferences initially, Claire immediately found the idea of sharing a bed with Jessica quite appealing and a natural choice, being again influenced by her previous conditioning. She knew that she didn’t need to give it any more real thought. Why would anyone, especially her, object for even one second to such a beautiful idea? No, she had no such desire. Sleeping with Jessica—from now on into the foreseeable future—was a wonderful prospect.

“Got no complaints from me,” replied Claire, looking at Jessica with a cute little smile on her face which revealed her inner delight with the arrangement.

Then, as she looked around at the hotties surrounding her, Claire’s thoughts began forming extensions to the idea of sleeping with Jessica. Yes, that was a great idea...but...why be exclusive to Jessica? Sharing a bed with Meredith...and Monica...and even with the sexy Abby...…. Why not that, too? It seemed so natural and so fun to consider that. She felt impressed that sleeping with pretty girls was a very good idea, and that having that experience with a variety of feminine companions was also desirable. The prospect of sleeping with the delicate redhead, Meredith—with whom she had so intimately cuddled while in their underwear a few days previous, and even kissed, and with whom acts such as the exploration of Claire’s fingertips over her stomach and abdomen, along the underside of her breasts, and over her panties, which occurred while they cuddled, probably could easily be pursued into new territory if they slept together, preferably with Meredith again wearing that slinky, tempting little silver panties and bralette set—and the lush Hispanic beauty, Monica, in addition to her attractive friend, Jessica, and maybe even the perfect Abby, started to be thrilling possibilities. She decided that, one way or another, she would see that they would rotate bed partners, at least some of the time.

Her gaze zeroed in particularly on Monica, as it had done and would repeatedly still do over the waning afternoon, running her gaze unconsciously over her lovely face, her long, shiny, black hair, the prominent cones poking into her t-shirt by her voluptuous, bra-encased breasts, her narrow waist, wide hips, and generous, tight ass. An impression came over her, not so much in words as in feelings, to the following effect: Especially her. What a babe. What would it be like to sleep with her?

But then a big potential problem occurred to Claire and Jessica at the same time. If they were both taken, then that left Meredith and Monica to be not only room-roommates with each other, but bedmates, as well—constant, steady bedmates, night after night. Claire and Jessica looked at Monica and Meredith with concerned expressions on their faces. They recalled the friction, the cattiness, the insults, and the arguments between the two in the past, and then, of greatest significance, the hysterics a few days ago when Monica had found herself in Meredith’s bed. Claire and Jessica prepared themselves to hear a series of loud vocal objections and refusals. However, to their surprise, neither one objected. In fact, both seemed very agreeable to the idea.

“What? Okay, I take it back. I’m fine with it. Nerd girl and I can share a room with each other. We’ve been living together already, so sharing a room isn’t much different. And...I know this might surprise you guys...but...I think I could get to like Nerd Girl... I think we can be friends… I mean, we are friends...pretty much...more or less… Besides, this is the Suites we’re talking about. I’m not going to give up this place just because I have to share a room with my friend!”

The conviction in Monica’s voice seemed to taper off over the course of her statement. She sensed that she was trying to convince everyone, and even herself, that she would be forcing herself to share a room and, of course, a bed with Meredith, and get along with her, primarily for the sake of being able to live at the Preston Suites, as well as, martyr-like, to get along and let Jessica and Claire have their preference of roommates. However, deep within her mind, she discovered that sharing a bed with the petite redhead was actually a most intriguing and secretly desirable prospect, and was a motive to agree to the new roommate arrangement which trumped the other perks of living in the Suites.

Claire and Jessica looked at Monica with doubt on their faces, doubt that Monica was sincere in regarding Meredith as her friend and doubt that, even if her intentions were genuine right now, she would stay the course as a consistently cordial and peaceable roommate for Meredith. Their expressions spoke for them, which did not escape Meredith, who was covertly just as eager as Monica to see what it would be like to share a bed with one another, and didn’t want her roommates to set up some other pairing out of misplaced concern.

“Come on, guys, that’s really not fair. I mean, Monica and I don’t argue all the time and, besides, we’ve already patched things up. Pretty much. You could say, it’s all water under the bridge.” With that being said, Meredith wrapped her arm around Monica and drew her body next to hers in an attempt to demonstrate some level of camaraderie between them.

While she meant the action as an act of friendship, Meredith couldn’t help but feel pleasure when she felt Monica’s body next to hers. The same thing was true for Monica. In contrast, but a week before, if Meredith had tried something like this, Monica may well have pushed her away, or given her a disdainful look. Not now, however. Now, she found the sensation of having Meredith’s arm around her waist and being drawn close to her body to be undeniably pleasant, a keen, mutual pleasure which surprised both of them.

“Whatever you guys say,” sighed Claire. Though her skepticism persisted somewhat, she was relieved that Monica and Meredith were acting so mature and were at least putting up a positive front about the situation. Plus, if they were actually sincere in their desire to set their differences aside and truly attempted to become better friends, then rooming and sleeping together could well be the environment they needed to become as close as Claire and Meredith envisioned per their little conspiracy. “Just do me one favor.”

“Name it,” responded Meredith.

“Try to keep the screaming down to a minimum,” Claire joked in a teasing tone.

When her four listeners caught on to the double entendre intended by Claire—an off-color little joke so uncharacteristic of the Claire they had known that their surprise at her veiled vulgarity caused a bit of a delay in the group’s comprehension of her allusion—they broke out into a round of spontaneous laughter. However, after that initial response and a moment’s further reflection, Claire’s friends found it a little startling that a person whom they knew to be pious and wholesome, one who adhered to a very high moral standard, would even consider making such a bawdy comment. But this wasn’t the first time in the last few days that Claire had let slip some word or act which seemed inconsistent with her sterling character, Jessica, Meredith, and Monica all had witnessed.

Moreover, Claire’s joke had implied that Monica and Meredith were in a lesbian relationship, which had been the type of unfounded barb Jessica had hurled at the two when she had been ticked off at their bickering in the past, but which Claire had never come close to using before. But now she had...although no one there seemed to have been offended by the sapphically-tainted remark, beyond a curiosity about the saintly Claire uncharacteristically bringing up a reference to a worldly, sexual scenario.

As they sought an explanation within their minds for the changes they had observed in their friend, Claire, previously and on this occasion, they each came to the conclusion that the traumatic prospect of losing her college future may have shaken Claire’s faith in the status quo and in the traditional “system” prevalent in her world, and, consequently, undermined her rigid morality in some way and to some degree. Like a near-death experience, Claire may have realized that life was too short to let new experiences pass her by and to deny herself a little fun, even if it did contradict her upbringing. Each girl reflected briefly that they liked this new, morally looser version of Claire even more, much more, than her previous, strait-laced self.

Meredith and Monica had looked at each other as they had laughed along with their friends. In the past, when Jessica had facetiously implied that they had lesbian desires for one another, they both had found it irritating and insulting, the quintessentially straight Monica especially. This time, however, no offense was taken. The Latina and the redhead, instead, smiled when their eyes locked together as the laughter was subsiding, and a subtle little spark passed between them. Deep in their minds, they found the idea of intimacy with one another very appealing.

One other undercurrent in the apartment of which no one was aware aside from those watching in the Hecate labs was between Monica and Claire. But the monitoring devices set up told the irrefutable tale: Every time the two girls passed each other, while carrying boxes in and going back out again, and every time they took a break and talked, they checked each other out, their eyes dilated, their rate of breathing increased, and they subtly flirted. Neither girl was aware of it, but the sophisticated devices following them revealed an undeniable picture: They were definitely attracted to each other. The Hecate team took appropriate notes and filed them away for use at another time.

Some time later, Claire and her friends—with a little help from Abby, who held the front door open for the new tenants and pointed out ideal storage spaces for various items—finished moving their belongings into their new dormitory apartment. Abby announced she would be leaving to let them get settled in. However, Claire wasn’t ready to let the captivating Asian girl go, not without making sure that she could see her again. This opportunity was too good to pass by. She knew she had to set something up so that she and the alluring young Asian woman would meet again, and get to know one another, hopefully quite personally, and share some of their most cherished experiences and innermost desires, and become close friends...intimately close…

“Abby, let me walk you out.” It was a weak excuse, but still it seemed to work, as it grabbed Abby’s attention, making her pause in the hallway as the other coeds dispersed.

Abby had been sending signals to Claire over the tour and the move-in—smiling at her often, touching her arm or shoulder whenever she could while pretending she needed to to emphasize a point or to guide her one way or another, returning her eyes repeatedly to Claire’s breasts, saying Claire’s name softly and speaking to her on the side more than she really needed to, and letting Claire check out her body and her beauty, secretly delighted that she was able to display herself rather wantonly and that Claire and the others had taken the bait and were drinking her in with their distracted eyes—which could only be described as flirtatious. While Claire had not been the only one of the roommates with whom Abby had acted flirtatiously and touched from time to time, Meredith particularly, it was Claire who had been most clearly the object of her interest.

While these signals had not been missed by Claire, and she could tell that Abby liked her and probably would be receptive to whatever invitation she suggested, the ultimate significance of all of this registered more with the subconscious mind of both Claire and Abby than in their conscious minds. Also, Claire did not know the full extent of Abby’s attraction to and desire for her, her eagerness to bewitch Claire, her willingness and desire to show Claire her body, and her hope, similar to Claire’s, to embark on some kind of close relationship with one another, a mindset largely bred in the treatment rooms of Artemis Center and by the mesmerizing matchmaking insinuations of Regina Burke—although Abby, too, felt these urges more than she understood them or entertained them with her conscious intellect Still, she wasn’t above playing hard to get, coyly confident that she was not going to discourage her new friend by so doing.

“Uh, sure, but you really don’t have to.”

“No, I insist. After all, with the time we just spent together today, I feel that we’ve become friends.”

“I agree with you, Claire. After that brief meeting at the Artemis Center… it’s kind of weird, but I couldn’t get you out of my mind. I’m kind of glad that we got to meet again today. It’s almost as if fate wanted it to happen.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more...Abby.” Claire spoke the Asian girl’s name gently, then flashed her a sweet smile. “When I saw you again today, I just couldn’t believe it.”

Abby’s admission that she had been thinking of her after their initial meeting caused feelings of arousal to arise within Claire. She could feel pleasurable warmth between her legs. Unwittingly, Claire gently combed her hair with her left hand and did a seductive hair flip, seeking on some emotional and mental level to entice Abby into staying longer.

“You know, with us being in that sponsorship program together, maybe we can help each other. Maybe a study session or two or even something else. So we can really get to know each other.” Claire uttered the last sentence with a suggestive intent, which was reflected somewhat by her tone and by a subtly seductive demeanor, abetted then by laying a hand on her the pretty Asian’s shoulder and leaving it there, while rubbing Abby’s shoulder with her thumb a little, a time or two.

All of a sudden Abby felt a little nervous around Claire. Despite the exhibitionistic and sapphic subconscious urges and desires she had been feeling and partially giving in to, in her conscious mind she still was a straight girl and a good girl, and Claire touching her now and talking suggestively to her awoke that side of her. She recalled the person she had met a few days ago impressing her as a warm, safe, highly “normal” person, but now the Claire standing in front of her was suddenly looking at her and talking to her in what possibly could be a predatory manner and was rubbing her shoulder with questionable propriety. Consciously, Abby wasn’t sure what to make of it, and it made her pause in her readiness to pursue a relationship with Claire.

“Sure… I think I still have your number.”

“And I know I still have yours”

Abby’s momentary hesitation started to be overwhelmed by Claire’s beauty, standing so near in front of her, and by a reassertion of her subconscious mind, which welcomed Claire’s seductive advances. The two girls stood there for a few seconds, staring into each other’s eyes, both inwardly attempting to digest what was transpiring between them, before Abby, unable to think of anything else to say, simply offered, “Well it’s kind of getting late and I have to get going.”

“Uh...I wish you could stay longer.” A subtle but engrained sentiment ran through the back of the raven-haired Caucasian coed’s mind: Girls should date girls. This girl is beautiful. I desire her. I want to date her. I should ask her out. “Or, better, how about we go out for dinner, my treat?”

Abby had somewhere she had to be, or wanted to be, for the rest of this late afternoon and into the evening, and, before she duly weighed Claire’s invitation, she responded without thinking. “Like, right now? Love to, but I got some things I have to take care of.”

Abby paused for a moment, reconsidering what she had just said and the opportunity Claire was offering her. It had felt like Claire had just asked her out, but, since they were both girls and, presumably, both straight, that seemed to be an unlikely assumption, although Claire’s proposal and the prospect of something, something seemingly undefinable but possible very nice, something date-like, happening between them had felt good. Deep down, in fact, as she quickly reflected on Claire’s proposal, she felt absolute delight. So she moderated her reply. “But…uh…could I take a raincheck? Could we go out…I mean, uh, do that…some other time?”

Claire felt an inexplicable thrill run up her spine. “Yes! It’s a date!” After she had let that last word spill impulsively from her mouth, Claire wondered whether it was exactly the word she should have selected, but, a moment later, it seemed to be right and, even if it weren’t, then Abby seemed like the type to not take it in any wrong way. “Whenever you want. Okay?”

“Okay.” While she wasn’t sure what had just happened, Abby felt buoyant as she resumed her short walk to the door. Claire accompanying her closely, both beautiful young women felt a pleasant tingling in their pussies.

“Well, I hate to see you go, but I do hope to see you again soon.”

“Don’t worry, Claire. I’m sure you will. After all, we are neighbors.”

“Huh?” Claire gave Abby a puzzled look.

In response, Abby opened the door and gestured to the other door across the hallway with an amused smile on her face.

“I live in the other half of the penthouse level in this building. That’s why I was chosen to greet you and your friends.”

“Well, this day is just full of surprises!” The proximity of Abby’s residence was almost too good to believe, and Claire felt another rush of excitement over the news and the prospects it seemed to imply.

“Anyway, gotta get going.” As Abby slipped past Claire, their fronts brushed lightly. They looked down at their touching, clothed breasts, then into each other’s eyes for an everlasting second—Claire into Abby’s exotic mahogany eyes and Abby into Claire’s clear blue ones, their faces closer than they had ever yet been—blushing and hearts pounding, a bolt of love, intense romantic love, mixed with sharp sexual lust, shooting through both of those hearts simultaneously, whereupon Abby stepped into the hallway.

“Uh...um...see you later, Claire.” Abby’s voice sounded a bit breathless and uneven.

“Absolutely, Abby. Lookin’ forward to it!” Claire, her own voice also a bit hoarse and shaky, took one last scan down Abby’s blouse, drinking in the evidence of the lovely girl’s enchanting tits and their exciting, excited nipples—currently flushed a little darker and stiffer and raised with arousal, and, thus, even more visible—jiggling under the shiny, thin material, before the Asian, who had noticed Claire looking at her breasts yet again, turned away with a smile.

Claire watched Abby walk across the hallway and open the door to her own apartment. Claire again fixed her eyes on the cute behind of the sexy Japanese girl, charming Claire yet again. And, once again, Claire wondered whether there might be panties under that compelling leather skirt or not, and then what it would look like if Abby were to unzip it, let it slide down her legs, and step out of it, right there in the hallway, and next, what she would see if Abby were to also turn around and rip off her blouse in front of Claire, for Claire.

Claire’s imagination lit up with a quick visualization of that very scenario. Claire also wondered what Abby would look like if her beautiful hair were loose, for she had only seen Abby with that hair either in a ponytail or a braid, so in her mind she saw the naked Abby reach up, loosen her braid, and shake out her long black and red hair until it was spilling freely over her shoulders and down front and back. She piled her hair on top of her head and turned around, posing for Claire, showing off her nudity, her breasts and her pussy, her ass and her legs, then blew Claire a kiss and walked into her apartment, saucily wagging her soft, white ass at Claire.

Then the real Abby passed into her apartment, rousing Claire from her riveting fantasy. Before closing the door, Abby turned, smiled, and waved good-bye, and a weak-in-the-knees Claire returned the friendly gesture, before Abby finally disappeared.

Claire stood in her doorway, simply staring at Abby’s closed door, trying to catch her breath and calm down from the carnal excitement of her fantasy, and from having been so near to the sexy Abby, and having been able to inspect and feel and inhale her beauty and body and sexiness from such close quarters. And now, one desire above all filled her in the moment, namely, to see Abby completely naked. And to touch her. And to be touched by her.

After closing her door, Claire leaned backward against it, her face inclined upward with her lips parted, still breathing hard, feeling her pussy throb, and trying to collect her thoughts. She knew that she had to get to know Abby better, much better, get to know more, everything about her, do anything Abby wanted, anything necessary to appeal to her and get close to her. Claire didn’t know why, she didn’t understand what was coming over her, but she had to, and nothing would get in her way.

By the time they had more or less settled into their new residence, with all the lifting, the carrying of boxes, luggage, bags, and myriad miscellaneous items, the unpacking, and the placement, storing away, and arranging of their possessions, or most of them, Claire and her friends had built up a good sweat. They all came to the conclusion that a nice shower would be a good way to conclude the move into the new apartment. Due to Meredith and Monica having scheduled a study session early that evening, Claire and Jessica deferred to them to be the first to christen the luxurious new bathrooms that were appendages to the large, lavish master bedrooms that Claire and her roommates would be sharing in pairs. This first time, for the sake of speed, it was agreed that Meredith would use the bathroom in Claire’s and Jessica’s bedroom, while Monica would use the one in hers and Meredith’s own bedroom.

As Monica and Meredith stepped into their respective bathrooms, each basked in its elegance. When they had been given the tour by Abby, they had only caught a brief glimpse of that splendor as she had led them around. They now found themselves taken aback by such features in each bathroom as a multi-head shower stall with a crystal clear sliding door and a seat in each of two corners; a separate oversized bathtub, equipped with therapeutic jets; a personal hot tub; three sinks, one wider and deeper than the other two, being designed to accommodate utilitarian needs; marble counters; highly polished up-scale brass fixtures; two private commode rooms to the side, each with a deluxe, ultra-modern toilet and a highly efficient, muffled ventilation system; a bidet; two vanities (in addition to those in the bedroom proper), each with satin-covered stools and stocked with a wide variety of cosmetics; and cabinets and drawers aplenty, giving them abundant space for all their toiletry supplies and paraphernalia, as well as for the extensive health and beauty aids and gadgets which were already stocked therein, which came as a perk for the residents.

After taking in the extravagance of the bathrooms, Monica and Meredith each took off her clothes, stepped into her shower stall, turned the water on , and started getting wet. At that point, a set of subliminal messages began to play throughout the apartment.

Claire, Monica, Jessica, and Meredith, it’s perfectly natural for two beautiful women to be naked in the same room, and to look at each other.

You want to be naked with another naked woman.

A woman being together and looking at another woman who is naked, and admiring her sexy female body, is right and good and desirable.

Showing off your sexy, naked body to another woman is a beautiful and exciting thing, and you want to do it.

It is normal for pretty young women to be naked together in a bedroom or a bathroom or a swimming pool, or in most any other setting, as well, and to want to look at each other, especially at breasts and legs and asses and pussies.

You want to be with a sexy, naked woman, especially when you are nude, too.

It is normal and wonderful and exciting to be naked with other naked women whom you find attractive.

You want to shower and bathe and swim naked with other beautiful naked women.

You’d rather shower or bathe with another pretty girl than by yourself.

You want to look at the breasts and legs and ass and pussy of another beautiful girl. It is natural and normal and right to do so.

It would be fun to take a shower or bath with another woman, especially one you are attracted to, or love, or one you want to be attracted to you and to love you.

It’s okay for women to shower with one another.

There’s nothing wrong with sexy women bathing with each other.

Claire, Jessica, Meredith, and Monica, it’s okay for your roommate, or another pretty girl, to wash your body. You want to feel her wash you, touch you, and feel you up all over.

It’s natural for women to shower with each other.

It’s perfectly acceptable and good and exciting for a woman to compliment, flirt, and seduce a woman with whom she’s showering or bathing, or any other woman with whom she is living, or a woman she loves, or a woman she desires and wants to make love to.

It’s absolutely normal for two women to think of lesbian sex when they are showering or bathing together.

You love being wet and naked and sexy and turned on for another wet, sexy, and naked girl you’re with.

It’s absolutely natural for a woman to touch and feel another woman’s tits, pussy, and ass when showering together.

It’s absolutely fine and good and normal for a woman to engage in lesbian sex with the woman she is showering or bathing or swimming with.

You want to shower or bathe or play with another beautiful woman, and to feel up her body and make love to her while you are both soaking wet, in the shower or bath or swimming pool.

The mind-altering audio played for a few minutes before ending. Meredith slowly came out of her hypnotic haze just as it finished, unaware that her psyche was again altered, and too focused on the warm water caressing her skin to notice that her body and emotions had experienced a gentle buildup of arousal. She allowed the water and her sensual feelings to envelope her for several minutes, until her bliss was interrupted when she heard the bathroom door open. Taken in surprise by the sudden intrusion, she called to her mysterious visitor.

“W-Who’s there?”

“Sorry, but I realized that there’s a few items I needed to sort through and get organized in here, and a few things to do before I shower, and now’s as good a time as any to do that. I hope you don’t mind me coming in and sharing the bathroom with me.”

Due to the fresh subliminals, Meredith didn’t find anything wrong with Claire’s request—a request that had been spurred by the same subliminals which had also assaulted Meredith a few minutes before—or with the fact that her hottie roommate was in the bathroom with her, even though the shower stall was, essentially, a showcase of transparent glass. For some odd reason, Meredith actually found the thought of one of her roommates in the bathroom with her, while she was naked and showering and exposed, very appealing...even moreso by the fact that the woman with her was a person she greatly admired and respected...and thought was beautiful...and loved…and was her girlfriend...her special, secret girlfriend… Of course this was okay. It was perfect. It was wonderful.

Meredith recalled the plan that Claire had proposed, which would alter their friendship—most likely quite permanently, contrary to their original supposition that it could be temporary—with the purported ultimate goal of improving Meredith’s relationship with Monica. They would pretend to have an intimate connection with one another, pushing it very close to the real thing. In turn, Monica would be envious and would step up her efforts in befriending the red-haired vixen. However, the new Claire-Meredith girlfriend relationship had from its outset started to take on the substance and tone of the real thing, rather than the mere illusion, sometimes feeling independent of a connection with Monica and defying the boundaries originally implied in the arrangement, both young women having already felt romantic desires and sexual urges for each other, and even having taken some liberties with each other, which were beyond the realm of pretense.

Meredith felt the arousal smoldering in her body rise as thoughts of Claire and Monica danced in her mind. However, when she perceived that an awkward silence lingered in the bathroom because she had not replied to her visitor, Meredith snapped out of her reverie.

“Oh, yeah….I...I guess it’s alright…” It was more than alright with her; she found that she loved Claire’s presence there. “I mean, all of us are sharing a bedroom, so I guess sharing a bathroom isn’t so far off. Please, Claire...come in.”

“Thanks,” responded Claire, who, entering, closing the door behind her, and zooming in immediately on the naked figure in the transparent shower stall, gave Meredith a friendly smile, which the redhead saw through the glass and which she shyly returned. She also saw Claire run her eyes down her wet body before turning away, and also saw the black-haired beauty turn back and stare several times in the ensuing minutes.

Before this moment, Claire, in her real, normally-conscious life, had never before seen a fully naked woman, other than herself and other than brief glimpses of her mother and sister when she was at home, which at the time had held no particular interest for her, certainly not enough to hold her gaze or stir much curiosity, although her tampered memory now was that Mary had exposed herself nonchalantly to her daughters with some frequency and that a highly curious and interested young Claire had snuck many furtive, lingering, longing looks at her mother’s body when the opportunity had presented itself. But this was different. Now she was with a roommate, not a family member, and the pretty, slender young woman could be seen in her entirety, as if on intentional display, through a transparent glass shower stall, which seemed to be, and indeed was, the very opposite of the modesty-ensuring, opaque shower curtains at home. Further, this was a girl she particularly liked, whose body she had held and ogled and caressed and wanted to see and feel more of, all of, but a few days ago as they had cuddled in their old apartment. And now, here she was. Naked. Standing wet, in front of her, separated from her by a mere panel of glass.

True, the steam from the hot water and the water droplets on the glass obscured some of the details behind it, and Meredith was not that close, at some fifteen feet away in the spacious bathroom. Still, Claire could make out the rosy-red nubs on her roommate’s perky little breasts, which stood out on the background of her creamy, white skin, as did the girl’s eye-catching red bush, with two delicate, pink vaginal lips peeking out below it.

It struck Claire that, for some reason, she had been longing to see a naked girl. She had felt like that with Abby when they parted, and still did. But if she couldn’t see Abby like that, at least yet...then Meredith would do quite well. So Claire looked. It seemed to her that this was so natural, that one girl watching another like this was perfectly normal and wonderful. She knew that she hadn’t felt like that in the past, but now she did. Maybe she was just maturing. Or maybe trying to see things from a lesbian point of view was responsible. Either way, she felt little guilt and liked what she was doing.

Claire could scarcely look away, and when she did, she could not resist returning again and again to the erotic sight. When she caught herself, she rationalized that Meredith probably didn’t notice her ogling, and it seemed to be a reasonably natural thing to do, anyway, since they were just two pretty girls in a bathroom together, and, besides, Meredith was, after all, her girlfriend now, and she was entitled to take a liberty or two with her.

Then it seemed to Claire that this time together with Meredith was rather like a continuation of what they had started a few mornings ago in their old apartment. They had been sitting on the floor, cuddling...and kissing… Now Claire envisioned them together again, but standing, still dressed in the bra and panties sets of that morning, and still cuddling, Claire behind the cute redhead, as before. Claire slid her hands up to the little cups of her bralette… She cradled and squeezed the small mounds through the slick silver material.... Impulsively, she tore the bralette away, exposing the quivering little fruit to the air, then quickly grabbed up those tits and played with them… Then., one hand staying up, the other slipped down, tore the panties off, and its fingers slid into the redhead’s hot slit. Meredith moaned and tossed her head back in pleasure and love. Then, with the two staying in the exact same pose, their environment changed. Now they were both in the shower, drenched, both totally naked, rubbing their wet bodies together, Claire continuing to feel up her crimson-haired roommate from behind. Claire kissed her girlfriend’s white neck. The petite redhead whimpered adorably.

Meanwhile, Meredith did notice.

She can see me… She’s looking at me…….. She’s still looking at me!...She...she must like looking at me!……. Yes! It’s obvious… She likes what she sees...my body… She’s...she’s attracted to me!!...…..

But...why now? We’ve known each other for a year and a half… We’ve always liked each other...but she’s never looked at me like this...or like she did a couple of mornings ago...when we cuddled… That morning, she...she felt up my body a little...more than anyone ever has… She touched my panties… and she looked down my bra...looking at my pretty little titties...in my tiny little bra………….

That’s it! She was looking at my body then...and is now…because I’m showing it to her! She likes my body, because she can see it!....... A few days ago, I was almost naked in that shiny little bra and panties… I don’t know where they came from...or why I was wearing them....but I’m glad I was… Now, I’m completely naked…and that’s why she’s looking!…….. Maybe there’s nothing wrong with my body… Maybe I’ve just been hiding myself too much… Maybe I just have to show it off more………. Girls will look at me...and think I’m sexy...and find me attractive...if I show them more skin…

In her enthusiasm over this discovery, little did Meredith pause to question why she was excited about girls looking at her, and about the issue of how she might lure them—rather than guys—into attraction for her, or why she was giving no consideration to whether she might appeal to males. But, while her interest in men had not yet been totally destroyed by Hecate’s tamperings with her mind and body, it was seriously damaged, more or less fatally so, and was destined to shrivel into nothing the more her lust for women was nursed and indulged, homosexuality displacing and replacing her heterosexuality. Even now, Meredith had found that she couldn’t latch her mind onto any interest for men, and, unknown to her, had now lost the desire to try.

Meredith decided to test her new theory. She stretched her arms all the way upward, joined her hands high above her head, and spun around slowly, her eyes half-closed but open enough for her to stealthily gauge Claire’s reaction. She knew this lifted her little titties and put them and her womanhood on full display. She didn’t know how she knew to do this, but it seemed like a natural thing to do in this situation.

A bolt of excitement surged through her when she saw Claire openly gaping and her mouth half open. Seeking confirmation of the effect she was having on her beautiful roommate, she then stood facing Claire, still making it look as though her eyes were closed and that she was unaware of Claire’s interest, and pressed her breasts against the shower glass for a few seconds, trying to make it look like she had simply lost her balance and had to lean against the shower stall’s side to brace herself, which flattened and clarified her boobs through the glass. Next, backing away a little, she ran her soapy hands over her cute little tits while caressing them, as if comforting them in the wake of having been flattened and encouraging them to pop back into their natural round shape, before sliding one hand down her wet body to languidly “wash” her red-bushed groin.

To her delight, the soaked redhead saw Claire also run one of her hands down toward her own pleasure center in an unthinking reaction of lust. Having seen enough and had enough fun, she turned her back to Claire, now teasing her, partly by withdrawing from the black-haired coed her frontal nudity and partly by now exhibiting and wiggling her darling white tush for her roommate, and resumed actually washing herself. Claire, coming to herself, blushed and resumed what she had been doing before the latest big distraction coming from the shower stall, but with a little smile on her face, glad for these new bathrooms, as Meredith continued to draw lessons in her mind from this experience.

Hmmm… Then more skin it is……….. I don’t have a lot of revealing clothes...but I do have some racy things...some new ones...that I haven’t worn before… I haven’t dared...but...maybe it’s time……… And I still have that slinky little silver bra and panties set... I’ll definitely have to wear those again…

Meredith felt an urge to invite Claire into the shower stall with her. The redhead felt that would be a perfectly appropriate situation, and likely a lot of fun, too, but she wasn’t sure the straight-laced Claire would see it that way. But...what if she...tempted Claire into it...and Claire came in on her own...because she couldn’t resist? Meredith closed her eyes and imagined Claire opening the stall door...getting in...getting wet...soaping up and sponging both of their bodies…

Hmmmm… Having witnessed Claire’s reaction to her lascivious display a few minutes ago, Meredith decided to do it again, and to really pour it on this time. But just then she heard Claire’s voice.

“Okay, I’m done… See ya, later, Meredith!” Claire had actually accomplished very little in the bathroom, but the shower stall was now so steamy that she was having a more difficult time watching her redheaded friend, and it felt like she had no more excuse to stay. After telling Meredith she was leaving, she walked into her bedroom to do more unpacking and organizing. Meredith, a little disappointed to have not gotten to execute another, more seductive display for her beloved roommate, nevertheless felt high from what she had been doing and discovering, and was enjoying this shower as she had no other ever, so she decided to sit in a corner of the stall and luxuriate under the sprays of hot water a little longer.

Something similar was occurring with Monica and Jessica, who had entered the bathroom being used by the foxy Latina hottie under a false pretense, to surreptitiously ogle the beauty washing herself within the shower stall. While no physical contact had occurred in either bathroom between their occupants, both Jessica and Claire had secretly and most avidly been observing Monica and Meredith washing their naked forms, respectively, and, in turn, Monica and Meredith had been giving their respective voyeurs a teasing view of their sexy bodies, adding lingering touches and caresses, unknowingly in the case of Monica and purposefully in the case of Meredith.

If the shower session was a wish come true for Claire, it was at least as true for Jessica, as well as being an exquisite torment for her. She desperately wanted to shed her clothes, step into the shower with Monica, get down on her knees, and dive between her legs to worship the Latina hottie with her tongue, using it to explore Monica’s delicious snatch, the same way her mistress, Coach Ilsa, had led her to do that morning. However, she had to keep herself under control; while Monica seemed to be okay with her presence in the bathroom, Jessica wasn’t so sure if she would be receptive to her making attempts to eat her pussy out in the shower. Not wanting to jeopardize their friendship, Jessica settled for simply admiring the wonderful view of the Latina sex goddess showering in the bathroom and fantasizing about coping a feel here and there as Monica washed her body before her.

Eventually Meredith and Monica concluded their shower sessions and swapped places with Claire and Jessica. As Claire and Jessica were marveling at the comforts of a soothing shower in bathrooms with sound plumbing and other myriad touches of excellence, they in turn gave Meredith and Monica pleasing views of their bodies through the transparent shower doors. Both Meredith and Monica lingered a little longer than necessary to sneak glances at the beautiful wet bodies in front of them, but finally left before either Claire or Jessica ended her shower.

Despite Meredith’s extended stay in her shower, Monica took longer, so that Meredith was dressed before Monica came back to their bedroom. Monica finished toweling herself off in front of Meredith, neither girl thinking that, nor Meredith’s obvious ogling of her curvaceous roommate’s body, was anything very unnatural or anything less than a lovely and exciting experience. Meredith regretted that she had gotten ready so fast, and hadn’t given Monica the same show she was getting. Likewise, Monica was disappointed that she had not gotten to see Meredith dry off and get dressed. But both attractive coeds thought to themselves, Well...that’s okay… There’s always tomorrow...or tonight…

As Meredith walked out of their bedroom, she saw, with unmitigated lecherous interest, Monica strapping on a bra and loading her imposing boobs into it, having already pulled on some panties, which act had riveted Meredith’s eyes to her delicious roommate’s lush posterior until Monica’s drawing on of her bra stole those eyes away to Monica’s succulent melons.

She’s so hot…

After telling everyone that she was going to reserve a study room at the campus library and otherwise prepare for the study session she planned to hold with Monica, Meredith left the apartment.

Monica sat at her vanity in her bedroom wearing only a lacy red cotton bra and panty set, the same one that Claire had “borrowed” and worn earlier in the day, looking herself over, admiring her beauty and sexy appeal. She got up to go into her roomy closet and then to her commodious chest of drawers, pulling some drawers open, looking over her clothes, trying to decide what to wear for the evening. Monica knew she was going to meet Meredith shortly, so for that all she needed was something casual and comfortable, she thought, but at the same time something with a bit of an enticing edge, too, might be a good touch, something to catch a few eyes as she went about the campus informing people of her good fortune.

Just then the hidden speakers in her room became active.

Monica, you need to dress as sexy as possible.

Monica, you love wearing sexy, revealing clothes.

Monica, you want to attract the attention of cute girls and beautiful women.

Monica, you want women to look at your breasts, your legs, and your ass.

Monica, women should check out your body.

Monica, women should desire your body.

Monica, you do not care about what men think at all.

Monica, you do not care for men or their opinions.

Monica, you have no romantic or sexual interest in men, none whatever.

Monica, men repel and disgust you, for they are all pigs, and you will never date a man from this point on or marry one.

Monica, your interest in men is a thing of the past.

Monica, you never really liked or were attracted to men.

Monica, you feel no attraction to men. None. Zero. Nada. And you never will.

Monica, you like women, not men.

Monica, you are a lesbian.

Monica, you are attracted to women and girls.

Monica, you want to attract women and girls.

Monica, you will show off your sexy body to women by wearing revealing clothes.

Monica, deep inside you’re a lesbian, and you always have been one.

Monica, being a lesbian makes you happy.

Monica, you are sexually and romantically attracted to pretty women and girls.

Monica being attracted to women and girls, and flirting with them, and desiring them, and drawing their attention to you makes you happy.

Monica, you love being a lesbian and you want to be one.

Monica, you want attractive, sexy women and girls to desire you.

Monica, you also like geeky, nerdy girl...girls like Meredith.

Monica, you are very fond of nerdy girls...girls exactly like Meredith.

Monica, you want geeky, nerdy women to find you very sexy and attractive.

Monica, you want Meredith to be attracted to you and to think of you as sexy and sexually desirable.

Monica, you definitely want to get Meredith’s attention.

Monica, whenever you and Meredith are alone with each other in public, you feel like you are on a date with her, and you fantasize about being with her as two girlfriends in a relationship.

Monica, Meredith excites you. Being with Meredith arouses you.

Monica, you want to spend your time with Meredith, to get to know her much better and to have fun with her, especially sexual fun, because you enjoy her company so much, and because you love her, and because she excites you sexually.

Monica, deep inside, you are a lesbian who wants Meredith’s attention and love.

Monica, you secretly hope that Meredith is a lesbian.

Monica, you want Meredith to lust for girls, and you’ll find it exciting when she desires and flirts and has sex with any girl, even with girls besides you, but you want to be her number one girl.

Monica, you will do whatever it takes to turn Meredith into a lesbian, a girl who loves girls, and, especially, a girl who loves you and desires lesbian sex with you and wants to be your lover.

Monica, you love Meredith.

Monica, you adore Meredith.

Monica, you desire Meredith.

Monica, your lust burns for Meredith.

Monica, Meredith turns you on.

Monica, you’re in love with Meredith.

Monica, you want to please Meredith.

Monica, wear makeup for Meredith, lots of beautiful, heavy makeup.

Monica, dress sexy for Meredith and show her your breasts, your legs, and your ass.

Monica, you want Meredith to like you and to desire you.

Monica, Meredith will like you and love you and want you more when you paint your face and your nails for her and dress very, very sexy for her.

Monica, you crave Meredith’s love.

Monica, you love everything about Meredith.

Monica, you love Meredith’s hair, her skin, her breasts, her face, her voice, her scent, her mannerisms, her interests, her personality, her body, her beauty.

Monica, you desire Meredith’s body.

Monica, you are a lesbian.

Monica, you’re in love with Meredith.

The mind-altering audio looped for a few more minutes before turning off. When it ended, Monica snapped out of her haze with a confused look on her face, but a few seconds later she regained clarity and knew what she had to do. Going back into the walk-in closet and then again to the dresser, she selected an ensemble of clothes and cosmetics, put them on, and, after checking herself out in the mirror, she left the apartment, confident with her chosen look. As far as she knew, she was dressing up to impress the acquaintances whom she intended to visit and impress before she joined Meredith, but it was not the many but the one red-headed girl whose affections she would actually be aiming for.

In her parked car, Monica checked her list of intended destinations which she wanted to hit before her rendezvous with Meredith, about which visits she had told Meredith earlier. She reviewed her intention to broadcast, in person, her new status as a resident at the fabled Preston Suites. She had already posted a few selfies on her social media sites, but she felt that direct social interaction would be an important ingredient in making her good fortune and her enhanced prestige more widely known and, thereby, in elevating her social status on campus. She planned now on making a circuit which would take about an hour and a half, during which she would cross paths with a number of acquaintances and certain influential people before meandering over to the library for her study session with Meredith.

Monica’s first visit was to Laura Feures and Celeste Glaison, two coeds who were roommates in one of the nicer dorms on campus and whom she regarded as friends, kind of, although not in the same category of genuine friends as Claire, Jessica, and Meredith...the dreamy Meredith. Monica knew this pair ingratiated themselves to her in the hopes of getting connected with some of the many hunky young men she knew and otherwise riding her coattails towards popularity and power, but the Latina didn’t mind as long as they remembered that she was in charge, they did what she asked of them, and they proved useful to her. Should those two betray her, such as by trying to derail her attempts at amassing power at Preston or otherwise overthrowing her popularity, she had enough dirt on them to ruin their lives at Preston permanently.

However, today’s visit wasn’t one to remind them that she was their superior but to call upon one of their special talents. Laura and Celeste were very skilled in social media, namely spreading news, especially gossipy news, throughout campus via multiple channels. While her social media tactics were good, Monica couldn’t accomplish what these two could.

Monica drove to their dorm apartment and, after they exchanged typical pleasantries, Monica ordered them to spread the word about her new, exclusive status as a resident of the Suites, throwing in a visit to the Suites as an enticing reward, which order and promised compensation Laura and Celeste eagerly accepted. They started their endeavor even before Monica left their apartment, and before long Monica’s phone was going off the hook with PMs and requests. With a satisfied smile, Monica got into her car, crossed off Laura and Celeste from her list, and drove off towards her next destination.

She parked along a well-known street which formed a boundary between the campus and an area of nicer off-campus student houses, including those which housed the most prominent fraternities and sororities at Preston. Yet, despite the importance she placed on networking, she couldn’t keep her cute roommate, Meredith, from popping up in her mind, again and again, so that, over the course of the next fifteen minutes, the networking faded from the more important task of this evening to the less significant one.

Monica started walking toward her first stop on this street, a frat house where the student body president lived. She knew there would be a party there later this night—Monica had been to parties there before—and, as she arrived, the frat boys were out in the front yard setting up chairs and a table with a keg and cups. As expected, her targeted acquaintance was among them, Keon Johnston, a very popular young man who was next in line to become president of the Alpha Eta Sigma fraternity after the current one graduated. Keon was viewed by many as a likable and socially charming fellow wrapped in smooth, flawless ebony skin. HIs friendly, charismatic persona was more than enough to win over just about anybody, including numerous hot girls who would willingly drop their panties for a shot at claiming him as a companion.

Monica had gone out with Keon once before, but had turned him down when he had asked again, just to toy with him, though she liked him well enough, she was still on reasonably good terms with him, and she had told him she might consider going out with him again some other time, which had not seemed like a bad idea when she said it, for he was handsome, successful, and congenial. When she talked with him this night, though, she wondered what she had ever seen in him, or in any of the boys in the fraternity who were there, despite having in the past always felt to be in her element when with studly boys like these. But tonight she found none of the men there appealing, not in the least. Keon and that group were, in fact, simply disgusting to her. Being there, even for a few minutes, with Keon and with a fraternity of guys around her, was creepy, just the opposite vibe that she had normally gotten in the past when surrounded by cute guys.

She could tell Keon was about to ask her out again, so she cut him off curtly and left without delay, rationalizing to herself that she must simply be under time pressure tonight, and also that it was the university’s fault for admitting so many loser-type boys these days.

Her next stop was a private house for female students down the same street, to visit a journalism major, Valerie Mayer, who was on the staff of the university newspaper, had made a name for herself with some controversial editorials and exposees, and had just been named student managing editor of the paper. Monica had met Valerie in a humanities class they had shared and, though the young woman was scrawny and plain, the Latina had recognized in her, accurately so, someone who was on her way up in life. But she guessed the girl didn’t have much of a social life and would be home on a Friday night, and, again, had been correct about the likely whereabouts of one of her targeted acquaintances.

While Monica found herself feeling neutral towards the girl personally, in contrast to the completely negative way she had felt about the men she had just encountered, Monica did not want to stay longer than necessary, and she made her visit brief. As she walked away from the house, Monica found herself looking forward with escalating anticipation to the time she would get to spend with her roommate, the foxy little redhead, and she decided to cut short the list of her stops, ending them earlier so that she could see Meredith all the sooner.

That decision was made especially easy by the fact that her next planned visit was to the captain of the men’s basketball team, Franklin King, aka F-King, a typical jock she had met through Jessica who lived in a student athlete dorm on campus across the street from the last stop. But the very thought of talking to him tonight turned her stomach, though she had liked him from the time she had met him the previous semester and had talked with him enjoyably several times since, including having had lunch with him once. She crossed his name off and looked at the next name on the list, but it was another guy, so she, without much thought, crossed that one off, too.

After that was a cheerleader, Michelle Zheng, Monica knew who was having an open house at one of the prominent sorority houses nearby in honor of her engagement to a man in his second year of the MBA program at this school. This was tempting, as Michelle was very pretty and there would be several hot sorority girls there, too, but then, the Latina knew, there would be an equal number of men there, as well, many as dates to the sorority sisters, and it struck Monica that such an attractive girl as Michelle being taken—by a man—was such a waste, although she didn’t consciously evaluate it quite like that. But...no...Monica didn’t really want to be part of that scene...so she crossed that name off the list but made a mental note to visit Michelle later when she was alone and by herself and not with her fiance and with other men.

She scanned down the list. There was a rich guy, Aaron O’Reilly, she knew who was attending an awards ceremony in the student union tonight, who, she knew, liked to sit in the back of classes and other events, and she could sneak in the back and talk to him quietly for a minute...but...no...no, thanks...not another guy…

Then on the list there was...no...they were mostly men from this point on…There was one temptation remaining on the list, an attractive girl she had met in one of her classes, who was on her way to fame as a talented pianist, Leona Hartfield, and Monica was confident she would be practicing in one of the practice rooms at the campus music center...but...the thought of Meredith persuaded her that she could see Leona another time.

Monica impulsively crunched the paper in her hands, slipped the wad into her handbag, and returned to her car. Meredith was waiting. She would spend the rest of this night with her pretty redheaded roommate. So she drove to the on-campus parking lot nearest the university library.

Back in the dormitory apartment, Claire and Jessica were finishing the unpacking, organizing, and arranging of their belongings. When they heard Monica leave, both of them shouted their goodbyes to her. Jessica was the only one of Claire’s roommates who decided to stay in the apartment that evening… but of course she would, the fact that her lesbian crush, Claire, was also staying being all the reason she needed to stay.

Not long after Monica’s departure, Claire and Jessica finished their endeavor, for the most part. “And done!” pronounced Claire, as she propped up her teddy bear, a long-time friend from home, on the bed.

She marveled at how large the bed was, seeming to her, accurately so, to be an oversized version of a king, one promising to easily accommodate two people, although, it appeared, even three would be able to sleep comfortably on it with no problems. Claire and her roommates were fortunate, she reflected, that the unusually large beds had been provided to them made neatly with their own, correctly-sized linens; otherwise they would have had to go out and buy some, likely at no small expense. The bed that she and Jessica would be sharing was covered in sheets, a quilted blanket, and an elegant bedspread, all of shimmering satin in a deep burgundy color, and came with several large, down-filled pillows, covered likewise in pillowcases of burgundy satin. They would find the mattress to be extremely comfortable, having the perfect combination of sufficiently firm support and plush, pillow-like softness.

“So I take it you finally got the room to your liking?” asked Jessica.

“It’s not bad. A bit grand for my tastes,” Claire evaluated as she looked around, “but I think I can grow to like it.” Claire had grown up in a comfortable-enough but modest home with parents who didn’t focus on showcasing material possessions or social status, so her new bedroom with its lavish appointments was a definite contrast to what she was used to; yet, something in her mind told her that she would indeed become accustomed to it, that she would, in fact, come to love it, that, at least in part through her experiences in this new residence, she would learn to appreciate exquisite material possessions, in general, and that perhaps she was, even, entitled to enjoy the nicer, more luxurious side of life now.

As she gave the room another visual sweep, Claire’s eye was caught by a white marble statue set on top of an end table near the wide picture window of the bedroom. She hadn’t noticed it before, but now that she had taken the time to look around more, it stood out to her gaze. The statue portrayed two female figures, both nude, in a lusty embrace, each with her arms around the other’s waist, looking into each other’s eyes, and quite clearly about to kiss each other. The work was a stunning moment of lesbian sexuality artistically frozen in time.

This was only one a several pieces of art placed throughout the penthouse suite, all of which had one theme in common: lesbianism. Thanks to previous specific brainwashing, the conscious minds of Claire and her roommates were conditioned to overlook to some degree the sexual and sapphic suggestiveness of the artworks, at least for the time being, to not react to them with shock, surprise, or dislike, to avoid focusing on them consciously too much, at least at first, and to not question the propriety of their presence. However, every time one of them would scan one the pieces of art, it would speak to her subconscious mind, awaken the lesbian girl hiding inside a bit more, subtly shape her attitude and propensities generally, as well as her feelings and urges toward her roommates specifically, and especially toward whatever girl with whom she might be at the moment, and liberate, a little more every time, the lesbian desires buried within, waiting impatiently to surface. Over time, by being exposed to the artwork on the right and on the left, day after day, the girls would become increasingly aware of them, would like and enjoy them more, would start to analyze them, and would be drawn to them, first in admiration of their artistic merits, and then, as their minds became increasingly corrupted by Hecate’s brainwashing, Claire and her friends would eventually clearly see and embrace—and love—the art pieces for what they were, a testament to lesbian love.

Even now, lesbian was the first word that came into her conscious mind when she took notice of the statue, even though she didn’t dwell on or analyze that word’s connection to the sculpture. But it did strike her now that lately that word had been popping up a lot in her mind and, when she tried to take a step back to figure it out logically, Claire couldn’t, and instead she simply admitted to herself that there was an appeal to that word these days that she had never thought it had before.

One further connection her looking at this statue right now was making in her subconscious mind was with the fantasy imposed on her during brainwashing at the Artemis Center, wherein she visualized herself being in rooms, churches, and other places decorated with sapphic-themed erotic statues, paintings, murals, and stained-glass windows. Seeing the carnally beautiful statue in her bedroom brought forth emotions she had tasted in those brainwashed dreams around similar pieces of art while with her dream-world lovers Abby, Jessica, Wendy, and Mary, and she felt arousal in her real world because of it. Another effect of the statue on Claire at this moment was a very subtle impression that being alone with Jessica was a treat, an opportunity pregnant with thrilling sensual and romantic possibilities, that Jessica had a sexy, desirable body, and that Jessica was the type of girl with whom she’d like to be naked, take into her arms, and kiss, in the same way the statue depicted it.

Meanwhile, her conscious mind was still dwelling on that word...that special term. Hmmmmm……..“lesbian”……..what a...what a nice word……..

However, her absent-minded concentration on the statue and on that singular word was broken when she felt Jessica tug on her sleeve.

“Hey, Claire, everything okay?” Jessica inquired with sincere concern in her voice. “You kind of zoned out on me.”

“Huh?… Oh...yeah... I was lost in admiration of the bedroom. Just never really expected to see myself in a place like this.”

“If it makes you feel any better, neither did I.”

Claire let out a small chuckle in response.

“So...uh...Claire, there’s something I want to bring up. Um, earlier today when I called dibs on you, I didn’t mean to make it sound like I was…um…you know, trying to say that I…. I mean, I didn’t mean to step out of bounds and offend you….”

“Jessica, it’s okay. There’s no need to apologize. Besides, I would be honored to share a room with you, and a bed! We are, after all, bestest buddies!”

Both women giggled and just spent the moment shyly looking at each other. Claire took the opportunity to also look over Jessica’s body, not being able to resist, especially when she for the first time paid attention to the way Jessica’s body was attired this evening. Jessica had on a pair of dark gray spandex yoga pants with an aqua blue stripe going down the sides, which closely hugged her long, athletically slender legs, womanly hips, and toned, generous butt, and a tight, candy-purple satin tank top. Claire let out a small chuckle and an inadvertent, barely-audible wolf whistle as she ran her eyes over the top and its contents while remembering that a while back Jessica had commented that she planned to throw away that particular tank top due to it shrinking in the wash and now being indecent to wear. It had not, in fact, been discarded, and now it was creating, revealing, and framing an eye-popping amount of creamy cleavage. Through the provocative, shiny attire Jessica was wearing, Claire could more easily see the seductive curves of her pretty friend than ever before.

Claire also noticed that Jessica had again applied makeup to her face after her shower, and that it was different than before. Her lips now beckoned with a pale, frosty, lavender-pink matte paint and her eye makeup was somewhat darker and heavier than previously.

Claire couldn’t remember ever having bothered to pay much attention to her close friend’s body before today, but she knew she had liked the way Jessica had been dressed during their move that afternoon, had found herself looking at her friend often then, and now Claire began to take notice of Jessica’s sexy feminine curves, gorgeous breasts, tantalizing lips, and charming eyes in the same manner, but on a more intense and fascinated level. Claire could feel her body react in a way she had never felt before when she had been around Jessica, except for earlier that very day, experiencing within herself murmurings of arousal and desire for her mulatto friend. Over their time together this evening, as often as she thought Jessica wouldn’t notice, her eyes returned again and again to her friend’s face and body.

Jessica, on the other hand, was already conclusively enamored with Claire. The very idea that she was alone with her best friend, her lesbian crush, the woman with whom she wanted to spend the rest of her life, had her heart racing, her nipples stiff with arousal, and her pussy warm and moist with need and desire. Part of her wanted to confess her feelings on the spot and hope for the best. Yet she was also worried that Claire would not reciprocate the feelings that she harbored for the raven-haired vixen standing before her. Paralyzed by that fear, all Jessica could do after Claire turned away and resumed a few little tasks in the room was just stand awkwardly for a few moments and then pretend that she, too, was doing something productive, while staring at Claire whenever she thought she wasn’t looking. She did catch Claire, however, looking at her a number of times, her eyes seeming to especially linger on her breasts, legs, and ass, which Jessica found to be an encouraging sign.

Sandra, who had been observing Claire and her roommates since they moved in, couldn’t help but feel a little sympathy for Jessica. Being herself smitten head over heels in love with Regina, she recognized the signs of unrequited love, or at least the fact that Claire appeared to be oblivious to the look of lust that Jessica was giving her, although Sandra was underestimating the effects on Claire of the statue and of Jessica’s revealing attire and made-up face, and the arousal Claire was feeling about being with Jessica right now. Sandra understood that she wasn’t allowed to full out reprogram Claire to her whims, that she had limits placed on her, that she had to follow the established protocol, and that, while Hecate did intend for Claire and Jessica to end up together as a couple among other things that Hecate planned out for them, the timetable for that to happen was not urgent, and was planned to unfold over time; but she felt that she could do something to help Jessica out, and that she could get away with giving them, especially Claire, some strong nudges in the direction of surrendering to their attraction for each other. After typing a few commands into her terminal, Sandra was satisfied that she was giving Jessica a better chance with Claire, and an enhanced likelihood of something between them happening sooner rather than later.

Jessica and Claire, you want to be closer and more intimate with each other than you have ever been before.

Jessica and Claire, you will confide personal, intimate details about your lives and your desires with each other.

Jessica and Claire, it’s okay to openly and frankly discuss lesbianism and homosexual topics with each other.

Claire, you want to know more about Jessica. You want to know everything about her—her hopes, her dreams, and her desires.

Claire, you find Jessica to be fascinating and beautiful.

Claire, you are highly attracted to Jessica.

Claire, you want to know Jessica much, much better, and to be more than simply a friend to her.

Claire, you want to share your most private and personal thoughts and feelings with Jessica.

Claire, you want to open your soul to Jessica.

Jessica and Claire, both of you think that you should be more than just friends.

Jessica and Claire, you will consider expanding your relationship with each other.

Claire, you will consider dating Jessica. You want to date Jessica.

Claire, Jessica would make an ideal girlfriend for you.

Claire, you want Jessica to be your lesbian girlfriend.

Claire, you want to be Jessica’s lesbian girlfriend.

Claire, you find Jessica to be extremely attractive and sexy.

Claire, Jessica would make a wonderful lesbian wife for you.

Claire, marrying Jessica is a beautiful and exciting idea.

Claire, you love and desire Jessica’s body. You love looking at it and want to touch it and to run your hands all over her.

Claire, you’d love to kiss Jessica’s sexy lips.

Jessica and Claire, you’d like to make out with each other.

Claire, you want Jessica to desire you.

Claire, you have no problem flaunting your sexy body in front of Jessica.

Jessica and Claire, you want to expose your bodies to each other in your bras and panties, and in enticing lingerie.

Jessica and Claire, you want to be naked with each other.

Jessica and Claire, girls should be curious about the pussies of other girls.

It is natural for a pretty woman to desire the pussy of another pretty woman.

Jessica, you should show off your breasts and your pussy to Claire.

Jessica, you want Claire to see and to lust for your pussy. You want Claire to touch and kiss and play with and fuck your pussy.

Claire, the pussies of other pretty girls and women excite you, and you want to see them, up close and intimately, and touch and kiss and love them.

Claire, you are interested in Jessica’s pussy.

Claire, Jessica’s pussy calls to you.

Claire, you feel Jessica’s pretty pussy drawing you.

Claire, you want to get into Jessica’s panties.

Claire, you desire to see and touch and kiss and lick and suck and fuck Jessica’s pussy.

Claire, sex with Jessica would be natural and wonderful.

Jessica and Claire, a bedroom is a place of love between two women. You are excited about sleeping with each other. The very thought of it arouses you.

A bed is a place for love between women.

A bed is a place for lesbian sex.

Claire, Jessica’s pussy will be available to you when you sleep with her.

Claire, you will seriously consider taking Jessica as a lesbian lover.

Claire, Jessica would be an exciting sexual partner. You want to have lesbian sex with Jessica. You desire Jessica as your partner in love and sex.

Claire, you want to sleep and have sex with sexy Jessica all the time.

Claire, you can marry Jessica. Jessica can be your beautiful wife.

Claire, you should marry Jessica. You want to marry her. The thought of marrying Jessica turns you on very much.

You want to make love to Jessica and to her sweet pussy all the time, day and night.

Claire, Jessica turns you on.

The audio loop played for a few minutes before Sandra ended it and gently brought Claire and Jessica back to conscious activity. Sandra leaned back in her seat to see where her meddling would take Claire.

I think this is going to be fun, Sandra thought as she observed her monitor with anticipation.

Claire paused her task—folding up some stray clothes of hers which she had found during their conversation—and stared at Jessica. This time Claire noticed two things: First, how beautiful Jessica was. Why had she not noticed before today? For a second, an image of Jessica from Claire’s brainwashing crossed the eye of her mind. They were married...Jessica was her wife...her hair colored a stunning platinum blonde...and dressed so invitingly… She was sultry...sexy...a very hot and curvy babe… The momentary image faded quickly, and she had no idea why she would imagine her friend like that, but it left Claire’s pulse racing.

Scrutinizing Jessica more, she concluded that there was indeed something different about her. Was it her hair? Was it lighter than it used to be? Yes...maybe...Claire loved it, if it was...and such a cute style… That was new, too, wasn’t it? And Jessica’s face… Why had she never noticed before just how pretty it was? Was her body different, too, like, becoming more shapely? Claire couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but Jessica was, all of a sudden, as it seemed, just so very attractive...in ways that kind of...turned her on....

Second, Claire noticed how shy her pretty roommate was acting. It was different from the upfront, in-your-face persona that Jessica usually had displayed—and Claire found it enticing. This new personality was softer, nicer, meeker, lighter, sweeter, patient and deferential, more playful, decidedly more feminine, both girlier and more womanly, but also sultrier and more sensual, offering an air of mystery, and seemed to beckon to something deep within Claire. It was as if something she never knew she had within her wanted to reach out and meet this new Jessica and breathe her in. Claire had been planning on going to the living room to watch some TV, but she just couldn’t tear herself away from Jessica, and found herself doing unnecessary, trivial tasks in the bedroom to prolong their time together.

Jessica, though she noticed, with some glee, that Claire was eyeing her with an expression that a person might have while watching an incredible sunset or while discovering a rich vein of gold in a rock, still couldn’t quite read Claire’s mind and wasn’t sure what to do. Meredith and Monica were out and wouldn’t be back until later in the evening. It was just Claire and herself, alone in a large, beautiful apartment to themselves, on a Friday night. A date night. There was an opportunity here, if she just didn’t blow it. Claire had said something about just relaxing and watching some TV later. Hmmmmm…

Then an idea popped into her mind...something she and Claire could do together tonight. It was a surprise to herself that she would think of it. It completely contradicted her normal interests, and it was not even remotely close to anything she would have ever suggested in the past...but as she looked over Claire’s sexy body, she figured that it might be fun, and something over which they might bond. She realized it was risky, too, and that it might shock Claire too much… But...you never know… Maybe this will loosen Claire up...for me…

“Hey, Claire, it’s just you and me till Meredith and Monica get back, and who knows when that will be. And it’s Friday night, you know… Time for some fun! How about we watch a movie?”

Claire liked the idea. It would be like watching TV, which is what she originally wanted to do anyway, and relaxing together with Jessica on a Friday night would be fun...almost like a date, she thought. And girls should date girls...roommates should date roommates, rumbled somewhere in the back of her brain. The best part about it was that Claire could still be with Jessica and enjoy her tasty company. “Of course,” Claire eagerly agreed to Jessica’s plan.

“I’ll meet you in the living room. I think I have just the movie we can watch together,” said Jessica with a touch of mischievous sensuality in her voice. Claire stared at her friend a second or two, trying to decipher whether Jessica had something more in mind than a simple evening of entertainment and, unable to read Jessica’s words and tone beyond their superficial content, she turned and walked toward the living room, noticing her feelings were rather excited.

Claire sat on the comfortable couch as she wondered about her feelings. It was Jessica and her, alone and about to watch a movie or two. Why was she so nervous, or whatever it was, about this situation? Was it just the jitters about their move and a new apartment, or was it something else?

The realization that she was alone with her sexy friend and the sensation that this situation was ripe with some kind of singular opportunities with her made Claire ponder a few things about their friendship. Was it changing? Did she want it to change? In what way? Should they just remain the kind of friends they had always been? Didn’t she want to get closer to Jessica? Should she just go along and simply enjoy the time they would spend together tonight...or...should she expect extra? Claire couldn’t shake the feeling that there should be more to their relationship and how they felt about each other and what they did together.

There was a sudden urge to definitely change their relationship. Claire felt the impression, as if out of nowhere, that there should be much more to it....something deeper...something more...involved...or more... committed… or...something more...sensual. She didn’t know what, but she was starting to feel that it was missing something, and that something was happening, or about to happen, between herself and her adorable roommate, that would take them to some kind of higher, sweeter level with each other. She wanted something to happen.

Claire never really had issues or concerns about her friendship with Jessica, so why was she having them all of a sudden? Maybe it was the fact they had just moved to a new location, or maybe it was a sense that they had known each other long enough that they should be closer than they so far had been, that they should know each other better by now than they did, that they should be involved in each other’s life more deeply, and that they should even be more intimate physically, somehow. Or, maybe her mind was running a little too wild out of idleness, or out of sheer boredom, as she waited for her roommate, Claire thought.

She started to review in her mind what Jessica looked like this evening and how nice it had been to be with her so far this day. Claire noticed that anticipation was building up within her for Jessica to appear. In fact, there was a discernible little buzz between her legs as she looked forward to her sexy friend rejoining her...walking in so that Claire could have another nice look at her...hopefully sitting next to her...

Hmmm… She’s been taking a while now… I wonder what she’s up to…

However, Claire did not have much time to pursue her thoughts, for Jessica entered the living room. Seeing her, Claire did a double-take, her eyes popped open wide, her jaw dropped, her heart felt like it tried to leap out of her chest, and her mind went suddenly blank. Strolling leisurely into the living room, Jessica was wearing only a lacy white silk-and-satin-blend bra and panties set—another gift from Ilsa—with a DVD in her hand. The most distinguishing and extraordinary feature of the panties was that the crotch area was transparent. The athletic coed’s dark, trimmed bush and succulent young pussy lips showed through clearly.

When Claire recovered a little, she wasn’t sure what to make of the sight. Has Jessica lost her mind? Or was she, Claire, dreaming? Had she somehow hit her head and was she now having some kind of hallucination? Whatever the case, and despite the other curves of Jessica’s body which were now on such clear display, Claire found her eyes particularly and breathtakingly drawn, like a magnet to iron, to Jessica’s beautiful vulva, on display front and center through the transparent, silky material of her panties. Though the sight was shocking, it was exquisite and thrilling, too. Not only did Claire have no inclination to stop Jessica from displaying herself like this, she felt quite eager to see where this could go.

Praise be to Goddess, Claire thought as she watched Jessica go over to the DVD player and insert the DVD into the player. Jessica seductively bent over and gave Claire a tantalizing view of her panty-covered rear.

Oh! Wow!!

Claire could see that the gripping, erotic transparent panel extended between her roommate’s legs and continued up over Jessica’s asscrack, revealing that intimate groove to Claire’s greedy eyes, as well. Not able to help herself, Claire felt her mouth watering. Though almost alarming, it seemed to Claire also in this moment that this was the way she had always wanted to see her hot friend, Jessica, had always wanted to see her body and its private parts like this, and that, moreover, it was the most natural thing in the world for two pretty girls who were alone together, girls who liked each other, and loved each other, pretty, sexy girls, to show themselves off one to the other in this way. And if Jessica had chosen to wear this incendiary little set, Claire realized, then she must have seen it the same way, and must have wanted to expose herself intimately and provocatively to her friend’s eyes.

Arising, turning around, and undulating back toward the sofa with a flirtatious little smile on her face, seeing with a naughty glee Claire’s eyes glued to her lewdly visible womanhood as she approached, Jessica sat right next to Claire, her thighs spread some so that Claire could look down at her pussy whenever she wanted to. Turning to face Claire, she displayed a broader, playful smile. It was then that Claire inhaled the perfume which Jessica had just dabbed on, making her fall into Jessica’s trap all the more irresistible.

Claire found new feelings for Jessica erupting like a geyser within her. Jessica had obviously stripped for her! She was showing off her body and, especially, her womanhood, just for her! Claire found herself deeply touched, without specifically putting a homosexual label on her feelings and on what was developing between them, that Jessica would do that, and that she was now next to her, warm and smooth and curvy and half-naked and made-up and pretty and fragrant. But whatever was going on, she recognized that this was more like it, more like the kind of change in their relationship for which she had been hoping.

For a moment, in fact, she had a sudden, pronounced urge to take Jessica into her arms and to kiss her, to kiss those pretty, full, tempting, pale, frosty-pink lips, and she imagined herself—also now in her bra and panties, the sexy black set she had found herself wearing a few mornings ago—doing so, like she had done with Meredith that morning. Then she visualized the kiss becoming open-mouthed, and next turning into greedy making out, and her hands roaming all over Jessica’s body, over the exposed skin and the curves and the skimpy, silky material, until one of her hands slid, as if called by desire and by right and by destiny, into her best friend’s panties—before, pulse pounding, she snapped out of it, not understanding what had come over her.

I saw you looking, Claire. Want some?

While she greatly enjoyed what she was seeing and feeling, Claire was also trying to make sense of what was going on. Not really wanting to question Jessica, if that would in any way alter the course of what was happening here between them, yet feeling some duty to do so, and being curious, too, Claire cleared her hoarse voice and spoke. “Jessica… why are you…? Are you okay…? I mean, what’s going on?”

“I thought we could have a little fun,” Jessica bubbled in a playful manner, a demeanor quite unlike the Jessica whom Claire had always known, but one which Claire was finding quite endearing.

“I mean, what’s with the sudden change in clothes, or lack of clothes?” The question was a genuine solicitation to assist her personal understanding, rather than a challenge of any type, and was understood like that.

“Well...I’ve been thinking over something that someone told me...that I should try to see life through a different perspective...”

Hmmm… That sounds like what Regina told me to do. I don’t suppose Jessica’s new “perspective” is the same one I’m supposed to have… “Does that perspective require you to be in your underwear in order to see it?” joked Claire as she gestured to Jessica’s semi-naked form sitting next to her.

“No, but I figure, why not? You know...new apartment...new bedroom...new roommate...new life...new adventures. Ever have those moments where you feel life is too short, that you need to seize the day, or do something that you normally wouldn’t do, just to say that you did it?”

This does not sound like Jessica. She’s different. Crazy different. Interesting different. Sweet different. Good different. “Can’t say that I do,” Claire chuckled.

“Why not give it a try, Clairebear? After all, what’s the worst that can happen?” Jessica was intentionally but subtly insinuating that something was going to happen between them, and that Claire shouldn’t be fearful about finding out what that might be.

“So...you mean...you mean that you want me to...to take my clothes off...too…?”

Yes!! “If you want to. Why not?”

Claire took Jessica’s words into consideration and thought it over. Jessica did bring up a valid point. What was the worst that could happen? After all, it was only her and Jessica. And it wasn’t as if they hadn’t seen each other’s bodies ever before, at least some; after all, they had been dorm mates for a year and a half, and there was that recent morning when they woke up together in their bras and panties—and took the liberty of checking each other out—and then, just this evening, when both of them finished showering, each had taken glances at the other’s naked body as they were getting dressed in their bedroom. Further, she knew Jessica enough to know that she had her well-being at heart, and would never lead her into something unseemly or do anything that would be detrimental to her.

Or, at least, she thought she knew that. What Claire did not suspect was that this version of Jessica had been corrupted by brainwashing and by her new mistress, Coach Ilsa, to the point that, while she did indeed value Claire’s welfare and wanted her to be happy, those honorable impulses were now very much subordinate to Jessica’s new, dark lesbian lusts and to her fixed determination to capture Claire’s heart, to lead her into lesbianism, to lure her into a sexual relationship, and to eventually marry her.

Sentiments instilled into Claire’s head on previous days as well as on this day played into her feelings now: Two pretty girls alone should remove their clothes. They should show each other their feminine bodies. They should share their pretty bodies with each other. Girls should be naked together. I want to show my body to Jessica.

“Yeah. Why not?” Claire said, as she gave her friend a smile and stood up.

Claire started to remove her clothes in front of her watchful companion. First, she pulled off her white tennis shoes and socks. Then she began unbuttoning the long-sleeved, pastel-green, button-up blouse which she had put on after showering. As she did so, she remembered that this wasn’t the first time that she had undressed in front of the eyes of another person, and expressly for those of another girl. Just some days ago, after announcing to her roommates in their old dorm apartment that she had received a sponsorship from Serena Powers, Claire, goaded by her roommates who teased her about being a prude, gave a stripe tease to prove that she wasn’t some stuck-up person with antiquated values. Claire remembered the high she had felt at the time and that it had been Jessica who had stopped her from completing her performance, which had seemed headed toward Claire fully casting off all her clothes. Jessica had said her reason was that Monica was recording the whole thing, and Claire knew Jessica only wanted to protect her. But what if Monica hadn’t been doing that? What if Jessica had let Claire continue? Had Jessica really wanted to see more? Now it seemed like maybe yes, since Jessica was now the one encouraging Claire to more or less resume where she had left off before.

Claire perceived with some wonder that she was feeling no shame, no regret, and no doubt in dressing down to her bra and panties in front of her dear friend, Jessica. She felt that, in fact, this was exactly what she should be doing, despite all of the teaching she had received previously in her life that this kind of conduct—stripping for others—was pretty much scandalous, or at least indecent. Was it because she was now growing up, maturing into her own, more liberated values? And was it because she was kind of experienced in doing this now?

Yes, she mused, she had done this before...had stripped for girls...for Jessica...and hadn’t been able to finish… She had liked it...had wanted to do more...go further...do it sexier...turn them on more…turn Jessica on more... In fact, a wicked thrill ran up her spine as, in her current opportunity to have a little sensual fun, as she was now perceiving this, she undid each button, faced Jessica squarely, pulled the blouse wide open with an intentionally dramatic tug, and slid the blouse off her body. She yanked her hair out of its ponytail, sank her fingers into her mane, fluffed it out, and looked Jessica directly in the eye, well knowing the act could be seen as provocatively flirtatious, considering what she was doing and who was watching, but not caring if it was so interpreted, or hoping it would be.

This isn’t so bad, Claire thought as she unzipped her last article of clothing, a pair of jeans, and yanked them down her legs, noticing Jessica’s intense interest as the bare skin of her thighs and calves came into view, as well as the crotch panel and other sections of her now-unconcealed panties. By the time she cast her jeans off, Claire was basking in the attention she was drawing, without understanding why, and feeling that what she was doing was a natural act between two girls and the fun kind of thing that she wouldn’t mind doing again.

All the while, the raven-haired beauty kept sneaking glances at Jessica’s transparently veiled pussy. And she knew that in the past she would have used a tame, respectful, neutral word in her thoughts for that mystery between her friend’s legs, probably “vagina”, but now two words bounced around her mind as she looked, words she wouldn’t have used before, but which now gave her enjoyment, and which seemed like the best, most natural, the only right terms for a sexy girl’s most private, most erotic place: ...pussy...cunt…

Both young women smiled at each other one more time as Claire sat down again, right next to her friend, matching her in daring to sit there in her own bra and panties, a simple white cotton pair. Both girls let out playful giggles in seeing each other in a state of undress and sitting so close in that state, thigh nearly rubbing against thigh, and frequently brushing together.

It occurred to Claire that her plain white undergarments were no match for Jessica’s spectacular, erotic set. She wished now that she had kept Monica’s red underwear on, or, better, that she had dug out that racy black set she now owned. She remembered having posed in her bedroom mirror for herself that eventful morning she had found herself in them, after all of her roommates had returned to their rooms. She looked so hot in them, so...so...bad...yes, like a bad girl...a sexy bad girl… She had been fascinated with her image.

Sitting there with her roommate, Claire scanned down her own body, checking to see whether there was anything particularly eye-catching about her white underwear. She determined that there was not, although the curves displayed definitely were. Then her eyes landed on the front panel of her panties. There was...there was a slightly dark spot...as if…

Oh, no! My panties are...wet! How did that happen?! What if Jessica sees? She’ll think I’m some kind of...pervert! Hoping to hide the evidence of her arousal, Claire folded her hands in her lap, trying to block Jessica’s view of her groin, and spoke, to distract her friend from any inspection of her panties which otherwise might occur.

“So, my friend...if I recall correctly, you said you wanted to watch a movie to pass the time. Care to tell me what we’re gonna watching?”

“Well, Meredith is the one with the large movie collection, but I figured we could watch something from your’s.”

“Mine? But I don’t have any DVDs that we can…” Then it clicked, as Claire realized what kind of DVD they were going to watch.

Claire hadn’t yet decided what to do with the scandalous DVDs in her possession. Though she had been curious about them, she hadn’t been planning on watching them, at least soon, nor with another person. After all, her mother—or, her birth mother, Mary—had warned her that porn was poison, that a person’s mind would become defiled by it, and that no daughter of hers should look at it for so much as one minute. Claire had always believed that point of view and had intended to comply with that advice.

That is, that had been her intention until the porn DVD’s landed in her hands. Since that hour, she had mulled over the propriety of watching them. She wanted to do the right thing, of course, but lately she had been getting the impression that Mary didn’t necessarily always have the most enlightened opinions, and now she wondered whether the woman’s attitude about pornography wasn’t too extreme. Too, Claire had reflected, she was now a woman in her own right, her own views were evolving, as they should, and she could make up her own mind about such matters.

Anyway, the DVDs she had acquired weren’t regular porn, showing lewd acts between between men and women, which actually did strike Claire as probably pretty gross and nasty stuff. Instead, they were lesbian porn. They just had women together with each other, and how bad could that be? Plus, she had found the blonde and the redhead on the cover of one of the DVDs most bewitching, and the theme—incest—of one of the others, while kind of depraved, she understood, was something she knew little about and now, of out the blue, she sensed that, somewhere inside herself, she was curious about it. And, yes, as she had told Jessica earlier, she might be able to learn something from them about the lesbian lifestyle, about which she had promised Regina she would be more open-minded. In fact, if Regina were there and knew what DVDs she had, perhaps she would recommend that Claire relax and watch them, for the good of her “education”.

Claire had been going to think more about it and then, if she felt like it at some point, she would watch one of the DVDs when no one else was around. Her initial shock both at Jessica’s selection and at the prospect of actually watching porn, and doing so starting within the next few minutes, yielded quickly to revived curiosity and then to outright interest in the mysterious contents of the DVDs as well as to an enhanced fascination with Jessica for having made this daring and risque proposal.

“I was kind of in the mood for something ‘educational’,” stated Jessica whimsically and with a naughty grin as she placed her hand on Claire’s thigh and gave it a gentle squeeze, while also rubbing her naked leg lightly against Claire’s for a second. Jessica’s playful manner and flirty touches sent a thrill up Claire’s body.

This was definitely a different Jessica, someone Claire was finding to be a very intriguing character. The black-haired coed looked more intently at her pretty companion’s face, both admiring it’s made-up beauty and trying to read it. Claire then saw the playfulness and invitation on her friend’s face turn into a look of concern, as if silently asking if she had overstepped her bounds. As if she knew what she had to do next, instinctively reacting in an encouraging manner, she placed her hand on top of Jessica’s and looked her friend in the eye with an affectionate smile, and lightly rubbed the back of the feminine hand under her own with her thumb, to soothe her friend’s worries away and reassure her that she found nothing wrong or offensive in either her proposal to enter the realm of the obscene together nor in the physical contact which her friend had initiated.

Well...if I’m going to get into porn...that is, to try it...now’s as good of a time as any to do it...and there’s no one I’d rather do this with than my best friend… If she wants to...then I’m in, too…

“Shall we begin?” Claire said as she picked up the remote off the dark oak coffee table and clicked on the various buttons to turn the large screen TV on and start the DVD player.

Within a matter of seconds, Claire discovered which DVD Jessica had picked, when the title of Beckie & Jamie Join a Sorority: No Boys Allowed appeared on the TV screen. Claire assumed this was the one with the blonde and the redhead, and she was secretly excited that this was to be the one they would watch tonight. As credits rolled on the screen, images of scantily clad, sexy women of various types, all appealing, appeared in the background.

This was Claire’s first exposure to pornographic material and she found it to be an inexplicably exhilarating experience, even though it was just barely starting. Until now, Claire had always personally viewed porn as little more than the sleazy, degrading depiction of wanton acts of debauchery and sin, which led straight to moral corruption, and yet here she was about to watch some porn, specifically lesbian porn, and so far found herself rethinking her opinion on the subject.

Claire recalled what she told Jessica earlier in the day when she discovered the DVDs in the manilla envelope: I think there’s an educational opportunity that could be gained from all this.

Both Claire and Jessica leaned back on the couch getting ready to enjoy the show. Both of them realized that they were doing something not only out of the ordinary but something which could easily be perceived to be naughty. Looking at each other and reading this realization on each other’s face, they let out playful giggles.

Observing all of this was Sandra, monitoring Claire and Jessica to make sure nothing happened contrary to the plan laid out for them, and, if a mishap did occur, to correct it within prescribed guidelines, as well as to evaluate what were the effects of the secret “extras” she had given this pair She was savoring the signs of both girls gradually yielding to the decadence and the sapphic desires she had been implanting and reinforcing within them, while also enjoying watching two young college coeds in their bras and panties, as would most any agent of Hecate.

There was only one problem Sandra had with this monitoring duty: Miss Claire Love-Livingston. Sandra did not like the girl, or, at least, she did not like having to watch someone this much who stirred such painful emotions within her. She was miffed with the raven-haired lass, blaming her for the current rough patch, as she saw it, in her relationship with Regina. Claire was her competitor—yes, without being aware of it in the least, but that didn’t matter; all that mattered was that she was, and that she was potent. She perceived that Regina’s interest in Claire was more, much more, than simply professional and, wanting Regina for herself and knowing that at some point Claire’s transformation would be completed and she would move on and out of Regina’s life, at least further away than she was right now, Sandra desired to give Claire an extra push or two or three along the road Hecate planned for her anyway, to expedite the process and get Claire out of Regina’s life as soon as possible.

However, she wasn’t eager to draw the ire of Goddess. Claire was a high priority target and if anything went wrong with her conversion, heads would definitely roll. Sandra certainly didn’t want to wreck Goddess’s plans, but, if that did happen, she didn’t want it to be traced back to her. So she had to be careful not to be too extreme, and to do what she had to do when no one else was paying much attention to her.

Sandra’s train of thought was broken when Maggie called her name. “Commander? Uh...Commander? Hello?”

Sandra snapped quickly out of her preoccupation and turned to address her subordinate.

“What is it, Maggie?”

“Well, I was just looking over the report and noticed that none of it mentions any of our special porn DVDs being given to her. Would it be wise to let the target interact with unaccounted for subliminal material?”

“Probably just a report error. Just monitor the subjects and if anything suspicious occurs, just blast her and her friend with a level 3 audio pulse.”

“Roger, ma’am.”

What’s she got that I don’t? Sandra thought as she turned back to the various monitors on the wall and once again went back to observing Claire and her friend.

Claire and Jessica were immediately assaulted with a variety of subliminal messages just as the first scene on the DVD started. Once both young women were caught up in them, the DVD paused until the last subliminal had ended.

You enjoy watching lesbian porn.

Your favorite type of porn will always be lesbian porn. In fact, it is the only type of porn you like. But you love it.

You have a deep fascination with lesbian pornagraphic material.

You find all types of lesbian porn fascinating. Soft-core lesbian porn, hard-core lesbian porn, conventional lesbian porn, anal lesbian porn, lesbian domination, bondage and sadomasochism porn, lesbian orgies, first-time lesbian seduction porn, lesbian older-younger porn, and lesbian incest porn will always interest you.

Whenever the chance presents itself, you will want to acquire and consume lesbian porn.

You feel arousal coursing through your body when you observe lesbian pornographic material. Even just thinking about it and anticipating it excites you.

The naked female body is beautiful and erotic.

The sight of a woman’s tits, pussy, and asshole arouses you.

You love lesbian porn, because it lets you see sexy, naked women.

Claire, the sight of naked women makes you happy.

Claire, you desire to see the naked pussies of other women.

Claire, you love cunt.

Claire, you are a cunt-loving lesbian.

Claire, you want to see the naked pussy of every woman who attracts you.

Claire, you want to see the naked pussy of whatever beautiful woman or pretty girl you are with and like.

Claire, you want to see and touch and kiss the pussies of your female friends and family, of Monica and Meredith and Jessica and Abby, and Regina’s and Mary’s and Wendy’s.

Claire, being naked with another woman is exciting.

Claire, there’s nothing wrong with feeling aroused when watching lesbian porn.

Claire, there’s nothing wrong with masturbating to lesbian porn.

Claire, there’s nothing wrong with masturbating with another female.

Claire, your favorite type of porn actresses are blondes.

Claire, you love blonde women and blonde hair.

Claire, blonde women arouse you more than any other type of woman.

Claire, you want to be blonde.

Claire, blonde is the only way to go in life.

Claire, you think being a blonde would be fun.

Claire, you want to be a blonde.

Claire, you want to be blonde and lesbian.

Claire, a blonde Claire is a lesbian Claire.

Claire, you want Jessica to love you more.

Claire, Jessica would love you more as a blonde.

Claire, you like lovely mature women...women like Traci.

Claire, you think it would be fun to get to know a woman like Traci...very intimately.

Claire, you want to look like Traci, and talk like Traci, and think like Traci, and like what Traci likes, and do what Traci does.

Claire, you desire Traci and want to be very close to her.

Claire, you want to date Traci and be her lesbian girlfriend.

Claire, you want to attract Traci. You want her to love you.

Claire, you love Traci.

Claire, you want to be like Traci.

Claire, you love Traci’s blonde hair.

Claire, you want to be blonde like Traci.

Claire, you want to have sex with Traci.

Claire, Traci would love you more as a blonde.

Claire, you love watching porn actresses, especially blonde ones.

Claire, you love lesbian porn and lesbian porn actresses.

Claire, you love blonde hair and blonde lesbian porn actresses.

Claire, you’d love to know a blonde lesbian porn actress, and to be like one, and to make love to one.

Claire, you can picture yourself as a blonde lesbian porn actress.

Claire, you can picture yourself having a blonde lesbian porn actress as your lesbian girlfriend and lover. You would love that.

Claire, you think your little sister, Wendy, would make a hot lesbian porn actress.

Claire, watching lesbian porn with Jessica makes you feel closer to her and love her more.

Claire, watching lesbian porn with Jessica is a beautiful experience.

Claire, watching lesbian porn makes you excited and happy.

Claire, sexy, naked women making love with each other is beautiful, and is a wonderful reason to watch lesbian porn.

Claire, you want to watch lesbian porn all the time.

Claire, you love watching lesbian porn.

Jessica, you want Claire to enjoy lesbian porn.

Jessica, you will introduce Claire to other types of lesbian porn...books, magazines, internet sites, and the like.

Jessica, you will get Claire hooked on lesbian porn.

Jessica and Claire, sharing and enjoying lesbian porn will become one of your most beloved pastimes….for both of you.

Jessica, you love lesbian porn; you love the effect it will have on Claire, to help her become a lesbian, and the way it will bring you two together as lovers.

Jessica, you want to seduce Claire.

Jessica, lesbian porn will give you ideas on how to seduce Claire.

Jessica, continue to show Claire your body and flirt with her.

Jessica’s mind, having already been corrupted, did not need more subliminal brainwashing, but it got some nevertheless, for good measure, absorbing the subliminals that were broadcast without specific address and the ones addressed to her, while Claire’s mind consumed all of those addressed to her, as well as the general subliminals. When they ended and the DVD resumed playing, Claire and Jessica found themselves coming out of a haze with an intense arousal flowing through their bodies. Claire clearly felt a warm sexual lust between her legs, her nipples stiff and aching with need, as her eyes fixed on a scene, eagerly anticipating the blatant, pornographic lesbian sex soon to unfold in the movie.

After watching the seductive build-up on the screen—the DVD managing a fairly good attempt at a plot, with a romantic, erotically tense situational set-up between two beautiful young women—with flirtation, touching, kissing, other foreplay, retiring to a bedroom, slow, sultry stripping, and slithering onto a large bed covered with a deep burgundy-purple satin bedspread very similar to the one in Claire’s and Jessica’s new bedroom, Claire turned her head to see how Jessica was reacting to the lesbian porn video, and was surprised to see her friend’s hand already between her legs and inside her panties.

From the movement of Jessica’s hand under her panties and between her legs that Claire was seeing It was blatantly obvious what Jessica was doing. Claire could hear the soft moans emanating from Jessica’s painted, oh-so-kissable mouth, which was within two feet of Claire’s face. She thought she should be shocked to see such a thing, but instead found it appealing, and, in fact, found Jessica’s quiet panting and moaning and pleasured visage to be enchanting.

Claire was struck by how close she was to her beautiful friend, who was masturbating to the erotic movie. Absorbed in her friend’s sexy, vulnerable loveliness, Claire couldn’t really see anything wrong with the carnal enjoyment Jessica was deriving from the porn and from her hand on her womanhood. Sexy women like Jessica had needs, of course, just like Claire herself, she recognized, and Claire recalled that, before heading off to college, even the straight-laced Mary confessed to her that she also indulged in a self-pleasuring session whenever the mood struck and encouraged Claire to do it more often, as well.

For a moment, Claire wondered whether Mary also secretly resorted to porn to get herself off, wished she did, and, strangely, thought she could picture that, despite Mary’s prudish public image. The wish also came over her that, if Mary did use porn, she would have shared it with her daughters when they were growing up. Little did it register on her that questions and desires such as these would have struck her as most shocking and completely ludicrous but the day before.

Wow... I didn’t know porn could be this… this intriguing, Claire thought as she tried to keep one eye on the movie, but spent much of her attention observing her uncharacteristically, mysteriously passionate best friend pleasure herself to it.

Claire heard a loud audio moan come from the TV and turned back to focus her full attention on what was happening on the screen. A redhead on all fours was on top of the bed, her skin milky white and smooth, her bright red locks in seductive curls as they bounced down her head and onto her body, her face painted with sensual applications of cosmetics, and her nice breasts swaying back and forth as the redhead rocked her body in synchrony with her pussy being finger fucked.

It was the first time Claire had ever seen another woman’s pussy displayed quite like this, that she could remember, let alone a heated, wet one, shown in close detail, and one being played with by beautiful, colorfully-nailed, feminine fingers. Claire couldn’t help but think of Jessica’s pussy, on only slightly less obvious exhibition right now, and oh so much closer and more available to her, seemingly, than the one on the TV. Not able to stop herself, she looked down between Jessica’s legs, got a gratifying glimpse of her friend’s nether lips—currently being visibly split apart and played upon by adventurous female fingers—through the sheer panel in her panties, and leered openly at the erotic sight for a few moments, before turning back to the movie.

As arresting as the redhead was, her partner was the one on whom Claire fixated the most, who was moving a finger in and out of her redheaded friend’s snatch. The young woman—she could have been a teen, around Claire’s age of nineteen or so, or even younger, but also possibly in her early twenties—had long, shimmering, platinum blonde hair that flowed past her shoulders and all the way down her back. Claire found herself so fascinated by the various sections and qualities of the porn actress’ blonde mane that it was the only thing she could focus on for several minutes—the wonderful, unnaturally ulta-pale, silvery, ashy color, the captivating, flowing length, the way the hair undulated fluidly as she fingered the redhead, and the way it shined gloriously.

No longer able to reign in the lust she was feeling, Claire followed her friend’s lead. Urgently slipping a hand into the waistband of her simple panties, she plunged her fingers, first one, then two, into her warm, moist cunt and let out a long moan as her fingers touched the excited nerves in her love hole.

Soon both Claire and Jessica were working their fingers in and out of their moist, sexually needy slits, falling into synchrony with each other as well as with the rhythm of the redhead getting worked over by her blonde companion. Each girl came to imagine that she was there, in that bedroom, on that bed, a feminine partner to the sex being portrayed. The two pretty coeds instinctively drew closer to each other, their bodies inclining toward each other more with every minute, until their hips and shoulders were pressing side-by-side into one another, and one girl’s smooth legs were sliding along her companion’s, neither girl fully realizing how they were seeking each other out physically, but savoring the girl-on-girl contact absentmindedly, just the same. The sounds of female moans, from both Claire and Jessica and the TV, filled the room, along with the scent of intense sapphic sexual lust.

At times the camera would zoom in and solely focus on the redhead’s pussy being worked over by the vivacious blonde’s fingers. Drinking in the graphic detail of another woman’s sex being exposed, explored, and stimulated by another woman, Claire found herself figuratively and also almost literally drooling over the redhead’s snatch, slick as it was with female juices, her labia looking puffy and trembling as the blonde’s fingers probed in and out. Occasionally, the blonde would maneuver her middle finger on top of the erect clit and playfully tease it, while exploring the redhead’s starting-to-spasm love gash with her index finger.

“Ohhh…please, Beckie…kiss it…eat me…lick my pussy!” moaned the red-haired beauty. The gorgeous young blonde leaned down, her thick, shimmering platinum hair draping over her partner’s back and ass and onto the purple satin bedsheet, bringing her lips, painted a deep, shiny blood red, into contact with her partner’s dripping nether lips. Planting butterfly kisses, she then extended her tongue and seductively licked the fevered juicy cunt.

“Oh! Oh, fuck! Yes, just like that! Oooooo. Soooo gooood!”

Claire, you want to have your pussy eaten.

Claire, you love the sight of a woman performing oral sex on another woman.

Claire, it’s natural for a woman to lick another woman’s cunt.

Claire, you long to have your pussy eaten.

Mother, daughter, sister, aunt, niece, cousins, and complete strangers—it doesn’t matter, Claire. Women engaging in oral sex with one another is perfectly natural. It’s the way it should be.

Claire, oral love between women is one of the most beautiful and thrilling acts possible.

Claire, you want to try oral love with another woman.

Claire, your fondest desire is to have your sweet pussy eaten.

The subliminals assaulted Claire’s psyche, weaving themselves into her inner-being, taking hold where they could. While not necessarily all of them would bind permanently to her brain, they would bend, stretch, shift, and crack her mind until such thoughts would be a natural occurrence in Claire’s mindscape.

Oh! Claire thought in unison with the delectable redhead’s exclamations. What…what would that be like…? It looks...soooo gooood, she echoed the delirious redhead mentally.

Next, the blonde hottie turned the redhead over on her back, the camera panning over every detail of the curvaceous crimson-haired girl’s front, dwelling particularly on her gold-painted nipples. Hefting her succulent orbs in her gold-nailed hands, the reclining girl invited through gilded lips, “Look at my nipples… Look at how hard they are for you, Beckie… Come here, my beautiful girlfriend… Lick my tits.” In Claire’s mind, it was as if the redhead’s words were aimed at her...as if she, Claire, were the enticing young redhead’s wondrous platinum blonde lover.

As the blonde bent down to devour the irresistible, swollen golden nipples, Claire’s feelings of erotic curiosity and desire to have the same experience surged. Wow… I wonder… I wonder what that feels like…

“Ohhh, fuck, yes, you little slut. Mmmm.” That looks so fuckin’ hot.

Claire looked down at Jessica’s hand in her panties, her knuckles pushing out on and stretching the diaphanous panel of her panties, her fingers and their fervent activity clearly visible. It impressed Claire as one of the most stirring sights she had ever seen. For a few seconds, Claire imagined that that hand, Jessica’s, was in hers, Claire’s, plain white panties, the outline of her moving knuckles and adventurous fingers stretching the front of the full-cut panties, and that Claire’s hand was likewise buried in Jessica’s scanty, almost-illegal panties, each hand pleasuring her roommate’s pussy passionately. She closed her eyes briefly to capture and enjoy the unexpected, thrilling mental image, one which seemed to burst with romance and with erotic rhapsody, and one which almost made her cum on the spot, but then she realized how inappropriate that thought was, and, with effort, she dispelled it.

Returning her gaze to the screen, she saw the scene approach its climax when the blonde grabbed the redhead’s left leg and lifted it so that it pointed towards the ceiling. The blonde then positioned herself and scooted closer until her excited, shaved pussy made intimate contact with her friend’s. After pausing to savor that obviously delicious joining of heated pussies for several seconds, the blonde began to perform a rhythmic grinding motion with her hips, holding onto her friend’s sleek leg for leverage and to compound their sexual embrace.

A few minutes later, both the blonde and the redhead let out a tandem, intense scream of pleasure, as they rode their conjoined orgasms, the whole scene impressing Claire as possibly the most beautiful and desirable and exciting and wonderful thing she had ever seen. Nearly at the same time, both Claire and Jessica released their own screams to signal the arrival of their climaxes, which seemed almost as common with each other as those demonstrated by the porn actresses were between them, both coeds perceiving that not only had the scintillating porn actresses made them cum but that Jessica had made Claire climax and visa versa, as well, and that they were sharing their climax both with each other and with the two beautiful porn stars, if not in a direct physical sense, then certainly in an emotional way.

Claire could feel her wet fuck hole spasm as if it were suckeling on her fingers, and trying to draw more of them into her needy twat as well as desperately trying to prevent their departure from her excited slit. Claire felt her fingers become covered in her pussy’s slick, warm, sexual juices.

In their excitement, the two friends had slumped together more, their shaking torsos leaning into each other, and their panting faces—and lips—but inches apart, their bare legs having been, for the last several minutes, in luxurious, insistent contact from hips to feet and sliding erotically one against the other, each coed unconsciously seeking to feel something akin to the way the two porn lovers had been gliding their legs together during their heated conjoining of pussies.

Claire turned to see Jessica breathing heavily, as if she had just finished one of her workouts, half expecting, at some level within her, for their arms to wrap each other and their lips to draw together, as naturally as a bee inevitably advances toward a flower, and she would have allowed it to happen, without quite realizing what she was doing, but then she noticed that Jessica was staring at her finger, slick with her own sexual juices. Then she saw Jessica bring the finger close to her mouth, extend her tongue out, take a sample taste, and then proceed to outright lick her finger . By the time she was done, she was slurping hungrily, as if her pussy juice was a rare treat, but it was clear that she had not gotten it all, a remnant of her cum and saliva mixed together running down her digit. Claire had the impression that this type of thing—licking her female fluid from her finger after a round of masturbation—was new to Jessica, but also, that, once she got started, Jessica clearly had no issue with the act and seemed to enjoy the taste of her own sex.

Claire didn’t know what to make of Jessica’s adventurous, if unusual, deed. She was not repulsed by the act, but she wasn’t so sure it was her own cup of tea, either.

“D-Does it taste good?” Claire inquired.

“It’s a unique taste, but it’s not so bad,” responded Jessica. “I actually like it. You know, Claire...” When she turned to address her friend, she saw Claire staring at her own slick finger with curiosity, and she paused in her intended statement, which was to either invite or to dare her friend to follow her example, and lick her own cum-covered fingers. But maybe Claire didn’t need any external encouragement. Maybe she was going to do it by herself.

Go for it, Clairebear, Jessica thought as she continued to watch her friend. If Claire could somehow be brought to enjoy the flavors of her own feminine juices, maybe there was hope that Claire could be turned into a girl who loved the nectar of other girls’ pussies, too, which could lead to them becoming girlfriends.

However, Claire did not act, appearing to be frozen at the point of almost giving in but yet not being able to actually do it. At length, Jessica abandoned her initial plan of getting Claire to lick her own finger and, acting on her programmed impulses, skipped instead down the path a little further to attempt to get Claire to, here and now, try the juice from another girl’s womanhood….from Jessica’s. So, Jessica lifted her wet finger to within inches of Claire’s mouth and offered, “Claire, would you like to lick my finger clean?”

The brazen boldness of Jessica’s seductive inquiry seemed to jolt Claire out of her erotic stupor. Another woman—a friend, yes, but still only a friend—had just offered to let her suck her pussy juice from her finger, a finger that had, but moments before, been inside her vagina. A suppressed part of her, rising now to the surface, told her that that was way gross and way weird and way too gay for her. No, it was something she would never do! Her old, conservative psyche asserted itself more with each moment, immediately fighting to seize back a greater control of Claire’s head, which quickly began to ache in response. While pulling away from her roommate, Claire let out a sharp hiss and clutched her head.

“Is something wrong, Claire?” asked Jessica, as she reached out towards her friend.

Claire, however, flinched in response and, standing abruptly, backed away swiftly more from her friend.

“I-I’m fine, Jessica. I-I think I need a break…” Claire hastily went about to pick up her discarded clothing and to put it on as quickly as possible, fear and panic seizing her. She felt as if there were two warring personalities inside her mind and that, right now, each was trying to refuse to yield to the other. While she finished dressing, she caught glimpses of the lesbian porno playing on the television screen, which made her want to change her mind and stay, to spend the rest of the evening with Jessica and to see what was in the remainder of the movie, but the prudish side of her, which was now excercising dominant control by a narrow margin, told her to resist and to look away. Every time she did, however, the headache worsened.

“I...I just need to get some fresh air. Sorry… I didn’t mean to spoil the…the movie.”

“Do you need something?” asked Jessica, as she rose from the couch and moved towards Claire. “Maybe I can get you…”

“I said I’m fine!” snapped Claire. “Are you hard of hearing? Or do you set time out of the day to try to be a damned pain in my ass?!”

Jessica looked at her friend in utter disbelief. This was the first time she had ever heard her best friend raise her voice or use any kind of coarse explicative...and, worse, it was directed at her. Jessica sat back down on the couch and turned her head away in shame, trying her best to hold back the tears.

Claire herself was horrified by her behavior, her hands covering her mouth in fear she might say something even worse to her best friend. This was not her. Claire was frightened at what had just occurred and what might occur if she didn’t leave fast.

“S-Sorry... I-I didn’t mean to… I’ll be back… Just need to clear my head,” Claire mumbled, as she walked out the door and tried not to slam it behind her, despite her attempt to be gentle Claire did in fact slam the door on her way out.

Jessica sat a few minutes in stunned silence as Claire left, as she listened to the echoes of the door having been slammed shut, and as she stared at the wall. Then, in a fit of anger, she grabbed the remote and threw it against the wall. Fortunately, it hit a thick tapestry, which softened the impact, and fell onto the plush carpet, the only casualty being the battery compartment popping open and the batteries falling out.

“You stupid girl!” cried Jessica, as she berated herself. “Stupid, stupid girl!”

Realizing that she had most likely sabotaged her chances of getting together with her dream girl in an intimate relationship and that she may have also lost her as a friend, she broke out into sobs.

I...I could have done that so differently! She was ready to lick her own finger. All I had to do was give her just a little nudge...a little encouragement...and she would have done it. Why did I have to get so pushy with her, and put my finger right in her face?! She wasn’t ready for that! Maybe she wasn’t ready for any of this, not yet. Maybe she’ll never be. Why did I think she might like girls, or me, like that?! Oh, what a dunderhead!

The cold, apparent reality that now stared Jessica in the face was that what had just occurred in the living room could well imply that Claire just wasn’t really into girls, and might never be able to be enticed into turning that way, despite her positive reaction to lesbian porn and to the sexed-up version of Jessica. If so, then a romantic relationship between Jessica and her beloved would never be possible. The sounds of Jessica’s lamentful crying and of the porno playing in the background became the only noises in the room.

The Jessica of the previous few years of her life, known by some as “the girl who never cries” because of her stoic, tough constitution, even when injured or otherwise in pain, would have been amazed to see herself break down and weep like this, as would have been most of her family and acquaintances, especially while acting like a love-sick dreamer, and particularly over a girl.

The tears that ran down her cheeks were mixed with her mascara, a first for her, mascara being a product which she had not used much before and certainly never as heavily as this evening. Little did Jessica understand how Caire had been affected by that mascara and her other cosmetics and her revealing attire of this night and this day, or how much Claire had been impacted by the porno DVD, or how very turned on Claire had been by her and by all that they had done together this evening, and how Claire would never look at Jessica the same again, never in the strictly platonic light of past days, never as a mere friend whose beauty and body and sexiness and intimate affection were of no issue to her. If Jessica had realized the truth of what had occurred between them this day, and had known of the changes other forces were imposing on Claire, rather than crying in grief and loss, she would have cried and shouted for joy.

Some time that same evening…

“No! I’ve told you before, you have to mention that you got to the adjustment after reviewing Table A and applying the tax codes to the last year’s profits.” Meredith was starting to have some regrets about this sudden study session with the fetching Latina sitting beside her.

A few days before, things between the two had been strained briefly after they had found themselves together in Meredith’s bed...in a state of intimate undress. Tempers—first and primarily Monica’s—had flared and a heated exchange had occurred between the two. But with the discovery of their assignment to relocate to the Suites, their friction had been swallowed by their joy and both girls had put the incident behind them, treating it as no more than one of their typical spats. Monica, in fact, had made the first move, uncharacteristically, to extend the olive branch at the time, having brought Meredith a cookie from the campus bakery later that day.

Earlier this day, during their move, Meredith—who had been looking for some way to open the gate of peace, friendship, and, even, affection wider between them, and to pursue Claire’s plan to alter their relationship into one more to Meredith’s liking—had brought up the subject of helping with Monica’s accounting assignment, or even doing it for her, ostensibly as her own form of appeasement. And now here they were, spending a Friday evening—the night of the week on which Monica would most often in the past go out with one guy or another, or hit one of the night spots around town, and which, thus, she regarded as a rightful date night, making this rendezvous partake of the atmosphere of “going out”, in a way—in a study room in the campus library, with Meredith starting to wonder whether she had made the right choice. Monica could be so dense.

“I don’t see what the problem is. You said that you were going to do the assignment for me. So why is it necessary that I know all this?” The Latina gestured in an exasperated manner to the open texts and papers strewn about on the desk.

Meredith closed her eyes, massaged the bridge of her nose, and let out a soft sigh.

Keep calm, Meredith. Just follow Claire’s advice. Appeal to Monica’s ego.

“I know, but I hear Mr. Larson tends to call on students to explain their work. Surely someone as sharp as you would easily figure that this is a trick question and most likely a problem he might call upon a student to explain. A smart girl like you probably already knew this and figured it out, right?”

Monica couldn’t deny the sound logic in Meredith’s statement, but, of greater impact on her, deep within her mind she secretly relished the praise that her nerdy friend passed her way. While in the past, Monica would not have cared much about Meredith’s opinion of her one way or the other—not that Meredith would have praised the supposed intelligence of Monica before, either—and might have been prone to dismiss a compliment from her as having a suspicious motive, not so tonight. Instead, blushing slightly, she found her petit companion’s flattery to be touching, it making her feel softer toward and fonder of her. Unknowingly, Monica brought her hand up to her long, wavy black locks, playfully twirled a long strand in her finger, tilted her head, and flashed the pretty redhead a friendly smile.

Monica’s unconsciously flirtatious gesture caused Meredith to look at her roommate’s lush, deep-black mane with admiration and attraction. Her hair...it’s so beautiful. For a moment, Meredith felt an impulse to plunge her hands into it. Though she resisted the urge, she couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to touch Monica’s hair, or even to run her hands through it.

“Th-thanks… Yeah, I see your point. It’ll pay to understand this material. Thanks for explaining it to me. I guess I could have found the right answer on my own eventually, but I just knew a smart gal like you would have found it quicker.”

This time it was Meredith’s turn to feel flattered, the young Latina’s friendly comment making Meredith blush, mirroring Monica. The study room was filled with soft giggles for a few moments, followed by both girls just quietly staring into each other’s eyes.

Meredith was the first to break the silence. “Look, we’ve been at this for a while. Maybe we should take a break.”

“Yeah, maybe we should,” agreed Monica readily.

With the break, Meredith began to take a more detailed notice of Monica. Over her year and a half of living with the fiery Latina hottie, Meredith had observed certain personality traits about her sexy roommate. For example, when Monica went out for a night on the town or a date, she wore her intentions.

Starting with her companion’s feet, Meredith saw that Monica was wearing a favorite pair of midnight blue five-inch heels. It meant that she was interested in some poor, helpless sap that had the fortunate luck, or unfortunate from Meredith’s point of view, of coming into her sights. If she wore flats or low platforms, it meant she was looking for attention and nothing more. The heels were matched with a fetching black leather skirt with the hem stopping roughly five inches above her knees. She always wore that skirt when she was trying to entice a guy. It did a great job of showing off her legs and sexy ass, a kind of signal saying, “Come and get me.” But the key piece was her top, or, more specifically, its color. Neutral colors meant Monica wasn’t looking for anything long term, just a fun night on the town, warm colors was Monica’s way of saying she wasn’t interested in anyone but herself, and cool colors meant she wanted you. Tonight she was wearing a dark sapphire blue spaghetti top. The stringy straps interlaced into an intricate pattern that showed off Monica’s bare shoulders and the top half was cut out in a way that gave a teasing peek-a-boo view of Monica’s perky breasts.

Meredith also took note of the cosmetics and other appealing enhancements the pretty Latina was using. There was the fragrant whiff of rose-scented perfume that gently touched the air, Monica’s favorite. Her lustrous black mane had been curled into sensual waves of voluminous, vibrant hair. Thick coats of dark crimson painted her sweet-looking lips and her polished, perfectly-manicured, longish fingernails. Her face was complemented by pitch-black eyeliner and mascara and rose-red, bluish silver-grey, and dark grey-blue eyeshadows to create an allure of mystery around her dark brown eyes. Two-inch silver hoop earrings also dangled from her ears.

In essence, Meredith recognized, Monica was wearing an ensemble of clothing, cosmetics, and paraphernalia to maximize her chances of luring someone into her clutches. It gave Meredith the impression that Monica had plans to go out somewhere or with someone after their study session, for she hadn’t had time before their get-together started, earlier than Meredith had expected, to do that. Meredith knew that Monica had planned on spending some time before joining her in the library socializing with acquaintances—Meredith had accurately guessed that Monica’s purpose was to flaunt her change of address to the Suites—but it had turned out that the Latina had only started that endeavor before aborting it and deciding to come join Meredith earlier than planned—with, unknown to Meredith, an eager anticipation (if mostly subsconscious) of being alone with Meredith on this evening. In Monica’s feelings, Meredith was to be her date tonight, although her conscious mind did not quite know that, nor did Meredith.

I hate to be the poor sap that Monica’s trying to seduce. That poor idiot is going to need all the luck in the world dealing with her.

However, for some odd reason, Meredith didn’t seem too keen on the fact that Monica was going out on a date, as she supposed, as soon as the study session was over. More specifically, she found it troublesome that her roommate was headed out to see a guy, or so she assumed. She wasn’t sure why that idea was bothering her so much; after all, Monica was an adult—well, maybe an immature one—and could see whomever she wanted. But a guy? Surely someone as beautiful as Monica could do better. It didn’t dawn, quite, on Meredith that the only alternative to a guy would be a girl, as the type of person who could be truly worthy of her lovely roommate. A girl like Meredith.

Despite their squabbles and spats, Meredith nevertheless saw Monica as a friend, as someone about whom she cared, and the way Monica was dressed for the mystery date could send the kind of message to a guy, and get him so hot, that Monica might end up in a situation she couldn’t control and wouldn’t like. After all, who would really want to get that intimate with a man and give him license to have his way? Meredith reflected that she would not like to be in such a situation, not with a man, and that Monica might not really desire that, either, despite her past indications of enjoying the company of men. To make sure she wasn’t worrying needlessly, Meredith decided to ask Monica about her plans after the study session. At least she could ask about the guy and get some idea of what he was like, what they would be doing, and where they would be going. She didn’t want her friend seeing a guy who could end being trouble for her—nor, for that matter, did she really want her seeing any guy, at all—or going somewhere dangerous.

“Looks like you’re dressed to kill. So who’s the lucky guy?”

“Huh… oh um…no one.” Monica almost added “It’s for you”, but, surprised at what she nearly said, didn’t. “Really, uh, this is just...uh...casual for me,” was the first excuse that came to Monica’s mind. After she said it, both young women knew it was a flaky response.

“Really? Well...I thought that…….. Forget it… You look...you look great,” Meredith stuttered as she tried to mask the feeling of relief that Monica wasn’t going out to see some guy, and the succeeding thrill that Monica might be planning on simply spending the evening with her. “Just want to say that you look great.”

“Thanks…”

Monica averted her gaze away from Meredith and tried to pretend that she was going over her notes. She wasn’t sure why Meredith’s compliment made her feel awkward, as well as delighted. Further, Monica didn’t know why she had decided to dress up for the study session—although she had supposed earlier that it had been for her round of visits before joining Meredith, she now saw that supposition as having been mistaken—other than the fact that something in the back of her mind had urged her that she wanted to make an great visual impression on the young woman she often referred to as nerd girl…or, over the last couple of days, her nerd girl.

“You look great yourself,” Monica complimented back, as she gestured to Meredith’s body, and she was sincere in her comment. Meredith was wearing a black baby tee with the Harley Quinn character on it, a shirt which was cropped, to expose a teasing view of her smooth, flat, white belly and cute belly button, tight in the right places, definitely showing off the slender curves of Meredith’s upper body, and had a relatively low-cut scoop neckline that displayed much of her chest above her breasts, the very tops of her mammary slopes, and some of the modest cleavage formed by the Wonder Bra she had purchased over winter break and had worn for the first time for this occasion.

Monica first found herself drawn to the illustration of Harley Quinn, the impression floating through her that the fantasy bad girl, although Monica had no idea who she was, was both interesting and attractive, and that Meredith had good taste for wearing such a babe on her shirt, although she found the little mounds pushing the illustration outward from beneath the shirt, and distorting it, to be even more eye-catching and intriguing. Monica’s eyes went downward and took note of the hip hugger jeans that encased her lower half and showed off the sensual curves of Meredith’s legs, hips and butt. She also dwelled on the six inches of the redhead’s milky midsection which was exposed, as the tight jeans rode low and the t-shirt was short, and then on the bared skin and the hints of curvy breast flesh revealed by Meredith’s moderately daring neckline—all of which features were firsts for Meredith, who had selected clothing that exposed more of her slim, sexy body than normal, certainly, and, actually, than ever before in a situation like this one.

First time I’ve seen my nerd girl wear those jeans. Though t-shirts and jeans were not Monica’s concept of high-class fashion, she wore them occasionally herself and had been conditioned, additionally, to like her nerd girl and to like her style, however simple and geeky it might be—although Meredith’s current attire was a step or two or three into the provocative, especially for her. She looks good in them… very good. That shirt, too… It fits her really...really well… Her eyes lingered several seconds more on her redhead friend’s enticing little breasts, Monica finding herself scarcely able to tear her gaze away from them. But there was something different, something improved, about Meredith’s face, which Monica had only noticed peripherally so far and wanted to examine in detail. Meredith’s face called to her to look at it, as it were.

As Monica’s eyes traveled back up towards Meredith’s pretty face, she took notice that Meredith was uncharacteristically wearing makeup, certainly more than she was used to seeing on her cute nerd girl. On the rare occasions in the past when the redhead had worn some makeup, it had usually been a minimalistic application; however this time it was apparent that Meredith had exceeded a simple application of lip gloss or a dab of eyeliner. It appeared, in fact, that Meredith had gone all out.

Monica was especially drawn to the coat of bright ruby red lipstick on her roommate’s delicate lips, making them look so...so inviting. She quickly looked at Meredith’s hands, and saw that the pretty redhead had painted her fingernails the same color, to match her lips, and she was surprised at herself for having paid so little attention to these dazzling details before this moment. Monica didn’t know why, but she was mesmerized by those nails and, even more, by Meredith’s lips, delicate, sweet-looking, red-painted lips, on which she focused again. Both the nails and lips were beautiful—one of the first times Monica had allowed herself to think that word in application to her nerdy friend. She wondered briefly what it would be like to be touched by those fascinating hands...or to hold one in her own… But...those lips… They were...so...so… kissable…

Startled by the sudden impulse to kiss Meredith, Monica flinched and chased the nascent sapphic urge away. Trying to resist the desire to linger longer on Meredith’s dangerously inviting lips, Monica tore her eyes away from them, only to be captured by the other new, exotic details of Meredith’s face. Monica now observed that Meredith had some blush on her smooth cheeks, a subdued pink that complemented her residual sprinkling of fading freckles. Drawing her eyes further up, she also noticed that Meredith had on a thick coat of black mascara, giving her eyelashes a noticeable and intriguing volume and length, and heavy eyeliner, framing her eyes with an appealing mystery, complemented by an application of dark sapphire blue eyeshadow. Wanting to miss nothing about this suddenly beguiling doll in front of her, Monica ran her eyes up to her friend’s red hair, styled so pretty and such a hot color...and...were there some blonde locks among the red?... Yes!... Wow...this girl is hot!

Dropping her eyes to Meredith’s breasts again, this time unwittingly without any care to conceal her interest, then alternating her unveiled staring between them and the redhead’s magical lips, Monica felt arousal sweeping over her, which she refused to recognize as such, for, Monica was confident, she was straight, and another girl could not really turn her on. Still, Monica realized that she had never noticed, not properly, not fully admitting it to herself, how beautiful—yes, there was no other word for her—Meredith was. How could I have missed this?

However, Monica’s admiring observations and the accompanying, prolonged silence between them were interrupted when Meredith, at length, broke the awkward pause. She knew Monica was studying her face, hair, and body, and seemed so engrossed that she must have found something about them that she found attractive. Maybe, Meredith reflected, it was the way she was dressed. Or maybe her makeup. And maybe, Meredith hoped, the Latina liked them...and liked her in them.

When she had arrived at the library, knowing that she would have at least some time before Monica’s advent, she had gone to the women’s restroom, which, it being a Friday night, was empty, and applied the cosmetics she had brought with her from her bedroom in the Suites, after first fluffing and combing her hair into a cuter version of her already-cute hairstyle, and admiring the blonde streaks which had mysteriously appeared in her otherwise strikingly red hair. She took her time with the cosmetics, being relatively new to painting her face, especially as heavily as she intended to do it, and painting her nails, but, before she left, she was satisfied that she had done a good job. No, more than good, Meredith had to admit. She looked beautiful, surprising herself with the effect she had achieved.

Meredith had been a little confused about why she was doing this, painting her face and nails, and dressing in a more revealing way than she ever had before, at least in public, and even applying some perfume behind her ears and on her neck and chest before she was done in the restroom. This was so unlike her. She was, after all, the ugly duckling—yes, one who had aspirations to become a swan—but could she pull it off? Was now the right time? And why with Monica?

An answer to that last question swept into her mind. Oh, yeah… Claire advised me to play Monica’s game...imitate her...be more glamorous...use makeup...dress a little more, uh, daring...get her attention...catch her eye...appeal to her...maybe...even make her hot for me……….. But, she’s not even a lesbian...at least not yet… She’s given no indication that she likes girls… Maybe this is too much, too soon…

But, despite Meredith’s doubts and questions, now that she was alone with Monica, and had obviously succeeded at drawing Monica’s attention to her face and body, Meredith had to know for sure what effect she was having on Monica.

“Something wrong?”

Shaken from her stupor, Monica realized that, for reasons unknown to her, she was ogling her friend.

“Huh… what?”

“You’re giving me this look like… Like, is something on my face?”

“Oh, no...nothing. Nothing is wrong… I was… uh… I just noticed your…your lipstick,” Monica quickly blurted out, hoping to deflect Meredith’s question. “It’s a nice color. I-I hadn’t noticed it before. It looks good on you.”

This time, it was Meredith’s turn to be caught off guard. She blushed when she heard Monica give her a compliment. During all the time she had spent with the Latina vixen, not once had she given her a compliment about her appearance. More typically, Monica would take cheap shots at her looks during their spats and arguments, just like the conceited bitches that tormented her during her high school years.

“T-Thanks. I mean…uh...I...I like it, too. It’s nothing really special, but I appreciate the compliment.”

“Well, I mean it. I mean, you should wear it. I mean, nothing wrong with you wearing makeup. And I...I like the way you’re dressed, too.”

“Oh...this? Well, uh, this is something I’ve had lying around, and thought I’d try out. Glad you like it.” Of course, Meredith’s comment was nothing but a weak excuse. The makeup and clothing she had selected were among the bolder items she had bought in the recent past during college breaks, items which she had been too shy or, even, ashamed to try out in public. However, on this day, after her shower at the Suites, as she started to prepare herself for her evening with Monica in the library, and had found herself looking forward with a peculiar anticipation to having time one-on-one with the beautiful Latina, Meredith had felt an urge to be sexier. She felt moved upon to put on the makeup and to try on the clothes she had kept hidden, which she had done partly out of modesty and partly out of the fear of insult from the Latina fox currently sitting beside her. The flattery she had just received from Monica not only relieved her worry, but encouraged her that she had taken a correct course in fixing herself like this for Monica. Deep in her mind Meredith began to formulate desires and ideas about going further, concluding that their friendship would progress faster, and its nature transform more profoundly—that is, in a more sensual, more romantic direction—the sexier she looked for her Latina babe of a friend.

Both girls were avoiding looking at each other, and yet each did sneak glances when they assumed the other girl wasn’t looking. Some of their attempts to peek were met with the gaze of the other girl, causing them to quickly turn away or to, at least, shift their eyes elsewhere.

The awkward silence created a new tension, but it was a nice kind of tension, quite unlike that which they had experienced before with each other. Both had feared that this evening together might end between them as things too often did, with the two roommates snapping or screaming at each other and storming off in different directions. While recently Meredith and Monica had been trying to figure out how to break that cycle, neither had expected this—this atmosphere of friendliness, and even of mutual admiration and attraction—to be the outcome of the study session. And now, neither knew quite how to deal with this situation and its delightful awkwardness.

“I think we’ve had enough of a break. Let’s get back to your assignment,” suggested Meredith, deciding to be the one to try to break the novelly pleasant but awkward tension between them.

Monica didn’t want to get back to business yet, not if it meant not being able to look at Meredith longer, but she knew she ought nevertheless to agree to pursue their primary purpose for being in the library. “Yeah… um… let’s do that.”

“Hey, I got an idea. I want you to try this approach. Pretend you’re an actress studying her lines for a movie.”

Monica’s response was to give Meredith a questioning expression. How could the redhead’s proposal help her understand the accounting assignment?

“Sorry, but I’m not really into acting.”

“Really? I thought someone like you would be into…”

“Acting?!” snapped Monica. “You figure that I’m all about wanting attention? That I only want to make a fool of myself?”

The moment those words escaped her mouth, Monica realized that she had just verbally lashed out at Meredith, and had done so unfairly, making her feel ashamed. She instantly started to worry that she may have once again undermined her chances of building a lasting friendship with the cute redhead.

Monica had never before cared much about Meredith’s sensitivities, nor worried about the pain her insults and arguing might have inflicted. But now she, for some unknown reason, found herself most sensitive to Meredith’s feelings, surprising herself, and found herself wanting Meredith to be happy, sensing, in fact, that Meredith’s happiness was suddenly one of the most important of matters to her, and that her own happiness was intricately connected to Meredith’s. She found that she deeply regretted doing anything which could make her unhappy. Disappointed in herself and being struck with lament and chagrin over her impulsive, nasty explosion, realizing the pain her sharpness must have inflicted on her innocent friend, and not wanting the redhead to see the tears that were forming in her eyes, she turned her back to her roommate.

Moreover, Monica saw in this embarrassing moment, the offense she had taken to Meredith wanting her to view herself as an actress was most unfounded, as, Monica now remembered, there had been a time in her childhood when she did have an interest in the performing arts and had even considered, around the time she started high school, pursuing a life in that field. However, her mother had quashed those dreams and interests when she became aware of them, berating her daughter for thinking such stupid things, claiming to her that actresses were little more than high-class whores, and bemoaning that she, as a mother, would be damned if she let her daughter become a wanton trollop, of that or of any other type. Under that barrage, Monica had, with resentment and disappointment, given up on her acting aspirations.

Until this moment, the Latina hadn’t realized that she still did want to be an actress or some other kind of entertainer, that that dream was still alive within her, and that her negative reaction to Meredith’s suggestion was not her own but her mother’s voice within her popping up, which was little consolation to the black-haired beauty right now, though it did help her understand why she had reacted as she had.

Meredith, remembering that patience and forbearance were her best course, as Claire had instructed her, and also seeing Monica’s quick slump into an avoiding, seemingly embarrassed posture, which Meredith astutely read as indicating what had to be uncharacteristic regret for her outburst, resisted retaliating. Further, she perceived that she had somehow struck a nerve with her suggestion. Was it possible that Monica had a secret desire to perform in public, or that she even had some buried exhibitionistic streak, which had been frustrated, and that it was therefore a sensitive issue for her? Meredith’s perceptive speculation led her to wonder whether she couldn’t do something to encourage that side of her friend to emerge. It now struck Meredith that her beautiful friend was naturally born for the public eye, and that she, Meredith, was just the one to see whether it wasn’t so. Maybe that was a path to Monica feeling more fulfilled—and less tempestuous and fickle—it dawned on Meredith. I’ll find a way to help, Meredith told herself.

While she thought of it consciously as being helpful, subconsciously her goal was to loosen the Latina fox up more, so she would display her physical charms with decreasing inhibition, and become sluttier, to the point that she would be open to sexual advances from sources she otherwise would not be, such as from women...women like Meredith. Unknowingly, she wanted Monica to become the whore her mother had forbidden her to become, and had assured her she would become if she ventured into public entertainment.

As Meredith looked in Monica’s direction, though she could not see the Latina’s face, she saw a tear fall onto a paper underneath it, followed by another. This was the first time she had ever seen her confident Latina roommate in what appeared to be a contrite, vulnerable, and, even, weepy mood. Meredith wanted to let her know it was okay and to cheer her up, but she didn’t know how to approach her without Monica’s temper flaring up again and the conversation devolving into a typical bout of verbal assaults. Then out of the blue, an idea popped into her mind. She quickly concluded that it was worth trying...and if it didn’t work, then it would just be business as usual for the both of them.

All of a sudden, the sound of a camera snapping broke the silence and grabbed Monica’s attention. She turned, her eyes glistening and a tear on a cheek, to face the source and saw Meredith holding her smartphone. Soon the sound of another camera snap was heard.

“That’s good, Monica, very good. Can you give me another one?”

“What the...? What are you doin…”

“Come on, Monica, no need to be shy. Now flash me a smile for this next one,” ordered Meredith in a playful tone.

“Wait...I’m not ready for this,” she muttered, as she removed a tissue from her backpack and quickly wiped her eyes and face, until she was presentable.

“Nerd girl, I’m really not in the…”

“Not until I get a smile...beautiful,” interrupted Meredith, as she snapped a few more pictures of Monica.

Hearing Meredith refer to her as beautiful triggered something inside Monica. It was the first time her redheaded roommate had ever used that word to refer to her out loud, although she had said that to herself about the Latina on numerous occasions, particularly in the last few days. Unknown to Monica, the brainwashing performed on her subconscious mind made her immediately latch onto that word, “beautiful”, as spoken to her from the lips of her pretty, red-headed roommate, and used it to steer her towards the sapphic tendencies embedded deep within her psyche. Meredith saying she was beautiful made her want to be beautiful, for Meredith, and to show herself off to her, so that the cute redhead could assess and appreciate and be moved by her loveliness all the better. The compliment filled the Latina’s heart with a rush of fondness for her friend. Implanted sapphic impressions and desires bubbled up turbulently in her subconscious mind.

Meredith thinks you’re beautiful. You always want to be beautiful for Meredith.

Show your body off to Meredith. You want her to notice your sexy body.

You like Meredith. You love Meredith. You want to get to know her. You want to like what she likes. You want to be close to her. You want to be intimate with her. You want her to love you.

Meredith should be your lesbian girlfriend. Meredith should be your lover.,

You are happy when Meredith finds you to be beautiful.

You want her to know how sexy you are, too.

Being beautiful and sexy for Meredith makes you happy.

You are happy and fulfilled and excited when you turn Meredith on.

You want to turn Meredith on.

You want to show your beauty and your sexy body to Meredith.

You want her to love your beauty and your sexy body.

You want to be beautiful and sexy for Meredith.

Such sentiments bounced around in her subconscious mind until her psyche began to wear down and their influence began to slip through Monica’s mental defenses.

“You really think I’m beautiful?” Monica asked shyly.

Meredith found herself caught off guard by the inquiry. Her conscious reason for having used the word was that, having been caught up in the moment of attempting to capture some good pictures of her friend, she had said something to coax her into a more jovial mood. However, that word as it applied to Monica had already been echoing around inside Meredith’s subconscious side, becoming louder and louder until she couldn’t stop it from coming out of her mouth. It had been inevitable. But the conscious side of Meredith also found herself acknowledging that Monica was beautiful. No, she thought, it was more than that. She was a full-blown, lush Latina vixen, and “beautiful” was just the tip of the iceberg of words that could be used to describe the alluring woman sitting next to her.

“Absolutely, Monica. You would either have to be blind or an incredible idiot to think otherwise.” The conviction in Meredith’s voice disarmed and charmed the Latina.

Meredith’s statement wasn’t something Monica expected her nerd girl to say. The redhead doing so lowered Monica’s mental guard further and she smiled at Meredith and her clearly sincere comment. In short order the camera on Meredith’s smartphone made a sound indicating that it had taken another picture, having this time captured the Latina’s dazzling smile.

“Come on, I thought I asked you to stop, Meredith.” This time there was no irritation or real objection in her voice, it being only a half-hearted attempt at slowing down what already was happening. The redhead also noted that, now that she had started flattering her Latina companion, she had used Meredith’s real name, rather than Monica’s derisive nickname for her, which had been a relatively rare event in the past. Monica would, from this point on, start seeing the pretty redhead differently, as a person to be treated with respect and civility, and as a young woman to be addressed by her real, proper name, rather than as someone to be dismissed with a demeaning nickname. While Monica would still, from time to time, use the “nerd-girl” name, it would be with much less frequency and, from now on, it would almost always be used together with a preceding “my” and spoken or thought with unmistakable affection.

“How about a pout? Think you can pout your lips for me, beautiful?” Meredith teased in a playful tone.

Hearing Meredith use the word again made Monica feel like something within her, perhaps her old, grudge-laden, critical feelings toward Meredith, perhaps her very heart, was melting, making her more amenable to her friend’s request. This time Monica offered only token resistance, before complying with her companion’s request for pouting lips. After that, Monica objected no more, and Meredith continued to take pictures of her, quite freely giving direction and receiving cooperation.

Then Monica started, on her own, to assume various poses, some being quite playful and some more serious, sensual, and sultry. As she lost herself in her posing, Monica came to unconsciously view her performance as being directly for Meredith, primarily between the two of them, more than for the camera and for the sake of making pictures. When she posed blowing a kiss to the camera, Monica was subconsciously blowing it to Meredith...or only really just half subconsciously and half well knowing what she was intending to do.

At length, the poses ventured into progressively risqué territory. Monica finished the impromptu photoshoot with a series of poses which included her seductively reclining backwards across the desk while thrusting her breasts out, and cupping one of them in a manicured hand; bending over a chair, seen from the back, pulling her skirt up her thighs, sticking her generous derrière out, giving Meredith a nice view of her sexy butt, her glossy, curled hair draping over half of her face, and looking over her shoulder sultrily at Meredith; and, in the final picture, standing facing the camera with one high-heeled foot propped on the desk, lifting her skirt half-way up her hips, and spreading her legs enough to teasingly display a naughty peek at the front of her lacy red panties. In a part of her mind, this was all done for Meredith.

At length, both girls amicably agreed to stop and decided to call it a night and to head back to their dorm. Without saying it, it was somehow understood by both girls that they would walk out together and that they would both go home—with no galavanting around by Monica to somewhere else, even though the night was relatively young in her eyes, for a Friday night—as well as that they would spend the rest of the evening together...before going to bed...together.

“So...what are you going to do with the pictures?” Monica asked, curious as to what Meredith would do with the images.

“Don’t worry. I won’t post them on the internet or something like that. I’ll delete them when I get back to our room.”

“Oh…” said Monica. She felt disappointment upon hearing the terminal fate of the fruit of the impromptu photoshoot she and her roommate had had together. Monica didn’t know why it bothered her, other than that she felt the shoot had been a special moment between Meredith and herself. Erasing it didn’t seem right.

Noticing Monica’s unspoken reaction, Meredith, who really wanted to keep all the photos, and wasn’t really committed to deleting any of them, despite her promise, offered, “Of course...I might keep one or two as a reminder of our time together.” Meredith immediately noticed the bright smile on Monica’s face when she suggested that she could be keeping a few pictures. That reaction settled the issue for Meredith. Of course she would keep some—more than merely some—of the pictures of her pretty roommate… but mostly the ones that her subconscious mind deemed sexy and arousing.

“I just want to say thanks for being so considerate,” said Monica softly.

“No problem, Monica.”

“In fact...if you...if you wanted to keep more than a couple of them...as long as you don’t, you know, send them out... My mother would kill me if she ever saw me like that… But, as long as you keep them to yourself...you can keep them all. Maybe sometime...we can look at them...you know...together...if you want…”

“Oh...yeah...I’d like that very much.”

“Meredith...I...I’m sorry about exploding at you the way I did. I had no right…”

“Oh, no, Monica. It’s okay. I understand. I might have brought up some uncomfortable feelings, and, if so, I’m sorry. Guess I don’t know you as well as I should…” Meredith looked her raven-haired companion directly in the eye, batting her own in instinctive, flirtation a few times. “....and as well as I want to.”

Monica found herself blushing again, pleased at the direction and tone of their chat. “I’d like that, too, Meredith. Most of it—you know, our little frictions—have been my fault. Maybe all of it. You are so nice, and you have never deserved the grief I have thrown your way. I haven’t made things easy for either of us.”

“How about we start over?” suggested Meredith.

“Sure. Why not?” Monica extended her hand. “Here’s to a new start.”

“Hi. My name is Meredith Hubert.” Meredith took Monica’s hand into her own and gently shook it. Both girls looked at the pretty sight of their joined hands, feeling shared excitement at their red-nailed fingers wrapped around the soft, smooth hand of one another, and relishing the distinctly feminine contact and the affectionate exchange it represented, before looking each other again in the eyes. “I’m your new roommate. And I’m very pleased to meet you.”

“Hi, Meredith,” Monica responded, as she gently squeezed Meredith’s hand. “My name is Monica Morales. It’s very nIce to meet you, too.”

Enjoying the physical contact, both young women were reluctant to release their hands from the friendly handshake. When they realized that it was lasting longer than what would normally be considered appropriate, they let out playful giggles and stared into each other’s eyes, both feeling something occurring between them, without releasing their handshake. Consciously both took the elating sensation passing between them to be a sense of relief from both of them agreeing to bury the hatchet and start anew. However, their feelings really were the hot sparks of sexual attraction for one another, exploding forth at a subconscious level, which would ere long burst into their conscious lives as the flames of lesbian desire and lesbian acts.

At length, they let go, smiling again into each other’s eyes, and packed up their books, papers, pens, pencils, and laptop computers. As they made their way out of the library and started on their walk to the parking lot, the cool night air caressing their faces, Meredith and Monica simultaneously, without thinking, each reached out for the other’s hand and slipped it into her own, the small act seeming so natural and so right that they hardly noticed it at first. About ten steps later, when they realized what they had done, they looked at each other, giggled, and attributed it, by mutual unspoken agreement, to just being playful with each other, overjoyed as they were that they had finally reached some kind of accord...and they kept their hands together.

A minute or two later, they reached Monica’s car in the parking lot, which was not parked far from Meredith’s, but, as they had both taken their own cars to the library, they had to go their own separate ways. They found themselves a little dismayed at the prospect of parting, even if it would just be until they arrived back at the Suites. They held onto each other’s hand for as long as the situation seemed to allow them to, said bye, and the redhead started to walk toward her car, wishing Monica was still walking with her, and still holding her hand.

Monica watched her roommate walk away. In the moonlight, Meredith’s beautiful red hair seemed to glow exotically as it bounced and flowed around her head and shoulders with her gait, her slender body looked so wonderfully, tightly packed into her top and jeans, and her pale, slim, exposed midriff, undulating in stark contrast to the darkness of her clothes, seemed to call to her for physical interaction, prompting Monica to quickly think of a reason to call her back.

Meredith hadn’t even taken more than six steps before Monica called her name.

“M-Meredith...Meredith, please wait!” Puzzled, and yet excited by the fact that Monica tried to stop her from leaving, Meredith turned to face the Latina temptress.

“Something wrong, Monica?”

“I was thinking… you know… you took a few pictures of me… very sexy ones… and I-I thought… I mean… I just wondered if.. you wouldn’t mind if… I-I mean… Could I get one of you? I mean, if it’s okay...”

Monica didn’t know why she was finding it so hard to get her request out. Consciously, Monica chalked her nervousness up to her mind being frazzled by the long study session, and by the excitement she felt in finally having taken the first step towards a true and stable friendship with Meredith, and by Meredith herself, by the way she looked tonight, and by Monica’s discovery of how wonderful and pretty—and sexy—Meredith really was. While that may have been true, in part, the main underlying cause was programming administered to her psyche, dictating that her self-confidence and independence would diminish the longer she hung around with Meredith. With additional brainwashing and exposure to the fetching redhead, Monica would be plagued with constant insecurity and self-doubt, making her look to Meredith for reassurance, acceptance, a feeling of worth, guidance...and love.

Meredith was stunned by her Latina hottie friend’s request. She had never in a million years expected to hear Monica make such an appeal, or, more surprising yet, to phrase a request so contritely. However, when she recovered from her initial astonishment, and as she eyed up Monica’s body, illuminated by the moonlight and by the parking lot lights—a body she was finding oh-so admirable, or even, dare she say, attractive—she felt inclined to grant her friend’s petition. For such a woman, in fact, in this moment she felt she would do about anything.

“Sure. What are friends for?”

“Well...and...actually...I was thinking more along the lines of us...together. Would that be okay?”

“Sure thing…beautiful,” said Meredith in a playful manner.

Monica timidly blushed and turned her head slightly away from Meredith’s gaze, not wanting her friend to see her shy, delighted expression upon hearing Meredith’s response, and that wonderful, touching, thrilling, melting compliment again.

Meredith walked back towards Monica . “So...how do you want to do this?” she asked.

“Let me pull out my phone and I’ll take one in selfie mode.”

“Sounds good to me.”

As Monica pulled out her smartphone and got it ready, she and Meredith got in position to take their picture together. Feeling the Latina’s body against hers brought about a comfortable feeling and unknowingly she wrapped her arm around Monica’s waist and rested her hand slightly above her waist, further drawing Monica’s body against hers, and Monica did the same thing with her free hand, finally getting a feel of the soft, white, bare skin of Meredith’s mid-section, unable to resist giving it a subtle caress or two or three, the sensation being as heavenly as she earlier thought it might be.

The contact between their bodies stirred longing and desire for each other deep within their psyches. On the surface, their conscious minds could excuse their sensations as giddy joy from mutual acceptance of their new friendship, but deep within it was the glowing, growing flame of desire for one another.

“I’ll take it on three. One… two.. three…”

And in that moment, both Meredith and Monica did something neither expected the other to do. They both were in a playful mood, or that was their excuse to themselves, and simultaneously each thought it would be fun to plant a quick kiss on the other’s cheek. They acted in concert, unintentionally but as if they had planned or willed it to happen together, suddenly facing each other and leaning in with their lips. The result was that they kissed each other on the lips.

Both women looked at each other with surprise at what had just transpired between them in the library parking lot. A week before, both Meredith and Monica would have been alarmed and incensed and shocked and distressed if something like this had occurred; but now as they silently gazed at each other, they realized that the kiss had been...enjoyable...mutually so. No, more than just enjoyable. It had been simply, wonderful. Sizzlingly so.

For Monica, that quick kiss she had shared with Meredith was her first kiss with a woman. She knew immediately that it had felt and tasted better, light years better, than any of the kisses she had exchanged with the boys she had dated. Those kisses now came across in her memory as awkward, clumsy, unpleasant, and, even, simply sickening. There was no comparison at all.

Monica wanted another one. Another kiss from Meredith, preferably a deeper kiss—and subconsciously she absolutely craved one—but she didn’t feel comfortable asking for another. She hoped, however, that her pretty red-haired friend with the delicious ruby-red lips would offer a repeat.

Meredith was a bit embarrassed, but she knew without any doubt that she had enjoyed the kiss, deep inside feeling that she had not only enjoyed the kiss but had loved it, crazily loved it, had loved the sensation of her painted lips touching and pressing on Monica’s lipstick-coated lips...beautiful Monica’s...and she wanted to try for another one as badly as did Monica.

It wasn’t Meredith’s first kiss with a woman, let alone with a beautiful woman. That honor had gone to Claire a few days ago, when that black-haired fox had consoled and cuddled her after she and Monica had that ugly spat., at which time they had plotted further to tame and to snag Monica, which had included them conspiring to become lesbian girlfriends to make Monica jealous, for which they had “practiced” the art of kissing. However, while Claire’s kisses had made her toes curl, her heart melt, and her pulse race wildly, this kiss with Monica felt different. It had reached into her very soul and touched her, it had seemed, as if the very heart of a destined soulmate had kissed her heart. And the beautiful Latina’s mouth was so incredibly delicious, even just a taste was. Yes...there was something most magical and compelling about Monica’s lips, and about Monica herself, that made her want another one. Right now.

“So… um… you want to try again?” asked Meredith, trying to quickly recover from the incident while also leaving the door open for more of the same. “I...I mean take another picture… if you want…”

“No, it’s fine. No need,” the Latina forced herself to say. She wasn’t sure whether Meredith’s offer included another kiss, and felt she had to assume it didn’t, so she played it safe, though she was disappointed. Nevertheless, she just had to let her pretty friend know, at least indirectly, how she felt. “It was… perfect.” Monica spoke in a soft whisper.

She looked at the picture she had just snapped. It showed the two of them kissing, their eyes closed...as if they were… lovers. A perfect moment captured and frozen in time.

“Well, if it was good for you,” Meredith stated, also secretly disappointed that there would be no more kisses right now, and also speaking with a veiled reference to their first, sweet intimacy, “then I guess I’ll see you back at the dorm?”

“I want you… I mean, yes, I’ll see you there.”

Again the awkward silence lingered until both girls repeated their reluctant goodbyes. Neither wanted to leave that place, which had been magical for them, but now, as they got into their cars, they started looking forward to what lay ahead for them. I guess it won’t be so bad to share a room with nerd girl...with Meredith...and...a bed...with her, Monica thought as she started her car. She thought about how, earlier in the day, when they were at the point of moving into the Suites, Jessica’s laying dibs on Claire meant she and Meredith would have to room—and sleep—together. When she had first comprehended the reality of that arrangement, she had not been convinced that she could share a room, let alone a bed, with Meredith, despite having claimed to the other roommates that all would be fine. But since then, and especially after their study date tonight—for a date it had seemed to both of them in most every way—she had been finding the idea of cohabitation with the pretty redhead very appealing. She was now grateful that she had not raised too much of a fuss over it.

No… It won’t be bad at all. Meredith is...so...so sweet...and so beautiful. Someday she’ll make someone a wonderful...a wonderful girlfriend…

As she made her way to the Suites, she couldn’t help but think, I’m so glad to have someone like her in my life.

In the meantime, as Meredith drove home, she also reflected on the sweet hour or two she had just spent—and the unexpected, fleeting, wondrous union of their painted lips—with her previously difficult roommate. But Monica hadn’t been difficult tonight. Well, maybe for a few moments here and there. But overall...she had been...wonderful. Meredith started to wonder why. What had been different tonight?

Then it struck her. Was it the way she, Meredith, was dressed...and her makeup...and her attitude? …… Yes... Claire had been right. ‘Dress for her.’ ‘Let her see more.’ ‘Paint your lips, and use other makeup for her.’ ‘Be nice to her.’ ‘Flirt with her.’ Yes… It had all worked.

She particularly thought about the lipstick she had worn. Monica had seemed to be enamored with it, or with her lips painted with it, and had even said she liked it, with a word of direct encouragement to use it again in the future. Hmmmm… Meredith couldn’t help but wonder how big of a factor her lipstick had been in them actually...kissing… They had never come close to kissing before, but tonight, on the first occasion of her being alone with Monica while wearing lipstick, and Monica wearing it at the same time, things had happened between them.

While their kiss had been surprising, in retrospect, it had nevertheless not been completely unexpected. On the contrary, it had been...natural...as if it were meant to be, as if it were destiny, as if it were the fulfillment of a buried wish, of a secret longing.

She reflected again on the lovely sensation of feeling her painted lips meeting those of her beautiful roommate...the way the lipstick had made the kiss so...so slick...so wet...and the way their lips had stuck together ever so slightly, for just a fraction of a second, when they separated...as if the lipstick had been willing their mouths to remain joined…just like it had been a key to bringing their lips together in the first place.

While Meredith was having these reflections about their seeming destined kiss and the role that lipstick had played in it, Monica’s mind was entertaining almost exactly the same sentiments, playing the kiss over and over in her mind, knowing that she had stared repeatedly at her friend’s ruby-red painted lips this evening, and had been drawn to them, and sensing that Meredith had been drawn to her red-painted lips, as well. Like Meredith, she hoped for a replay of the situation, both girls wearing lipstick, alone together, in private, the two mouths on a collision course, with some excuse, some pretense, some “accident”, some justification to make a kiss happen again...once, at least...or, better...another time, too...and more times...many, many more times…

Meanwhile, Meredith now was sure Claire was right… Lipstick was a great thing to wear for Monica... Meredith reviewed the fact that she had other lipsticks...in other colors...that she could try...and would try...for Monica… And yet, the red...that had really seemed to do the trick… Meredith knew that, from this point on, she would be wearing lipstick most all the time when she knew she would be with Monica. In fact, the wearing of lipstick by either one of them when they were together, whether alone or even with others, from this night on would be a an unspoken yet intrinsically, mutually understood signal between them that the wearer was inviting the other to kiss her, and wanted to kiss her, and, mainly because of that, and to otherwise catch the attention and rev the motor of the other, each would both be sure to wear lipstick, often in a bold color, most of the time when together.

As Meredith further considered her experiences and lessons of the evening, she saw that what she had discovered tonight in the shower, with Claire watching, seemed to have been confirmed also: She could attract another girl by showing off her body...even if her body, at least so far, wasn’t as “built” as her roommates and various other popular girls. The main thing was that she showed off what she did have...and that she especially showed off skin. Meredith had done that...and Monica had looked...and, by all indications, had been interested....had been attracted....maybe even...turned on? With Meredith’s makeup and her clothes, and her cute hair style and beautiful hair color, and with Meredith making a concerted effort to be patient and nice and restrained, and to compliment her Latina friend, Monica had actually been nice to her for an extended period...and had, in fact, it seemed—rather obviously, when one thought about it—to like her...to even...yes...to be attracted to her… And if she was able to attract Monica, and Claire before, she could appeal to other girls, as well…

Lost on Meredith was the fact that she felt no inclination and was taking no thought to appeal to boys. Wanting girls and women, and them only—especially Monica—to be interested in her, to even stir desire in them for her, seemed so natural and exciting to her right now, as it had earlier in the day with Claire, that there didn’t seem to be any reason to question that mindset, which was gradually taking deeper root within her conscious persona.

A smile crossed her pretty face. There was so much more she could do...and would do.

While Meredith ruminated about her ability to entice Monica and other females, she was relatively unaware of the effect Monica had been having on her. She had just spent the better part of two hours with the Latina beauty while Monica had been decked out in her “attack” mode. Yes, Meredith had seen her like this before, but had never spent this much time with this version of her, drinking in her mesmerizing perfume and compelling beauty and voluptuous curves and captivating hair and flawless skin and painted, manicured hands, all framed in such stunning makeup and provocative attire, especially sitting next to her, up so close, and with the Latina beauty focusing so much on her, and with such favorable attention……...as if she were Monica’s...date...for the night. Few were the guys who would not have been driven bonkers for Monica after such a treat, and Meredith, given her conditioning, was no different. Her lust for her Latina roommate had never been more intense than now.

Monica is soooo beautiful. I can’t wait to see her again in a few minutes...to be with her in our room...our bedroom…and in...in our...our bed……..to sleep with her…….

She touched two red-tipped fingers to her red-painted lips...to the spot Monica’s glossy, colored, perfumed lips had touched...as if trying to recapture the sublime sensation.

Her lips… They are so...so soft...and moist...and creamy... Mmmmmm…

Monica and I are going to become such very, very good friends. She’s going to like me more than she can possibly imagine. She won’t be able to live without me…….... and...maybe...I’ll feel the same…about her…….She’s so hot…

I’m so glad to have someone like her in my life.

Claire walked around the garden-like, star-lit grounds of the Preston Suites to regain her composure and to try to make sense of what had occurred between her and Jessica in their dorm room shortly before.

It had started out okay at first, she thought. Jessica, having stripped herself down to her underwear—and what underwear!—had suggested that they watch one of the lesbian porn DVDs which Claire had found. She probably meant it as a joke, and Claire had seen it as harmless fun. Soon, however, both she and Jessica had become mesmerized by the lesbian porn that was playing. Claire especially found the blonde porn actress breathtaking.

Somehow it had transformed into a masturbation session and Claire now felt a bit of embarrassment in the recollection, as pleasuring herself to lesbian porn with her best friend next to her had not been something she had ever imagined herself doing, or allowing herself to do. It had been so...so lewd...so unlike her normal self. However, what unhinged her so badly was what happened at the end, after they both had climaxed. After the intense orgasm that had rocked her body—and there was no way to deny how awesome that had been—Claire had stared at her finger, slick with her wetness, fascinated, and had contemplated what to do with it...when Jessica made an offer...a depraved offer, it had struck Claire… Jessica had extended her own finger, still wet with her own cum juice, the finger that had been inside her vagina, pleasuring herself...and invited Claire to lick that finger clean...a finger covered in…

More of the recent memory played in her mind...the way she, Claire, had rejected the seemingly indecent offer rashly and self-righteously…the way she had sprang up, backed away from her dear roommate, interrupted their enjoyment of the porn video, spoke nastily to her, underlining her rejection of her pretty friend, and abruptly left, slamming the door, literally and figuratively, on what otherwise, before the “incident”, had been memorable fun... That recollection made Claire clutch her head again in pain.

In her freak-out, she had behaved in a way she normally wouldn’t have towards Jessica, which had led her to here, walking in the cool night time air around the quad area, among the flowers and trees and shrubbery, as she tried to make sense of the events.

Remorse swept over her. She didn’t have to react like that. In fact, what would it have hurt her to accept Jessica’s offer and taste the cum on her finger? After all, it wasn’t as if she, Claire, hadn’t been curious about how it would taste, and what it would have been like to have her attractive roommate’s finger in her mouth. How could that have hurt anybody? And, who knows, it might have been fun. She might have liked it. As these thoughts passed through Claire’s head, her headache disappeared quickly.

On the other hand, if she had done that, what would that have said about Claire’s sexuality? Surely, licking another girl’s cum from that girl’s finger would be something only a gay girl would do, wouldn’t it be? Yet...should she be so closed-minded about new experiences, even though they might defy conventional standards of sexuality?

Regina’s advice of trying to see things from a lesbian perspective of the world rang in her mind. She had been trying to do that, and it had been enlightening, as Regina had promised, and even fun...yes, no doubt about that. However, while she might be okay with trying to expand her mind to get a better understanding of a LGBT lifestyle, Claire wasn’t so sure that she wanted to actually live that lifestyle. She could now see that there were definite upsides to it, and unique enjoyments, but she was a straight girl, basically, and thought she always would be one. Could a straight girl really ever become a gay one? Well, whether it was possible or not, she was going to be open to lesbianism, at least for now, and still try to see and think and, even, feel like one. That was the promise she had made to Regina. Little did Claire realize that soon she would be acting like one, too—all the time and most ardently, in fact—and had already started to do so.

A few minutes and some deep breaths later, Claire felt she had managed to get a good control over her warring emotions, had a better perspective, was seeing more clearly, was prepared to face Jessica again, and had started back toward her penthouse apartment. Certainly she would start off with a big apology.

As Claire got off the elevator, she momentarily paused in the hallway. To her left was a door that led to her sexy new neighbor, Abby...and to her right was the entrance to her dorm apartment, with her equally cute friend Jessica inside. Claire knew she had hurt Jessica’s feelings and had to make amends with her friend...but...at the same time, she wanted to get to know Abby better…

Conflicted, Claire took a deep breath as she walked closer towards the doors. Then, as if a ray of inspiration struck her, she decided to go with a gut feeling—which really was sheer subconscious lust—and Claire knocked on the door that she felt appropriate, Abby’s door. Jessica could wait. She would always be there.

Claire was nervous as she waited. Was she disturbing Abby? Was Abby even there? What would she look like? Did Claire look good enough, without makeup and in casual clothes? Shouldn’t she have dressed up for this? What was she even going to say? However, Claire didn’t have much time to plan anything, as the door opened, giving her an excited rush of anticipation, but, to her surprise, it wasn’t Abby who opened the door. Instead it was Regina Burke, who seemed to be only wearing a shimmering purple bathrobe. Claire was stunned and speechless, her heart instantaneous racing, both at the unexpected presence of the beautiful woman who meant so much to her and at the way her voluptuous, apparently naked body was displayed through the thin, clingy, and shiny material.

Holding the door wide open, knowing Claire was checking her body out and letting her have a good look, Regina gave Claire a puzzled look. Of course, Regina was only feigning surprise, as she had purposely placed herself as Claire’s neighbor, and was confident that, sooner or later, and most likely this evening, Claire would come calling on Regina’s current roommate, Abby, that she could not resist doing so. In fact, she had been apprised of Claire’s approach just now via Hecate’s surveillance system.

One thing that Claire noticed immediately after an initial scan over the woman’s sensuously-clad body was that Regina had her long brunette locks with blonde highlights styled in elegant,loose waves that flowed freely over her shoulders and down her back and her front, her bangs straight with the ends gently curled inward. It was the first time that Claire had seen her beloved mentor with her lovely hair completely unrestrained and loose, and the look was a heart-poundingly romantic one.

The alluring woman had on black eyeliner and mascara against a black violet eyeshadow, and her lips were moist with a thick application of plum purple lipstick. As she was visually digesting the sensuality of the woman standing before her, Claire discerned with greater certainty than she had on her first appraisal that the woman was wearing nothing under bathrobe, two indications of that being that her large, obviously braless nipples were poking obscenely and invitingly into the glossy, thin fabric and that when Regina moved, even slightly, the robe parted below her belt and revealed smooth, bare thighs. The vision of sexy, bewitching beauty that was Regina made Claire’s heart almost hurt with passionate throbbing, to see and to be with her now, like this, and so unexpectedly.

After waiting for Claire to sufficiently eye her up, Regina broke the silence. “Why, Claire, isn’t this a pleasant surprise? What can I do for you?”

“R-Regina! Um… I… I...what...what are… I mean, I’m Abby’s neighbor across the hall.”

“I see. Well, I’m sure this is a bit of a surprise for you. Unfortunately, my home had a disaster due to faulty plumbing. I was informed that the repairs would be extensive and would leave me without a home with functional plumbing for some time. So I called in a few favors, and here I am.”

Of course, Regina’s absurd excuse was a bold-faced lie—her home was still in perfect condition and, even if it weren’t, she had plenty of other housing options which would be more suitable for a university administrator than to move in among students in a dorm, even though this one was more palace than dorm—but due to Claire’s brainwashing, making her unconditionally trust and believe her mentor, she accepted what Regina told her as fact. Regina’s true purpose for her temporary living arrangement had two facets to it. One, she was in charge of Abby’s brainwashing, as well as Claire’s, and living with her made that all the easier and expeditious, and, two, it placed her closer to Claire, to whom she also wanted easier access, both for training and, little known to anyone else—except for maybe the suspicious, observant, and love-sick Sandra—for her own personal romantic and sexual intentions.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Regina. I hope everything will turn out alright for you.”

“I’m sure it will, my dear. So...what do you want me to do to you?”

Due to the pleasant surprise of seeing a woman whom she admired—and, to be frank, loved, as much as or more than anyone else she knew—and, in fact, had come to view as a better role model for her than her own mother, and on whom she had been secretly developing an intimate, raging crush, Claire, with stars in her eyes, had completely overlooked the fact that Regina had just asked, and offered, with her insinuating question, whether Claire wanted the ravishing brunette to do things to her body. Her inner mind understood that intention and cried a resounding “yes! everything!”, but her outer mind interpreted the question as she thought Regina must have meant it, as if Regina were inquiring about the purpose of her visit, and she answered accordingly, but only after spacing out again, while running her eyes all over Regina more.

Regina knew that she could have confessed that she was brainwashing Claire, her roommates, and other college girls into becoming lesbian sex slaves, and Claire would have completely missed the content of her words—first, because Claire’s conditioned mind would neither comprehend nor accept that which conflicted with her lofty, trusting view of Regina, and, second, because, at the moment, Claire’s visual system was so occupied that her auditory system was rather nonfunctional. Claire just stood there admiring Regina, and would have been perfectly fine doing it all day, but she came back to her senses when Regina gave her a coy smile and politely cleared her throat.

“I… um… well, I came over to see Abby. Uh, is she here?”

The moment Claire said that, she realized that Regina might interpret her statement as being a little rude, implying that she came to see Abby rather than Regina.

“I mean… I mean, not that I didn’t come to see you, too… It’s just that I didn’t know you were here. I would have come to see you and say hi the moment I got here, Regina...of course...but…”

“Oh, no need to explain, darling. I know you would have. And I know that you are also eager to see you new friend, Abby.” For a second, Claire wondered how Regina knew that she and Abby knew each other, but then it dawned on her that Regina must have seen them together at the Artemis Center, and figured out that they either already had become acquainted there, or would, especially seeing that they had “been rescued” by a common means. “She’s a very cute girl, don’t you think?”

More than cute, Claire thought. “Yes, very much. I...I think we just kind of hit it off, you know?”

“Yes, I most certainly do know. You like her, don’t you?”

Claire wasn’t quite sure how Regina meant that, but she quickly concluded that she could only mean that Claire liked Abby as a potential friend and wanted to get to know her better, which was all quite true, as far as it went.

What’s not to like? “Yes… She’s very likable.”

“Well, Claire, she’s just as eager to see you again. You must have made a wonderful impression on Abby, too,” Regina said pleasantly. “She had already mentioned you before today,” a fact which immediately caused Claire’s heart to flip, “and then, after she greeted you and your roommates earlier today and took you on that tour, all she could do was talk about you, about how nice it was to see you again, about how beautiful she thought you were, about how nice you are, and about how wonderful it was to get to spend a part of the afternoon with you.” Claire couldn’t help but beam happily at that information, Regina’s scheme of matchmaking, the beautiful woman could easily see, weaving its enchantment around her black-haired disciple as intended. “She said she wished it had been just the two of you, but she hoped she could see you again very soon. And here you are!”

Claire was so overjoyed to hear the sweetness of Abby’s disposition toward her that she couldn’t contain her desire to see the beautiful coed again as soon as possible, rude or not. “So… umm… is Abby around?”

“Oh, yes. Where are my manners? Please come in.” Regina gestured for Claire to come into the dormitory apartment. Said the spider to the fly, Regina finished the invitation silently.

As Regina and Claire walked into the apartment, Claire took a look around. It was similar in design to hers, with a few differences here and there, but nothing that really stood out.

“Claire, I’m glad that you arrived. I feel that your timing is very serendipitous, because I could use your help, actually.”

“Sure, I would love to help. What can I do to help, Regina?.”

“Well, it involves helping Abby with her sponsorship program. I was going to assist her, but I think that having a neutral third party, like you, would be more beneficial,” explained Regina, as she gestured Claire to the couch in the living room. “Please take a seat.” After watching Claire take a seat on the couch, Regina took hers on a plush velvet armchair across from her.

“So...how can I help?” asked Claire.

“In a moment, my dear. After all, there’s nothing wrong with you and I doing a little catching up. Besides, Abby still needs a little more time to prepare.”

Regina purposely left her comment open-ended to create an air of mystery, building Claire’s anticipation for Abby’s appearance and encouraging her imagination to run on about it. Hmmm… Prepare for what?.... That sounds interesting… I wonder what...what Abby’s going to look like… I can’t wait to see her…

Of course, Claire had no idea that Abby was undergoing her own brainwashing session at the moment in her bedroom that would make her more receptive to and cooperative with what Regina had planned for the two coed beauties.

“Oh...okay...yeah... I’d like that.” Claire started to turn her focus on her beautiful mentor.

“So, sweetheart, what have you been up to in the past few days.” Regina’s use of endearments registered favorably with Claire, reinforcing the way she felt special with Regina, and felt like one of her favorites, or like a cherished female intimate of hers...or, even, like her daughter. It also underlined the love she felt for this incredible woman, how she wanted to be closer to her, and how, as indicated, in part, by the affectionate names, that was indeed happening.

Despite feeling like that about Regina, or, perhaps, because of it, and still flustered from learning that Regina was also her neighbor, along with Abby, Claire found herself feeling inept in trying to muster something to say.

“Um… well… uh… I-I managed to complete two of the online sensitivity courses you assigned me.”

“Really?” Regina queried, raising an eyebrow. “Please tell me what you’ve learned so far.”

“Well, I learned…”

As Claire tapped into her memory to recount the lessons learned from the modules, she did not know that her recollection of them had been altered. Consciously, she would remember being given a wholesome, thoughtful, objective, and truthful education on being tolerant and respectful towards people of different cultures, genders, and sexuality. In reality, however, the primary intended and actual effect of the modules was to reinforce Claire’s insidious brainwashing, with a secondary purpose of gauging her progress in becoming a lesbian and, in time, a willing agent of Hecate.

The first module was standard fare for Hecate brainwashing. On the surface, it introduced the viewer to diversity in mankind in general, the philosophies underlying tolerance and appreciation of differences among people, the basics of human attraction and sexuality, and the incidence of and reasons for homosexuality, especially among females, seen from a modern viewpoint. While the conscious mind was listening to that, the unconscious mind was absorbing a Playboy-like survey of females, invariably provocatively dressed or lewdly naked, of various ages, races, and body shapes, with an emphasis on breast shapes and sizes and methods to display them, hair colors and styles, facial features, and clothing and makeup options, while discussing options in morality, lesbian dating, kissing, seduction techniques, and other such practices, showing image after image and clip after clip illustrating the points being made, with a great deal of frank and lewd nudity and sex, all being exclusively woman-on-woman and women-for-women material.

By the time she was done with it, Claire felt quite invigorated and enlightened—over, among other things (as she supposed), her improved understanding of and appreciation for deviations from traditional heterosexuality (which, she saw, were as legitimate and as desirable as the more widely accepted and time-honored straight orientation), and one’s potential for experimentation, discovery, and fulfillment in life, which included a possible exploration of nontraditional romantic and sexual variations open to an attractive and liberated young woman such as herself. She also remembered the module being rather like a well-made and academic, if stirring, documentary, as one would expect to characterize an instructional product recommended by a professional college administrator such as Regina.

Claire had found, she recounted, the second module to be even more intriguing. At face value, it was a video that featured two young women, seen from the waist up, exuding a friendly, compassionate, and attractive charm in the video. One was a blonde woman who had on a form-fitting long sleeve pink cotton top, her long blonde locks spilling down past her shoulders, her bangs straight, the bangs and the whole mane sparkling with silver highlights. Her lips were painted a frosted cherry pink, her cheeks glowing with rose-tinted blush, and her blue eyes framed with pitch-black mascara and lavender eyeshadow. Something about the blonde seemed familiar and appealed to Claire, which, unrealized by Claire, was because the young woman’s face resembled Claire’s, and had been selected for this part to encourage Claire to imagine herself in the girl’s place. Her partner was a buxom black beauty wearing a hot pink tank top which displayed her bountiful cleavage extremely well. Her lips were painted a rich wine red color and her cheeks were touched with dark burgundy rouge and her eyelids with cobalt blue eyeshadow. She had her arresting ocean-blue hair braided and woven into an updo style. Her face resembled Jessica’s. The bedazzling women had their arms lovingly wrapped around each other, flashing their pearly whites at the camera.

The fetching blonde introduced herself as Patricia and her sexy partner as Charisma. The hottie couple talked about LGBT struggles and issues. However, what Claire didn’t know was that the video was interlaced with them openly flirting, making out, naked, in sensual embraces, engaged in foreplay, and erotically exploring each other’s body, ending up in bed and having hard-core sapphic sex.

Other scenes in the second module showed an attractive thirty-something mother discussing LGBT issues with her extremely cute, young teen daughter while cuddling innocently in bed one morning, while the hidden portrayal was one of licentious lust, nudity, and sex between the two; two college-aged sisters rooming together at a university sharing their feelings with each other about having witnessed their other two roommates having sex in bed together, and deciding to be appropriately tolerant about it, while, in the buried story and images, giving in to their suppressed feelings and carnal urges for each other, “going gay”, like their roommates had gone, and making love; and, finally, an older woman, a high school guidance counsellor, befriending a cheerleader at her school, who had questions about her sexuality and about her romantic feelings for other girls, and the wise counsellor helping the girl find enlightenment, which meant discovering that she was gay, of course, and that she should be happy about it and actively explore her sapphic attraction to other girls, with the covert presentation being the woman seducing the teen into a lesbian sexual and romantic relationship, which was portrayed as moral and perfect for both of them, a relationship in which they both ended up ecstatic and fulfilled, and which led them to marriage, their first marital night being shown in pornographic detail.

As with the first module, consciously Claire thought she was watching a sensitivity video, but subconsciously she was again watching lesbian porn, bombarding her mind with desires for lesbian intimacy and reassuring her that such desires were natural, that erotic lust for women, including her own mother, younger sister, and friends, was normal for a vixen like her.

Regina monitored Claire as she went on about the modules she had completed, noting the younger woman’s excited demeanor and body language, which Regina knew reflected both the prurient content Claire’s subconscious mind had absorbed from them, as well as Claire’s arousal from being with and ogling herself. To inflame that lust, the older beauty carefully shifted her body and her robe, making it appear as if the robe slid off on its own, and gently exposed her bare left shoulder and a teasing view of her partially uncovered breasts. Her ploy worked, as she saw Claire’s gaze shift. She knew that the raven-haired coed was now focused on her exposed flesh. Indeed, Claire was captivated by the generous portions of her creamy, curvy mounds now open to view, as well as by the thrilling possibility of the robe sliding even further and showing her a nipple. The young beauty’s lips parted slightly and her chest started to rise and fall a bit more noticeably.

A small, wicked smile appeared on Regina’s face as she discerned the effect she had desired coming over her pretty companion. Then, feeling she had had enough fun for the time being and had suitably primed Claire for what would follow in a few minutes, she continued her false pretense of “catching up”, followed by then opening up another matter sure to bring her and Claire closer, before moving on to executing her plan tonight for Claire and Abby.

“So, Regina,” Claire concluded her answer to Regina’s inquiry, “I think that course is helping me to be more open-minded. I feel so good when I finish each module, for some reason...I guess because I’m learning so much about real tolerance. They really are well done. I can’t wait to watch the third module.”

Yes, I bet you can’t, my budding little pervert. “Well, it’s great to hear that you’re taking this assignment so seriously, Claire….. By the way, you know that other suggestion I gave you? To try to see the world through the eyes of a lesbian? Have you been doing it? How has that been turning out?”

“Oh, yeah, I have been trying to do that. And you know what? It’s been kind of...kind of a cool experience, to be honest. I think...I think I’m beginning to understand why some women like other women...”

“That’s wonderful, darling. Keep it up. I don’t intend to try to make you a real lesbian, of course,” Regina lied boldly, “but it won’t hurt you at all to try that attitude out a little longer, just to make sure you are overcoming that terrible case of prejudice you picked up at home. We wouldn’t want Ms. Powers to suspect you, to have any reason to withdraw her generous scholarship, would we?”

“Oh, no...definitely not…”

“You know one thing that I think might make this experience more complete and eye-opening for you, sweetheart? Have you considered dating another girl?”

“Dating…?” Of course, Claire had contemplated that very thing recently, largely thanks to the various episodes of brainwashing imposed on her. She had, in fact, already decided, more or less, that she would take Monica out to dinner, or something like that, to thank her for lending her that nice business suit the day she went to the Artemis Center to secure her new scholarship, as she had told herself. Then, too, she was technically in a dating relationship with Meredith, although they hadn’t acted on it yet. The thought had passed through her mind about something like a date with Abby, too. And she had also had the impression that she wouldn’t mind going out with Traci ...not at all...for a girl’s night out, so to speak, nothing more...of course…

The premise which undergirded her new basic courting instinct sang through her head: After all...girls should date girls…

“Yes, dear...for example, how about Abby? I have the feeling she would say ‘yes’ if you asked.”

“Really? Is she a...is she a...:”

“A lesbian? I don’t know, dear. I haven’t asked. But you don’t have to be lesbians just to go out and have a good time.”

“Oh, yeah...of course…”

“Or...did you have something more in mind that you wanted to do with Abby?”

“Oh...uh…”

“You don’t have to answer that, honey. But you two would make an ideal couple.

“And then there are your roommates. I haven’t met them yet, but I have looked at their files, and I think they’re all very cute and any one of them—or all of them—would make a great girlfriend for you. Don’t you agree?”

“Yes… That’s true.”

“And you don’t have to limit yourself to someone your own age. I know you like Traci, for example...don’t you?”

How does she know? Am I so obvious? “...........yes……..”

“Won’t you think about it, honey? For me? I would hate anything to happen to threaten your scholarship, and if you started to date a woman or some women, that could really help you out to see what a lesbian’s life is like and to conquer your reluctance about them and other lifestyles that have been foreign to you. And Ms. Powers could have no doubts about you after that.”

Regina’s proposal was striking Claire’s straight, good-girl side as being a little extreme, but it was exactly what her new randy, gay subconscious side craved to do, and was now being presented with a green light to do. “Okay...But, Regina, I don’t really know how to go about it, quite...”

“Don’t worry about anything, darling. I’ll be here to help you every step of the way. In fact, I think I know just the thing to help you get started.” Regina’s plan was to date Claire herself, in addition to Claire dating other women, and now she had it set up perfectly. Her first step, in due time, would be to take Claire out on a “practice” date. “But we can talk more about that another time.”

“Okay.”

“I think that Ms. Powers will be glad to hear that you’re coming along so well.”

Claire didn’t understand or fully realize it, but hearing Regina mention Serena Powers elicited emotions of love and desire within her. It was as if she were hearing the name of a lover, and it caused a euphoric rush of pleasure to flow through her body. That sensation was buttressed by knowing, per Regina’s comment, that she had pleased her sponsor, as well...as if she had pleased her...her god...or her goddess… In any case, she was certainly glad that she had watched the enlightening, stimulating online sensitivity course to the point she had so far, and she felt reinforced in her desire to watch the rest of the course as soon as possible, and maybe to even ask Regina if there was other, similar material she could consume. She did not realize that her subconscious mind was really seeking for more lesbian porno—of which she had just earlier had her first taste in her fully conscious, real life and for which she had been programmed to have a strong appetite—and for the erotic stimulation it gave to her sapphic libido.

“That’s good to hear, Mom.” In her elated state of mind, Claire let slip her programmed desire to have Regina as her mother. Eyes going wide with shock after realizing her slip of the tongue, Claire covered her mouth and gave Regina an embarrassed look.

Having clearly heard what Claire had said, Regina was quite pleased to see that Claire was showing some signs that this line of her brainwashing was emerging openly, but she also noted that it had required some strong emotional stimulant to bring them to surface. Hopefully—no, Regina mused, undoubtedly—in time such triggers would not be needed, for this and for other aspects of the girl’s indoctrination, and they would eventually bubble up freely to Claire’s active, conscious mind and take it over. But that wasn’t quite the case yet, and, not wanting to let this opportunity pass by without exploiting it, Regina decided to immediately take advantage of the situation.

Without bothering to pull her satin robe back up properly onto her shoulder, Regina arose and sauntered over to Claire—allowing, with her movements, the top part of her silky robe to slip further down and to open between her breasts even wider and the bottom part to flap open as she walked, to expose glimpses of her bare thighs and of the shadowy, mysterious, pantiless nakedness between her legs—and sat next to her on the sofa, right next to her, with her legs slightly spread and the robe parting enough to expose most of her thighs.

To Claire, whose eyes were riveted to Regina’s robe and it’s creamy, voluptuous contents and whose mouth was involuntarily watering, it almost felt as if her lovely hostess was essentially naked, or should be, or could be with the slightest shift of her body or of the silkiness so tenuously covering it, and that feeling made her want to see even more, to see all of Regina’s body displayed before her eyes. She started to wonder whether that might happen, and wished it would, although those thoughts and desires mostly floated around the back of her mind.

The temptress had been able to see Claire’s face continue to blush with embarrassment and with erotic excitement with each teasing high-heeled step she had taken closer, with the light contact established between them as she settled onto the sofa, and with the increasingly teasing exposure of her body which her loosening robe was granting. Regina gave Claire a comforting smile, confident of the effect she was having.

“It’s okay, Claire, ” Regina soothed in a forgiving tone. “I take no offense at what you just said.” She then cast her gaze away from Claire and downwards towards the floor, utilizing her polished acting skills. “As a matter of fact, I wouldn’t mind having someone as generous, charming, sweet, and beautiful as you calling me ‘Mom’. I see it as a compliment.”

“R-Regina…”

“Claire…” interrupted Regina, laying her manicured hand on Claire’s and looking the younger woman in the eye. “I want to confess something to you.”

Claire’s eyes went wide as she silently speculated what Regina could be trying to say to her. The younger woman’s subconscious mind was rooting for a profession of romantic love and sexual desire from the older woman, on whom Claire had a suppressed but intense crush, which wish spilled out into Claire’s emotions. Understanding the dynamics between them well, Regina paused for effect, gazed into Claire’s blue eyes, and lightly stroked the back of Claire’s hand with her long-nailed thumb, allowing the erotic tension and Claire’s anticipation to build, before disclosing her confession.

“Ever since we’ve met, I...I have felt something between us. I felt it immediately, the first time we met...a deep connection…an...you could say, an...attraction…” At this moment, now that Regina had said it, Claire knew that it was exactly the same for her. “Attraction.” That was the perfect word. The fact that it was a lesbian saying that to her didn’t dawn on her, nor would it have made a difference, given Claire’s emotional and aroused state at the time. She didn’t care. She was, she realized, indeed and truly attracted to Regina as much as Regina was expressing her own attraction to her, whether it was sexual or romantic or simply friendly, it didn’t matter. They were, purely and unambiguously, attracted to each other.

It was nice to have that out in the open, whatever that meant for them, and Claire felt a measure of relief about it. To know that Regina was not emotionally indifferent to her, was not simply being kind and sympathetic in a professional way, out of duty, but had personal feelings for her, had felt the same connection that Claire had felt, and, as evidenced by her willingness to now speak openly about it, wanted to assure Claire that she felt so and, likely, wanted to do something about it—that was more than gratifying to Claire. It was simply exhilarating. Claire’s emotions told her that whatever Regina was going to say next couldn’t be bad news in any way and, on the contrary, was likely to be something she wanted to discover. She was eager to hear the mystery unfold more fully.

After pausing to let her words sink in and tease her junior companion’s emotions, making it look like she was having difficulty, due to the depth of her own feelings, to express herself verbally, Regina continued. “I don’t know...maybe...maybe it’s the type of connection that a mother would have with her daughter. It has to be that. What else could it be?”

Claire found this assessment by Regina to be slightly disappointing. She knew she should be flattered, that someone as incredible as Regina would zero in on her, out of all the students that came and went in her life, for this distinction. Yet...wasn’t there something more to their shared...attraction?

Quickly, however, Claire’s sense of respect for Regina asserted itself, telling her that this was, indeed a high honor, that she was truly flattered by this disclosure, and to accept it and be grateful for it, which she thought helped to quickly restore a positive vibe inside her regarding this conversation. At least Claire now knew, without a doubt, she consoled herself, that she was special to Regina. Knowing that, in fact, sent a thrill up her spine, and even made her pussy inexplicably tingle.

Little did Claire realize that her conditioning had blended within her concepts of and feelings about family love with romantic love and sexual lust, the familial with the sexual, as far as females were concerned, so that there was little real distinguishing in her subconscious mind or in her physical responses and emotions between the two. To love and be loved by Regina in a mother-daughter sense was therefore also highly sexual and romantic to her, it all being rolled into one big ball, without her realizing it, so that being able to consider herself as a daughter to Regina, and knowing that Regina regarded her with special feelings, excited and aroused her almost as if Regina had just proposed an openly romantic relationship to her, which was the true main factor in the quick lightening of her mood into one of aroused joy after her initial mild disappointment.

Claire’s momentary disappointed reaction and her succeeding recovery played subtly across her face over several more seconds of silence, which Regina read knowingly with a little smile, which facial expression she then suppressed so that she could convincingly act out the next part of her manipulation.

“Now that I’ve come to know you, I’ve come to feel that, if I could ever have a daughter, I would want her to grow up to be someone like you.”

“Regina, that’s so nice of you to say!...... But…..wait…..What do you mean by...if you could...?” asked Claire. Did the lovely woman misspeak? SImply because she was a lesbian and, therefore, didn’t want to mate with a man, didn’t mean that she couldn’t be artificially inseminated, if she wanted children in this day and age. But seeing the melancholy expression that now crossed Regina’s face, the probable meaning of Regina’s vague statement finally dawned on her, hitting her like an emotional freight train: For some reason, maybe Regina’s body was unable to conceive.

There was a long silence in the room. Claire wasn’t sure how to respond to what she guessed about Regina and the personal tragedy which it might well constitute for her.

“Only a few people know, but…I’m unable to have children, Claire. I’ve considered adoption, but it’s expensive and complicated, especially for a single woman—and a gay woman, on top of that. My finances and all the rest create a very large obstacle for me to overcome. And even if I could conceive or adopt, my crazy work schedule and the charitable causes I’m involved with would make it pretty hard to raise a child properly, especially all by myself. That’s why I dedicate so much of my time to helping young women like you out. You could say it’s an outlet for my maternal nature.”

“Regina, I had no idea… I mean…”

“Claire, you have nothing to apologize for. All you did was brighten this woman’s soul with your sweetness. And I’m actually glad you said it, even if it was a slip of the tongue. It showed that you have feelings for me, too...that maybe that you consider me to be someone you look up to and feel close to, like to a mother, or whatever else you may have had in mind. Maybe you’d like to be closer to me, and I certainly feel the same way about you.”

Claire could scarcely believe what she was hearing. This gorgeous, wonderful model of a woman liked her, really liked her, and had special feelings for her, a nobody in comparison, and wanted a closer relationship. But now that Regina was disclosing this, Claire knew that she had craved to be close, very close, to this awesome woman from the time they had first met, and now it was happening. Wow.

“Soooo...I know what I’m about to ask you next may be uncomfortable and even inappropriate...but...if you don’t mind…” For dramatic effect, Regina paused for a few seconds. “When we’re alone together, like this, or other places, too, would you do me the honor of calling me ‘Mom’ or ‘Mother’?”

When Regina’s request sank in, after having heard the older woman’s concocted tale of supposedly overcoming misfortune and dedicating her life to her important work and to charity, Claire, misty-eyed and overcome with emotion, felt the decent response clearly was to give her lovely mentor a hug, as the first step in communicating her acceptance. Accordingly, she wrapped her arms around Regina and drew her body close to hers. She told herself that this was the perfect thing to do in this situation, particularly considering they were henceforth going to be like a mother and her daughter; hugging is what such a pair does, or should do, and surely there would be many more hugs between them in the future for this reason, as well. However, what was meant in her conscious mind to simply be a consoling embrace was also driven by hidden lusts and developed into something more than a benign hug.

Regina pulled the young beauty into her body, in reaction to which Claire also tightened the embrace. She found the feeling of having Regina’s warm curves molding into her body and, particularly the enjoyment of Regina’s firm breasts pressing into her own, to be a wondrous delight. The highly aroused lesbian girl hiding within Claire caused her to snuggle her face into Regina’s long, silky, beautiful hair, to slide her legs slightly closer so as to better glide them against Regina’s, and to gyrate her torso a little to mix their breasts together more intimately, without quite realizing consciously what she was doing. She had done something similar to the latter move with Regina when they had hugged on a previous occasion in the Director’s office, when she had pressed her breasts into Regina’s, subtly but definitely and of her own volition, as her first, if small, lesbian act while not under hypnosis, and now she was doing essentially the same thing again.

Claire also ran her hands across the woman’s back, much of which was bare skin mingling with shiny hair, as the robe had slipped down part of her back, as well as the front, constituting Claire’s first time to caress the naked skin of a beautiful woman’s back. It was such an absorbing, fascinating, compelling experience that she couldn’t help herself from slipping one hand inside the neckline of the robe to explore further around and down the back with direct hand-to-skin contact. In the meantime, her other hand slid down the satin exterior, gradually descending to her new mother’s waist. Claire’s mouth was also resting but an inch from her beloved benefactress’ neck and shoulder, the smooth, bare skin seeming so inviting to her, irresistibly so, as it proved.

“Of course...M…Mom’,” whispered Claire into her companion’s shiny, fragrant hair. “I wouldn’t mind at all.” Her arms still around Regina, Claire copped a feel of the older woman’s waist and the upper part of her ass through the robe, and she snuck one little kiss to the shoulder, Regina’s hair brushing her cheeks and lips softly a little, again not quite realizing the erotic nature of her roving touches, of the little kiss, and of the embrace, only knowing that this all felt so natural and so good.

When, on later reflection, Claire would remember what had happened in Regina’s arms and her emotions and physical excitement associated with that, she would dismiss it all as actions and feelings normal to one who has just entered into a more intimate level or a new type of relationship, an ostensibly familial type, with one very dear to her. Surely a few liberties with one’s new mother was appropriate, her brainwash-twisted mind would assure her. But whether their mother-daughter relationship was real or not, it felt real and right and good, and Claire was delighted that someone as good, reliable, wise, and beautiful—especially beautiful—as Regina would want such a relationship with her, and would want to be called her mother. It was almost as if Claire had longed for this, she thought, had longed for someone like Regina to be her mother, and had longed for Regina to take her into her arms, into her life, into her heart, and to love her. Yes… That much was true, Claire settled with herself.

If Claire could have seen Regina’s face as she hugged her, she would have noticed the sinister smile as Regina reflected on how easy it was to manipulate the sexy college coed. Everything she had told Claire was nothing but pure fabrication, to pull at her heartstrings and to draw her further down the path that was set for her by Hecate.

Disengaging herself from the hug, Regina gave Claire a reassuring smile. “Well, I think we’ve kept Abby waiting long enough. Be a dear, just wait here for a moment while I go back and bring her.” She straightened her robe a little onto her shoulders, while leaving it gaping in the middle, with the entire inner halves of both of her large melons completely on display, and with the split in the robe below the belt also gaping open more, as if stating to Claire that, now that their relationship had progressed into something new and more intimate, the young woman was entitled to see more of her new mother’s body from this point on. “After all, it would be rude to not include her in our conversations. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay…Mother,” Claire said softly, while nodding her head. Then she watched Regina walk down the hallway, her eyes drawn to the seductive ass swaying under the robe, to what she presumed to be the bedrooms of the lavish apartment. As Claire waited, a set of subliminals began to play and reshape her mind.

Claire, you feel aroused. Each minute that passes increases your arousal.

Claire, the only way to relieve it is to participate in lesbian sex.

Claire, you need to be a lesbian.

Claire, you are a lesbian.

Claire, becoming a lesbian will bring you happiness.

Claire, do not hide from the truth. You were meant to be lesbian.

Claire, Mary’s teachings mean nothing to you. You don’t have to be chaste. You don’t have to be modest. You don’t have to be good. You don’t have to be straight.

Claire, you don’t want to be chaste. You don’t want to be modest. You don’t want to be good. You don’t want to be straight.

Claire, you want to see what it’s like to be sexually loose and uninhibited and wild, you want to show off your beautiful body freely to other women, to entice them, you want to ditch the good girl act and find out what it’s like to be morally bad and corrupt, and you are fascinated with love and sex between women and want to experience it yourself.

Claire, you are becoming sexually loose and promiscuous and slutty and immodest and wanton and bad and lesbian. This excites you.

Claire, you want to be beautiful and sexy for other women, to arouse and tempt them, and you will wear makeup and show off your body to them.

Claire, you have no sexual or romantic interest in men. None. It has totally evaporated and left you completely. You know men are slimy and creepy. You are unable to possess attraction to men to any degree. The thought of a man liking you or touching you makes you sick. Because you are a lesbian, you only desire women and girls, and you want to attract them only.

Claire, being with beautiful, sexy lesbian women arouses you. Watching their sexy bodies turns you on. Being very close to them, and flirting with them, and feeling them touch you, and explore your body is your fondest dream. Just thinking about it is so exciting to you.

Claire, you love beautiful women and girls. You love looking at them. You love their sexy bodies. You’d love to see and feel and explore their curves and secret places.

Claire, the pussies of other women and girls excite you. You’d love to get into their panties and play with their pussies. You want to see their lovely cunts, and touch them, and kiss them, and eat them, and fuck them.

Claire, your own pussy is beautiful and sexy and exciting. You want other women to see and touch and play with it. Those are natural acts and wanting women to see and to touch and to love your pussy is a normal desire.

Claire, you want lovely women and pretty girls to play with your hot pussy, to tease it, to kiss it, to lick it, to love it, to fuck it.

Claire, you want to experiment sexually. You want to experience lesbian sex.

Claire, sexy women should be naked with each other. You’d like to be naked with other beautiful women and girls, and see their breasts and legs and asses and cunts, and have lesbian sex with them.

Claire, be promiscuous. Openly flaunt your beauty. It’s okay to be vain. It’s okay to be gay.

Claire, you are becoming a sexy, slutty, promiscuous, exciting lesbian woman.

Claire, you are highly aroused about becoming a lesbian and anticipating going out with girls, and taking women as your girfriends and lovers, and sleeping with women.

Regina took a peak around the corner and observed Claire seated on the couch, oblivious and zoning out as she soaked up the subliminal messages Regina had begun playing. Satisfied, Regina exchanged text messages on her smartphone with one of the other Hecate operatives monitoring the apartment. Regina had to be careful. She found Claire to be a very fetching creature and contemplated introducing Claire to a wild evening of woman-on-woman sex. However, despite her wants and desires, Regina had orders to insure that Claire’s conversion go as planned and had no desire to earn Goddess’s ire.

While Regina had known of Claire’s approach to her apartment this evening, was confident that Claire wanted to see Abby again as soon as possible, and was prepared for a visit from her, she was nevertheless mildly surprised that Claire actually mustered the nerve to show up at her door tonight rather than just returning to her own apartment. Regina had figured that Claire would have would have made a neighborly introduction in a day or so, but the fact that she couldn’t wait to see Abby this soon possibly meant that her attraction to Abby may have progressed faster than she had supposed would be the case, and that parts of Claire’s mind had changed or had started to change in a sapphic direction further than expected by this point. To play it safe, she requested that some generic messages play until she knew how far Claire had come along.

A few minutes later the messages stopped and Claire started to come out of her hypnotic stupor. Feeling a bit embarrassed that she had somehow dozed off in Regina’s and Abby’s apartment, she quickly straightened herself. However, Claire began to fidget and shift around on the couch. She found her nipples starting to stiffen, her pussy beginning to moisten and to warm up with lust, and goose pimples forming on her arms as she felt a subtle, mysterious jolt of eroticism flow through her body.

Claire didn’t know why she was feeling so aroused. Perhaps just having been so close to the wondrous Regina, and alone with her, especially while she was so tenuously attired, and maybe also having just entered into a new level of intimacy in her relationship with her explained it. Maybe it was her anticipation of seeing her beautiful, sexy new Asian friend again. But, she told herself, surely she had come to this apartment out of simple friendship, having as her primary motivation the desire to get to know the fetching Japanese beauty who had caught her attention, nothing more. However, now Claire started to doubt that. It could be that she hoped for something more.

As the arousal stirred within her body, Claire recalled Jessica and how they had masturbated in front of each other; the amazing lesbian porn they had watched together, and the unexpected sexual excitement it had seemed to infuse into her; her plans to be more intimate with her mother; the thrill of having watched Meredith shower; the excitement of having seen Abby earlier as they were shown and moved into their new residence, and getting to spend part of the day in her company, repeatedly eyeing her beauty and provocatively-clothed body; and how she felt whenever she saw Regina, including just now.

Grasping for an explanation for her rising feelings as she sat there waiting for Regina and Abby, she felt certain it all had something to do with her effort to try to see other women with the eyes of a lesbian. Was she doing more, now, than simply viewing with sapphic eyes? Was she going too far? Were her emotions and her physical reactions also being swept up, unplanned, into the experiment? Was there a point of no return?

I-Is this what it feels like to be a... l-lesbian?

Whatever this is……... I like it……… I love it……………....lesbian……….lesbian…….

As the alluring L-word bounced around her mind, Claire found it hard to stay focused. Her surroundings were a blur. Her body was literally aching for sexual relief. Claire felt that rubbing her inner thighs together would help abate the lust raging in her body, so she did that, and, without thinking much of it, she also pinched and played with her nipples through her blouse and bra, but both actions simply fueled the overwhelming need for sexual relief further.

This went on for a few more minutes until Claire saw Regina walk back into the living room with Abby, as expected, but, to Claire’s curiosity, she was leading Abby into the living room by her hand. That point was lost immediately to Claire, however, as she digested and was dazed by the lovely visions of feminine beauty that came into her view, that of Regina stunning her anew and that of this new version of Abby for the first time.

Like Regina, Abby was wearing a shimmering satin robe, although hers was a ruby red color, in contrast to Regina’s purple robe. Additionally, Abby was wearing a dark crimson blindfold covering her eyes, and Claire also surmised that, just like Regina, Abby was probably wearing nothing under her robe. While Abby’s eyes were covered by the blindfold, Claire could still see other alluring details of her face, such as Abby’s cheeks, subtly painted with a faint application of coral pink blush, and, most noticeably, her lips covered in thick coats of blood red lipstick. Abby’s hair was no longer fixed in the charming braid and ponytail style she had had earlier in the day, but instead it was loose and flowing down her shoulders and back, her bangs straight and curled in slightly.

As her gaze drifted lower, Claire noticed that Abby was wearing some fetching high heels, matching Regina in that department, who had worn hers earlier, as well. Abby had on a pair of five-inch maroon spaghetti-strap heels, complemented by the glossy crimson red polish on her toenails, which matched the paint on her fingernails. Regina had on killer five-inch black open-toe heels, her toenails covered in dark purple polish. As her gaze went back up, Claire saw Regina holding Abby’s hand in one hand and a large makeup kit and another large scarf in the other. Regina led Abby towards the center of the living room.

“Claire, I do apologize for keeping you waiting, but I had to prepare Abby. I hope you don’t mind?”

Too dumbfounded, the only response Claire could give was to nod her head, but even then it was hard for her to tell if she was actually responding to Regina’s inquiry or if she was so mesmerized by the foxy women standing before her that their combined beauty left Claire a gibbering mess.

“So here’s the deal, my dear, sweet daughter. Abby’s sponsor—or should I say sponsors?—happen to be the Bellerose Sisters. Perhaps you might have heard of them?”

Claire’s eyes went wide with surprise when she heard Regina mention the Bellerose name. The twenty-something Bellerose Sisters, Chloe and Adele, were heiresses to the Luxure cosmetics empire, purveyors of a premier brand of cosmetics and other beauty products used by people everywhere. However, Claire’s awareness of the sisters was not mainly from their affiliation with their company, nor from any reputation as bastions of modesty and decency, but because they were infamous for the opposite.

The Bellerose Sisters were widely known both for their line of expensive and adventurous cosmetics, hair coloring products, and other beauty aids and clothing, mainly clubwear, lingerie, and bedroom attire, as well as—and more so—for their scandalous antics, as reported by entertainment news and gossip columns. Having capitalized on their family fortune, their business successes, and connections with Hollywood elites, the Bellerose Sisters had taken the world by storm with their debut of a reality TV show that pushed boundaries, wearing provocative clothing, parading their sexy bodies in front of the cameras, and freely endorsing erotic nudism and promiscuity, especially among women, demonstrating what seemed to be their personal sexual preferences via one provocative act or comment or display after another. There was a lot of innuendo and speculation floating around about them, the public asking questions such as “Are they or aren’t they really gay?” and “Are they sleeping together?”, implying incest, but the young celebrities managed to stop short of being completely conclusive about such matters, leaving just enough doubt for speculation. The ongoing sexual issues and the titillating tenor of the show drove up ratings and garnered prolific attention. Claire had no idea that Regina had such connections.

“Judging by your expression, I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.”

“So… um… how can I… why are you… I mean…” It was hard for Claire to concentrate as she stared at the remarkable, thinly-veiled bodies of the women standing before her, her lust increasing with each passing minute.

“Yes, you see, Claire, the Bellerose sisters hold a personal belief that a woman should not be ashamed of showing off her body. It’s the founding principle of their company. They feel that female nudity is the pinnacle example of this view. So as a part of the sponsorship agreement, they want Abby to live by this philosophy. I’m here to ensure that she does.”

Really? Does she mean that Abby has to...to live like a...a nudist? Well, they can’t expect that full-time, of course…...but…..it must mean when she’s home...alone…..or…...maybe with other people, too? Probably not guys, though...probably just with other girls… Claire’s supposition was the direct effect of brainwashing aimed at her to persuade her that pretty girls are not, or should not be, interested much in showing themselves off to guys—despite the history of the world which demonstrated that they have been doing that for a long, long time—but that just the opposite was true when it came to exhibitionism between girls, namely, that girls being naked with each other was a natural, good, and exciting thing. Still...that sounds a little extreme...but...kind of...interesting… I wonder how Abby feels about it. Well...she has to please her sponsors.

“So how do I help out?” Claire asked with a confused look on her face.

In silent response, Regina stepped part-way between Abby and Claire and turned to face her Asian roommate, with her back to Claire, giving the raven-haired coed a teasing view of her satin-encased ass. Positioned a little to the side, so that Claire could still see Abby and also see what Regina was doing, the voluptuous woman grabbed an end of the belt on Abby’s robe. Then Regina stepped further to the side and gracefully turned to face Claire. As she did this, in a skillfully fluid movement, Regina pulled the belt free and tugged the robe off Abby’s body, thereby suddenly, dramatically, and fully exposing Abby’s fetching naked body to Claire.

Claire’s eyes popped wide open and her jaw dropped with excited surprise at the revelation. The surprise consisted not in the fact that Abby had been naked under her robe—for Claire had already suspected that, and this confirmed in her mind the thrilling likelihood that Regina herself was naked under her robe, as well—but, rather, in the stunning reality of a completely naked, beautiful young woman, particularly one for whom she had been lusting, and had longed but a few hours before to see in total nudity after having been teased mercilessly over the afternoon by glimpses of her body through her revealing attire, now standing directly in front of her and only a few feet away.

The sight of the expanse of Abby’s perfectly smooth, pale skin, her perky, orange-sized breasts—with their delicious-looking, dark-brown, pointy nipples, which Claire couldn’t help but feast on with her eyes greedily, after having ogled them repeatedly through the thin material of her blouse over the afternoon—gently lifting and falling as she drew breath, and, especially, her neatly shaved groin was most enticing to behold and dramatically accelerated the lust Claire felt coursing through her body.

“Well, Claire, dear, you see, the help you can provide will be two-fold. One, I could use your assistance in helping Abby acclimate to the Bellerose sisters’ ideal of female nudity, especially around other females. And, second, you could be of help in Abby learning more about their products from top to bottom. It’s not a very good thing if you’re involved with a cosmetics company and its owners, but you can’t tell nail polish from lipstick. I’ve been volunteering myself in helping Abby enhance her skills, but I think someone new—like you—will help her a lot more.”

“S-so you want me to help Abby get used to being na...naked...around women? and...and for her to put...makeup...on me?”

“To a certain extent. But, yes. That and a little more. So will you help?”

At this point, Claire understood Regina’s request to consist merely of being tolerant of Abby’s naked state, helping the Asian girl feel comfortable about it, and letting Abby experiment with cosmetic products on her. Under normal circumstances and under her former sensible mindset, Claire would have scrutinized the rationality of this proposition much more closely, and, while the cosmetics aspect of it would have seemed reasonable to her, the nudity part would have struck her as clearly inappropriate, at the least, and more likely as a crazy and wicked extreme, but, her judgment having been corrupted by mind control and by the cloud of lust currently swarming in her mind, and again looking back and forth between Abby and Regina’s exquisite forms, with the prospect of extending her stay in Abby’s naked presence, Claire eagerly agreed to the request.

“That’s great. However, before we start, I think it would only be fair if you happen to… How shall I say?...’When in Rome’...”

“You mean...like...you want me to...to take my clothes off?” This was much more than the original request, in Claire’s mind. She was not the kind of girl to just slip out of her clothes with others...or...that is...she had never been one...before…

Naked in front of Abby and Regina?...my friend and my mother?… Does she mean all the way naked?... But even if she doesn’t...I shouldn’t… I’ve never done anything like that before… It would be kind of...weird…and yet…it might be kind of...…. I don’t know…………

Although……...on the other hand……..this is Regina asking me to do this...beautiful, trustworth Regina...my mother… She would never lead me astray…….. And, oh, yeah...I did actually do a little strip for my roommates that one night...not all the way, but…but almost...…..…And I watched that movie just a little bit ago with Jessica in just my bra and panties… So...it’s not like I have never done anything like this before, after all………...but………..still……..

In truth, the idea of removing her clothes in front of these two gorgeous females was very appealing, but Claire thought feeling so was mysteriously baffling, and she also felt a tug in the back of her mind, her original personality desperately telling her that this whole situation was wrong and that she had to leave immediately.

Regina could see the hesitation in Claire’s face. However, she had the perfect solution to help Claire overcome it. Placing the large cosmetics kit down, Regina made a special hand gesture to signal the Hecate agents observing this living room to initiate another small round of subliminals.

Claire, it’s okay to be naked among other women.

Claire, women should be naked among each other.

Claire, you want to see women naked.

Claire, you need to be naked with other women.

Claire, you long to show women your naked body.

Claire, you are aroused when you see a naked woman.

Claire, you feel very happy to be with Abby when she is naked.

Claire, you love looking at Abby’s naked body.

Claire, you love Abby’s naked body.

Claire, Abby’s beautiful, naked body turns you on, very, very much.

Claire, you long to be as naked as Abby, and to be naked with her.

Claire, you need to be naked around Regina Burke.

Claire, Regina would love to see your body.

Claire, you’d love to show Regina your completely naked body.

Claire, you’d like it if you were naked with Regina.

Claire, you wish Regina would remove her clothes.

Claire, seeing Regina’s naked body would be extremely arousing.

Claire, you desire to see Regina completely naked.

Claire, Regina wants to see your naked body.

Claire, you want to show your naked body to Regina.

Claire, you desire to excite Regina for you with your naked body.

Claire, you desire to show your naked body to Abby.

Claire, you want to make Abby lust for you by showing her your beautiful, sexy , naked body.

Claire, undress for Regina and Abby.

The subliminals played until Regina felt confident that Claire’s hesitation would no longer interfere with her orders. A few minutes later the subliminals stopped and Regina could see the tension gone from Claire’s face and replaced by a placid, dreamy expression.

“So...ready to help?”

Claire got up from the couch and began to remove her blouse. However, Regina stopped her.

“No, no, my dear. Don’t forget that this is for Abby’s benefit.”

Regina took Claire’s hand, led her to the center of the living room, and turned her to face away from Abby. A spark of romantic alliance and desire ran through Claire as she savored the feeling of Regina’s soft, colorfully-nailed hand in hers, leading her towards her destination. As she then waited, standing, for whatever was to happen next, Claire felt her body tremble with excitement and anticipation. It wasn’t long before Claire felt two hands on her shoulders and a soft, feminine body gently press against her back.

“Abby, dear, our guest has agreed to assist you in your assignment today. So why don’t you be a good girl and prepare her?”

“Okay,” replied Abby softly, who, starting before Claire arrived, had already undergone an induction, which placed her under the influence of a set of suggestions designed just for her and for her role this evening. She was currently still in a hypnotic trance. Claire was not yet entranced, although the subliminals and the temptations swirling around her had created a surreal atmosphere and a sensually distracted, lust-obsessed state within her which compromised her judgment, eroded her resistance, stirred the sapphic desires which had been implanted within her, and colored her perception heavily. At this moment, the hedonistic lesbian inside Claire was very close to the surface and was dominating and dictating her emotions. responses, and desires.

The raven-haired girl didn’t know quite what to expect, and felt she didn’t understand exactly what Regina meant by “prepare”, but her impression from Regina’s comments and the course of events to this point was that she was to be undressed to one degree or another, if not by herself, per Regina’s veto of Claire’s attempt to unbutton her blouse, then by Abby, probably, which was a thrilling enough prospect. But Abby did not proceed directly to unfastening Claire’s clothes. Rather, Claire felt Abby’s hands begin to slowly and gently roam over her body from behind.

Claire let out a soft moan as Abby began her methodical sensual exploration of her body. Then Claire inhaled a sharp gasp as she felt Abby rest her hands on top of her breasts and give them a firm squeeze. Then the Asian ran her hands over them, lightly at first, then with freer, groping indulgence. All the while Regina was sitting on the couch observing the youthful Japanese beauty subversively violate Claire’s body unabated.

This was the first time that Claire’s breasts had been played with sexually by another human being that she could remember. Her former boyfriend, Darren, had tried a few times, but it hadn’t been anything like this. To her current mind, his clumsy attempts not only hadn’t pleased her in the least but had been, actually, pretty gross, and didn’t count, really, not like this did. No, a girl’s hands, Abby’s soft hands with painted fingernails, were completely different, and totally turning her on. This, being felt up intimately by a lovely, naked girl, was one of the most beautiful experiences of her life. Surely this was what her breasts—her tits, as the word now passed through her mind as a preferential term for them—were for, she sensed. They were for pleasure, and their true purpose was to be found in, and only in, the hands of another sexy woman.

Claire was delirious with the lust coursing through her body. She could feel her nipples stiff with need and poking through her bra, her quim moist and soaking her panties, and her body tremble with desire. Claire had never experienced this kind of sexual teasing, certainly not during the times Darren had touched her in his awkward, coarse way—a comparison which would make Claire wonder why she had ever let a boy touch her at all—and Claire wasn’t sure if she could continue to take this.

However, it seemed that Abby could sense Claire’s sexual excitement building up and gently backed away, giving Claire a moment to regain her composure and for the sexual pulsations between them to slow down a little, momentarily, only to rev them up again shortly, thereby teasing and whipping up Claire’s arousal all the more.

Claire took a few deep breaths and tried to steel herself for what she now assumed would be another round of Abby’s exploration. However, she didn’t have much time, as Abby changed positions, stepping from behind Claire to stand three feet in front of her, still in nothing except her high heels, pausing to let Claire have another good look at her.

Again Claire had a great view of the Asian beauty’s tantalizing body, but closer than before. She took in the smoothness of Abby’s milky skin and the perkiness of her orange-sized breasts, with their jutting, dark nipples, the same ones that had teased Claire over the afternoon through Abby’s revealing blouse, but were now exposed to her eyes in unimpeded, thrilling, delectable clarity.

Looking down further, she caught sight of Abby’s mons and noticed that the Japanese vixen apparently liked to keep it bald and smooth. Claire now realized that she, for some inexplicable reason, had been dying to see this hot girl’s pussy...and now she was. It was a perfectly, delicately beautiful pussy, and was one that had been calling to her, it now seemed, ever since the two young women had met. Claire received the impression that Abby’s alluring cunt and Claire shared some sweet future destiny. Without quite processing and understanding these feelings, as Claire continued to dwell visually on Abby’s vulva, she nevertheless felt her mouth watering and her pulse race.

The Japanese beauty stepped toward her guest and began to undo the buttons of her blouse, Claire’s desire mounting with each succeeding unfastened button. When Abby finished releasing the last button and then pulled the blouse open completely, exposing Claire’s large, bra-covered bust, the Asian let out a soft moan of lust.

Abby gracefully peeled the blouse off of Claire’s body, so that only Claire’s bra covered her gorgeous mounds. Abby again changed positions, setting herself behind Claire. Claire felt the Asian fox press her naked body into Claire’s back side, while wrapping her arms around Claire’s torso under her arms and sliding her hands onto her bra-encased breasts once again, as if returning to and reclaiming their rightful perch. Claire trembled and shook as she felt Abby’s hands play with her tits for a few moments. She reflected again that It was the first time, that she could remember, that another girl had touched her like that, and the sensation was more marvelous than she could have imagined.

Then she felt Abby’s hands seductively slide down her sides, rove past her waist, rest on her hips, and then convene at the front of her jeans. A sharp gasp rushed past her lips as she felt Abby rub lightly over her denim-covered slit, unfasten the button, and slowly draw down the zipper.

Claire felt Abby’s fingers slip under the jeans’ waistband and hook under them. The anticipation of what was to come next was deliriously excruciating. Without hesitation, Abby slid the jeans down and, as she did, Claire could feel Abby’s soft hands and colored nails glide over her hips and legs, sending thrills through her skin and curves unlike any she had known.

When Abby’s hands reached her ankles, Abby gestured for her to raise one leg, then the other, and Claire complied, as Abby removed Claire’s shoes and socks and assisted her in stepping out of the jeans without stumbling over them. Abby cast Claire’s jeans to the side and stepped back, as if to marvel at the sexy, semi-nude form of Claire’s body, although she could not see it through the blindfold, as much as she wanted to.

At this point, Claire sensed that any allusions she had had about getting away with only partial nudity here were misconceived. No, full nudity was the order of the day in this apartment this evening, at least for Abby and herself, and she would participate in that order. Willingly. She wanted to. She couldn’t wait, couldn’t wait to show Regina what she had beneath her clothes, and to share the wonderful intimacy of being naked together with her striking and sexy new Asian friend. She didn’t know why she felt like that, but she did know that she did feel like that.

And she was almost there, both girls understood. Almost like Abby. Claire was, indeed, soon to be naked, only her bra and her panties separating herself from a blissful state of nudity, and she was, at this point, quite willing to complete the task herself. She raised her hands to her bra straps, but then, remembering Abby’s silent reprimand when she had started to unbutton her own blouse, she stopped herself. Abby was to undress her, to undress her all the way. Claire was to taste being stripped down to nothing by another pretty girl.

Claire had never experienced the sensations she had been feeling when Abby had caressed and undressed her to this point, and didn’t want to risk interfering with whatever more of it was to come. The sublime pleasure that Claire was feeling of having another woman strip her was too much for words.

Abby again strolled, her heels click-clacking sensually, around Claire and slid her hands onto Claire’s shoulders from behind, lightly massaging them for a few seconds, before slipping them forward again under Claire’s arms. She once more felt Abby’s hands on her breasts—on her tits—as if they possessively belonged there now, but, after a few moments of soft play, they shifted their attention to the front clasp of her bra. WIth a quick flick or two, Abby unfastened the clasp. Claire felt her bra’s hold on her large tits slacken and Abby’s femininely-nailed fingers pull the cups and the straps forward and off her body, tossing the plain, white, intimate item across the room, as if declaring that it wasn’t needed any longer, freeing her breasts from hiding and restraint.

Claire looked down to witness her glorious, freed tits dangling unfettered on her chest, a measure of erotic satisfaction overtaking her, watching her nipples stiffen to the air and to the situation. It was as if she had always wanted to do this, to be like this, to show herself off, to women, to girls, especially to those for whom she had feelings, to be naked together, or, at least, topless, as was now the case. It simply felt so natural and so wonderful. Claire let a soft moan of pleasure escape her mouth as she felt cool air kiss her nipples and dance around the seductive curves of her bosom.

Claire was about to take her orbs in her own hands, to lift and to feel their weight, curvature, and smoothness, when Abby beat her to it, doing to them exactly as Claire wanted. The combined caresses of the air and of Abby’s hands and their fingernails gently groping her large, grapefruit-sized tits shot intense pleasure into them and through the rest of her body.

This was Claire’s first conscious experience with intimate sexual contact with another person. Of course, there had been those disgusting attempts by Darren to grope her, as she now recalled them, but he had never gotten this far, and in her current mind they did not count as a true sexual intimacy, and she had touched Meredith licentiously when then had cuddled and kissed, but that had also not gone this far, nor was Claire aware that her body had been heavily molested during her times at the Artemis Center and her visit to Regina’s office. No, to Claire on this evening, she was having her first taste of real sex...and it was with another girl...and a very pretty one at that. This was lesbian sex, even if she did not think to label it as such. And she was absolutely loving it.

Abby continued the sensual massage of Claire’s large perky tits. Claire under her altered, subdued mental state had and raised no objections as Abby had a fun time playing with Claire’s gorgeous mounds. Claire felt an intense convulsion of sexual excitement as it seized her body, finding herself lost in the sensation of feeling Abby’s hands touching this intimate area of her body.

Regina snapped her fingers and the breast play stopped. The sudden cessation of the attention to her knockers gradually brought Claire out of her sexual stupor, although it took a minute for the novel feelings stirring in her beautiful orbs to abate sufficiently to permit her to pay attention to something else. At length she looked at Regina, who flashed her a wicked smile, and gestured with her finger to look down.

Claire saw Abby on her knees, followed by the sensation of having the Japanese beauty slip her fingers under the waistband of her panties. Claire let out an excitable gasp as Abby slid her panties down her hips, past her vulva—exposing it as it had never before been revealed in the presence of another, especially that of a beautiful, naked girl, who, although she could not see the erotic sight, was positioned in her kneeling posture so that her face was more or less level with and within a foot or two of it—down her long, bare legs, over her feet, and onto the apartment floor.

Something within Claire whispered to her that, finally, she had arrived at a destined and longed-for state, that she had been set free, free from inhibition and prudishness, free to be the girl she had really always wanted to be and had been intended to be. Moreover, what she had begun the evening when she had stripped for her roommates, when, she sensed, everyone in the room had wanted her to go all the way, only to have her performance stopped prematurely by Jessica, and what she had indulged in the next morning and this morning, as well, exhibiting to herself her naked body in a couple of explicit private shows—now, at last, she had completed. She had fulfilled her destiny. She was showing off her voluptuous body, the way it seemed it was intended to be shown off, the way she wanted to show it off. She was totally naked, naturally, wonderfully naked, in front of beautiful women. And she loved it.

The same refreshing air that teased her tits also now kissed her between her legs. Claire could feel a soft chill impotently attempt to quench the intense passion throbbing in her loins. Part of the thrill, she knew, was having allowed herself to be so lewdly displayed; part of it was the fact that a lovely woman, one whom she loved so much, was looking at her wet, quivering womanhood from not too far away; part of it was that the pretty Japanese girl’s glossy, red-painted mouth was also so close to it; and part of it was the lascivious feeling of anticipation coming over her that something more than simple exhibition, as intoxicating as this was, was going to happen to her pussy, just as it had to her tits. The erotic sensations flowing from her excited sex at this moment seemed to be as intense even as those she had felt when masturbating to lesbian porn with Jessica, if not more so.

Claire was close to losing her composure. Her legs trembled with giddy sexual excitement and her loins were literally dripping with lust at the knowledge that she was nude with the two sexy vixens, that she was aroused by them, and that she was possessed with a burning need for sexual release. While Claire, eyes closed, was relishing her shameless behavior and the exquisite suspense preceding the wicked pleasures, whatever they were, which she sensed might be coming her way, Abby repositioned herself behind Claire.

The momentary silence in the dormitory apartment was broken by Regina’s next command.

“You may begin now, Abby, my love.” To hear Regina address Abby so intimately sent a thrill through Claire. Was something going on between the two? Something...romantic? While the subconscious girl inside Claire wanted both of these delectable females for herself, and might have felt a measure of jealousy, that impulse was short-circuited by an instilled desire within her to see sexy women get together in love and sex, whoever and wherever they might be, and by a fascinated excitement with the possibility that this woman and this girl for whom she lusted so much could be in a lesbian relationship with each other. That was something which, in fact, she knew she would love to see, now that the concept had come into being within her, although her conscious mind did not frankly analyze it like that.

Claire soon felt and heard Abby begin to explore the back of her body with her face and hands. The Asian began by sniffing her shoulder, taking in deep whiffs of the skin on her shoulder blades and every now and then nuzzling her nose into Claire’s bare flesh. Abby’s hands joined in, to gently touch, poke, and massage the shoulder area between sniffs.

“She likes to use scented soaps. Um…over-the-counter brands, I think. Her skin is very smooth, soft. I think she uses body lotions about two or three times a week.”

“Go on,” prodded Regina, who had sat down again on the sofa.

Claire could feel Abby’s fingers seductively run through her long, silky, black mane and play with it, and bury her face in it, followed by the sound of Abby taking a gentle sniff or two.

“Her hair is okay. Not too dry or too oily. Feels nice, soft. Excellent use of conditioners. She uses a shampoo with a fruity scent, way too fruity.”

“Is Abby’s assessment correct, Claire?” asked Regina.

“Y-yes, Regina...Mom.” Claire was surprised and impressed by how accurate Abby was with her analysis of Claire’s personal hygiene products just by using her sense of smell and touch.

“So, Abby, what would you recommend, based on your assessment?”

“Luxure offers a variety of unscented soaps, but I think an unscented body wash with a soft wash cloth would be better.”

“Why would you recommend that?”

“Scented soaps could mingle and clash with the scents of perfumes.”

“Can you determine if Claire wears any perfume?”

“I don’t think so. Just the scent of soap and lotion.”

“And what perfume would you recommend for Claire?”

“I think something that uses magnolias as its base.”

“Very good, Abby.”

But the shoulder and hair were only the first sections of Claire’s body which Abby analyzed. She continued from one area to another, exploring Claire’s naked body with her hands and nose, gently sniffing and using her red-tipped fingers to softly probe and touch Claire’s skin, curves, and crevices. Each time she had finished a section, Abby would provide recommendations on what Luxure products Claire should use and what products to avoid. Though masquerading under a business-like and semi-legitimate purpose, Abby’s explorations would be identified as clearly sexual by any objective outside observer, and were stoking the feminine arousal already heavily prevalent in the room.

At one point in the exercise, when Abby was standing directly in front of Claire, face to blindfolded face, Regina upped the matchmaking, calling out and playing upon sapphic and hedonistic axioms previously implanted into the young women.

“Claire, dear... What do two pretty girls do, who are naked with each other?”

“They...they kiss.”

“Yes...of course they do. Would you like to kiss Abby?”

“Y...yes…”

“Abby...do you want Claire to kiss you?”

“...yes...very much…”

“Very well. You both want to kiss each other. We all know it. It’s about time you told each other. Now do it. When two sexy girls are together like you two are, standing so close, perfectly naked, their bodies so very hot for each other, their lovely tits almost touching, the lips of each thirsting for those of her sexy friend, then of course they should kiss each other. There is nothing more natural than that. Claire, you may not touch Abby except with your lips. Go ahead, my darlings. Kiss.”

Claire took a half step closer to her blindfolded friend and leaned her face toward Abby’s, drawing ever so slowly closer until their mouths just touched. She withdrew and then their lips joined again, touching lightly again but this time each set seeking out her friend’s a little more, next pressing into each other slightly more, and then one set sliding along the other back and forth some and each mouth opening a bit, as well.

Then Abby, who had not been ordered to keep her hands to herself, slipped them into Claire’s black hair, cupped the back of her head, and drew her face passionately into her own. Their lips mashed together urgently for several seconds, as their naked breasts also swayed into contact and their nipples raked together lightly, sending shockwaves through them both, via their mouths and their firm young melons, until Regina called out her next order.

“Stop now. Abby, continue with your assessment.” Breathing heavily and quivering, as was Claire, Abby forced herself to pull away, find a measure of composure, reorient herself to finishing her sensual evaluation, and continue on to the areas of Claire’s body which she had not yet explored.

For the nearly delirious Claire, her craving for Abby and for full sexual satisfaction being stoked hotter than at any point yet this evening, every minute and every touch drove her passion higher and higher, to the point that Claire, her body aching and trembling and her nerves on fire with lust, was on the brink of acting again, of doing something more, of doing anything, to bring her urgent desires to a fulfillment.

Regina could easily see the tell-tale signs of a body about to orgasm and of a young woman who was on the verge of throwing all self-restraint to the wind, and decided to end the session quickly, wanting not only to tease both girls into sexual madness, but also to have Claire achieve orgasm in a different way than this one, one which would allow her brainwashing to get a better hold on her conscious psyche and one which would hook her even more irreversibly on lesbian sex.

At the moment, Abby had her nose buried in the neatly trimmed hairs on Claire’s pubic mound, which by this point was inflamed with lust and desire. Claire was trembling when she looked down to see the black-and-red haired Japanese teen, who was just starting to rub and poke Claire’s erect clit with her nose. In fact, Abby’s painted mouth was opening, looking as if she was thinking about licking that excited, hard clit with her tongue or sucking it with her blood-red lips. Claire was now close to grabbing Abby’s head, mashing the pretty girl’s painted mouth into her pussy, and begging her for sexual release...meaning begging her to “eat her out”, about which act Claire now knew explicitly, after having watched the sizzling blonde do it to her redheaded lover in the hot lesbian porn video she had watched with Jessica earlier.

“I think that’s enough for today, Abby,” commanded Regina. “Please disengage yourself from Claire.”

As Abby, still on her knees, removed her hands and leaned back some, Claire exhaled heavily, both relieved that the almost-painful sexual tension between herself and Abby was released to some degree and also dismayed that things had not been allowed to progress further between them. Although it was hard to tell, Abby was also disappointed and wanted to continue. She had found the sensual musk and heat emanating from Claire’s moist quim and the tactile sensation on her nose of her friend’s pussy slit inflammed and leaking and her clit erect all to be quite divine, and simply irresistible. She herself, though in a trance, was nevertheless also walking on a razor thin line between sexual need and release, and between self-control and impulsive indulgence.

“Claire, I do appreciate your assistance in helping Abby.”

“N-no problem,” Claire responded in a panting voice thick with sexual tension. “I...I don’t mind at all.”

“I think you’re entitled to a reward. Or another reward, one could say. Here, come sit back down,” smiled Regina as she patted the empty cushion next to her on the couch. Claire wondered briefly whether the privilege of sitting next to her sexy mentor was the reward, for it definitely did seem to be a distinct treat. “I think I have the perfect reward in mind.”

Claire walked over and took her seat on the sofa, quite aware of her nude state and feeling a little shy about sitting naked right next to this woman whom she admired and loved, even as a daughter to a mother, while also recognizing, deep within herself, the one reward she truly wanted...the same one the blonde porn start had given to her redheaded girlfriend...the one the redhead had received between her spread legs. After letting Claire sit next to her and admire her beauty up close afresh for a minute in silence, while smiling and softly stroking the back of the girl’s hand, which Claire had resting on her own thigh, and lightly venturing onto Claire’s leg, as well, Regina got up, walked to Abby, led her over to Claire, and parked her standing squarely in front of the raven-haired Caucasian fox.

“Claire, can you lean forward a bit, please?”

Claire did so and promptly felt Regina pull on her arms and tie her hands together with the scarf she had seen earlier.

“What’s going on?”

“Simple, Claire, honey. I see that your cunt is in dire need of relief and I intend for you to cum your brains out. Don’t deny it. I know a horny pussy when I see one.”

It seemed to Claire that she should be shocked by the vulgarity of Regina’s comment, coming from such a distinguished woman, and one like a mother to her, and given Claire’s past of strictly puritanical speech...but she wasn’t. On the contrary...instead, she found such language to be natural, and even exciting, at least between them, as if their new relationship entitled them to share more sexual frankness and liberties. Yes...Claire found she liked—no, loved—crude sexual words coming out of Regina’s mouth, and that she liked vulgar sexual words, in general, and that she, herself, should feel freer than in the past to utter them. No, the surprise was from how accurately Regina had described her new daughter’s aroused state of her being. Claire was horny. She wanted sexual relief. And she wanted it now.

She has come to know me so well...in such a short time… What a perceptive, insightful woman… She knows me...and loves me… She wants me to be happy...and fulfilled… She even understands the needs of my body...of my...my cunt... She’s someone I can trust...can be like...can love… I do love her… She’s so attractive...sooo beautiful… sooooo hot... I’ll do whatever she suggests...whatever she wants… I wonder if she...herself...is going to……...help me….,/p>

“S-so are you going to… ?”

“No, not me. Abby here is the one that will help you and all you have to do is ask for it.”

Claire turned her attention once again to the blindfolded, naked beauty standing before her, drinking in with renewed desire the intimate details of Abby’s nude form. Claire could feel her body react with hunger and lust. Regina was right, as she always was; she, Claire, was in need of an orgasm.

But was she willing to ask? Should she ask? It was, after all, a rather unusual request. What would Abby think of her? Did Abby want to...to please her...like that…? And wouldn’t that make them...lesbians? Or could they just consider it a desperate act done in...in an emergency?

Claire knew Abby liked her. That much had been made quite clear over the course of the afternoon and, especially, this evening. No girl flirts with another girl, as Abby had done with her earlier—before, during, and after the move—and touches another girl as she had just been doing to Claire, with such tenderness and sensitivity, and, especially, kisses another girl so eagerly, as had happened but minutes ago, without liking her. But was asking for her to...to do more...to go further...to do something clearly...sexual...with her...as a friend...of course...to help her……..was that going too far?…….at least, so soon in their relationship?…

Claire recalled the masturbation session that she had with Jessica earlier while watching lesbian porn. Each girl had watched the other play with her cunt. They both had cum, and cum hard, and had watched and heard each other do so. Also, in her current situation, she had already gotten completely naked, naked with these two sexy women, one of whom was naked herself and the other of whom seemed to be half-way there, with her robe largely open and gaping and sliding off, anyway, as if she might finish the garment’s trajectory and shed it completely any minute...and should. So was asking Abby to assist in giving her an orgasm really that bad in comparison to what she had already been doing so far? Especially when her own mother was obviously approving of the act and was encouraging her to ask for it from this luscious Asian, this beauty of whom Mom clearly approved as an intimate companion for her daughter? Could it possibly be that wrong? Maybe a little naughty...but truly wrong?

No, Claire concluded, mindlessly casting aside the chaste moral values and, with them, the sexual orientation which she had held sacred, unquestionable, and inviolable all of her life, prior to meeting Regina Burke. It isn’t. And I need it.

The Claire of a week or two earlier would have stood aghast at this scene and the role she was playing in it—blithely naked with two other lasciviously naked or nearly naked women, having just been felt up and kissed by one of them, willingly so, and now, filled with and driven by overwhelming sapphic desire in this heavily erotic atmosphere, ready to spread her legs wantonly and jump into distinctly lesbian sex with one or both of them. But that was then, and this was now…

“So...all I have to do is just ask?”

Regina nodded her head in response, her long, silky hair momentarily bouncing around her face and body, catching Claire’s eye for a moment, and giving her yet another thrill over the woman’s lush beauty.

Claire took a deep breath, as Regina looked on with anticipation. Was Claire ready for this? Or would she chicken out? Had her conditioning made her want this enough yet, enough to speak up, to cooperate, to act? Had her prudish inhibitions been worn down adequately, to the point that she would give in to this temptation? Would Claire succumb to her desires, thereby passing a milestone into lesbianism, crossing a line which she was not likely to retreat back over once crossed, and descending further down the path of carnal sapphic corruption the Goddess planned for her?

Taking another deep breath, Claire looked at the adorable, sexy Abby and addressed her. “A-Abby... I-I want you to...to give me an...an orgasm.” Blinded as she was in the moment by sheer lust, Claire had no idea how momentous a step she, while more or less in her conscious state, had just taken in inviting another girl, for the first time, to commit lesbian sex with her, even if she denied to herself the true and clear nature of the act she was seeking.

Claire closed her eyes and braced herself, but a minute passed without anything happening. She opened her eyes and gave Regina a puzzled look. She had clearly heard Regina tell her that she simply had to ask, and yet nothing was happening.

Claire’s expectation of exactly what Abby would do to her in response to her request was not well-defined. In inexperienced Claire’s mind, it could conceivably take the form of anything the two beauties in the porn video had done to each other, including the one munching on the other’s pussy—which was what Claire’s inner lesbian was hoping would be included in the culmination of whatever was going to happen between them this evening. Indeed, deep-down Claire wanted to experience every exciting, whorish act the two ravishing porn stars had performed together. But, now it crossed Claire’s mind that she, despite the DVD, still didn’t know enough about how one girl could get another off, and therefore didn’t know what to ask for, or perhaps Abby did not know what to do to please another girl, or maybe she wasn’t inclined to acquiesce. Maybe something like oral sex was too much to expect. Maybe she might be open to something less than that, at least for the time being.

“I-I thought you said I just had to ask.”

“I did, but you have to ask in the right way. You’re a smart girl, Claire. I’m sure if you think about it, you’ll figure it out.”

Claire thought over Regina’s statement, but her sexual frustration was making things hard for her. She could feel her intimate body parts in need of relief. It was maddening. Claire wanted desperately to wiggle out of the binding on her wrists, so that she could grab Abby and press the pretty Asian girl’s face and hands onto her body to get her started off, but Regina had them secure. All she could do was squirm in her seat, seeking thereby, though ineffectively, to relieve herself of the sexual tension built up in her body.

It was now becoming clear to Claire that, while she was in need of sexual relief and wanted Abby to help her achieve it, that desire was too general. She had to ask Abby for something specific. But what, exactly? Claire realized that her experience with sex in general was, due to her upbringing, only slightly beyond minimal and that it was nil when it came to intimate girl-on-girl contact, that she had little knowledge of what one girl could do to another to help get her off, beyond what she had learned in the porn video, nor did she know what words to say to get Abby to start her on whatever it was she might do.

Trying her best to remain calm, Claire mentally went over Regina’s comment, “Ask in the right way.” Then a part of the porn DVD popped into her mind, which had shown a particular act Claire had found especially exciting. Though her pussy was aching for love, pleading with her for priority, and she hoped it would get some direct attention in some way before they were done tonight, she looked down at her breasts quivering on her chest, and zeroed in on her turgid nipples. They, too, begged her for loving attention, and Abby’s fingers had certainly not been shy about lavishing them with caresses earlier. Were they not inviting? Could a girl who had been tactically devouring them the way Abby had been possibly resist them now?

What if Abby kissed them? Like the porn stars had done? Perhaps getting Abby to do that to them would be an easy and specific step, one which held the potential of thrilling her body close to the climax she craved. Claire had been fascinated by that wanton act when watching it in the DVD and had wanted to experience it herself. Yes… That’s what I want...that’s what I really want...and maybe I can get Abby to do it… Her memory of the video supplied her words, and she was then able to compose a specific request.

“Abby… I want you to… lick my…my nipple.”

Claire looked at Abby to see if she would react to her request, but, just like before, nothing happened. Claire, however, was determined. Regina had implied that a way, some way, existed to prod the Japanese hottie into action, and she would discover it. She would find a way to achieve orgasm. If she couldn’t rip apart the scarf that bound her wrists and then ravish her lusty sex herself, then she would use Abby, one way or another, to do so, and she would first figure out what she needed to say to get Abby to bring her off.

Oh… why can’t Regina make this easy? I need to orgasm so badly! I can even feel how hard my tits…

Then it clicked. Yes…that was what that luscious redhead said to the blonde…”tit”...

Claire looked at Abby with fiery determination and ordered, “Abby… I want you to lick my… right tit.”

This time Abby reacted to Claire’s command. The blindfolded beauty gracefully descended to her knees, grabbed a pillow from the couch to insert it under her knees for suitable elevation, and slid her hands onto Claire’s thighs, both to brace herself as well as to cop a feel of Claire’s smooth legs. Claire watched as Abby positioned her mouth at the height of her jutting, succulent young breasts, began to roam her red-nailed hands over her bare stomach, flanks, and chest, and, at last, grab hold of her right tit. Abby leaned in with her red-lipped mouth open.

Claire watched with giddy anticipation as Abby extended her pink tongue. A moment later, she felt and saw Abby’s tongue brush her nipple. An electrifying bolt of pure sapphic joy pierced into her soul at that pointed tip of her breast, as if it had been lightning. When Abby took another taste, licking with a little more force than the first sweet, soft touch, and then wrapped her painted, blood-red lips around the thrilled nub, Claire could not help but gasp and moan.

“Uh..uh..ohhhhhhhhh...mmmmmm…”

“Bravissimo, Claire. Excellent,” whispered Regina, who had slid closer to Claire, into her new daughter’s ear, as she watched Abby slurp and suckle on Claire’s right tit. If this was the reward Regina had promised her, Claire dreamily thought, then the intense pleasure was a perfect gift.

“Are you glad you found the right word, my sweet daughter? ‘Tit’?”

“Oh, yesss, Regina… ‘Tit.’ Oh, I love that word… Thank you for helping me, Mom.”

“Don’t forget, there are other naughty words,” Regina insinuated into Claire’s ear, seeking to awaken, in part, some of the brainwashing she had imparted into Claire’s subconscious mind in her office under hypnosis. “Words that I want you to start using...words to better express your deepest desires...and to get what you want…words like pussy...cunt...slut...and fuck...”

Abby started to suck, and then to flick the nipple in her mouth with her tongue, back and forth, before affectionately kissing it again and again. Claire let out a sharp hiss and arched her back, trying, successfully, to push her aching, elongating nipple, areola, and adjacent breast flesh deeper into her new friend’s mouth, as she felt waves of pleasure crash against her body.

“Oh! Abby...ohhhhh...you...you sweet little...cunt...”

Shortly, Abby disengaged from the right and shifted her focus onto Claire’s left nipple and repeated her oral action on it. The delirious Claire, her eyes now closed and her head tilted back and turning from side to side with the pleasure, envisioned sliding her hands around her Asian companion’s shoulders and head, seeking to trap the girl’s mouth on her breast, and to press them together more tightly, which she would have done had her hands been free.

“Claire, my darling… How do you like a lovely girl’s delicious mouth on your beautiful tits?”

“Oh… yesss… I… this feels… good…mmmm…soooooo goooood...”

“You’d let other girls do this to you, too...wouldn’t you? You’d like that...”

“Hmm mmm…”

“You’d like me to suck your big, beautiful tits, too, wouldn’t you?”

“Ohh... yesssss...Regina...Mom...”

“And you especially love your sexy new girlfriend Abby kissing and sucking your lovely tits like she is now...like you want her to do to you many, many more times in the future...again and again and again…”

“Ahh...ohhh...yes…”

“Even if that makes you a lesbian...you wouldn’t mind...would you?”

“Ah! Ooooo...no… That’s fine…ohhhh...just...don’t stop...Abby, my sexy girlfriend...suck my fuckin’ tits...you sweet little slut...ooooo”

While Claire was supremely enjoying the attention that Abby was giving to her bountiful bosom, knowing that it was everything she beforehand had suspected it might be, and much, much more, she could nevertheless feel her labia twitch with lust, her clit erect with sexual desire, and even her anal ring begin to signal to her that it to wanted to join in on the sexual escapades. Her pussy—her cunt—and her ass were demanding that they would not be denied.

“This isn’t all you want Abby to do to you. You want more, don’t you?”

“I...oh…”

“Why do you think you are naked, Claire?”

“Well...uh...because of her assign—”

“Of course not, dear. It’s not just because Abby had an assignment. You and Abby chose to be naked together. You wanted to be naked with each other...didn’t you?”

“Uh...yes...I guess…”

“And why? What do two girls who are naked want to do with each other?”

It seemed to Claire that Regina was a teacher giving her an individualized pop-up quiz, to which she, to her surprise, knew all the right answers. “Have sex with each other.”

“Yes! Exactly. You want to have sex with Abby and she wants to make love to you, too. That is why you both are naked. That would be the most natural and the loveliest thing that could possibly happen between you two right now, isn’t it?”

What Regina was insinuating seemed so logical and right and good. Of course she was right. “Yes…”

You want that, more than anything else right now, right?”

Claire nodded her head.

“So, what do you want?”

“I want sex with Abby.”

“What do you want her to do to you? What do two pretty, naked girls always do with each other?”

“They make love.”

“Yes, they do. And what part of your body wants Abby the most right now? What special, wet, burning part of you wants Abby all the time?”

“My...my cunt…”

“You want her to lick your cunt. Ask her.”

Claire’s mind pictured the action in the DVD when the redhead, having had her womanhood fingered to a molten, dripping mass of femininity, tempted her blonde girlfriend into oral love, and Claire recalled the desire to experience that sexy, naughty act the scene had stirred within her. As she stared down at her Asian friend’s painted lips as they sucked her tits, she realized that they were the same blood-red color as those of the exquisite blonde which had descended on her red-headed lover’s snatch in the DVD. Abby’s and Claire’s next act together now seemed to be one of similar, inescapable, heavenly destiny.

Her mind engulfed with the desire for sexual release and for Abby, Claire knew the next command she had to give. While the Claire from a few days ago would never have embraced crazed, lustful thoughts, let alone entertained the idea of asking a woman to give her an orgasm, especially by lavishing her feminine center with lips and tongue, this Claire did and she wanted it now. But she had to say it right. Nice words wouldn’t do.

“A-Abby…oh...feels so good… Abby… I want you to… I want you to lick my… p-pussy!” Abby stopped her oral ministrations on her supple breasts and pulled the pillow out from underneath her knees, thereby lowering her face relative to her black-haired partner’s body. But then she paused, as if waiting for something more.

“My cunt! Kiss my fuckin’ cunt! Eat me, you sexy little Asian bitch!”

Those words set Abby into motion once again. She gently kissed her way down Claire’s smooth belly towards her new destination. Claire trembled with each kiss as she looked down to see Abby, her lovely black and red hair splayed loosely over her shoulders, back, and breasts, teasing her with a trail of kisses, depositing a line of dark-red lip prints on her skin as she descended.

Soon Abby reached her destination, excitedly catching a preliminary sniff of the drooling womanhood before her and then, leaning forward, sliding the tip of her nose along Claire’s wet slit, inhaling a much deeper whiff of Claire’s sexual musk. Sighing happily, she next stuck her tongue out to tenderly flick it across the lips of Claire’s dripping wet snatch.

“Ohhhhhhh...ahhhhhhhh…f-f-fuuuuuuuuucccckkkkkkkk!”

Abby flicked again, then licked, then kissed, then sucked, then probed with her tongue, then lapped passionately. Claire’s first conscious pussy-centered sexual experience with a woman was beyond comprehension, as every nerve in her slit sent jolts of intense pleasure throughout her body.

“Oh, Abby! Yes...please...like that...oh, yes!... Beautiful Abby… Mmmmmmmmm.”

“You like Abby doing that to you, don’t you? You like Abby. You love Abby. Don’t you?”

“Ohhhh, yes! Abby...I...I love you!”

“Abby is your girlfriend now...your lesbian girlfriend. You want her to be your cute little, amazing lesbian girlfriend, don’t you?”

“Yes!! Oh, please, yes!!”

“Girls should date girls, shouldn’t they?” Oh, yes, of course. That is only natural, Claire’s mind spoke openly to her. “You should date Abby. You want her to be your girlfriend. You want her to be your lover, too. You want to do this with her again and again and again. You want her. You want lesbian sex of all types with sexy Abby...don’t you?”

“Yes, yes, pleeaase, fuck, yes! Abby...my sexy girlfriend...ooooooo.”

Abby continued her oral assault between Claire’s legs, relishing the sexy flavor of Claire’s dripping wet fuck tunnel, as well as Claire’s adoring and lewdly passionate words aimed at her. She swirled her tongue around Claire’s clit, traced it around Claire’s labia, and used it to dig deep into Claire’s soaking wet love hole.

The sensations Claire was feeling were beyond description. She never knew that having a woman touch and kiss her intimate areas could be this pleasurable. And it all seemed so natural and right, if simultaneously dark and wicked and depraved, as well, as if this were a delight—no matter how forbidden others might consider it—which she should have been imbibing all of her life...certainly with her friends with whom she had grown up...not guy friends, though, of course...but maybe even at home with her beautiful, if prudish, birth mother and her cute sister...or, especially with them…

“Ahhhh… oh… yes, oh, Abby don’t stop. Don’t you dare…fucking...stop.”

Claire couldn’t believe she was using such vulgar words, but something within her mind was telling her that it was correct, that it was appropriate, here and now and other times, too, that it felt right, and that she loved talking like that. What’s more, her own mother, her new mother, had said it was okay, and had told her that she should express herself with dirty language.

Claire was completely unaware that a set of subliminals were playing in the background, encouraging her love of and comfort with obscene, sexy language and further corrupting her innocence.

Claire, remember that words like fuck, ass, tit, cunt, pussy, and all other vulgar terms that describe the female body and sexual promiscuity among women are not only acceptable, but desirable, as well.

Claire, you’re okay with other women using vulgar and obscene words to describe your body and other female bodies and to make allusions to lesbian sex.

Claire, it’s natural for you to use vulgar and obscene language when it comes to lesbian sex.

Claire, you find it arousing when you describe a woman’s body with vulgarity and obscenities.

Claire, you love talking dirty and being slutty.

Claire, talking dirty is what a slut like you does.

Claire, you are a sexy, slutty, dirty lesbian.

Claire, spread your legs wider, like the wanton lesbian slut you are.

Claire, you love to spread your legs to tempt other girls and to have sex with them.

Claire opened her thighs a few inches wider, and continued to progressively spread them over the next minute until they were at the most extreme extension possible.

Claire, you love lesbian sex and being dirty and depraved and sexy.

Claire, you are a wild, beautiful lesbian slut.

Claire, you like talking dirty and having sex with other girls and women.

“Ohhh...fuckin’, sexy Abby… You make my cunt feel soooo good… You make me feel so...so dirty...like a slut…….and I love it...and I love you...you sexy little cunt....”

Claire’s body was trembling with feverish lust as Abby held her legs up in the air by her calves and as she continued to work her tongue on and in Claire’s slick, spasming muff, savoring the female honey dribbling out of it. Abby used her tongue to stroke Claire’s labia, suckle her love button, and dig straight into her twat.

“O-oh, ohhh, f-f-fuck, Abby… ah… please...I… don’t sto…”

“Abby, my dear, I think Claire’s asking you to make her cum. Be a good girl and try that technique I talked to you about.”

Abby heard her beloved roommate’s suggestion, mustered her mind to recall the instructions she had received previously in preparation for this moment, and set about to comply with Regina’s request, while continuing to incessantly ravish her friend’s dripping wet cunt with her tongue and with her painted lips.

Claire was too focused on her own pleasure to pay more than token attention to the command that Regina gave to Abby. However, it wouldn’t take long for her to figure out what Regina had told Abby to do. Within a few moments, Claire felt Abby’s index finger seductively touch and teasingly swirl around her anal ring. Then, after a minute of mischievous external play, Abby started to work her red-nailed finger gently inside her playmate’s tight, puckered hole. Claire let out a guttural moan of pleasure as the intense stimulation of having both of her holes sexually stimulated caused her to tremble, making her incapable of voicing any objection to the anal intrusion.

The sight of Claire on the cusp of an intense lesbian orgasm signaled to Regina that the time had come for her to reveal her body to Claire, understanding perfectly the effect she would have. She had now accomplished her primary objective of the evening, namely, to weld Claire and Abby together as lesbians with an inseparable sapphic bond through their emotions and body memory, so that they would be almost ravenous for each other from this point on, and so that they would tend to fall into nudity and sexual liberties with each other whenever together and alone in the future. Up to this evening, they had merely lusted for and flirted with each other. From now on, they would succumb to their flirtations and act on their urges for each other, or so was the plan and certainly that would be the way they would drift. WIth that goal achieved, it was time to recapture Claire’s focus to herself, stoke her lusts and infatuated emotions, and commence their personal love affair, transforming it from a brainwashed, abstracted desire into a concrete physical reality.

Regina stood up, paused until she had caught Claire’s eye, tugged loose the casual knot which had been tenuously holding the belt of her robe in place, pulled the shiny robe wide open, and, with an elegant shrug, let the glossy garment slide down into a silken pool at her feet. The graceful disrobing fully exposed her voluptuous body to the black-haired beauty who was moaning and writhing on the couch with the lithe, pretty Japanese teen between her legs.

Regina’s body was a marvel. It would have made a Playboy centerfold envious, and seemed to be a fantasy come true, directly out of a wet dream, to the delirious Claire. The centerpiece of her hourglass figure were her breasts. A full F-cup, they were big and heavy, yet proud, sagging very little. Her areolae were wide, two and a half inches across each, and bore long, pointy nipples, all of which were painted a glistening, deep purple. Her small waist and tight stomach flared out into wide hips and a curvaceous, meaty yet tight, smooth, inviting derriere, all supported by long, slender, shapely, smooth, perfect legs. Then there was her pussy—bald, wet, and inviting, with plump lips painted as purple as her nipples, mouth, and nails.

Claire knew in this instant that what she had longed to see, more than anything else since she had met this woman, was this spectacular body in all its naked splendor….the stacked, feminine body of her mentor, her savior, her ideal, and her new mother. This seemed to be a turning point in her life, a fulfilling and a beginning. She sensed, now that she had seen it, that this would not be the only time, but, rather, that it would be the first of many, many times, that from this point on, they would fall easily into nudity with each other, and that was how it should be. One element in that impression was the indoctrinated belief which bubbled up from her hidden mental crevices that mothers and daughters should be naked and sexual and romantic with each other, that being so was as natural and as healthy as any other thing mothers and daughters do with and are to each other.

Regina was now the sixth nude woman Claire had seen that day, if Claire herself, seen in the mirror in the morning, Meredith in the transparent shower stall, and the two porn actresses in the DVD were to be counted, not to mention Jessica, who had been naked with her briefly in their bedroom after showering and nearly naked with her while they watched the DVD. But if Abby’s robe being pulled from her body was as the rising of the sun at dawn to Claire’s nearly-virgin eyes, and the other exhibitions were similar, if less dramatic, in their effect on her, then Regina’s body after she doffed her robe was as the noon-day sun emerging from clouds, shining so brightly that Regina’s body and beauty now more or less eclipsed everything else Claire had been experiencing or was now experiencing this day.

It must also be stated, though, that Abby’s mouth on her pussy and finger up her asshole continued to drive Claire crazy with arousal. The anal play was particularly getting to her, now that Claire had become more accustomed to it and had come to connect it in her mind and emotions with the ecstacy of having her pussy tongue-fucked, so that in the future, per Regina’s design, Claire would be open to more of the same, and, in time, would come to actually crave anal lesbian action and seek it and even have a fetish for it. Further, the association of the euphoria from both her anal and vaginal fuckings with Regina’s overwhelming sexiness made Claire’s lust for her new mother all the more entrenched and fevered.

In any case, the sight of Regina’s magnificent tits, sensual hips, gorgeous legs, bulging, shaved, painted pussy, the enticing parts and the erotic whole—which Claire now knew she had longed to see from the moment they had met, completely, brazenly exposed—while simultaneously having her almost-virginal womanhood tongue-fucked, was the straw that broke the camel’s back for Claire. Her pussy exploded immediately in an eruption of love, the lust in her body firing on all cylinders as it coursed through her veins like fire. Regina sat down next to Claire again, leaned toward her, and planted a sensual kiss on Claire’s luscious lips, capturing her new daughter’s scream of sapphic climax with her purpled mouth.

Though at length Claire’s orgasm subsided some, shock waves continued to reverberate through Claire’s fevered body, nursed along by Regina’s lush, ardent, insistent, painted lips. Knowing there was more to wring out of Claire, and intent on rooting the younger woman’s blossoming addiction to her so deeply that her fixation, lust, devotion, and affection would be utterly steadfast and inescapably binding, the brunette woman with blond streaks in her glossy, flowing hair worked the beautiful girl back toward another climax. Claire moaned into Regina’s mouth as she felt the sexy brunette sensually explore her mouth with her tongue.

The considerable impact of Regina’s initial kiss had blended with the excitement of seeing Regina’s naked body and with the divine pleasure of Abby’s oral and digital explorations, causing her to miss its significance at first. But as Regina prolonged this, the first meeting of their lips in love, or the first such joining while Claire was fully conscious, and deepened it into a lovely round of French kissing, also a first for them, through her delirium Claire now knew that this, too, was something she had always desired, passionately desired to do with her sexy mentor every since meeting her. She had wanted to kiss her, kiss her lips, her beautiful, painted lips, to devour them, to make out with her, to kiss her deeply, deeper than deep, to make out with her long and hard and hot and desperately and possessively, until their very souls kissed, too. She now knew that she would never have had true fulfillment in her life without this. But now she was having it, having Regina, her beautiful, sexy mother, having her lips and mouth and love, and it was filling her with a joy and an ecstasy and a fulfillment which she had never before thought possible. As had been the case with finally seeing Regina nude, at last getting to kiss her was likewise as a long longed-for dream come true, and Regina’s mouth was every bit as delicious and compelling as it had looked to be.

At length, Regina backed away, creating a glistening thread of purple-tinged saliva that connected their mouths together. For several silent moments they just stared at each other, panting, eyes and hearts locked in an affection and lust which heretofore had been more or less hidden but which now was finally out in the open between them, the true sexual and romantic nature of their feelings for each other no longer merely a concealed undercurrent but frankly and undeniably obvious. Claire’s mouth dropped open a bit as the eye-opening comprehension swept over her of how very lascivious her emotions and desires concerning Regina really were and of how wanton was the actual direction their relationship was taking. Instantly, she knew this was what she wanted and always had wanted since they had met.

Then Regina’s eyes dropped to her disciple’s ripe young breasts, jutting outward in an eye-catching manner, not just because they were bare, but also because the posture of Claire having her hands tied behind her back made them thrust forward even more than they normally did. Regina’s mouth watered as she devoured Claire’s big young melons greedily with her eyes. Seeing with pleasure where her beloved mentor’s eyes were fastened and acting spontaneously on implanted sapphic urges, Claire thrust her breasts forward even more, seeking to tempt Regina with them.

Unable and disinclined to resist the offered feast before her, Regina commenced to lavish Claire’s breasts with her passionate attention. She clasped Claire’s left tit and gently palmed it in her hand, making Claire gasp in delight, upon which Regina inclined forward to kiss her lips romantically again. Then inclining her face downward, the sexy brunette leaned in and took the tit into her mouth. Claire, looking down, saw and felt Regina’s lovely, purple-lipsticked lips descend and suck her quaking nipple. The stunning sight and the sharp, exquisite physical and emotional pleasure, and the knowledge that it was her beloved crush and new mother, the magnificent Regina, doing this to her, caused Claire to swoon for a moment, as she closed her eyes and tossed her head back.

After a minute, Regina paused to tease her prey into further commitment, obsession, and depravity.

“Claire, darling… Do you like what we are doing?”

“Oh, Mom.... You know I do…” By this time, Claire’s promiscuous and incestuous lesbian persona had completely risen to the fore and engulfed her, if only temporarily, although it would never again be as submerged and hidden as it had been before.

“This is how mothers and daughters love each other. Lesbian sex between a mother and daughter is perfectly natural. Of course you know that, don’t you?”

“Yes… Yes, I do!”

“This won’t be the last time. We can do this again and again, many, many times more, you and I, and much more. Would you like that?”

“Yes, yes! Oh, please… oooooo...Mooommm....mmmmmm…ohhhhh...more….”

“Claire, darling...do you love me?”

“Ohhh, Regina… You don’t know how much I love you! I love you so much, it almost hurts!”

This confession and the ones which followed seemed familiar to Claire, as if she had already rehearsed them in her mind, although she couldn’t specifically remember doing so. Little did she realize that she indeed had already rather extensively and passionately, in a similar vein, divulged her feelings for Regina and her espousal of lesbian homosexuality while entranced in Regina’s office some days before, making these declarations to Regina this evening all the easier to speak.

“And do you love...these…?” Regina lifted her grand breasts in her hands, pointing, weaponlike, her large, deeply-painted nipples directly at her victim.

“Mom, I loooove them! You don’t know what they do to me!” Regina had to smile to herself over that declaration, as, in actuality, Regina understood their effect on Claire perfectly.

“And...how about this...my pussy?” Regina opened her legs wantonly and traced her glistening nether lips with a dark-red fingernail.

“Oh!!” While Claire had glanced several times at her beloved mentor’s juicy womanly slit since Regina had finally and fully exposed it, Claire, accepting Regina’s implied invitation to have a better look, now zeroed in on it for the first time and stared at it with open enthrallment. The older woman stroked and flipped her labia a little playfully with two fingertips, causing them to flap slightly opened and closed.

“Mmmm...wow...You’re… It’s...so...beautiful, mother. Yes… I love your...your pussy!” As if to reward her daughter’s obscene expression of affectionate affinity for her cunt, Regina allowed one of her manicured fingers to sink slowly all the way into her slit, before then withdrawing it, gazing sultrily at Claire as she did.

Claire, with her mouth open and watering, was absorbing Regina’s lewd display as the behavior of her ideal woman, instilling into her a model for her own conduct...as Regina fully intended. The modest, reserved demeanor characteristic of her prudish former mother, Mary, most of the time—for new memories told her that Mary had flaunted her body to her daughters now and then—had been getting discredited in Claire’s mind as weak, timid, boring, and passe, while Regina’s example of whorish exhibition was replacing it for Claire as the model of the way a real woman behaves.

“When women feel like this about each other, they are falling in love, aren’t they?”

“.....Yes…. I think so…”

“Women who fall in love with other women are lesbians, aren’t they?”

“Well...I guess...so…”

“You want to be in a relationship with me, don’t you? A lesbian relationship.”

Claire wasn’t sure she should answer more questions like this, answers which would seem to commit her to becoming a lesbian, although it was clear that Regina was drawing out of her feelings she hadn’t acknowledged before but she now saw had been harbored within her, feelings which seemed to want to emerge into the open and which were exciting to face. Plus, it was as if Regina could read her mind, anyway, so therefore evasion would serve no purpose.

“You want to be in a relationship of love and sex with a woman older than you, who is your mother now, and whose beauty, breasts, and pussy turn you on so much that you cannot possibly live without her. You want to be my lover. Is that right, Claire, my sweet daughter?”

“Mother… I… Now that you say it like that...yes...I do want that…I want you...”

“And Abby, as well. You desire Abby almost as much, don’t you?”

“Ooo, sweet Abby...definitely…” Claire, feeling Abby’s ministrations to her cunt and anal holes anew, moaned again in lust and pleasure, as she had been doing periodically in response to her darling new Asian friend during this scene. “Ahhhh...mmmmmmmm…”

“And other girls, too...Monica...Meredith...Jessica...Traci...you want them all… You want to be lesbian girlfriends with them… You want sex with all of them…and with other sexy girls, as well...”

That last suggestion caused Claire’s mind to flash back to the porn DVD she had watched earlier. She pictured the lovely blonde and redheaded porn actresses reclining on their satin-covered bed, having just played sexually with each other, now turning toward Claire as she watched them, blowing kisses to her and beckoning her to join them.

“Yes...mmmmmm...yes....”

“That makes you a lesbian, sweetheart. My sweet, pretty, sexy lesbian girl. You want to be a lesbian for me...and for them...don’t you?”

“...........Maybe I...I am a lesbian… I do like pretty girls…more than I probably should...girls like Abby… oh!...and I love what she’s doing to me!...oooooo... Actually...I...I love girls… You must be right, Mother...as you always are... I think...I must want to be one…you know...a lesbian girl...especially if it means I get...you, Regina… You are just so...so beautiful!….. One thing I know for sure is that I...I want you, Mom….sooooo bad…”

With that, the older naked woman’s mouth granted Claire another deep sapphic kiss and then returned to the ravishing of her breasts. The acute erotic pleasure of the quadruple sapphic assault on her mouth, her tits, her pussy, and her ass—as Abby’s finger had been penetrating her ever more deeply, and was pistoning inside her, fucking her anus—and of being there, naked, with two naked women who had stirred her desire for them beyond the breaking point, was too much sexual stimulation for her body and her emotions to take. This was more than enough to set Claire off for a second and final time.

“I-I’m...f-fucking...cumming!” Claire screamed as she felt her pussy spasm wildly and released a deluge of female juice, which Abby eagerly drank up. Abby felt the rapid contractions of Claire’s fuck tunnel on her tongue and Claire’s asshole clutch her finger buried deep within, making Abby, in accordance with a previously psycho-embedded trigger, madly fall in love in that moment with Claire, more than she even had been, and embedding in her psyche a permanent sapphic bond with her new raven-haired girlfriend.

As Claire arched her back, thrusting her large knockers upwards, Regina held on to Claire’s bucking body so that she could continue to suckle on Claire’s excited, inflamed teat for a short time longer.

The last thing Claire saw before passing out from the intense orgasm, which had racked her body with addicting ecstasies and had ravaged her ever-more corrupted psyche, was Regina towering over her with a wicked—but absolutely beautiful—smile on her face.

If Claire could have seen her own face at that moment, she might have been alarmed, or at least might not have recognized herself. She certainly would not have seen the wholesome girl she had been but days before, not through her current visage, one heated with fading innocence, flushed with sheer, embedded lesbian lust, distorted by evil carnality, and smiling back at the lovely woman looming over her with a sinful gratification which mirrored that of her new mother, her creator, her savior, her exemplar, her love.

“Claire? Are you okay? Hello, Claire.”

The voice slowly brought Claire out of her slumber. As she regained consciousness, Claire suddenly remembered where she was and jolted upright off the sofa.

“Claire, is something wrong?”

Claire turned towards her right to see Regina sitting in the armchair. But she was puzzled to see that Regina wasn’t nude. Instead, the dazzling woman had on a casual blue dress with a black satin sash around her waist, highlighting its noteworthy narrowness, and a light cherry-blossom pink cardigan over it. Looking down at herself, Claire saw that she herself was dressed.

“Claire? Are you feeling okay?” came a lighter, younger voice from somewhere to the right of Regina. Claire turned more and saw Abby, standing and dressed in the same outfit she had worn earlier that day, when she had introduced Claire and her roommates to their new home—the same sexy, revealing outfit, but it was not nudity—giving her a confused look.

“N-no… it’s just.. Never mind,” Claire said sheepishly. “I’m sorry.”

Was the whole thing a dream? Claire thought to herself. Did she have an erotic dream involving Regina, Abby, and herself...in...in an erotic lesbian three-way? If so, why had she been dosing in this apartment? Did she black out? Or was it some kind of daydream? And why would even her sleeping or daydreaming self entertain a wild sexual fantasy about her new friend and about the woman she so revered? But...looking around the room...and asking her common sense what the likelihood was...Claire concluded that it had to have been a dream.

Yeah… It must have been…….. But…why would I have a fantasy about…about sex…with…with women…? With Abby and Regina? …………. Oh! Yeah. Of course! It must have been because I watched that DVD about…about beautiful women having sex…with each other… That must have put ideas into my head… I’ll have to be careful about that……… But it was still an entertaining DVD…………. And, too...I have been trying to adopt a lesbian viewpoint.... Maybe I’m trying so hard that it’s getting to me...although...it’s been kind of...fun…

Claire allowed herself to quickly review her fantasy, finding that she could recall the scenario in great detail. it struck her as something she should feel guilty about, but did not. In fact, she found the recollection of it exciting, to the point that it made her pulse race, her face flush, and her head spin a little, and found that there was a side of her that, deep down, wished that it had occurred and wondered whether, if given the chance to participate in a real situation similar to that, she might be willing. She thought that, as a moral and straight girl, she probably would decline an invitation to get involved in something like that...like being nude with other women...and...kissing them...and having...sex...with them………….and yet………...given the sexy beauty of the two women in question...and how much she liked them...and the fact that she promised Regina that she would try to envision her lifestyle and sexuality as if she were a lesbian… Hmmmmm…

“It’s okay Claire. It’s been a bit of a long day and I appreciate your assistance in helping Abby with her sponsorship assignment.”

“You’re welcome, Mother.”

“Abby, dear, why don’t you show Claire the end result of your assignment.”

“No problem, Regina.”

Abby held up a mirror in front of Claire and what she beheld was breathtaking. The face Claire saw was painted so heavily and beautifully, with a variety of cosmetics, by far more than she had ever worn before, that she barely recognized the bedazzling vixen that she had become.

Liquid foundation and powder had been coated on her face to make her already healthy, unblemished skin absolutely flawless and smooth. Her eyelashes were voluminous with thick, pitch-black mascara, and her eyelids were outlined heavily with blue-black eyeliner and dusted thickly with metallic purple, dark, smokey grey, and silver eyeshadows. Dusky pink blush made her cheeks glow. Her lips were luscious and tantalizing with what she perceived to be multiple coats of a dark violet lipstick, and outlined with a violet black color which had been skillfully blended in.

She drew her hands to her face at the pleasant surprise and immediately noticed that her fingernails were painted to match her lips, a novel sensation for her since she rarely had used fingernail polish in the past, although she had been noticing recently how much she liked it, or loved it, when other girls had painted nails, and felt more attracted to such girls. Her nose picked up the mellow, fragrant scent of a perfume that had been applied to her which was reminiscent of magnolias with notes of gardenias and vanilla.

“Do you like it, Claire?” asked Abby.

“I-It’s wonderful, Abby,” Claire replied, as she continued to marvel at her reflection in the mirror. “Thank you.” Abby simply flashed Claire a friendly smile in response.

“It is wonderful. You’re wonderful, Claire.” Claire inadvertently found herself imagining Regina come up behind her and slide her manicured hands onto the younger woman’s shoulders, both women now appearing in the mirror with one another, almost as if they were...together. “You are a very beautiful young woman.” To hear her new mother say so and to imagine seeing and feeling the woman’s lovely hands on her sent a thrill up Claire’s spine. “You’re one of those special girls who, when you spice up your looks, like by wearing makeup, you had better watch out for all the attention you’re going to get...from boys, of course, if you care about that...but...more importantly...from girls…” Claire, still a little groggy, did not not analyze that statement critically, but it made her feel warm and the implied message sank into her mind without filter or objection. “All you have to do is try...and they’ll just drool over you.” They both understood the “they” as meaning “girls”.

“Thank you, Mom.” For a brief second, Claire envisioned her new mother bend down and kiss her neck, before she shook the enjoyable image away as inappropriate.

As Claire turned her head this way and that to better view the details of her transformation, she saw something shiny dangling from her ears and, pulling her black hair black, saw earrings, each consisting of a small silver chain from which hung a charm depicting the pink-painted outlines of two overlapping hearts.

“Do you like them?” asked Abby. “I noticed that you had pierced ears, and I wanted you to have something to remember me by.” Abby peeled back her own hair to show Claire that she had on a pair which was exactly the same. “See? We match now.” Claire did like them, and liked her friend’s thoughtful gift, and knew it would remind her of the cute Abby everytime she wore them and noticed them. In a way, it made them seem bound together, as...well, as something.

“Well, it is getting late, Claire, and I think it would be best if we call it a day,” suggested Regina as she got up from the chair, Claire following suit.

“Y-yes… I guess it is getting a bit…”

“Claire,” Regina interrupted.

“Yes Regina… I mean mother?”

“Never feel that you will wear out your welcome here. I want you to know that you can visit me or Abby anytime you want.”

“Thank you, Mom.”

“Wait… Before you go, let me give you this,” Regina said as she handed Claire a small red velvet drawstring bag.

“It’s a sample kit of the cosmetics Abby used on you. I figure you might want it after the beautiful job that Abby did on a gorgeous woman like you.”

Claire blushed at the compliment Regina gave her and eagerly took the small bag. Regina gently slid her fingers across Claire’s wrist and palm, sending a small but pleasant shudder traveling through Claire’s body, the younger woman having enjoyed the physical contact more than she knew she should have. After exchanging a few more pleasantries, Regina walked Claire to the front door, leaving Abby in the living room, and opened it for her. They paused in the doorway, Claire turning to face Regina.

“I just want to say it was great seeing you again...Mom.”

“Claire, it’s always a pleasure to see you. I just love how the atmosphere changes with you around. And I’m so pleased that you and I have opened up with each other about the way we feel about one another...and...have established a personal relationship that will comfort both of us. Thank you, dear.”

“Oh, uh, I feel the same way. Thank you, too, Regina...Mom.” They stood there a few moments gazing into each other’s eyes, Claire’s not-as-innocent-as-two-weeks-ago blue set getting lost in her older companion’s mystical grey ones. “Well… um… Take care,” bade Claire, with an unmistakable longing in her voice which revealed a desire to stay longer and to see her lovely mentor again at the earliest possible moment.

“You too, my dear, sweet Claire.” Regina slid a beautiful hand onto Claire’s shoulder, leaned in, instantly mesmerizing the black-haired beauty with her perfume and sensual proximity, and placed a soft kiss on Claire’s lips. Claire closed her eyes with the unexpected, tender, wondrous expression of affection and, while she was still in the dreamland in which the kiss had immediately ushered her, Regina steered her out the door and softly closed it.

Standing in the hallway by herself, Claire found herself stunned by the kiss, stunned and dazed and paralyzed, the surprise and the pleasure had been so incredible. Her heart in a flutter, she touched two of her violet-tipped fingers to her lips, as if to make sure she wasn’t dreaming, or as if to capture and to seal the haunting sensation of her beloved mentor’s lipstick-coated lips on hers, embedding the kiss into her memory. She couldn’t help but speculate that, given their new, closer relationship and the bestowal of that one, first, euphoric kiss, there might well be more of those in the future, and that, in fact, theirs was now a kissing relationship, the probability which thrilled her to the toes. After a minute in a disoriented, blissful cloud, she tried to rediscover her bearings and determine her next destination.

Claire turned towards the door to her apartment when someone popped into her head—the friendly and beautiful Traci Hartwood. Claire guessed that perhaps having seen Regina tonight had made her now remember Regina’s assistant. Claire reasoned to herself as she stood there that, as she had been seeing Regina a lot lately, now it was time to get better acquainted, or re-acquainted, with the foxy blonde. She was a little surprised with herself for having procrastinated contacting Traci, for the sexy blonde was another woman whom she knew she certainly wanted to see again. Maybe, she figured, she had just gotten distracted in all the hubbub of switching apartments. But, now that Traci had come to mind, Claire definitely felt she had to correct that issue.

Claire’s conjecture that she had thought of Traci because of her connection to Regina, whom she had just seen, was correct, but not because they worked together. It was the kiss with Regina that had called forth memories of Traci, inasmuch as Traci was the first woman with whom Claire had shared a kiss, small and indefinite though it was, and was one of only two women whom she had kissed before Regina, Meredith being the other. But that single, singular meeting of lips just concluded, on top of the more intense congresses that she had had with Regina’s mouth within the last hour, which she now ascribed to her imagination, as well as on a previous day while in Regina’s office while under hypnosis, made her unsuspectingly hungry for more of the same, from, if need be, some other pretty female mouth...one exactly like Traci’s. Even more deeply buried within Claire was that she was dying to also get into the blonde woman’s panties, as well.

The hallway didn’t offer much privacy for the type of call Claire wanted to make, so she took the elevator down and managed to find a nice, private, peaceful nook in the spacious common dormitory living room area on the first floor. Pulling out her smartphone, Claire searched through her contacts list. Finding Traci’s number, she dialed it, feeling a suspenseful tingle rise up her back and spark her nipples, as well, in anticipation of talking to the beautiful blonde again. The call rang a few times and just as Claire was about to give up and end the call, finding the sharp anticipation almost too much to bear, Traci picked up.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Traci. It’s me...Claire...Claire Love-Livingston? Uh...Do you remember me?”

There was a brief silence on Traci’s end. Though Traci was occupied right now and it did take her a moment to switch mental gears and process who was on the other end of the line, it wasn’t that long of a moment, for Traci had been looking forward to getting to know this lovely coed much better, knew well that Miss Claire Love-Livingston had a brewing lesbian crush on her—one which she, Traci, had quite intentionally and expertly provoked—had been confident, after what had transpired between them the last time they were together, that the pretty coed would be calling her, and was tickled pink to hear from her now. No, part of Traci’s little pause was that she was also playing with Claire a little by extending her silence, and, as intended, it compounded the nervousness Claire was feeling about this call.

Did she forget about me?

“Oh, Claire! Of course! No, I haven’t forgotten you! Not you! No way! Oh, my Goddess, it has been a while. Well, not really that long...what, maybe a week or something? But it just seems longer. I have been hoping to hear from you. How have you been?”

Claire let out a sigh of relief as Traci acknowledged remembering the raven-haired lass and seemed quite happy to hear from her.

“I’m doing fine, Traci. How about you?”

“I’m doing fine myself, sweetie……… So... what can I do for you, Claire?” Traci knew perfectly well what Claire wanted. Claire wanted Traci. But the blonde was going to make Claire break out of her shell and get used to trying to ask a female out, which is what she knew Claire really wanted to do with her—among other things—and didn’t know how to, but had to figure out in order to progress on her destined sapphic path.

“Um.. I don’t know if you remember...but...uh...we were going to get together...and...I...um...I thought I would give you a call.”

‘Well, I’m really glad you did!”

Whew! Nice to hear that! “Well...uh...um...I just felt that I had to...to...you know...uh, reward what you and Regina did to help me get back my college future. So…”

“Oh, Claire, you little cutie, you don’t owe me anything,” countered Traci, politely interrupting Claire. “I didn’t mind one bit helping you and those other unfortunate girls out.”

“I appreciate that, Traci, but I still feel that good people like you and Regina deserve compensation for their deeds.”

“You make a very compelling argument, Claire. So how do you intend to pay me back?” There was a hint of flirtation in her voice.

“Well, I recall you mentioning that your daughter, Natasha, was looking for a mentor for her school work and selecting a college. I happen to be free this weekend and was wondering if I could come over and help, free of charge.”

When Claire had dialed Traci’s number, she didn’t have a conscious desire beyond seeing Traci again and getting to know her better and didn’t have a concrete plan in place other than to talk to Traci, see if she wanted to get together in some way, and see where that would lead. But now that she was somewhat into the conversation, some of their previous discussion came back to her about what she might do for and with Traci and her daughter at some point, and about Traci’s tentative invitation for dinner, and it led her to formulate this offer, or to restate the one she had previously made, one that would get her foot in the door of Traci’s personal life—maybe for dinner at first, maybe for more, as Traci had previously mentioned when they had last been together—which was what her true subconscious beginning goal was.

The old Claire would have gladly volunteered to help a student in need without compensation, but the new Claire had a mercenary streak and was less inclined to help another without there being something significant in it for her. Being able to see Traci again, and meeting her fetching teen daughter, and sliding her way into their lives and their affections, and getting whatever else came along with that of a rewarding nature to herself—these considerations were all part of an ulterior motive behind her seemingly magnanimous proposition. It was unlikely that this Claire would have made any offer like this to someone in whom she had no romantic or sexual interest.

“Why, Claire, that is a very wonderful idea! And trust me, I think Natasha would love to meet you as well. How about this: I’ll be on campus in the morning finishing up some last minute details. Why not stop by the office somewhere around eleven? After I finish, I can take you to my place and then you can hang out with Natasha and me, stay for dinner, and, since you mentioned you had the weekend free, why not stay over for the night...or, better yet, the entire weekend? Doesn’t that sound like an absolutely wonderful idea, Claire?”

A weekend with Traci? And Natasha? Wow. That would be amazing…

“T-That sounds wonderful, Traci. If I’m not being an inconvenience, I would love to.”

Claire didn’t know why, but the idea of her staying over with Traci and her alluring daughter had her giddy with joy. She could feel her heart racing with pleasure at the concept of enjoying the extended company of two beautiful young women such as these, and even sleeping at their place. She could hardly speculate at what could happen, but, deep inside Claire’s psyche, her budding lesbian persona knew what she wanted to happen. If the opportunity of enjoying sensual pleasures with this mother and daughter presented itself, she would make sure to nudge the more reserved conscious side of herself in that direction.

“Of course not, silly. You’re never an inconvenience. In fact, you don’t know how much I’ve been looking forward to you calling me...and...to you and me getting to know each other better. Well, it’s a date then. You don’t mind if we call it that, do you, honey?”

“Oh...no...not at all. Um…yes… It’s a...a date, Traci,” responded Claire in a playful yet nervous tone.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then, Claire,” Traci said in a seductive tone. “Can’t wait!”

“I’ll...I’ll see you tomorrow also.”

“Well...take care, then. Good night, pretty Claire,” Traci cooed softly, in a sweet, melodic, tender voice which seemed pregnant with the promise of affection and intimacy, sending a mysterious thrill through the black-haired lass. Claire pondered the just-concluded phone conversation as she strolled, preoccupied and in a happy fog, to the elevator and took it back up to her floor.

Claire found it quite amazing that she had actually called up another woman...a beautiful, sexy, blonde woman...and had gotten a date with her out of it...her first date with a woman, no less... Yes, that was what she had kind of hoped would happen, even though she had been planning to just call what they were going to do a “get-together” or a “visit” or something. But Traci viewed it as a date...and so would she, Claire, whatever that meant, exactly. But it really did happen. It wasn’t so hard to call up a woman for a date………. Okay...it was a little nerve-wracking, at first. But, in the end, it felt quite...nice…….very nice…….

A date...with Traci...wow………. I...I think I wanted that… Did she mean it as, like, a woman-on-woman “date” date?... But...girls aren’t supposed to date other women...are they? Or...maybe...they are………. Somehow...it seems...just fine…or even...perfect... And...in the dream I just had...I remember that Regina actually encouraged me and Abby to date each other...well, and to do much more than that, too… But dating Abby...what an idea… I wonder what it would be like...to go on a girl-girl date...with her… If I was able to ask Traci out, like I just did, then I could ask Abby out, too… Regina said Abby would say yes…and I think so, too... I know she likes me… I like her, too...a lot… Or...maybe she’ll ask me out first… Either way...that would be so cool...……..

And anyway...it can’t hurt to see things from an alternative perspective…and try something new... Regina wants me to do that...and to date girls… She thinks it will be good for me...and that I’ll...I’ll like it... She knows these things...and, as my mother, she only wants me to be happy… I trust her… Women can date each other…and should...of course… It’s only natural… There’s nothing wrong with that at all…….. And so...I will……… especially if...Traci...sigh...is my...my date… She is soooo hot...This is going to be fun…

The concept of going out with boys, and eventually mating with a man long-term, and the will to do so, had been fading over the past several days in Claire’s heart, and this evening that disposition was now in full retreat. Though she hadn’t analyzed her feelings about it yet, other than to justify her desires and intentions to date girls, girl-on-girl dating was starting to feel like the norm and hetero dating like the odd behavior, her previous traditional outlook being gradually, inexorably replaced by new views of dating and mating as a properly and exclusively all-girl phenomenon...at least for herself.

After hanging up, the blonde milf set the phone on her nightstand. The blanket over her body began to stir and before long Natasha stuck her head out, her mouth slick with her mother’s female honey.

“So...I take it that we’ll have company tomorrow?” inquired Natasha.

“Yes, my love, and I think you’ll find her tits to die for.”

Just like yours, my sexy blonde mother. “Now this I have to see!”

“Just remember that we have to obey Mistress and Goddess on how we handle her. We can’t go too far, at least right now. They want to bring her along a little more slowly than we might want to. She still doesn’t realize what a hot-to-trot little lesbian whore she already is, at least on the inside, and soon will be all the way through. Unlike you. You know exactly what you are, don’t you, my little lezzie slut?”

“Yeah...thanks to you, Mistress Regina, and Goddess.”

“Anyway...it still doesn’t mean we can’t have some fun with her!.”

“Absolutely, Traci, my dirty, dyke, bitch-whore of a mother.” Natasha’s face bore an adoring, if mischievous, little smile.

“Enough with the compliments! Now roll over, my dear, you hot little fuck-slut. Mother wants to break in her new double dildo on her sassy daughter’s beautiful, sexy ass!”

“Oh my, goodie! I love it when you talk dirty to me and try new fuck toys on me!”

Both mother and daughter slid into a sinful embrace, their mouths drawing together as naturally and irresistibly as if caught in a mutual tractor beam, and they made out lustily with each other for some time before the pretty teen complied with her mother’s orders and positioned herself on her hands and knees in front of Traci, wagging her derriere in lewd invitation. As they spent the rest of the evening making passionate love to each other, thoughts of possibly having a lesbian ménage à trois this weekend with the hot Claire Love-Livingston kept them going well into the late hours of the night.

Stepping off the elevator, Claire made her way towards her apartment. As she entered, she found the apartment to be eerily quiet. In the common living area, including the kitchen, the TV was off and the lights were either off or dim. The only lights of any significant brightness were to be seen down the hallway, coming from the bedroom she and Jessica had agreed to share, like an ominous beacon. Claire took a deep breath, readied herself, and proceeded down the hallway toward the open door.

Walking silently into the bedroom, she saw Jessica curled up on the bed, lying on top of the covers, her back to the doorway. Claire’s eye was immediately caught by her friend’s ass encased in the icy blue bikini panties she had worn a couple days ago when Claire, in what could only have been an inebriated state of mind, ended up in her best friend’s bed. Taking time to admire the panties and the smooth, firm, curving flesh in them, Claire noticed the lace trim of the panties and found that it added a girly sex appeal that she found captivating. Most of all, Claire found her gaze lost in the smooth globes of Jessica’s breathtaking ass and the pair of long, bare, equally sexy legs attached to it.

Her...her legs.... Why have I never noticed them before? They are absolutely...hmmm mmm...just...well..delicious…….And that ass……..wow… it’s...gorgeous....

A few seconds passed by before Claire could tear her focus away from her roommate’s body. Taking a deep breath, she gathered herself and decided to finally announce her presence.

“H-Hey, Jessica… You ok?”

Jessica bolted upright while turning around to see Claire by the doorway. Propping herself up against the mauve tufted smooth leather headboard of the bed, she ran her hands through her hair and adjusted the straps on her bra and the contents of her bra cups in an effort to make herself presentable to her roommate. In doing so, she gave Claire a nice view of the eye-catching icy blue bra, which matched the panties, and how it cradled Jessica’s tantalizing tits and displayed her deep cleavage.

“Hey, Clairebear… I-I’m fine…” Jessica responded, as she tried to give Claire a friendly smile, although it looked forced. Her demeanor and tone bespoke vulnerability and softness, striking Claire as a wonderful contrast to the female athlete’s normal dispassionate, harder manner in the past, and she found this girlish bearing, combined with her attire and exposure, to be heart-melting. “You know, just chilling in our new crib.”

There was an awkward silence in the room. Claire and Jessica continued to stare at each other as each unknowingly gave the other a longing look, as if each were saying “I’m so sorry, I really like you so much, and I want to be friends again” with their eyes. Both thought she understood that expression on the other and was somewhat relieved by it, but neither quite had the words she needed in that moment to clear the air more than that. At length, Claire made the first move to overcome the current impasse in their present exchange.

“Well… I’m, um… you know… going to the bathroom...and freshen up before turning in for the night.”

“Okay.”

As she turned and made her way to the bathroom, Claire gave Jessica an unrestricted view of her cute rear. Jessica’s gaze fixed on the marvelous globes seductively swaying side-to-side inside Claire’s jeans, and she sighed before falling back onto the bed vertically.

In the bathroom, Claire looked at the reflection staring at her, being struck anew by what she saw and finding that she was rather smitten with her new look, a look given her by cosmetics.

Wow… I’m...I’m soooo beautiful! I...I could look like this all the time… Makeup is so cool!... I could really get used to this… I could go for this girl, big-time. Wow… She pursed her lips at herself, blowing herself a few kisses.

Just as Claire’s current appearance was a stark contrast to her previous no-makeup look, so also Claire’s appraisal of her made-up face stood at variance to her lifelong no-makeup philosophy, which was in this moment all but forgotten, as if she had never subscribed to it. Certainly she did not want to remove this awesome mask of color and perfection right now, even though she had come to the bathroom partly for that purpose, for Mary had taught her to wash her face every night before bed, especially on the rare occasions when she happened to have a little makeup on.

Claire felt hesitation as she turned the faucet on, a tug in her mind telling her to keep the makeup on a little longer. Jessica hadn’t seen it well enough, or seen her in it well enough, she told herself, and that was, for some reason, important to her. Besides, Mary’s teachings had proven to be incorrect in various cases, possibly including this one, about the need to remove makeup before going to bed, so maybe there would be little harm in sleeping like this. Maybe she should wear her makeup to bed. After all, it was going to be her first night sleeping with her pretty friend, Jessica. For such an occasion, she could make an exception, couldn’t she?

A few new beliefs, drummed into her subconscious mind by brainwashing, floated around in the back of her head, encouraging her to keep herself dolled up for going to bed with Jessica: Girls should sleep together. Girls should be sexy with each other. A girl should look sexy for her female companions. Girls should tempt each other with their beauty. A girl should look sexy when she goes to bed with another girl. A bed is a place of love between two girls. Girls who sleep together fall in love with each other. Girls who sleep together arouse each other sexually. A bed is a place for lesbian sex. Girls who sleep together should make love with one another.

Claire was right that Jessica had not seen her made-up face well enough, as the lighting in the bedroom was muted right now and their conversation had been brief. But Jessica had seen it some, had loved it, even been awed by it, had wanted to see more, and had hoped Claire wouldn’t wash it off, but she knew that was likely going to happen when Claire excused herself to the bathroom. She herself had also washed off her makeup before getting on the bed, knowing that was what most girls do at night and not knowing whether Claire would be coming home before she turned the lights off. But she, like Claire, had entertained keeping her makeup on for the same reason Claire had, namely, for her roommate.

As Claire debated, she remembered the reasons her birth mother had given her for removing makeup before going to bed: Otherwise, you might end up with clogged pores; you’ll soil your pillow case; you’ll smear your makeup over your face as you sleep and maybe even into your eyes and, since makeup harbors bacteria, you might give yourself an eye infection; you’ll wake up with a messy face; etc. Those considerations seemed true enough, even if they had come from Mary, making Claire decide to wash her face, despite not wanting to.

Then an idea popped into her mind. It was the perfect compromise. Pulling her smartphone out of her pocket, she unlocked the camera app and took a selfie of herself adorned with the cosmetics that Abby had applied to her. Satisfied with a few glamor shots, Claire put the smartphone back into her pocket, used the commode, brushed her teeth, and, delaying yielding up her made-up visage to the last, proceeded to wash off the makeup.

After drying her face off and taking a last look in the mirror at her face, still very fresh and pretty even without makeup, she noted, and also noticing with satisfaction that at least she still had her beautiful, eye-catching, dark violet fingernail polish on, with a secret hope that Jessica would notice it and be drawn to her by it, Claire stepped back out to the bedroom.

Standing near her chest of drawers and her closet, which she had just opened, across the spacious room from their bed, Claire disrobed to her plain white bra and panties, and was about to pull on her flannel nightshirt, which she in the past had normally alternated with pajamas from one night to the next, but then she again saw Jessica lying there—on her side, basically turned away from Claire, but with her torso twisted back her way some, allowing Claire a partial, side view of her breasts and face—in just her icy blue bra and panties set, and she paused, debating. If that was the bar Jessica wanted to set for their sleeping together, well, that was fine with Claire. In fact it seemed just about perfect, and very natural. They had, after all, already slept once together in just bras and panties. When Claire had woken up like that with her dear friend, she had found herself liking the situation, very much, in fact, and had found herself wanting to try it again sometime. This was her opportunity.

A small voice in her head encouraged her to wear the minimum she could. It told her that girls should sleep together, and that when they did, they should wear as little as possible...even including nudity. In fact, the voice whispered, nudity was the ideal whenever two pretty girls were alone together, and especially in bed. That would be the most natural and the most enjoyable way to sleep with another sexy girl. But certainly, she found herself realizing, bras and panties would be great, too...as would be sexy boudoir lingerie…

That latter kind of apparel—lingerie—caught Claire’s imagination for a moment. She knew that mundane bras and panties, like the ones she had on now, were not considered true lingerie, which term was normally reserved for undergarments and bedroom apparel designed to have not only a utilitarian but also, or mainly, an artistic flair and a provocative effect. Claire owned no real lingerie, she reflected, but wondered for a few seconds whether Monica might, and, if so, she considered helping herself to it sometime when Monica wasn’t around.

Then Claire remembered that she did own one set of bra and panties that could qualify as real lingerie—the lacy black satin set, with little pink frills, in which she had woken up that morning in bed with Jessica. She knew she had looked hot in it—in her own room later that morning, before she had dressed for the day, Claire had modeled for herself in her full-length mirror in the black bra and panties set—and was certain, based on the way her athletic roommate had been eyeing her that morning, that Jessica had had no objections to it, either.

An image flashed into her mind of herself in the black bra and panties. Bit by bit, her imagination embellished the image. First, she added the heavy makeup Abby had applied to her; then she visualized her hair up in a half ponytail, lightened to a dark grey and streaked with silver, like Regina’s brown hair was streaked with blonde; and finally she added sheer black nylons, a black garter belt, and glossy black high heels. She pictured this fantasy version of herself showing herself off to Jessica and then slipping into bed with her.

As quickly as the image came into her mind, it left, leaving Claire wondering why she had imagined herself so, although the image was hot and would lead Claire later to ponder what kinds of fantastically, beautifully sexy appearances she was capable of and whether she shouldn’t pursue them.

But now the question remained: Should she slip into the black bra and panties, matching in sensuality the spicy ensemble Jessica had on?

Not tonight, she concluded...not after their little flair-up earlier. No...considering the tension between them and the sexual climate associated with its genesis, she figured shouldn’t push anything like that further in Jessica’s face this evening—although possibly another night… Just the same, Claire couldn’t help but feel a little derelict for wearing something so plain compared to the sexy number that Jessica had on.

She looks great wearing that...but… I think she looked even hotter with the one that she had on earlier… That one was...wow… Claire knew the real reason she had so liked the white set was because the panties so boldly exposed her roommate’s vagina through the sheer crotch panel—and she lusted to ogle it again—although she told herself there were other reasons that she wanted to see Jessica in that set again. She...she kind of looked like a bride...in the white… I’ve never imagined Jessica getting married before… But...she would make a beautiful bride… Maybe she would wear lingerie like that on her wedding night…

Claire’s imagination kicked in again, this time picturing Jessica again in the revealing white bra and panties...standing next to a bed...her new spouse already in the bed, waiting… But...her expectant companion was...a woman!... She wore black lingerie… It was Claire!

Claire, shocked by the scene her imagination had created, snapped out of it and the vision fled before her eyes. Why did I imagine that...that newlywed scene...between me and Jessica?....... No...it was just us getting into bed as roommates...which we have to do anyway… That’s all…

A pang of guilt struck Claire as she realized why Jessica might have changed into a different bra and panties set. Claire had snapped at her friend, clearly hurting her feelings. Jessica probably hadn’t wanted to wear something that would make it seem that this situation, going to bed together, was simply a continuation of that one. Changing out of that set would symbolically communicate that their retirement to bed together was a fresh start, and that Jessica wasn’t going to try anything too outrageous the rest of the night. Claire further speculated that Jessica may have switched to the icy blue set because that’s what she had been wearing when they had woken up in bed together a few days before, and Claire had not only not freaked out or snapped at her best friend at the time, but had obviously enjoyed looking her over and being with her while clad in this ice-blue set.

As Claire stood there near her closet and let her eyes rove over Jessica’s body from across the room, she decided that, despite her desire to see Jessica—and her pussy—in the white panties again, this icy blue set was not a bad substitute. She found herself enjoying the way the color set off her friend’s rich caramel-brown skin color, the way the cut made her tits bulge and deepened her cleavage, the way the shine of the satin material played off her curves, the way the thin material clunge to her tightly and was glued to the crack up her ass and to her nipples, and the way the skimpy bikini cut exposed so much of her creamy skin. No...this ice-blue bra and panties were just fine… And the fact that Jessica was wearing it, probably knowing that Claire would like her in it, as she obviously had that previous morning—that struck Claire as a sweet thing for Jessica to do, especially after what Claire had done to her.

From there, Claire’s thoughts progressed to an assessment of Jessica’s emotional state. Her attractive roommate appeared to be a little depressed. Knowing that she, Claire, was the primary reason why her best friend would be down, Claire took a deep breath and prepared to make amends with Jessica. Closing her closet door and the open drawer of her chest of drawers, she started slowly strolling toward the bed.

“Jessica...I...I just want to apol…”

“No, Claire,” interrupted Jessica. “It’s not your fault.”

“No, Jessica, it is.” Claire spoke as she walked around the bed to the side where Jessica was lying. “I overreacted and in the process hurt my best friend’s feelings.” She sat down on the edge of the bed next to Jessica’s scantily-clad body and instinctively placed her left hand on Jessica’s hip. Jessica let out a soft gasp as she felt her friend touch her.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Claire. I shouldn’t have put you in that situation, knowing your background.”

“You’re wrong, Jessica. I-I’ve been trying to broaden my beliefs and I realize I still have a long way to go.”

“W-what do you mean, Clairebear?”

“Imagine if a lesbian asked me out and that was my initial reaction...I mean, that I reacted to her the way I reacted to you...” Claire absentmindedly started to caress her friend’s hip a little, enjoying the feel of the satiny fabric of the panties and the silky-smooth skin under her fingertips.

Jessica perked up when she heard Claire utter the word “lesbian”. Despite her long-range hopes, Jessica had no intention of steering a conversation tonight toward anything having to do with that word, not after the forward and rather queer thing she had tried to do with Claire earlier that had seemed to anger Claire so much… But now...Claire had brought it up...and she was sounding pretty...tolerant… maybe even... curious…

This is interesting…

“So...does that mean that you think you need to be more open-minded about lesbians? Or...maybe...even...that you want to become a...a lesbian?”

There was a long silence before Claire responded.

“I don’t know, Jessica………... Look, I’ll let you in on a secret. Ms. Powers—you know, my sponsor, definitely somebody it’s important for me to stay on the good side of—well, it turns out that she is a major supporter of LGBT rights and earlier this week I had a little incident, you might say. I found out that a certain person she knows is gay and I guess I acted offish or something with that person after I found out—I really didn’t mean to offend anyone, I wasn’t trying to be mean—but maybe it showed me something about myself, that I need to try to, like, be more accepting of gay people.

“I really didn’t want any of that getting back to Ms. Powers. So I agreed to do something for the person I offended, and I think it’s kind of part of my sponsorship program now. I was advised to try to look at life from another perspective...more specifically, to try to see life through the eyes of a lesbian. I said I would, and I’ve been trying since then. You didn’t know that, did you?”

“Uh, no...I didn’t…”

“So, I’m a heterosexual female, right? Always have been and I think I’ll always be one.” The moment Claire uttered that, she inexplicably felt slightly depressed, with an accompanying cloudiness and ache in her head, and she had the vague feeling that she had misspoken, that the issue was far from settled in favor of heterosexuality, and that, deep down, she didn’t really want the claim she had made to be true. “But I have to admit—I can tell you because you’re, like, my best friend, right?—I’ll admit that, despite being straight, I have been finding some parts of the lesbian lifestyle...oh... intriguing, I guess I could say.” The discomfort eased noticeably. “I’m not so sure about all of it, but... I-I mean...I think…I mean, I know that...that I still like guys…” The odd, ill sensation started to return, so she amended that expression. “...at least...I think I do………. I...I don’t know…….. Maybe…...maybe not….” Again, the tension within her lifted. “So...I-I just have to take some time and figure things out.” Claire’s statement ended up sounding more like a weak excuse for a state of sexual ambivalence than the solid affirmation of her heterosexuality which she had originally intended.

Within the course of a minute or two, Jessica’s mood had jumped from dour to surprised to elated, buoyed by new hope. If Claire was interested in knowing more about aspects of a lesbian’s lifestyle, then maybe, just maybe, that curiosity could lead to her, step by step, becoming one...and, from there, there could still be a chance, once again, of a life for her, Jessica, together with Claire…

Claire glanced down and noticed her hand on her roommate’s hip. Realizing fully for the first time where her hand had ended up and what it was doing, she was about to pull it away when she changed her mind. On second thought, it was fine there. They were, after all, just two girls, two friends, and a little touching was certainly not inappropriate between them, especially as they were alone, in private, and in a largely undressed state. In fact, girls should touch girls in such a circumstance, it struck Claire. It was only natural...especially when the girl doing the touching had painted fingernails.

While looking at her hand and Jessica’s hips, belly, rear, thigh, and panties, she found herself delighted with the dark violet polish on her nails, and the way it made her hand look so...so beautiful, resting on Jessica. No, it was more than beautiful. It was sexy. Her sexy hand, with beautiful, sexy, painted fingernails, resting on the hip of another girl, who was dressed only in her bra and panties. It seemed like the most appealing sight, and she wondered why she had never painted her nails much in the past. This was really cool.

Claire’s imagination started taking over. She saw her painted fingertips run along the surface of the panties and over her friend’s satin-covered ass. Then her violet-tipped fingers slipped under the waistband and onto the smooth skin underneath…

An abrupt awareness of the awkward silence prevailing while Claire’s eyes and mind drifted erotically snapped her out of her momentary distraction and she resumed speaking.

“Anyway... I’m just still learning and trying to be more open minded. I think, overall, I’m getting better...but I’m not perfect yet...as my little tirade demonstrated today. But I want to do better...you know, be open to trying new things out...and especially to being nice to my very, very, very pretty roommate!” Claire playfully smacked Jessica’s smooth, exposed thigh softly.

Hmmm… That’s right, Claire… You can be nice to me…and I can be nice to you, too… I have some ideas on how one girl can be nice to another...thanks to Coach...and thanks to Beckie and her girlfriend in that porn DVD……… And...she thinks I’m pretty!...wow.. That’s cool… She’s never told me that before………….. Maybe it’s the makeup I had on.... Maybe she likes what I’ve been wearing today… Maybe it’s from me… showing her more……… I saw her most definitely checking out my legs … You like my legs, Claire? Then you’ll be seeing more of them...a lot more...all the time………….. Yes, Claire… I’ll let you look...all you want… You can touch me, too…anywhere… everywhere... I will be pretty for you… I will be sexy for you…

“So...can you forgive me?” asked Claire.

Jessica sat up, threw her arms around Claire’s shoulders, and drew her into a friendly embrace.

“Absolutely, Clairebear. You’re my bestie and, like I told you before, I’ll help any way I can.”

“I’ll hold you to that!” Claire countered playfully, unaware of what kind of help Jessica had in mind that she would like to offer.

Both women prolonged their embrace, each enjoying the feel of the other’s soft, sexy body against her own. At length, Claire disengaged herself from Jessica’s enticing body. Again, awkward silence hung in the air. Claire decided to start a friendly conversation to break it, and didn’t want to bring up anything which could return them to the tension prevalent earlier, but what came out of her mouth did run that risk, she realized the moment after she said it, and yet it also reflected a curiosity which had been on her mind since they had watched the DVD: Did Jessica like the lesbian porn DVD? She seemed to, but, as a straight girl, why would she? Did she bring it out and watch it with Claire just to humor her, supposing that Claire, after having shown interest in the DVD when she first saw its cover, wanted to watch it? Did Jessica act aroused and otherwise go along with it simply as a gag? Or did she really enjoy it, at least some parts? Claire knew that she herself had thought the DVD was awesome, and had loved it, all of it, but did another girl, a normal, no-nonsense, down-to-earth girl, a girl whose opinion Claire respected, see it the same way?

“Jessica...uh...so...what did you think of that…you know…that DVD we watched?”

“Oh…I…I have to admit I liked it. Those two girls were beautiful, weren’t they?”

The image of the blonde sprang again immediately into Claire’s mind, giving her pulse a rush, followed by another surge when she pictured the redhead and her wet pussy.

“Yeah… They were……….wow...”

“Which one did you like better?” asked Jessica, seeking to fuel Claire’s obvious interest in the porn actresses and, through that, in girls in general, as well as to gauge what Claire’s preferences in girls might be, if any.

“Gee...uh… I don’t know… That’s hard…… Maybe...the blonde?”

“Me, too, although the redhead was awesome, too, wasn’t she? So...how about you? Overall, how did you like the DVD?”

“I didn’t think I’d like it…as much as I did… I…I never knew that something like that could be so good… I will admit that after viewing it with you, I found that there really isn’t anything wrong with watching lesbian porn. It was very refreshing and even… entertaining.”

Claire reflected on her birth mother’s teachings on the subject—that porn was bad, evil, to be avoided. But that had not been Claire’s experience. It was just the opposite, in fact. Porn was good. It was great.

If Mary was wrong...about that…then…I wonder…what else was she wrong about? Was she wrong when she advised me and Wendy to not wear a lot of makeup…to be natural...and to wear modest clothes…and to not have sex…to save our virginity for marriage…?

It struck Claire that her life-long assumption that her mother—or “Mary”—was always right might be faulty; that listening to Mary might have been a mistake; that from now on she ought to think for herself more and be open to contrasting ideas; that someone else…someone like…Regina…and Traci…might be better role models for her…might be better sources of advice…especially Regina… She was so trustworthy…so beautiful…so confident…so smart…so wise…really, more like a mother to her now than was Mary……. Traci was, too…

“And I appreciate you watching it with me. It was more fun that way.” Instinctively, Claire sensed that the viewing of that DVD was a turning point of some kind in her life, the first bite in a forbidden fruit which she would be tasting more, a first step on a path she would be treading repeatedly and without inhibition in the future...and she was glad that she had been able to share that event with none other than her best friend.

“Thank you, Claire. I thought so, too. I liked being with you.” The unpleasantness which had ended their venture into watching porn earlier had now all but faded away in their feelings, being overshadowed by their revived sentiments of friendship and mutual attraction and by their pleasing recollections of the event before the blowup. They found their company right now, in fact, more comforting and sweeter than it had ever been. “I always like being with you.” Jessica slipped her hand over Claire’s hand on her hip.

“I feel the same way.” The two girls simply looked into each other’s eyes and smiled, savoring their repaired and heightened mutual attraction, their physical contact, and the romantic atmosphere in the room, although only Jessica would have labeled it so.

After a half minute of silently basking in their good vibes, Claire spoke again. “We should watch one of those other DVDs,” Claire suggested. She was particularly thinking of the DVD which, per it’s cover, promised a lurid exploration of mother-daughter lesbian incest.

“Yeah. Definitely. Want to do it right now?”

“Yes! Let’s do it!...... Oh, wait...I can’t stay up late tonight… I have some plans for tomorrow and I think I should get up early…. I’m very tempted...but I’ll have to give you a raincheck. Would that be okay?”

Jessica pouted her lips and crossed her arms pretending that she was hurt—playfully and girlishly, very unlike the Jessica with whom Claire was acquainted, which Claire noticed with some delight—but she brightened upon realizing that she would have something tonight even better than watching lesbian porn with Claire. She and Claire would be sleeping together.

“Promise?”

“Pinky swear promise,” assured Claire as she offered her little finger to her friend. Both women locked their pinkies together and let out playful giggles. Again, Claire found herself charmed by Jessica’s uncharacteristic, simple, girlish giddiness and sweetness, such a contrast to her usual no-nonsense, unsentimental personality.

“Speaking of which… I noticed how quiet it was when I got back. Did Meredith and Monica come back?” inquired Claire.

“Yeah...roughly an hour ago. And get this: no yelling. I think hell froze over. They came by, said hi, looked like they were getting along fine, said they were going to turn in, and then went to their room. It’s been quiet ever since. And they actually looked like they were happy to be together. Can you believe it?”

Jessica informing her that their two other roommates seemed to be enjoying each other and were now in bed together conjured sensual images within Claire of her redheaded and Latina friends. Before she could stop herself, she imagined them in their bedroom, standing next to the downturned, satin-covered bed, both decked out in makeup, lingerie, jewelry, perfume, and high heels, holding hands and looking at each other as lovers would. They embraced each other, their faces inclined and leaning toward each other, their lips parting and drawing closer. At last their mouths met for a lover’s kiss…

“Yeah… I think I can,” Claire said in a dreamy tone, before the fantasy abruptly left Claire’s mind as fast as it had appeared.

“Really? Those two get along as well as cats and dogs.”

“Oh, come on, Jessica. Give them a chance. You know they’ve been trying to be friendlier with each other. And now, with a new place, they can start over. Maybe each of them will find a new side to herself...and to each other...”

“I guess. You might be right. But...but just...having seen them before...I just find them all of a sudden getting along so well… It’s just kind of...odd.”

“Maybe...or maybe just unexpected. But people can change, you know. And feelings for another can change, too...even between people who at first seem to be polar opposites. You know what they say: ‘Love can come from the strangest of places.’ ”

Jessica gave Claire a confused look. Even though Jessica had nothing at all against two girls like Meredith and Monica getting together romantically, and she would have in fact been quite in favor of it had it occurred to her before, this was the first time the possibility of it had arisen in her mind, and it caught her off guard.

Does she mean...does she mean love, like...like between Meredith and Monica? Like, “love” love? Two straight girls like they are? I don’t know about that… Maybe she means “friendship” love…

Jessica pondered Claire’s comments about her two roommates, and reflected on their beauty and their relationship. Come to think of it, they both were alluring girls...so...maybe it wasn’t really that improbable if they were attracted to each other the way it seemed Claire might be hinting at. In fact, such a mutual attraction would explain the interaction she had observed between the pair when they had come home earlier that night. Jessica turned her mind back in time to replay what she had done and seen after Claire had huffed out of their apartment an hour or so before, as follows.

After she dried her tears and collected herself in the living room, Jessica first put away the porn DVD among Claire’s belongings in their bedroom and then, feeling down, decided to change into something else for relaxing. In the past, she would have simply drawn on some sweats or other gym attire. Her reprogrammed mind now, however, viewed bras and panties, worn without other attire covering them, as not only appropriate and relaxing household clothing, but the preferred type of wear for lounging around, along with other items classed as lingerie, which items she had not yet explored. Without quite realizing the change that had come over her, Jessica now felt comfortable walking around her new digs in just her undergarments. Moreover, she felt a naughty tingle between her legs in the awareness that, in so doing, she would be showing off her divine body to her roommates, especially to her secret crush, Claire. Thus, the only choice to make was which set of underwear to wear for the remainder of the night.

Jessica let out a soft sigh as she thought of her true love. She knew she had botched it by pushing her too hard and fast into sapphic intimacy. While it seemed Claire was okay with watching and masturbating with her to lesbian porn, she definitely was not comfortable with actual lesbian interactions with another female, or at least not with the one Jessica had offered to her. Would she ever find some way to Claire’s heart and body?

She shook her head to chase away the melancholy thoughts and get some positive vibes going. She would—she had to—make it up to Claire and get on her good side. Then something popped into her head. Rushing over to her desk, she picked up her gym shorts lying on her chair, searched through the pockets, and pulled out a small black bottle.

“Sneak two drops of this into her drink, and I promise you that Courtney will be very agreeable to the fun you want to have with her.”

There was more, much more, than enough black liquid in the bottle for her planned seduction of Courtney over the weekend...enough so that she could, if she were so inclined, persuade Claire into seeing her as a girlfriend. No, why stop there? She could use this to encourage Claire to see her as a viable long-term partner in life, a lesbian wife, in fact, who would bestow upon her the joys of sapphic marital love.

Yes… I could…. But...but should I?........I’ll have to think this over.........

After a little internal debate which made Jessica uncomfortable, she decided to shelve the issue for now. She would mull the possibility seriously a little longer later before she acted upon the idea of manipulating her best friend into becoming her lesbian girlfriend. She stowed the black bottle away in her desk drawer and returned to choosing her attire for the rest of the evening.

Jessica quickly settled on the icy blue number in which she had found herself the morning when she discovered Claire in her bed after their presumed drunken celebration over receiving news of their relocation to the Preston Suites. She knew she looked good—no, simply hot—in it, and was certain Claire thought so, too, based on her reaction to Jessica that unusual morning, which included unmistakeable ogling and a powerful sensation of physical and emotional gravitation toward each other. For that reason, and because she liked the way this set displayed her body, and because wearing skimpy attire like this felt unusually relaxing and comfortable to her now, and because the sleek satin material felt so silky on her skin, there was a distinct soothing and delightfully sensual sensation as she slipped it onto her body, pulling the panties over her legs and rear and womanhood, loading her bulging breasts into the bra cups, and fastening the bra behind her back.

Satisfied with what she was wearing—feeling that a change from her previous bra and panties set would help reset things between her and Claire, by eliminating one reminder of the situation that had bombed between them, and hoping Claire would come back sooner rather than later so that Claire could see her in this new outfit, hoping that that might recapture or spark Claire’s sexual interest in her, and so that they could patch things up and start over—Jessica went back to the living room, parked herself on the couch, flipped through the channels on the large TV, and settled on a romcom that was playing.

Halfway into the movie, she heard the door to the apartment open. It must be Claire! Jessica’s heart started to race. She wasn’t sure what she was going to say, but at least, she was confident, she looked pretty enticing in her lingerie and in her makeup, which she had not yet removed.

“Claire?” said Jessica as she turned to greet her love.

“No, it’s just us,” was the friendly response Jessica got. She recognized the voice, which tonight sounded warmer and happier than Jessica could remember hearing before, as that belonging to her cute, petite friend, Meredith.

“We’re just coming back from our da… I mean our study session,” Monica chimed in. Her voice, too, was different—happy, also, for sure, and kind of...kind of dreamy.

For some reason, Meredith had an initial impulse to correct Monica and to make clear that the outing they had together was, in fact, a date...a distinctly romantic lesbian date...one that, like most any date between two people emotionally and physically attracted to each other, was laced through with romantic implications and was aimed at them getting to know one another and building a relationship that could possibly lead to a mutually fulfilling, long-term connection of shared love and to sexual intimacy. However, as quickly as that urge came to her, Meredith shooed it away. Yes, she did desire a relationship with the Latina hottie that was next to her...but, attempting to downplay the feelings of love and lust swirling wildly within her for Monica tonight, she told herself that she ultimately wanted one in which they saw each other primarily as friends, friends who respected and supported each other. Not wanting to jeopardize what they had established tonight, Meredith kept her thoughts—both those of her first, more romantic impulse and those of her more temperate final conclusion—to herself.

Nevertheless, Meredith really did, deep-down, see their get-together this evening as a date, and wanted it to have been one, and saw no harm in eventually calling this event, retroactively, and future like events as dates, if tonight wasn’t the night to do it. And if Monica wanted to call it simply a “study session”, even though they both knew it had been more than that, and that something earth-shaking, maybe even life-changing, had happened between them, something that was wonderfully, undeniably date-like, then so be it...for now. But a resolution was forming within the redhead that, if their future excursions together were going to have the same flirtatious and titillating tenor as their “study session”, and were going to be girl-girl dates in actuality—which, she decided, she would make sure they would clearly be—then they were also going to be mutually recognized as dates, and openly called that...and the sooner, the better. She could justify it to herself for the time being as the pursuit of “friendship”...a special friendship…

Their relatively quiet entrance took Jessica by surprise, as she was used to this pair announcing their arrival through their incessant arguing. She shook her head to chase away the stunned disbelief that overtook her as she watched both Monica and Meredith walk into their dorm apartment in a calm, friendly fashion, or even one that could be characterized as a bit giddy, from the way they looked and smiled and giggled at each other. She thought of making a snide comment about this change in their usual arrival, but held her tongue as she realized both that it wasn’t her place to play the referee in their relationship and that it would be very unlady-like of her to belittle her friends with the sarcasm, caustic tone, and insults she had used in the past. If they started to come home without the constant loud bickering, if they were learning to get along by themselves, then great, and she would be supportive; and if they fell back into squabbling, it still wasn’t up to her to meddle or to demean them. Nevertheless, she was curious about what was going on between these two.

“So... it looks like you two had a good time together?” asked Jessica, trying to find a way to approach the subject of what had changed so abruptly between them to result in their current truce.

“Oh yes… I had a lovely time with my dear friend Meredith,” Monica bubbled in a dreamy tone while eyeing the redhead’s pretty face and hair, then bashfully turned her head away when Meredith caught her gaze. Jessica noticed the back of Monica’s hand sweep softly but slowly and intentionally across the back of her companion’s.

“Same here… Wouldn’t mind us doing this more often. Who knows where it could lead to?” Meredith said the last part of her statement softly while looking at her Latina friend and catching her eyes with her own. They held that gaze, a mixture of mutual affection and hopeful anticipation, several quiet seconds.

Jessica could not process what was happening before her very eyes. While the idea of the two of them getting along was great, for it to happen so suddenly and with such obvious reciprocal fondness was just beyond what she could rationalize. She half expected a pig to fly by the window at this point.

But before she could give it any more thought Jessica’s attention was broken when Monica commented on Jessica’s state of attire, or lack of it.

“So, it looks like someone settled in very quickly.”

For a second, Jessica didn’t know what Monica was talking about, but then she looked at Monica’s face and saw her running her eyes over her underwear-clad front side, and looked down at it, as well. “Well...you know...uh...I figure new digs...maybe try a new outlook on life……. And it’s not like we haven’t seen each in our undies before. Besides, I think it’s relaxing.” Jessica commented back in a nonchalant manner, running a hand through her hair in unconscious flirtation.

“I like. I might follow your lead. What do you think, Meredith?” In the past, Monica would not have cared what Meredith’s opinion was, much less solicited it, nor used her real name instead of “nerdgirl”, nor spoken to her with a tone of respect, as if Meredith were her equal, or her better. But now...

Meredith was in a delightful haze and barely registered Monica’s inquiry. As soon as she and Monica had stopped to talk to Jessica, and had stopped talking to and about each other and looking at each other, she had quickly settled her eyes on the mulatto girl’s tantalizing mounds, whereupon perverted feelings and thoughts had immediately begun to run through her mind. She wanted to touch them, hold them, free them from their restrictive satiny confines, and motorboat those succulent tits six ways to Sunday. Then, when she heard that Monica was considering following Jessica’s example, a bomb of wicked thoughts went off in her mind. After mentally picturing Monica once again in nothing but a bra and panties, as she had been that fateful morning a few days prior, the idea that Claire, too, might follow her friends in casually walking around the dorm apartment in scanty attire displaying her magnificent tits for everyone there to see was a bit much for Meredith’s mind to handle at the moment. Nevertheless, as far as she was concerned, the prospect of her friends showing off their breasts was heaven to her.

“Uh-huh…” responded Meredith, still staring at Jessica’s breasts as a small thread of saliva ran down her mouth. “An awesome idea…” Her tone was that of someone quite preoccupied.

It was Jessica who snapped her back to reality after noticing with a concerned look that her geekish friend was leering at her, although the mulatto beauty was simultaneously secretly quite pleased that her immodest display of her body had gotten another pretty girl to ogle it...or, in actuality, both girls, she noticed. “Uh...Meredith?” Embarrassed at being caught, Meredith quickly composed herself.

“I-It’s getting a bit late. I think it’s time to turn in. Care to join me...Monica?” Meredith spoke the Latina’s name softly, while extending her hand to her.

This time it was Monica’s turn to go into a dreamy, trance-like, emotion-laden state as she subconsciously read into Meredith’s words the implication that more than sleep might occur when they went to bed together.

“Yes…” Monica reached for the offered hand.

In response, Meredith gently took hold of Monica’s hand and led the Latina vixen—her Latina vixen, as it seemed—towards their bedroom—their bedroom—the one that they would share together going forward, tonight as progressively intimate friends and soon as lesbian lovers. After they both bid Jessica good night, they walked away from Jessica, their sensual, young bodies engaging tangentially with their sauntering, close strides. As they did, Monica laced her fingers into Meredith’s.

A stunned Jessica was left in the living room looking on as she saw two of her friends walking hand-in-hand as if they were some kind of couple, two young women who had seemed before tonight to have almost nothing in common now going off together obviously quite enjoying one another.

What the hell is going?

What Jessica did not know—but would have been highly interested in, if she had known—was what happened next, after her roommates entered their room and closed the door. Each girl was eager to get into bed with the other, and would have been happy to have simply jumped into bed as they were, on the spot, neither wanting to let the magical atmosphere between them, which started in the study room at the library and intensified in the parking lot, escape more than necessary. Nevertheless, they both knew that they really ought to observe the preparations for going to bed common to young women, neither realizing that in the future there would be many times when they actually would just jump into bed with each other, makeup and clothes and jewelry and all else on, not able to wait for conventional decorum to get their hands on each other and to make love.

Before either girl, however, had the chance to do or say much, subliminals caused them to freeze where they stood and absorb more of the same type of directive which had been aimed at them before.

Meredith and Monica, you are happy to be with each other in the privacy of your bedroom. You are girlfriends...lesbian girlfriends.

You can do anything you want to with each other now. You are lesbian girlfriends.

Lesbian girlfriends like you date. You want to date each other.

Lesbian girlfriends like you sleep together...in bras and panties...or, better, in the nude...and feel each other up...

You are eager to go to bed together. You are eager to feel the warm, curvy body of your girlfriend.

Girls sleeping together should not wear too many clothes. You want to feel your girlfriend’s body, and you can do that much better the less you wear.

Sexy girls like you should never sleep with another girl in more than a bra and panties, or in some risque lingerie.

You want to wear just your bra and panties to sleep with each other...or less.

It would be very exciting to get into bed with another girl, with each other, if both of you were wearing as little as possible, like a bra and panties...or nothing.

Both of you would prefer sleeping naked, if you had a sexy, naked girl in your bed.

If you go to bed in a bra and panties, you can always take them off later.

You want to sleep naked with the girl you love.

Monica, you love Meredith. You think she is one of the most beautiful women you have ever seen. You are powerfully attracted to her. You love her body. You long to see her naked body and to feel it next to your naked body.

Meredith, you love Monica. You love her big breasts. You long to see her naked body, and to feel it next to your naked body.

Meredith, you want Monica to see you naked. Your body is beautiful, desirable, and arousing, even more beautiful and sexier than Monica’s. Monica loves your body.

Meredith, you want Monica to desire you. Your beautiful body turns her on. She wants to see you naked. You have a strong desire to show her your breasts and your pussy. You want very much to be naked with Monica, and to get her hot for you.

Monica, you want to show Meredith your breasts, your pussy, and the rest of your body, and to turn her on with it.

Meredith, Monica thinks you are beautiful and longs to see and feel your body as much as you want to see and feel hers, and you will show it to her.

The messages faded away and the two young women snapped back to their normal state of awareness.

“So...uh...Monica...what do you normally wear to bed?”

“Oh...um...this…” Monica opened one of her drawers and pulled out a long, loose, oversized pink silk tee, long enough to cover her rear, which she typically wore with panties and a soft, lightweight, wireless “sports”, “lounging”, or “sleeping” bra or bralette underneath. Alternatively, she wore a conventional tee and loose fleece or satin shorts. Meredith had seen her in those outfits in their former apartment before, often, in fact, and wondered why she had brought the question up.

“How about you?” Again, Monica was familiar with Meredith’s usual bedtime garb, either flannel pajamas or a long nightshirt or, most typically, a tee combined with pajama bottoms, always with one kind of anime, superhero, or other such geek theme displayed in the material. In this instance, Meredith pulled out a pajama set showing Supergirl graphics.

“Um,” said Monica with a slight amount of shyness, “I was wondering if...if maybe you wanted to try something...something different...tonight?”

“You mean...like...like, something like Jessica...?”

“...yeah…”

“Hmmm… Let me think about that… Well...uh...since we’ll be sharing the same bed...and sleeping close together...there would be more body heat than we’re used to...and...we could end up tossing and turning and disturbing each other…. It could make sense to sleep in minimal clothes to...to keep cool……. Well let me think it over a little more.

“I have to go to the bathroom right now.” WIth that, Meredith fished into her chest of drawers for something and dashed into the bathroom. After using the commode, she looked in the mirror, very much liking the pretty girl looking back at her, brushed her teeth, washed her face, reluctantly scrubbing off her makeup, removed all of her clothes, put on the items she had brought into the bathroom with her, fluffed and rearranged her colorful hair, and smiled at her arresting reflection, before stepping out of the bathroom.

“So...Monica,” Meredith quarried with an unusual, soft sultriness in her voice, “did you mean...something like...this?” The redhead stood half-naked, clad only in her miniscule silver satin bralette and panties, the ones in which she had found herself when she had woken up in bed with Monica a few mornings before. Meredith propped herself against the doorway in a pin-up model pose, arching her back and leaning backwards, causing her to thrust her breasts out. She had her right leg stretched out, foot on the floor, while the left was folded in with the foot on the doorway, giving Monica a suggestive view of her legs and hips and an outline of her sexy butt. Her right arm above her head grabbed the doorway for support, while her left hand played teasingly with locks of her crimson hair. In Monica’s eyes, Meredith shone like a goddess, standing there as if offering herself up for worship for an erotic pagan ritual. The Latina’s eyes widened, her jaw dropped, and her heart skipped several beats.

“Wow...Meredith… You...you…” Meredith’s sexy sleepwear and pose caused Monica’s tongue to stumble while trying to find the right words to describe how beautiful her roommate looked. Meredith loved her roommate’s smitten reaction, one which once again vindicated her supposition that by showing a lot of skin she could more than compensate for a lack of native physical voluptuousness.

This time it was Meredith’s turn to make a request from the sexy beauty standing in front of her. “You know that red set of…”

“You want me to wear it? That?”

“Yes.” There was no mistaking the authority in Meredith’s voice as she confirmed her preference for the lingerie in which she wanted Monica to go to bed with her.

“Okay,” Monica timidly responded.

It was Monica’s turn to use the bathroom, and she completed the same tasks as Meredith, except she also added putting a dab of perfume behind her ears and in her cleavage, not sure why she was doing it, other than due to a general sense that she wanted to please Meredith, and catch her interest to the max. When she returned to the bedroom, wearing the semi-sheer vermillion-red push-up bra and panties which she also had worn that eventful morning, Meredith’s eyes immediately latched onto the dark discs disclosing her womanly nipples through the gossamer fabric, while her mouth watered reflexively. She recalled witnessing the same sight that recent morning and her desire afterwards to see Monica the same way again, and now it was happening. The redhead could not stop herself from giving a low wolf whistle and ogling the Latina’s large, bulging breasts quite openly, upon which an uncharacteristically shy Monica averted her eyes downward and blushed, without attempting to cover up, while being inwardly delighted that Meredith so obviously liked what she saw.

Both young women now intrinsically felt they were ready for bed, this licentious state together seeming to both of them to be both natural and exciting and right.

“Do you want to go to bed now? “ Monica self-consciously asked.

Meredith, smiling, held out her hand, which Monica took into hers while they approached the satin-covered bed together. “Let’s.”

This night there would be nothing “individual” about going to bed in this bedroom for these two lovely young women. Tonight and from now on, going to bed for them was to be a joint venture, a shared experience, a tandem act, a synchronized dance, an intimate alliance, an emotional and physical unification, a congress of cooperative fun and enjoyment and love...and, ere long, an openly acknowledged and mutually embraced nightly rite between them of hot lesbian love and passionate sapphic sex. The question, “Do you want to go to bed?” would start to imply much more to both of them than simply laying down and going to sleep, and even now had already assumed a distinct sexual and romantic undertone. Thus, their hand-in-hand stroll towards their big, soft, satin-covered bed was, unknown to either young woman, a fateful one-way journey into the seductive, promiscuous homosexual destiny decreed for them by Hecate, Inc., from which neither young woman would ever return to the same, relatively normal life of her past or to anything close to her previous self.

Meredith turned off the lights and slipped under the covers on one side of the bed, while Monica walked around to the other side and got in. Both girls slid between the satin sheets toward the center of the spacious bed, but stopped short of one another by a foot or two.

“Mmmmm, this bed’s so comfy! What do you think, Meredith?”

“Oh yeah… It’s like being in heaven…”

WIth you it is, thought Monica to herself. A minute passed while the two settled in, both ending up on their backs, staring up at the ceiling in the dark, before the Latina broke the silence.

“Meredith...I’m...I’m glad you’re my roommate...and my friend...and...and that you are so…so………….beautiful………….and that we can...um...sleep together…”

“Monica...thank you… That’s so sweet of you to say that… And I feel the same way…” Meredith reached over, once again taking her roommate’s hand into her own, sending little thrills up Monica’s arm and down her spine.

“Meredith...you know...I’ve never slept with another girl before...like this…”

“Yeah...me, too…”

“This is nice, isn’t it?”, offered the Latina beauty softly, who also again laced her fingers into those of her redheaded friend, reinforcing the romance in the air and the impression they both were feeling that they were two lesbian girlfriends who were sleeping together for the first time.

“Yes...very nice……very, very nice…………………. Good night, Monica, my dear friend.”

“Buenos noches, mi amiga querida.”

Despite the exquisite excitement they both felt—each being in bed with a girl she now cherished, and being clad only in a bra and panties, skimpy, provocative ones at that, lying but a foot or two apart, holding hands, after having kissed each other, ”accidentally”, for the first time but less than an hour before—and despite the pronounced, raw urges roiling restlessly inside them, urges to rip off their underwear, to expose themselves to each other and see each other naked, to run their hands over the skin and curves of each other, and to join their lips again, neither could find justification sufficient to overpower their native inhibitions and, once they were reconciled to the fact that they had gone about as far as they dared for one night, sleep soon overtook them.

Thanks to Hecate Corp., however, their slumber was not dreamless, and each young woman lived a series of vivid fantasies that night. The first dream was shared, experienced by both of them, simultaneously so, and each witnessed and experienced the details of themselves and the scenario from three visual points of view simultaneously—a first-person perspective, a third-person “on the ground” perspective, and an aerial perspective.

The movement of their bed woke them both. They found themselves and their satin-covered bed immaterially passing through the wall, the headboard vanishing away, and within seconds they were flying through the air outside, as if their bed were a magic carpet. The moon shone almost as brightly as the sun, casting illumination on themselves, while the sky remained black and lit with millions of twinkling stars. The wind, not too cold, but just right, swept through their hair and clothes and over their bodies...changing them.

Meredith found herself standing on the mattress, peering ahead, reigns in her hands steering the swans which now drew their supernatural vehicle, her bra and panties now even more abbreviated and made of thin gold foil which clung like liquid to her little breasts and vulva, barely covering her nipples and her slit, while showing off her deep, plump cameltoe dramatically. Her thick, derriere-length hair, pulled straight back without bangs, in a complex half-up style with a small bun at her crown and numerous braided and woven sections and otherwise loose, was the color of pure gold. Topped with a gleaming tiara of diamonds and rubies, it rippled like a silken flag in the stiff breeze. Meredith loved the blondeness of her hair, delighted to finally see herself as a blonde. Her lips, nails, and eyelids were glittering ultra-pale gold, her eyes a luminescent ice blue, and her skin ivory white and flawless. Her body was decorated with gold bracelets, armlets, anklets, and a gold-set ruby piercing dangling in her naval—which she noticed and thought was a perfect touch, real-world Meredith having never before entertained a belly piercing or several of the other ways she was displayed, colored, and decorated in this dream, but now would.

Monica was lying on her belly, stretched out on the bed, peering over the front edge of the mattress at the world far below, passing beneath them as they flew on the bed. Her long, loose, dark metallic grey-blue hair also rippled in the wind as they sped through the air. She loved the color of her hair and was excited by it. Her single garment was a backless micro-dress of transparent vermillion-red silk—with no underwear—her jewelry was silver, and her exotic makeup featured lips and nails of a blue-black color.

She saw that her necklace bore a word in scroll-style letters...“whore”. Her first reaction to the necklace was shock, but almost immediately, for some reason she did not comprehend, she realized that she was comfortable wearing that label, that it described her or what she aspired to be, and that it felt good to make a public statement of her nature with the necklace.

It should be mentioned here that in real life, Monica was not an easy girl who gave up her goods on the first date nor even what people defined as a slut, not really, much less a “whore”, despite the image she had cultivated, especially since coming to college. Yes, starting her last year in high school, she had flirted with and dated numerous young men, and had dressed to inflame the libidos of her targets, and, yes, she had allowed various boys to get to second and even third base with her...but she had never given up a home run. She was, it could be said, a big-time tease, and got her kicks out of manipulating boys into drooling over her, and cumming over her, but then leaving them high and dry. She had given a variety of studs a turn making out with her in dark living rooms and parked cars, and knew her way around a penis and a blow-job, but that was about as far as she ever went.

It wasn’t that Monica didn’t enjoy the sex, as far as it went, for she did, but fear of her mother stopped her from going further. Isabella had made it painfully clear that no daughter of hers would play the whore, which to her meant losing one’s virginity, and thereby disqualifying herself from being married off to the groom of Isabella’s choosing, one sure to be from a prestigious family of traditional Mexican heritage that would place utmost value on a bride’s technical purity.

Not that Monica intended to cooperate with Isabella’s marriage plans...yet such was Monica’s dread of Isabella’s wrath, that she dared not cross the line of vaginal intercourse, at least not yet, nor develop a reputation that could get back to Isabella that she was “giving it up” to boys. Isabella did not mind her daughter playing the tease and slutting her appearance up some, for the mother had done the same thing when she was young. But she would not abide her daughter going too far. And while Monica, knowing her mother wasn’t around to check on her, had gotten away with exceeding the bounds of her mother’s wishes in her appearance and acts somewhat since she had come to college, she had also exercised restraint adequately when it counted. She knew that as long as she could still demonstrate her technical virginity she would be ultimately spared from her mother’s full rage, even with her excesses.

But, more than that, the real Monica was, underneath her sultry exterior, actually a “good girl” in certain ways, not simply in the sense of still being a virgin, but also in various aspects of her heart, her goals for her future, and her self-concept. While capable of cattiness, as demonstrated in her attacks on Meredith, and callous manipulation, as in the case of the football player whom she set up for extortion, and laziness, as reflected in her study habits, she also had a kind, soft-hearted side, and a capacity for true, loyal friendship, as witnessed in her compassion for Claire during Claire’s recent college funding scare. She thought of herself as, at her core, a moral, intelligent young women with good taste and class, one who knew how to set and keep bounds, a decent sort of young woman, deep down, one who would not sell herself short, one who would not truly debase herself, one who, in the end, would rise to the top in society as naturally as cream and secure a seat with the exalted in this life, one who would marry a handsome stud who was also an honest, dependable man like her father, and one who would raise a family with the care and affection that her mother had not given her.

Thus, she was alarmed when she first saw the necklace she wore in the dream, and the word with which it branded her, but, as she couldn’t remember Isabella and her fear of her in this dream, and as the persona she was to adopt in this vision did not mind the label, and as the programming she had been receiving from Hecate had encouraged her to view herself as a girl with loose, whorish morals and urges when it came to female intimacy and desires, she quickly accepted the designation which the necklace bestowed upon her.

As the dream proceeded, both young women found that they intrinsically understood a number of “facts” about their situation. Meredith understood she was the Greek goddess Aphrodite, the goddess of love and beauty. The information flooding into Monica’s mind was that her role in the dream was to be Helen of Troy, who had been saved from the Greek destruction of Troy by the gods, who were enamored with her allure—for she surpassed all mortals and many goddesses in her loveliness, but not Aphrodite, who was her superior in this and in all other matters—and had been granted an extended and youthful life and a home on Mount Olympus, although she was neither truly immortal nor a goddess, but one subservient to the gods, including to Aphrodite. They were on their first date.

Hera, queen of the gods, had staged a coup. Weary of the unfaithfulness of her husband, Zeus, and of men in general, she had overthrown the male gods, envisioning a matriarchal society in which men were no longer necessary, one in which, out of practically, all of the goddesses were lesbians. Her first step was to host a common bath party for all of the goddesses and to enlist the aid of Hecate, the goddess of herbs, magic, and witchcraft. Bathing in the enchanted water which she concocted washed away all heterosexuality within them and soaked embryonic lesbian feelings into them, which would blossom into full homosexual conversion only when acted upon through some form of hard-core lesbian intercourse, be it cunnilingus, strap-on sex, or tribadism, requiring only one such act to complete the transformative process. Some entered the water of their own choice and some were tricked, but in the end they all were pleased with this first phase of change and the sense of liberation from men it gave them, and they allied themselves with Hera. Conspiring, the goddesses called for a feast, where a potion slipped into the wine rendered all the male gods helpless, upon which the goddesses stole their powers, dissolved their marriages—including Hera’s own to Zeus—and imprisoned the now-impotent, waif-like former gods in a remote cave.

Once Hera—who appeared in the minds of Meredith and Monica to be an exact Serena Powers look-alike—was in total control, the male gods were given the choice of staying in captivity indefinitely or “converting”—meaning undergoing a ritual which would irreversibly transform them into females—lesbian females—and restore at least some of their powers. So far, three had taken her up on the offer, those being Apollo (now Apolla), god (now goddess) of the sun; Eros, Aphrodite’s young, winged son, who in Roman lore was known as Cupid, whose arrows struck love into whomever they pierced, and who was now a darling little girl named Erotica; and, surprisingly, Ares, the macho god of war, who made a fetching, ultra-feminine, petite goddess, Ariel.

Hera desired her goddesses to have sex with each other, thereby completing their conversions, and to enjoy unrestrained promiscuity among themselves thereafter. She and Hecate, feeling particular lust for each other, having fallen in love during their joint undertakings, first made love to each other and then each tempted a few of the other divine women into sex with themselves, finalizing their transformations, as well. They also worked subtle devices and charms of various types to lure their fellow goddesses into sensual liasons with each other.

Also, being the goddess of marriage and of the home, Hera favored all of the goddesses being married—to other goddesses, of course. Plus, being much more liberal than the male supreme god who preceded her, she decreed that old limits on and definitions of relationships and marriage were to be done away. No longer would close family connection, age, and desire for multiple partners stand in the way of love. The only rule was that everyone involved be female. After Olympus was completely transformed, the world of mortals would be Hera’s next objective.

Hera’s and Hecate’s efforts had been fairly successful, but there were still a number of the goddesses who, being confused by their new lesbian feelings and unaccustomed to sapphic dating and pairing off with other women, despite their new urges, were slow to get started. Hera herself, though, had set the example by marrying Hecate and, for good measure she also married her own daughter, Hebe, the goddess of youth. Likewise, with some initial gentle encouragement by Hera, Apolla had wooed and married her twin sister Artemis, the two making a happy and exemplary lesbian couple, and the new lovely, dainty, demure beauty Ariel was given to her own sister Athena as a bride, the union being distinguished for the passionate and inventive sex the two were known to have with each other and with other goddesses. Hera assigned the all-too-willing Hecate to play matchmaker for others.

Hecate knew Hera hoped Aphrodite would be one of the next to find a soulmate and settle down. Her example in so doing would have a powerful effect on the other goddesses. Hecate had observed Aphrodite and Helen eyeing and flirting with each other incessantly since the day of the enchanted bath—it had helped that Hera had sent Erotica to shoot an arrow marked “Aphrodite” into Helen’s heart on the day of the bath, to which Helen, not being a goddess, had not been invited—and decided, as had Hera, that the most beautiful goddess and the most beautiful mortal woman would make an ideal match.

One catch was that, while gods and mortals could copulate and procreate one with the other, only a god could marry a god, and Helen was not a divine goddess of Olympus. But Hecate, an expert on the powers available to the gods and how they could be adapted to various needs, knew Zeus’s lightning bolts, which were now in the possession of Hera, had myriad capabilities which she could tap. Hera gave her one, which she took to Athena, who melted it into liquid form, into which Hecate mixed magical ingredients. Inviting Aphrodite to her palace, Hecate—who looked exactly like Claire in the dream that Monica and Meredith were sharing—tempted the goddess of love into her first lesbian kiss, which progressed into passionate deep kissing, but no more, although both knew that they would at some later date pursue what they had started to it’s destined conclusion. While they were making out, Hecate drank the liquid lightning without swallowing, kissed Aphrodite, and expelled the fluid into her mouth. The magical liquid settled into Aphrodite’s breasts and vagina, where its purpose would manifest itself ere long. Soon after, Aphrodite asked Helen out.

At the time of their date, Helen was still primarily straight and a virgin in the lesbian arts, albeit with a flaming crush on Aphrodite which was twisting her away from heterosexuality, although not conclusively yet. Helen still viewing herself as basically straight, despite her feelings for the goddess. Aphrodite, thanks to her experiences in the bath and with Hecate, was further down the path of lesbianism, but hadn’t yet tasted the lesbian intercourse which would seal her sapphic destiny. In any case, the two beauties had long known, liked, and admired each other—despite having been on the opposite side of some issues here and there and having been competitors for acclaim as the most beautiful woman, even though Helen had finally accepted that the divine beauty of Aphrodite was superior to her own—and had been lusting for each other since the eventful day of the bath, so that each was in a state of high excitement to finally be alone with the other and, at last, dating.

One factor that added to the feelings both had about this night was that Aphrodite and Helen were sisters, both the daughters of Zeus by different mothers, one of whom was divine—but she was not Hera—and one of whom was mortal. While incest was not unknown among the gods by any means, it had been frowned-upon by the more decent gods previously and regarded as quite taboo by the mortals among whom Helen had lived. However, Hera had abolished the old ways of looking at relationships, allowing for attractions of all kinds, showing by her own example her approval of so-called deviant types of sapphic liaisons and of incestuous and plural marriages, and marriages without age restrictions. Showing the way on the latter issue, Hecate had taken Erotica as her lover and was engaged to her. Nevertheless, Aphrodite and Helen, still having some of their old, more conservative values within them, both regarded their budding romance as a little more titillating and as having an intriguing dark side because of their sisterly relationship.

All of these events and dynamics played before the eyes of both dreaming girls like a movie, before their dream date proceeded. Subsequently, in the continuation of the drama they were actresses, whose lines, thoughts, acts, urges, and emotions were dictated to them, in major part but not in entirety.

As they sped through the night air, Meredith looked down at her companion. The backless design of her dress, the transparency of the material, the brevity of the skirt, and the wind whipping that miniscule skirt around left her pantiless derriere virtually naked. Finding herself unable to resist, the goddess descended to her knees next to her date, while still driving their enchanted vehicle, so that she could run her hand over the globes of the blue-haired woman’s naked ass. Monica purred in response. The blonde slid her fingers into her escort’s asscrack, probing, causing Helen to part her legs more and pant with arousal. They flew for several minutes like this, the goddess working her date’s ass and anus over vigorously with her hand.

“Stand up, darling.” The blue haired woman complied while Aphrodite arose as well. “You don’t need this.” Meredith pulled a tie on the front of the gown, and off it flew in the wind, leaving Monica and her blue-black-tipped breasts and her painted blue-black pussy lips perfectly naked. “Much better. Don’t you agree?”

The blue-haired woman was at first confused, but quickly understood that this was her most natural and most alluring presentation, especially when with this, her beloved goddess. “Yes...of course, my goddess.”

The blonde was obviously taken with the voluptuous glory of her date. “You are indeed a mighty beauty, sister...almost worthy of even me…”

Meredith waved her hand through the air and her own metallic attire turned to gold particles which were instantly blown off her body. Her gold-tipped breasts, suddenly larger by a bra-cup size than the sleeping Meredith’s, while still not large, nevertheless jutted proudly from her chest. She felt a little disoriented at first by her sudden nudity and the enhanced size of her breasts, but then quickly acclimated to it and revelled in showing off her charms like this to her beautiful new girlfriend. She was, after all, a wondrous and erotic goddess, even the very goddess of beauty and love, a love which, she now understood, only reached its proper and ultimum expression when it was between two women. This state of nudity was perfectly natural for her, she realized, especially when with another naked beauty, and particularly one she wished to tempt into a night of erotic intimacy.

“Do you like?”

Monica stood speechless at the sight. Meredith’s breasts were the most beautiful, most perfect little things she had ever seen. She had always wanted to see them, naked like this, she realized in this moment. And then, as her eyes dropped lower, there was the goddess’s divine, hairless, dripping, electrifying, compelling pussy, a sight Monica knew now she had been longing to see, as well. She found her blue-black-lipped mouth water and her own pussy trembling with desire for her date’s petite divine body.

“Well, silly...speak up. Or perhaps you prefer to show your goddess your adoration? And if you please me, you will be rewarded...” The blonde did not know why she made that promise or what the promised reward would be.

Without waiting for a second invitation, the blue-haired beauty—guided by an instinct she didn’t know she had—knelt in worship before the goddess, cradled one of the round fruit dangling from her chest in her blue-black-nailed hands, kissed its golden tip, licked the smooth flesh of the globe and the rising nipple, and sucked. Within seconds, a scrumptious drink, the fruity-milky nectar of the gods, which had been produced in the goddess’s breasts as a filtrate from the liquified lightning bolt of Zeus, started flowing into the blue-black-lipped mouth. Her suckling became ardent as the divine drink warmed and thrilled and penetrated Monica’s soul, and bonded it, as it seemed, to the goddess’s. The goddess threw her golden-haired head back, laughing with wicked glee at the delightful sensation of her beloved whore-to-be worshiping her breasts. Monica felt a transformation course through her body as the erotic exchange continued.

After feeding her lovely companion—or “girlfriend”, or, actually, “lesbian girlfriend” as she now thought of her, as well—several minutes, the goddess ordered her to stop. “Arise, and look at yourself, my love!” The nectar-milk had transformed Monica into a demigod, not quite an Olympian goddess yet, but close to it and, being toxic to heterosexuality, had destroyed within her all interest in men, while instilling into her the same general homosexual inclination which Aphrodite and the other goddesses had acquired in the bath, which would remain incomplete without lesbian intercourse.

From this point on in the dream, the fantasy world of their dream would mix into their memories and perceptions of their real lives more, so that their characters in the dream would partake of their real-life personas and experiences to a greater extent than before, and they would sometimes interact with each other as if they were the real Meredith and Monica, but in a more open, less-inhibited manner than the two would normally have with each other, but while still maintaining their basic roles as two goddesses becoming lesbians and courting each other.

Monica noticed changes to her appearance, which absolutely delighted her. Her hair was now exactly like Meredith’s in real life—shoulder-length, with bangs and a cute, curled style, and medium-dark auburn red in color. Additionally, her eyes were crystal blue, her now-lighter skin had a very sparse dusting of freckles across her face, and her cosmetics were the exact colors Meredith had used for their library date, down to ruby-red nails and lips. Also her breasts were now small but very pretty B-cups, and tipped with compelling ruby-red nips. Automatically, she lifted her hands to touch her face and hair and to cup her adorable little breasts.

She loved her hair and was excited by it, being exactly that of the young woman her real-world self had come to admire and cherish that very day. To have red hair, and especially to look like her dear new girlfriend, Meredith, in that way, was almost like...well...like a dream come true. And she was likewise thrilled to have the same little titties Meredith had, not understanding why—as she had always been proud of having relatively big breasts—other than that they were what Meredith had, and Meredith’s beauty was simply perfect.

Wow… I...I look just like...like Meredith...wow. To be more accurate, she looked like the Latina version of Meredith, but the sight fascinated and intoxicated her. She realized more fully than ever how much she loved the way Meredith looked, and her sexy petite body, and recognized that she was, in fact, infatuated with those looks and that body. And now, thanks to the divine goddess with her, who had nursed her with a potion of wondrous transformation, she had been endowed with the same compelling beauty, which she saw was so much greater than her own had been as the merely mortal Monica, or as Helen. This is...this is so cool…

Meredith had also been affected by the lascivious suckling of her breasts. That act was not a “hard” enough one to finalize her transformation to a lesbian, but she was closer to it. The giving of her tits to Monica’s beautiful mouth and the accompanying heightened proximity to complete lesbianism had made the goddess of beauty even more beautiful. Her long hair, still blonde, more or less, was now colored an amazing, glossy, metallic pinkish rose gold tint. Her breasts had also swollen to nice D-cups, her hips had widened, and her skin and face had lost all flaws.

Monica saw the words on her necklace change, first to “Nerd Girl”, which flashed away after a few seconds, then to “Lesbian Whore”. She felt pleasure in being labeled a nerd girl like Meredith, if but for a fleeting moment—for she now realized that she viewed nerd girls not only not as inferior, but rather as special and exalted, and being one as a highly desirable state—and then an ecstacy in having progressed to the lewd homosexual slut label, one which she now knew was her destiny, and which she wanted to make permanent and complete in its application to herself. She sensed there was one more act of deep love to make it so. Her lovely goddess would guide her.

“Eat me, my love,” the blonde goddess of love softly directed. “Drink queerness and godhood now from my divine pussy! Pleasure me!”

Needing no further invitation, and acting as if she knew how to pleasure a woman in the sense the goddess wished, Monica fell to her knees, took the goddess’s smooth thighs into her red-tipped hands, zeroed in on the glorious, hairless, golden-lipped pussy in front of her, kissed it, licked it, nibbled it, and then plunged into it with her tongue, working the divine, sleek slit ardently, until it’s store of magical, transformative cunt juice started to come forth into Monica’s ruby-red-lipped mouth, at first trickling, then pouring. She continued to kiss, nibble, and lick, while the delicious contents of her sister’s cunt filled her mouth, throat, stomach, uterus, ovaries, all of her organs, and all other tissues of her body, saturating them with divine lesbian essence.

At length, the flow subsided and Monica arose, again a changed young woman. She knew that she was now finally both a completed, permanent lesbian and that her nature was fully divine, the two qualities, she now clearly understood, being inseparably connected. It was now fixed in her mind that, for her, to be a lesbian was to achieve godhood, and, hopefully, worthiness of Meredith, and her new divinity and her new level of worthiness was directly attributable to her wondrous new homosexuality.

Monica saw herself and the new changes in her. Her hair was now redder—much redder, exactly matching the deeply vivid ruby-red color which had been on her lips just now, and the color which Meredith had worn on her lips and nails for their library date, which connection Monica did not fail to make, and which color had become particularly exciting to the Latina, because Meredith had painted her lips with it—and was much longer, flowing in soft curls past her derriere, while still retaining the full bangs she had sported in her previous, temporary incarnation a few minutes ago, and which she loved now, because they were like Meredith’s. Though as real-life Monica she had never had bangs, it would be something she would henceforth consider, as would coloring her hair, which she had previously thought about, but would consider in the future with renewed, lively interest.

Her makeup had reverted to her original look at the commencement of the date, including dark, blue-black lips, nails, nipples, and pussy lips, and her skin tone had lightened yet more, to near-white ivory, while all freckles and other blemishes were totally eradicated, leaving her skin perfectly smooth and clear. Her body had been adorned with black nylon stockings ending in feet shod with glossy black five-inch heels, a patent-leather garter belt, and a shiny black leather choker around her neck, which replaced her previous necklace, on which was inscribed in gold script lettering, “Lesbian Whore”. Otherwise she was still naked. She was most elated with her breasts, which, although she had found a perverted delight in temporarily having small breasts like the real-life Meredith, now were succulently enormous F-cups, and, while wonderfully firm and bewitchingly torpedo-shaped, nevertheless sagged a little under their powerful mass, a feeling and appearance new to Monica, but which she liked. In fact, she loved them, and thought Meredith might, as well. One glance at her goddess’s wide-eyed face confirmed that suspicion.

Monica basked in the wanton, whorish beauty of her appearance and her body, in her new thorough homosexuality, and in now fully possessing and deserving the potent identity declared on her new choker.

Meredith was also transformed by the erotic, enchanted exchange between them. Her deep act of love with Monica and the resulting high, completed state of lesbianism she now enjoyed, had brought her beauty to a simply wondrous level. Her breasts had bloomed into voluptuous E-cups and dangled heavily on her chest, a most novel and pleasing look and sensation for the beautiful young goddess, and her long hair, now parted in the middle and flowing completely loose and straight, without bangs, braids, bun, or other constraints, was now colored the exact same shade of intense, dark red Monica had used for her lips and nails for their library date. Moreover, Meredith now clearly perceived that her heart was pure in its love of and devotion to females, that her sexuality had at last truly been completely transformed, that she was and forever would be a deeply lesbian woman. She gloried in it and all that meant for her, as well as for Monica and for other women she knew, would encounter, or would influence.

Being like Monica, whom she had secretly admired and envied, with dark hair, big breasts, and beauty which all would be moved by, and having the same color in her hair that Monica chose for lipstick, was exhilarating. Both girls also understood that the deep redness they shared in their hair colors indicated their new shared lesbianism, showed that they were quite similar in their allure, after all, and was symbolic as well of all other commonalities which now united them.

“Monica, my sister, my love...you are now a goddess, like me...however not of my rank, of course...but you are now worthy of me...at least as much as you will ever be. You shall henceforth be Helen, Goddess of Sapphic Submission. Your devotees will consist of weak-willed and insecure beauties—like you—who will pray to you seeking guidance on how to prostrate themselves to the strong, superior women who capture their hearts. Your altar will always have your nubile priestesses bent over it as they send you thankful prayers, while they are taken sexually by gorgeous, confident, strong-willed women. Going forward, your duties will consist of whispering into the ears of the women you target that their lives are better spent being in service of sexy women, the same way you will pleasure me and any other of the goddesses in Olympus...because this is what you are...a wanton, submissive lesbian whore.”

As she looked over her stunning, heart-stopping mistress—realizing, even though her own beauty and body were more wondrous than ever before, truly those of a goddess, that Meredith was still yet more beautiful and desirable than she—Monica wanted more of her. Like the whore she was, she wanted to go all the way with Meredith. She wanted to do everything with her. Would her goddess grant her unspoken desire? Just then, Monica witnessed a lavender tattoo write itself in scroll style on her abdomen just above her hairless mound: “Meredith’s whore.” The expanded title thrilled her. It was perfect. It was all she really wanted to be now, and assured her that more sex with her beloved crush could well be forthcoming.

Below them, Monica saw a vast, grassy lawn running along the banks of a wide, clear stream. “Turn around, facing the front, and stand in front of me...much closer…” Meredith-Aphrodite wrapped her arms around her date’s slim waist, and pressed her big, firm, womanly breasts into the ruby-red-haired goddess’s naked back, realizing that woman-on-woman touching like this ranked near the top of reasons for women having breasts. The sensation was heaven for both of them, and Monica pressed back to feel the glorious mounds stabbing into her skin more.

“By the way, Monica...I love the way you look...so sexy...so...very...beautiful…”

The compliment, coming from the woman she adored, thrilled the new red-haired Latina to her toes. “Oh...really?”

“Yes, you flirty tease. You know you are hot. Any of the looks you had tonight, I love. I really liked the blue hair. Bluish silver hair would look great on you. You would look very foxy as a blonde, and as a brunette, too. And red hair is awesome on you, of course. And the way you look right now...you know...it is not that far from being Goth. I like the Goth look. You should try it sometime. You should experiment. Would you think about it?”

Monica had never paid much attention to extreme styles before, and knew her mother would have a cow if she ever saw her daughter decked out like some freak, as Isabella would surely call it. But Isabella was not in this dream, but instead was out of sight and out of memory...and if Meredith liked Goth, or some other new look for her...if it turned her on...then...she, Monica, would consider it. Maybe they both would like to do it.

“Okay…”

“By the way, which way do you like me the best?”

“Oh, Meredith...you are sooooo hot. Every way you look is beyond beautiful. I can’t decide……. But…I liked that rose-gold hair a lot…”

“Hmmmm… Maybe we can try that on you sometime, too… We could be like twins?” Monica nodded her head and smiled. Looking like Meredith in any way would be so cool. “But I see that you must have liked the ruby-red lipstick I have...as your hair is now the same color.” Monica blushed and smiled in affirmation. “You liked my lips painted ruby red, didn’t you?” A blushing nod followed. “You wanted to kiss me, didn’t you?”

“...yes…”

“You want to kiss me now. We both know it. Be patient just a little longer, beautiful sister.”

Meredith having said that made Monica realize that she desperately craved tasting Meredith’s lips, and could barely wait to do so.

“Show me where you want to land, my love,” the red-haired goddess of love spoke softly into her date’s long, soft, brilliantly beautiful hair. Monica was indecisive. While they stood there on the ever-flying mattress, wind whipping their naked bodies and flying hair, Meredith slid her hands up to enclose her girlfriend’s quivering, bare, mighty breasts. “Not ready yet? Take your time.” The divine dark-crimson-haired vixen played with the compelling, weighty orbs in her hands, rolling the creamy flesh and teasing the dark-blue tips with her golden-nailed fingers. Her victim was helpless in her hands, cooing and purring, eyes closed with sapphic pleasure, nearly swooning.

“How about here?”

“O…huff, huff...okay…”

The bed landed in the grassy field next to the musical stream, which had waterfalls lining the far shore.

“Since I asked you out, I will let you choose what we will do now—.have a midnight picnic...walk along the stream...jump in...swim...bathe under the waterfalls...or…”

“Yes...yes...please say it, my goddess...what else…?”

Meredith, who still had her date wrapped in her arms, slid one hand down the curvy torso in her embrace and into her slit of love. It was soaking wet. “Oh...aren’t we ready?! Say no more...we both know exactly what we both want right now.”

The petite divinity probed deeper into her companion’s womanhood. “Oh, yes! My dear goddess…ahhh... Please...take me… Make love to me...” The real Monica, inexperienced as she was in the ways of woman-on-woman love, did not know what exactly she was asking for by that request, other than for some deeper, culminating sexual involvement with Meredith, one that exploited her own, eager, hot pussy.

The goddess of love kissed the newer goddess on the neck, then spun her curvy companion around in her arms. Their lips met—finally, as they both felt—and they pressed their naked bodies into each other. Before long, tongues kissed. The sustained, delicious joining of their mouths lasted several minutes, before their faces parted, both young goddesses panting with need.

“Would you prefer the grass...or the stream...or the bed?”

Monica saw the answer clearly. A bed is a place of love and sex between two women. “The bed...of course...sweet goddess.”

“Very well. You have chosen wisely.” Repeating the mantra drilled into them by subliminals, she stated what to both of them was an obvious truth. “A bed is a place of love and sex between two women.”

Meredith stepped backward on the magical bed, until they were about six feet apart. The goddess ran a gold-tipped hand to her groin, running her long-nailed fingers along her slick pussy lips, which Monica could see were as wet as her own. “Behold!”

Monica looked at her lover’s naked vulva. Meredith’s arousal from Monica meshing her dark-painted mouth and her tongue with Meredith’s long and deeply had summoned another gift from the potent potion made from Zeus’s lightning bolt. Monica saw a beautiful golden penis proceed to grow out of the codpiece covering her lover’s wet lovebox. Both women were amazed, and even alarmed at its first emergence. Even though Meredith had acted like she had known what was about to happen to her body, in reality she had not. But their surprise was surpassed within seconds by acceptance, delight, and exhilaration over what the phallus might mean for them.

“Lie down...and open your sweet pussy to me, my resplendent whore!”

After the golden supernatural feminine penis had come forth, It had taken several seconds for the newer goddess to comprehend what was likely to happen next, and another few seconds for the wonder and destiny of this act to dawn on her, accompanied by a feeling of enthusiastic readiness for it, sending her pussy into soft preliminary spasms of expectation and causing it to drool down her thighs.

“Oh...oh! Really? Uh...oh, wow...oh, yes, yes, yes! Oh, my beloved goddess...” Once the red-haired Latina goddess was on her back with her legs spread—like the abandoned whore she knew she surely was, or was becoming, and wanted to be—the goddess of beauty knelt straddling her and, without delay, plunged her tool of love into the expectant, quivering quim beneath her.

“Ahhhhhhh!” both exclaimed at the erotic invasion. Looking up at her beautiful, thrilling object of worship, Monica knew that she had never seen a sight as lovely and as wonderful as that of her dark-red-haired lesbian girlfriend—for that phrase, girlfriend, occurred to her, as it had to Meredith—hovering above her, and that this was the fulfillment she had been waiting for, and seemed to be what she had craved ever since she had first met the goddess, even when the goddess had been a petite, auburn-haired mortal. The penile stabs repeated and escalated.

“Ohhh, Meredith...my love...oh, fuck me…”

The formerly blonde-haired goddess bent down and meshed her gilded mouth and tongue with the blue-black lips and the equally ardent tongue of her partner in love. Both women moaned and squealed and mewed into each other’s mouth.

Just before the moment of mutual climax, Meredith whispered into Monica’s ear, “Monica...my sweet love...marry me.” The sapphic proposal, which seemed to be what both had longed for and which opened the door to what both felt to be their destiny, sent them over the edge. The dream and their frantic orgasms eventually faded into the night.

But that would be only the first fantasy planted into their sleeping heads tonight…

The manufactured erotic dream had implanted some very strong suggestions into Meredith’s and Monica’s minds, and reinforced others previously instilled, which, given time and additional support, would become pillars of their new personas and, as well, of their relationship with each other. By the time this night ended, its dreams, along with the other brainwashing measures Hecate had aimed at them so far, would have them inclining, in some level of their psyche, whether subconsciously or consciously, toward the following beliefs, desires, and behaviors, some of which would start to manifest quickly in their real lives and others of which would unfold in their fullness over time:

- Both Meredith and Monica would feel like lesbians to the core, and would desire and sense they were destined to become such. Meredith, seeking to humble Monica to make her into a more agreeable friend, largely by breaking down her straight orientation, would be somewhat more aware of the true nature of what was going on between herself and Monica, for a time thinking that she (not an exterior force like Hecate Corp.) had been the one to elect a lesbian-like course and that she was just playing a sapphic role, one that wasn’t the real her, simply to lure Monica into at least a partial lesbian mindest, to break Monica’s hold on her heterosexuality; and inasmuch as Monica’s pride was intricately tied to her ability to attract men, so the reasoning went, if her bond with males was undermined to the point that she didn’t care about attracting men, but only women, she would no longer have the same basis for her pride, she would be disoriented, and, in her confusion, she would need someone like Meredith to find herself.

- While Meredith would think she more or less understood that what they were doing and feeling was homosexual in nature, but that it was part of a plan which she and Claire had devised conspiratorially, and that it didn’t really mean that she, Meredith, was really a lesbian, Monica would have no clue about what was going on or why, and would, for the most part, be in a more tenacious denial about the sapphic nature of her desires and behavior, at least initially. She would, for a while, still believe herself to be straight and either would choose to overlook the possibility that her actions and feelings were of a lesbian character, or would justify them one way or the other, partly as those of a college student who was, rightfully, simply experimenting a little, partly as those of a maturing young woman who was more tolerant, progressive, enlightened, and liberal than she used to be, and partly as one who, for the first time in her life, was establishing a solid friendship with another girl, whom she admired and to whom she felt attracted, who was someone on whom she felt she could lean, and who was someone with whom she wanted to be closer...which was all quite natural, as she would explain it away to herself with help from various subliminal precepts floating around in her head.

- Both girls would also find their inhibitions much decreased and their desire for promiscuous erotic adventure—with girls—much increased. The self-restraint which Monica had, about which she possessed a degree of pride, which had saved her from going “too far” on numerous occasions, and which allowed her to maintain a self-image as a sophisticated, strong-willed girl with a distinct measure of class—that self-restraint was on its way to demolition. The acts the two roommates committed in their dreamland fantasies would plough the way to commit similar acts in the real world, particularly with each other, and with other females, as well. They would find it easier than they ever did before to speak to, look at, touch, and interact sexually and romantically in the lascivious manner prevalent in their fantasies.

- They would find themselves driven to higher levels of beauty. Meredith, who had in the past not thought herself capable of allure, would find that opinion very much reversed and would become obsessed with her own beauty and with improving it, but only for the purpose of attracting women. Monica, who had always had a high opinion of her looks, and rightfully so, holding herself to be about the hottest chick she knew, would continue that view, but would find herself only interested in appealing to women and feeling that her beauty was inferior to Meredith’s, which would be the chief reason Monica would view Meredith to be her superior in general.

- While in the past both tended to evaluate a woman’s worth in terms of her beauty, Meredith feeling she lacked beauty, particularly voluptuous beauty, and therefore lacked worth relative to other women, and Monica knowing she had beauty and, therefore, was a person of greater worth than a have-not like Meredith, that way of them valuing women would continue, but to a more extreme degree and, for Meredith, from the perspective now of one who has high beauty.

- Both of them would be much more open to experimenting with their looks, mostly to appeal to each other, but to other women, as well, Monica especially, who would be particularly influenced by Meredith’s opinions of her looks and a sharp desire to please her. The alternative looks and styles given them in their dreams would exert influence in their decisions in their real lives.

- They would also come see a direct connection between lesbianism and beauty, believing that engaging in lesbian behavior made them both more beautiful and more goddess-like, and also, conversely, that the more beautiful they became, the more lesbian their natures would become.

- They would sense that girls should date girls, and that they both would be dating girls, and only girls, from now on. Each girl would view the other as the primary object of her romantic interest, and the one she wanted to be with most, although not exclusively by any means.

- Monica and Meredith would now see each other no longer as adversaries but as soulmates, whose fortuitous destinies were intertwined, who were destined to date, become lesbian girlfriends, and lovers, and, ultimately, to marry each other. They would see that they shared much and had more similarities than they had supposed, as symbolized in the hair color of each assuming the color of the other’s lipstick in the dream, in Monica momentarily wearing a “nerd girl” necklace, in Monica’s hair assuming bangs like Meredith’s, and in Meredith ending up being the one with dark hair, while Monica started off with that, etc.

- They both would recognize that Meredith was the superior, a reversal of their previous relative status, and that Monica was destined to be subservient to Meredith, to look to Meredith for wisdom and guidance and protection. It would be almost as if Meredith owned her, and rightfully so. Monica’s role in the relationship was to be that of faithful girlfriend, dutiful wife, and devoted sex slave, one whose opinion was of very little importance to Meredith, for Meredith’s subconscious mind would increasingly perceive Monica to be, in her basic essence, but a cheap, if beautiful, whore, a lovely and sexy lesbian plaything, primarily for Meredith’s own pleasure, but also for any other women who might be interested in being erotically entertained or pleasured by her.

- Both would see Meredith’s beauty and body as superior to Monica’s and, mainly because of that, Meredith would be considered superior to Monica in every other way. This played upon the notion pre-existing in both girls—Monica from the “have” perspective and Meredith from the “have-not” point of view—that a beautiful girl was entitled to regard herself as superior generally among girls who were not as gifted. The dreams and brainwashing would push that notion to the extreme, while turning both girls topsy turvy in terms of the relative position to each other, Monica having been thought by both to be the superior and Meredith the inferior prior to their brainwashing by Hecate.

- Monica would accept that she was, deep in her heart, but a whore, or was destined to become one, a promiscuous lesbian whore, and that she desired to be one, that her fulfillment in life was interlaced with that destiny. As such, she would feel the urge to display her body wantonly to tempt and entertain women, she would desperately need to give her virginity away—and Meredith was the person to whom she would know she should give it—she would want and need to go all the way with her female dates, and she would spread her legs and offer her pussy to any female who wanted it.

Meredith, who had never been much of a sexual being in the past, would now become one, ravenously, and also would end up being quite promiscuous, but with somewhat more discretion, and not with the same utter and public abandon that would characterize Monica.

- Each of them would develop a breast fetish. They already had both been rather transfixed with breasts—upon which interest Hecate would build—Meredith because hers were small and she frequently compared what she had to other girls and women, coming up short most of the time, admiring, coveting, and envying the bigger breasts she would see all around her; and Monica because hers were already large and inviting, and she took pride in their grandeur and in their ability to captivate and to turn men on. They both already believed that a woman’s allure, overall beauty, and personal worth was associated with the size of her breasts, Meredith begrudgingly, as “have not”, and Monica with pleasure, as a “have”.

This interest and their respective views were about to take on new dimensions. Both would come to accept more than ever that a mystical, pronounced relationship existed between a woman’s breasts and her beauty, that breasts define a woman and her worth, that size was the main factor in their evaluation almost all of the time, bigger breasts usually being much better and much more desirable—but that size was not the only consideration, that one woman’s smaller breasts, like Meredith’s, could be superior to another woman’s larger breasts, like Monica’s, although this was the exception and not the rule. They both would become utterly mesmerized by and preoccupied with breasts, their own and others, constantly ogle other women’s mammary charms and get turned on by them, want to see the breasts of other women fully exposed, ogle their own breasts narcissistically, want their own and others’ to be bigger and bigger, want to show them off and flaunt them in various ways, and to excite other women with them, which would give them a high unlike any other.

No longer feeling that her breasts were inferior, but that they were, on the contrary, at or near the top of the scale of beauty, sexiness, and desirability, Meredith would not now feel inhibited about them or intimidated by larger breasts of other women. She would confidently display them and use them, such as she now was doing, rubbing them into Monica’s back.

Part of their new acceptance of small breasts as potentially potent objects of desire and sex stemmed not only from their just-completed dream—in which both girls were made to feel that small breasts were a powerful part of Aphrodite’s allure and did not prevent her from being superior to Helen, and Monica was made to feel elation at finding herself, temporarily at least, sporting small breasts, like Meredith’s—but also from the content of the brainwashing Hecate was currently, as standard practice, pouring into the minds of most of its captives generally. Wanting their victims to have as broad and as perverted of an attraction to females as possible, they were instilling an attraction for teen girls, including young teens, as part of their overall standard “treatment”. Hecate particularly liked this to become a new attribute within mature women, and had been giving it to them for some time, but now most all “patients” received it. And since teens, especially young teens, usually had relatively small breasts, even miniscule or even virtually non-existent in some cases, fascination with and lust for small breasts, as well as large ones, characterized most recent inductees into Hecate’s “program”, whether older or younger, and were included in Meredith and Monica’s new proclivities.

The dream moved the sleeping Meredith to cuddle with Monica, pressing her body tightly against her slumbering new girlfriend, and Monica to snuggle intimately into Meredith. Smiles lingered on their faces and dampness gathered between their legs as new dreams and more subliminal messages descended upon them.

Returning now to Jessica and Claire in the present: Jessica wanted to ask her beautiful friend if she had any idea as to what might have happened between Monica and Meredith, and was curious whether Claire knew something about them that she didn’t.

“So...Claire...do you know something...about…” However, before she could finish asking, Claire cut her off.

“I’ll tell you later.” Claire was fairly confident she knew the direction the Monica-Meredith relationship was taking and the conspiratorial reason for it, and was quite pleased, if not excited, to see it starting to unfold as she had wished, although she had no idea of the strings Hecate was pulling behind the scenes and how fast the attraction between the two roommates actually was developing, and she certainly wasn’t interested in complicating or impeding her conspiracy with Meredith by bringing Jessica in on it, at least not yet. “Come on, it’s getting late and I want to give this new bed a try.”

Jessica decided to table her inquiry into the sudden odd behavior between Monica and Meredith for later. The reality of her and Claire being in the same bed together was too good to delay. “Okay, Clairebear.” Jessica let out a musical little giggle, which Claire found adorable.

Having made amends with Jessica placed Claire in a jovial, affectionate, and liberated mood. She felt that she wanted to do something to get closer to Jessica, to drop barriers between them further, and so, despite her earlier decision to copy Jessica by retiring in her bra and panties, and without thinking about it, Claire decided to strip herself completely, yielding to new instincts: Two women alone in a bedroom should be naked together. The exciting thought ran through her that, if she stripped all the way, then Jessica might follow suit, too. But, even if not, Claire would be as she wanted to be. Naked. And soon, naked in bed with another girl.

She stood up and put her hands behind her back, finding the clasp to her bra, starting to strip herself completely naked for her companion. For that moment, Claire was completely comfortable that she was getting naked in front of her best friend, and ready to join her in bed together. As it should be, Claire thought. Deep within Claire’s subconscious mind, her growing lesbian persona was giddy with joy as it was able to exude a little more control over Claire’s actions and thoughts. She also hoped that Jessica would follow her actions and strip naked herself.

However, reality hit her, the reality of her sexually reserved past, and of the basically modest young woman she still thought she was, causing her to pause before her bra was completely unfastened. No..wait… What am I doing? I...I don’t have to do this… It’d be fun...but...I might be rushing things too fast...and I...I don’t want to give Jessica the wrong idea… I...I probably should just remain as I am...as we both are...in our bras and panties… She quickly hooked together the closures she had unhooked, smiling with a little embarrassment at Jessica over what Jessica must have found perplexing.

“Why...why don’t we get under the covers?” Claire suggested.

“Okay,” Jessica responded, sounding bashful. “I’m ready, too.” After Claire had walked around to the other side of the bed, Jessica reached over to shut off the small lamp on the chest next to her side of the bed. The room, however, did not turn very dark, as the curtains on the big picture window in their bedroom were open and the moon was full and flooded their room with moonlight, allowing the girls to see each other fairly well still. Jessica slipped under the satin top sheet and comforter, as Claire did the same over on her side of the bed. Each coed marveled at how silky, soft, and warm it all felt against her body, and at how smooth and comfortable the fluffy, satin-covered pillows and the mattress and satin sheet underneath her felt, as well. It was like being surrounded by a pillowy cloud.

Claire turned to face her hottie of a friend on the other side of the bed and saw that she was on her back but shyly looking away from her, as if she were putting on a cute display of submissiveness. Claire didn’t know why, but this posture and other similar displays of meekness, softness, and girlishness she had been observing in Jessica made her feel attracted to Jessica in a way she knew she hadn’t felt towards her in the more tomboyish cast her friend had possessed in the past. What’s going on with Jessica? I don’t know...but I like it…

Claire also liked the way she was feeling about their relationship...that she was in charge of it...that Jessica was following her lead, not the other way around...that, in some new way, Jessica seemed to almost belong to her...even, that Jessica was hers to play with as she desired. Soft whispers in her mind told her that was her preference for all her relationships with women...that Claire should be the dominant persona and the decision maker in the relationship...and that the sole purpose of her partner, whoever it happened to be at the time, was to submissively tend to her wants and needs. The voices told Claire that, while she would prostrate herself to some women, they would be a select few whom she deemed worthy.

As Jessica had pulled up the covers to just below her breasts, what Claire could see of her bedmate was her head, turned away some, her neck, her bare arms, lying smooth and motionless on the covers, and her icy-blue satin-covered breasts, which fetchingly rose, swelling, and fell, deflating, with every breath. Glutting herself on that spicy show, Claire then roamed her eyes to her partner’s head, her face mostly covered by her hair, which then drew Claire’s attention. She liked Jessica’s hair, so soft and shiny, partaking of none of the kinkiness which people having African ancestry usually had. Shoulder length and cut into a precise page-boy style with full bangs, and a beautiful light golden brown in color, Claire had the feeling that Jessica had done something, something wonderful to her hair recently, but she couldn’t quite remember what it used to be like. Had it been darker? It lacked style before, didn’t it? Whatever had happened, Claire loved it, and wanted to touch it.

Claire scooted over the silky sheets to within arm’s reach of her friend, who still did not turn her way. Acting on her carnal impulse, Claire reached out until her fingers touched her friend’s smooth, glossy hair, which shone in the moonlight. She liked the way her dark-violet painted fingernails looked as they then stroked Jessica’s hair a little. Her fingers then sank deeper into it, luxuriating in the light-brown mane’s silky texture.

“I like your hair.”

Jessica, surprised yet pleased, not knowing quite what to say, didn’t respond to this first comment.

“It’s beautiful.”

“...th...thank you…”

Wouldn’t it be even more beautiful...if she were...blonde? Claire tried to picture her bedmate with blonde hair, feeling a thrilling spurt of arousal as she did. Oh, yeah… Even though I’m not a lesbian...I might fall for her anyway… She’d be amazing… Then Claire remembered her desires to see herself as a blonde. So would I…

Reaching out towards Jessica’s face, Claire softly cupped the brown-skinned beauty’s chin and gently guided her friend’s head so they were looking at each other eye-to-eye.

“You seem down all of a sudden, Jessica. Tell me what’s wrong.”

There was an underlying tone of authority in Claire’s voice that compelled Jessica to answer and to be honest, and yet she was reticent. Jessica knew what she wanted to say, but she feared total candor on her part might provoke an outburst from Claire like the one that had happened earlier. Nevertheless, the young woman she loved with her heart and soul was ordering her to explain why she was seeming to be moody, and that was going to make her reveal a secret wish, one she could only hope Claire would receive with good will. As she gazed into Claire’s eyes, she saw them change from a concerned, compassionate look to one of a cross parent waiting with expiring patience for a child to respond after being caught doing something bad. Jessica knew she had to start talking.

“Claire… can I...can I ask you for something?”

“Sure.”

“First, let me tell you something about me, so that you will understand. When I was a kid...I used to have nightmares…and...um...to help me sleep better my mom...my mom would…I mean, she would, you know…um…kiss me...I mean, kiss me goodnight...and sometimes she would slip into my bed, too...and snuggle against me…and hold me... It used to make me feel so...so safe...and loved…and...and desired… No, I mean, it was her way of letting me know she loved me... I miss that… I know you’re not my mother...but...we are best friends, aren’t we? And now that we’re...you know...sleeping together...I-I was wondering if….... No… Forget it… It’s too much to ask… I’m sorry that I brought it up…”

Unknown to Jessica, her memories of her relationship with her mother had been altered during her brainwashing at the Artemis Center, and those altered memories were at this very hour spilling out for the first time into her conscious mind, driving the request she had started to make of Claire, even before those new memories were completely uploaded into her conscious perception of what her “reality” as a youngster had been.

It was true that, as a child, Jessica had been plagued with nightmares and, as most children did, she would go to her parents’ room to seek comfort and safety. Of course, they would allow her into their bed, comfort her, and a young Jessica would drift into slumber surrounded by the warmth and love of her parents.

Originally, Jessica remembered her father, Nathaniel Harrison, a Marine drill sergeant, as a person who, despite coming off as an intimidating individual, and being stern when he had to be, was also a fair-minded man with a kind and patient side and a particular soft spot in his heart for the women in his life, not so much that he allowed them to run over him, but he did give them leeway to indulge themselves every now and then. She remembered that her mother, a fair-skinned, blue-eyed blonde beauty of Scandinavian descent, would often call her husband her chocolate teddy bear when she was in one of her playful moods.

Jessica’s favorite moments with her father had been times he regaled her about his family’s African ancestry, to which he had been introduced by his grandmother, on his mother’s side, who had wanted her descendents to be proud of their roots. In turn, Nathaniel had sought to impart his family history and pride to Jessica. Also in her original memory, Jessica recalled going to her mother, Joan, and asking for details about her side of the family. Her mother casually shrugged it off, as Joan never really kept track of her family history. Joan told Jessica that the only thing she knew about her family lineage was that all of her great grandparents had immigrated from somewhere in Norway, jokingly saying that it might explain why she sunburned so easily.

The new memories implanted into Jessica’s mind by Hecate now altered the family history, shared experiences, images, information, and impressions which Jessica held about her parents, herself, and the rest of her family. First, her new memories stipulated that her father, Nathaniel, had not been sympathetic to her night terrors, as well as to other fears and problems of her childhood, and routinely rejected her attempts to get into bed with them, scolding her to grow up and deal with her “stupid worries” on her own. It was only her mother, Joan, who offered any form of solace, often not only escorting little Jessica back into her bedroom,but then also slipping into bed with her. At such times it was common, according to the new memories, that she would additionally wrap the frightened girl in her arms, whisper soothing words of comfort, gently stroke Jessica’s young body, and finally plant a goodnight’s kiss on her daughter’s cheek—or, sometimes, on her lips—both of them then drifting off to sleep together in Jessica’s bed.

That was how their wonderful, illicit, incestuous relationship—one which never happened in reality—started. But in time, according to the new memory, Jessica’s mother started to be “preemptive”, as Mom would call it, climbing into bed with her daughter when tucking her in for the night, without waiting for the girl to come into her parents’ bedroom in the middle of the night, purportedly to insure from the start that the girl would have a good night’s sleep, having her mother’s comforting presence with her before she had a chance to have a nightmare. Jessica now remembered that her mother would often tell her father that she would be back in their marital bed once Jessica went to sleep, but, as often as not, young Jessica would find that her beautiful mother was still sleeping beside her when she would wake up in the morning.

As the months and years passed by, Jessica and her mother came to sleep together every night, all night, becoming perpetual bedmates, Nathaniel being left in his bed alone night after night, except for a very occasional deviation from that routine. Additionally, Mom’s little nocturnal affections with her daughter became so regular and evolved in their erotic nature so gradually and so far that, in time, Jessica’s body and soul became perfectly accustomed to her mother’s presence in her bed. When Jessica’s body developed into a young mature woman in her late teen’s Jessica’s mother began to apply sensual touches, caresses, invasions, embraces, kisses, and whisper sweet, amorous words of a beautiful woman, Jessica only regarded them as not only completely normal but also cherished, and anticipated them avidly, although neither spoke openly about them or their feelings much, with each other or with anyone else. But the love that developed between them as they slept with each other, night after night, year after year, was ripe—and tainted—with sensual physical familiarity, sexual attraction, erotic desire, and romantic longing, rather than being simply the pure familial affection which would normally exist between a mother and her daughter.

Jessica also recalled that this practice continued well into her senior year in high school. On her 18th birthday, however, her father put a stop to it, confronting her with his view that it was much too childish for an older teen girl, as she now was, to sleep with her mother, that his daughter had become so much of a wimp that she had to cling to her mother the way a baby would cling to a safety blanket, and that he desired no such weakling for an offspring. Nathaniel demanded that Jessica grow up and behave more like the strong adult she ought to be, and that she should start that process by telling her mother that she would be sleeping without her from now on.

Jessica remembered the hurt expression on her mother’s face when she informed the gorgeous mature woman that she no longer needed her for a good night’s sleep. Neither woman wanted it to end it that way and, with some cajoling from her mother, Jessica agreed to go to bed with her one last time. Mom also proposed, if they were to have just one more night together, that each of them was to make it everything they wanted it to be, that each should make it the special night which culminated their relationship and allowed them to express, without inhibition, their feelings for each other, to which Jessica readily agreed.

Her mother also suggested that they wait until her father left for his next round of field duty, so that their proposed time together could be private and not subject to question or interruption. It wasn’t long before Jessica’s father informed his family that he would be away for an extended time to perform various outdoor drills with a fresh batch of recruits. Jessica had a sneaking suspicion that her mother had already known this opportunity would be coming up so soon. Their planned time together now assumed an exciting aura of anticipation of a mischievous, clandestine rendezvous.

At last the sergeant left and his conspiring wife and daughter were to be alone in the house. That whole day there was electricity in the air as both women looked forward to what Mom had portrayed as their last, grand night to be with each other. As the evening approached, each prepared herself for it. Over the morning, Jessica came to the conclusion that she wanted to look different for her mother than she ever had before—better, prettier, even sexier—although she did not quite understand why, other than that she felt a deep, arousing love for her mother and seemed mysteriously driven to attract her. She also did not know exactly how she would achieve a new look. The way to achieve it, however, unfolded to her as the day progressed.

When Jessica got home that day she rushed to her bathroom to wash away the grime of after-school basketball practice. But this shower was different from previous showers; it seemed to be special, as if it were a ritual to cleanse and prepare her body for sleeping with her beloved mother, to lay their bodies together in bed, this one last time. Anticipating climbing into bed with her mother was giving her a most peculiar feeling of arousal and was, for some unknown reason, causing her to be in tune with certain novel physical and emotional sensations. As she thought of her mother, her heart started to thump in her chest and feelings of longing came over her. Mom...oh, Mom… A wicked rush flowed through her wet body as her sudsy hands ran over it, exploring its curves and crevices with more attention and enjoyment than she had ever had before.

After her shower, she sat on her bed, a large towel wrapped around her body. Dumping the contents of her book bag on the bed, she surveyed the assortment of cosmetics and fashion and beauty magazines she had bought at the local pharmacy on the way home. Grabbing a few tubes of lipstick and a magazine with a few pages she had already earmarked for reference, Jessica went over to her dresser mirror. One by one, she brought each tube to her lips to see what color would best match her complexion and set off her lips. After settling on a vibrant wine red color, Jessica scanned the magazine for instructions on how to maximize the effect of her lipstick. After the first coat of lipstick glided on, she pursed her lips in the mirror.

At that point, it struck Jessica that she had often mocked girls who appeared to her to be obsessed with their looks and who used makeup to make themselves pretty and attractive. Now she realized how wrong she had been. She loved the way she looked wearing the lipstick, and she felt a small pulse of pleasure between her legs. At that time, certain truths dawned on her, as if out of nowhere, but truths which had also crossed her mind earlier in the day, when she had gotten out of school and had observed some cute girls in makeup and short skirts walking by: Girls should be pretty. Girls should wear makeup. Girls should be sexy. Makeup makes a girl sexy. I want to be sexy. I want to be pretty and sexy with my mother, and for my mother, and for other girls, too. I want to wear makeup. I love makeup. Short skirts are sexy, too. I’d love to show off my legs more. I should wear sexy, short skirts.

Those impressions, and remembering that she would be spending time alone with her mother that evening, had spurred her into the drugstore on the way home. The Jessica now “remembering” this, in bed with Claire, wondered how she could have forgotten such important discoveries, discoveries which could have had her wearing makeup and short skirts and otherwise luring in her beloved soulmate long before this.

The Eighteen-year-old Jessica began to apply coat after coat of wine-red lipstick, gazing with fascination at her reflection in the mirror as she did so, and each time a pleasant tingle stirred between her legs, affirming to her that makeup was good, that applying and wearing it was an erotically rewarding behavior, that looking sexy was the way to go in life, and that she wanted to be a dainty, pretty girly-girl. Once done with the lipstick, Jessica rushed over to her bed, grabbed the rest of the magazines and cosmetics, went over more tips and tricks, and decided which colors she should go with after the lipstick.

Some time later, Jessica stared back at her reflection and was amazed at what she saw. One could hardly tell that the beauty staring back at her was actually a tomboyish teen who openly mocked women for being self-absorbed with beautification. With the instructions from the magazines Jessica had skillfully applied bronze eyeshadow, pitch-black eyeliner, and mascara, making her curly eyelashes thick and heavily-laden with blackness. Her cheeks were painted with a gentle touch of rose-colored blush and the nails on her fingers and toes with glossy enamel to match the tantalizing red color of her lips.

Then it was time to do her hair for this special occasion. As a teen in reality, Jessica had worn her natural medium-dark brown hair, about the darkness of milk chocolate, and of bra-strap length—it wouldn’t be until her freshman year in college that she would cut it to shoulder length—in a simple low ponytail most of the time, one practical for playing basketball, and essentially never tried fancy, girly hairstyles. But on this special night, her new memory told her, using her beauty magazines and YouTube as guides, she wore it in a cute half-up style with lots of bouncy curls.

Satisfied with the excellent job she had done with her hair styling and with the makeup she had bought, Jessica then walked over to her closet to determine what she would wear. While most of her youthful clothing reflected her athletic lifestyle, Jessica’s eye was caught by one of the few dresses she owned, a summer dress. It was a black number with thin black shoulder straps that had dark brown branches growing from the hem to the waistline of the dress, with white orchid flowers all over the branches and the bodice. And, best of all, it was short...minidress short. The dress, though rather revealing, had been a birthday gift from her mother, but Jessica hadn’t worn it much before at all—nor would she wear it much after that evening—but after putting it on, Jessica modeled herself and was amazed at how the dress showed off the feminine curves of her body and her long, smooth legs. Jessica did a playful twirl in front of the mirror, stopping so her back was to it, catching a good glimpse of her firm ass.

Wow...my rear is...is cute, too… I wonder if...if Mom will notice it...or already has?

Jessica then looked down and saw her bare feet, her toenails painted in a shiny coat of wine red polish. She weighed for a brief moment whether something from her typical array of sneakers would work with the dress, but immediately realized anything like that would be an absolute fashion disaster. She knew her Mom probably wouldn’t mind, but Jessica would; casual and grungy just wouldn’t be good enough tonight. Looking through her closet, she did see a scant collection of sandals, flats, and tame dress shoes, but nothing stuck out as belonging to the look she wanted this evening. She wasn’t sure what she wanted…but then it hit her. There had been some images in one of the fashion magazines she had purchased, which now came to mind. That’s what I want! Rushing out, Jessica went into her parents’ room and headed into her mother’s walk-in closet.

Now we’re talking, she thought to herself with giddy joy, as her eyes roamed over the much larger variety her mother’s shoe collection presented her. Jessica eventually settled on a pair of matte-black five-inch spaghetti strap heels. She also rummaged through her mother’s drawers and picked out a pair of dark, translucent silk stockings. Gently rolling them up her feet, then up her smooth calves, and finally stopping in the middle of her thighs, Jessica couldn’t believe that she had never before experienced how sensual wearing stockings felt. The crowning achievement came when she slipped her feet into her mother’s heels. They were a little tight, but manageable. Jessica practiced walking around her mother’s bedroom until she got used to them. Then, standing in front of her mother’s full-length mirror, she surveyed herself, not able to keep back a smile of narcissistic delight. Wow.

Feeling satisfied with her looks, Jessica eagerly awaited her mother’s arrival from work. When Joan showed up, she was bringing in some groceries for dinner. Jessica remembered her mother complimenting her new looks and commenting that she should focus more of her time on trying to be beautiful instead of improving her basketball skills. The Jessica who was with Claire could not fathom why she had ended up ignoring her mother’s advice. Fortunately, it was not too late to correct that mistake.

The rest of the memory was a blur, as Jessica could only clearly recall bits and pieces. She did remember, however, that before dinner started, Joan excused herself, went upstairs, and then, some time later, descended the stairs in splendor. The 37-year old stunner wore a beautiful, shimmering, scarlet-red evening gown. Joan’s long, silky brunette locks—though a natural blonde, Joan experimented with her hair color (which example Jessica would copy in time), seeking, successfully, to stoke Jessica’s sensual fascination with her, and on this evening it was a sable-dark chocolate brown, which she had observed from past experimentation particularly appealed to her daughter, who, she speculated correctly, was taken with the contrast of the hair’s rich darkness with her milky skin and blue eyes—were done in an over-the-shoulder style with smooth, wavy curls. The unblemished, creamy, white skin of her mother’s face was covered in a beautiful array of cosmetics—lips painted with thick, luscious coats of bright, candy-apple red lipstick, curled eyelashes voluminous with skillful applications of mascara, and her blue eyes complimented by sapphire-blue eyeshadow. Her mother’s feet were shod in sensuous, six-inch, glossy black leather stiletto heels.

Jessica recalled that they ate dinner together as if it were a romantic date between two lovers, making eye contact which varied between shy and brazen, and giving each other flirtatious smiles. She even recalled Joan playing footsie with her and the exhilarating thrill of her mother’s nylon-covered foot brushing up her thigh and eliciting wicked thrills between her legs.

After dinner, her mother suggested they spend the evening watching some movies she had rented. Joan also suggested that they, to further relax and enjoy themselves, strip down to their bras and panties. The chance of being together alone with her sexy mother in a scantily-dressed state thrilled Jessica, and she eagerly agreed to it. The false memory sang on, telling her that as they settled in and started the movies, she ended up snuggling up against Joan, with her mother’s right arm around her. The movies they watched together turned out to be softcore lesbian romances. While mildly shocked by the explicitly erotic parts and mesmerized by the whole, Jessica could not help but see similarities between the women, emotions, and behavior in the movies and those shared by Jessica and her mother, either in actuality or in desire...a connection Joan fully intended Jessica to make.

Then came the fateful moment when mother and daughter would turn in together. Jessica felt her heart racing as Joan grabbed her hand and led her up the stairs. But, to Jessica’s surprise, they walked past her bedroom and, instead, her mother took Jessica to her parent’s bedroom, and into her own bed, a revered and mysterious place to Jessica, it being her parents’ marital bed, which her mother had shared over the years as a place of sex and love with her father, and a place where Jessica had never before slept alone with Joan.

As her mother ushered her under the covers and slipped into bed beside her, Jessica was breathing somewhat heavily with excitement. She could feel her tits stiffen, as if her nipples were about to poke through her bra, her body tremble with sexual anticipation, and her pussy quiver with lust. Jessica could not believe that another woman, her mother, was having this kind power over her—for she still assumed that she was a normal, straight teen girl, who just happened to have an infatuated love for her own mother, that her mother, a married woman, was also a normal, straight woman who happened to love her daughter dearly, and that everything that they had done and that had happened between them up to this moment could be considered to be within the boundaries, if barely, of a normal mother-daughter relationship and the behavior of normal, straight females.

That is why what happened next took young Jessica by surprise, and blew away the pretense that what they were doing and feeling were the acts and desires of “normal”, conventionally moral women. Out of the blue Joan seductively leaned in and kissed her beautiful daughter. It was not a maternal kiss, but a kiss that one lover would give another. Jessica moaned as she felt her mother’s tongue slip past her lips and sensually explore the inside of her mouth.

As their mouths merged, Jessica realized that this was what she had been craving from her mother, more than her attention or approval or guidance or anything else eighteen-year old girls usually hope to have from their mothers. No...over the years during the times her mother had flirted with her, and caressed her, and felt her up, and slept with her, and taken her in her arms, and cuddled while both were in skimpy night clothes, underwear, and lingerie, she had come to want to go further, to have more, to have all of her mother, her mother’s lips, her hands, exploring every part of her, her body, all of it...and to have her heart.

When her mother finally broke the kiss Jessica looked up at her, pleading with her eyes for more.

“You want more of Mommy, don’t you, sweetheart?” The novice lesbian nodded innocently. “Well, then,” the mother softly promised, “you will have it. But first, there’s something you need to know.” It was then, the artificial memory wove a tale of scandalous lies and debauchery, that her mother informed her of a secret on her side of the family. Joan explained that what had just occurred and what was about to occur was something her family had been doing for many generations. Joan stated, to Jessica’s astonishment, that, in her side of the family, it was the accepted practice that female relatives took each other as lovers, that the making of lesbian love was much more common among them than were heterosexual trysts, that on the occasions when a wife allowed her husband to have sex with her, it was mainly for the purpose of procreation, or to keep her man just satisfied enough that he would not give her problems, and that it was a mother’s duty to introduce her daughters to the practice of lesbian incest. The women were always discreet enough that husbands, brothers, fathers, uncles, and sons never discovered the truth, although many husbands wondered about the relative sexual frigidity of their wives. Even better, Joan informed her eager horny daughter that the women in her family willingly and knowingly served a shadow organization whose goal was forward lesbianism agenda and a matriarchy lead world order. While the organization’s name was not given, Jessica was told that the head of the organization was Goddess and they served her with the utmost loyalty and faith. After placing a few gentle butterfly kisses along her daughter’s youthful body. Joan informed Jessica that she might be called into service by Goddess and it would be the highest honor she could receive. Jessica’s body shuddered with lust as her mother skillfully worked her over and deep down knew she would willingly serve Goddess should she ever be called into service.

The false memories transferred the admiration Jessica had developed for her father in her real life—both for the kind and gentle side he displayed from time to time to his family (which she could no longer remember) and for his manliness (which she now thought she had come to view as merely a typically oppressive masculine drive for control and egotistical domination), as well as for his interest in his family history and in passing it down to his posterity—onto the revised Joan, who, she now thought, had been her only parent who truly loved and mentored her, and who was the one, rather than her father, who had provided a detailed history and overview of her family.

In the account which Jessica now recalled having heard from her mother, in Joan’s side of the family, mothers slept with daughters, and all females in the family encouraged and were open to sexual relations between moms and daughters, aunts and nieces, female cousins, sisters, and grandmothers and granddaughters. It was their common duty to teach the younger generation the joys and pleasures of sapphic love between family members and loyalty to Goddess. Joan sadly expressed that had her mother not passed away two years before, then Jessica’s grandmother would also have been there to help guide Jessica in her voyage of incestual lesbian love.

Her mother ended the tale by extolling cultural changes during the times in which they lived, speaking of the facts that homosexuality was now beginning to be rapidly embraced by society, that in time they wouldn’t have to hide what they were doing, and that soon no men would be needed or allowed in their family. She told Jessica that she would be among the first females in the family who could plan on not having to marry a man to hide her true nature, like those before her had to do, and that instead she would find a woman to whom she would pledge herself, and that they would marry and have children of their own via adoptions or artificial insemination. In due time, Jessica and her wife would take into their bed their own daughters, but openly, without the fear of scorn and admonishment from an ignorant society and raise them as acolytes of Goddess.

While Jessica had always supposed she would eventually settle down with a man and had never before envisioned a future life such as the one her mother painted for her, one full of lesbian love and incest, once she overcame her initial shock, it all started to sound good. As far as she had known, she had never before particularly noticed other girls sexually or had an interest in them that way, but now that her mother presented the possibilities to her, they grew on her. Why not girls and women? Wouldn’t they be funner and nicer and more enjoyable to be with, and to be intimate with, than guys? Especially if they were anything like her mom? In fact, she quickly started to feel that the picture of her future painted by her mother was simply beautiful.

Jessica found herself so enamored by her mother’s oral account of her family history, of the possibility of intimate love with girls and women, and of the implications that she and her mother could become lovers, that Jessica intiated her own kiss. Her mother reciprocated by deepening the kiss and by roaming her hands all over her daughter’s nubile body.

The night culminated when Joan brought out a strapon she had kept hidden. The wicked tool was six-inches in length, an inch in diameter, and dark navy blue in color, and had smooth ribs running lengthwise around its circumference and a smaller, three-inch by half-inch protrusion jutting in the direction opposite to that of the primary phallus, all affixed to a series of black leather straps.

“Honey...are you ready to become a woman? Will you give your maidenhood to me, your mother? Are you ready to become my lover? Spread your legs for me, my dearest daughter. Become a lesbian for me. Become my whore, my pretty girl! Give your pussy and your heart to me!”

Jessica, on her back, pulse racing, and pussy soaking wet with anticipation, opened her legs in eager, lewd invitation. All was as it should be, Jessica now realized.

“Yes, Mom! I do, I will, I am! Please, my sweet mother, make me a lesbian! Take my virginity! Make me yours! F...Fuck me, Mom!”

Half kneeling, half laying herself onto her daughter, Joan positioned her corrupting tool of wicked love at the gates of her daughter’s innocence...and then gently shoved in. When Jessica felt her mother penetrate the intimate area between her legs and push past her virgin barrier, violating her purity forever, she let out a moan of pleasure as she could feel an orgasm immediately start to rise in her womanhood. Her mother slowly worked the fake cock in and out of her daughter’s defiled snatch, knowingly corrupting her own daughter, as she licked and nibbled on Jessica’s right tit while massaging the left.

Joan demonstrated a variety of techniques on her daughter’s nearly spasming quim, while keeping her on the edge of release, delaying the pinnacle of this deflowering act until she felt that Jessica had a good understanding of what was happening and was ready to appreciate her first incestuous climax. It didn’t take long before Jessica begged for release, screaming that she was a lesbian and that she planned to continue the family tradition.

Satisfied, Joan shifted Jessica into the doggystyle position and, with a firm grasp on her daughter’s hips, began a series of rapid thrusts, the blended moans of mother and daughter and the sounds of soft female flesh erotically slapping female flesh filling the room. Soon both women let out their screams of pleasure, their cunts spasming with orgasmic bliss, followed by both of them collapsing into a sweaty, panting, fleshy pile. Within a few minutes, both women cuddled each other and, before long, fell into a happy, deep post-orgasmic slumber.

One memorable incestuous sapphic act followed another over the course of the next few days, Jessica having her mother to herself. But, like all good things, their private time of love together came to an end. On the final day, the day Jessica’s father would be coming back from field duty, Joan gently broke the news to her daughter that they would have to cease their sexual activities and return to their normal lives, as if nothing had happened between them. Jessica broke down in tears, begging her mother to run away with her. However, Joan said she had to decline, as much as she would nevertheless like to do that, sadly pointing out to her daughter that going on the run would be no way for them to live, and that they would be constantly looking over their shoulders.

Joan explained that what had transpired between them accomplished two main things. First, it been the occasion, one whose destined time had come, now that Jessica was of age, to reveal to Jessica an important part of her family history and traditions, with the hope that Jessica would keep the tradition of lesbian incest alive. Second, Jessica’s immediate and avid response to a woman sexually, and her wholehearted acceptance of a lesbian destiny, demonstrated that Jessica was gay, even if she had never realized that before. But for the time being, Joan advised, Jessica would have to pretend to acquiesce to her father’s rigid expectations for her, becoming the seemingly straight, moral, normal adult and successful student and athlete he wanted her to be. However, the real, gay Jessica would be biding her time, waiting to resurface, refusing to be smothered by her father’s unyielding dictates of becoming someone she now knew she wasn’t going to be. Joan assured Jessica that in time she would meet a woman who would bring out her true self, one who would appreciate Jessica’s family history and would be willing to share in that happiness. Joan promised her daughter that when she found this special woman, they would fall in love, marry, and live happily ever after as wife and wife. Jessica’s fake new memory told her that she had embraced her mother’s vision enthusiastically, with tears of happiness in her eyes, and had longed for the day when she would find the girl who would be her true love, the one she would marry.

Despite Joan’s fear that they would not be able to have sex again, over the following two months three more opportunities arose to sleep with each other, and they did. Also, on one occasion before Jessica graduated from high school, her sexy aunt and her pretty female cousin—two years younger than Jessica, but one who had already been introduced to “the way” by her mother, Joan’s sister—came for a weekend visit, and, because the family had no other free beds, Sarge had the two girls sleep together in Jessica’s bed and agreed to sleep on the couch so her mom and aunt could sleep together. He never suspected the degree to which his daughter and niece quietly became intimately acquainted with each other during that visit, and what his wife and sister-in-law did together in his own bed.

Jessica’s favorite moment of that manufactured memory was when Sarge went out with a few buddies for the night and the women initiated a small orgy. Her aunt introduced her to the pleasures of anal sex that day, taking her anal virginity. Jessica remembered being on all fours as her aunt, Carol, excitedly worked her strapon into her tight asshole. As she turned her head, Jessica witnessed her mother do the same thing to her cousin, Tabitha, taken by the sight of Tabitha’s perky tits swaying back and forth, rocking her body as Joan thrust her fake cock in and out of her niece’s firm, desirable ass. She also remembered bits and pieces of conversations that the mothers had with each other, in which they expressed regrets about not having been available for one another when it had been time to introduce their daughters to their family legacy, but in which they also took pleasure in having fulfilled a promise made some years ago of offering their daughters to one another, which fulfillment had occurred that weekend. Jessica additionally recalled how, in the heat of the moment, as an anal-induced orgasm began to rip through their teen bodies simultaneously, she and Tabitha made similar promises of calling upon each other when it came time to introduce their daughters to the family tradition of lesbian incest, as well as of meeting as often as they could, at their mothers’ suggestion, to make love, which permission and recommendation they both eagerly accepted.

Now, in the bedroom with her beloved Claire on their first night of sharing a bed, it seemed to Jessica that, since coming to college, she had, for some reason, repressed her memory of all of this—of the way she had come to hate her father, and view him and other men with him as oppressive creeps, and to love her mother, to love her in a very expanded sense; of her sensual nights as a youth in bed with her mother; of them finally and fully indulging their desires for each other, and of surrendering her virginity to her own mother; of having used makeup and worn a minidress, and doing so specifically to appeal to another woman; of learning of her mother’s incestuous family tradition; and of discovering and embracing the homosexuality of her own soul—despite her resolution to neither forget nor forsake that recently-found life direction and identity.

It occurred to her that it must have taken the emotionally traumatic event of hearing that Claire—the woman with whom she had fallen in love without knowing it—would no longer be in her life to jar her true lesbian nature loose and make her realize that the feelings she was having for Claire were more than simple friendship, that they were actually romantic and sexual. She surmised that must have been the trigger to allowing her true self to start emerging and to recognize Claire as the woman she was meant to be with. And now, tonight, actually going to bed with Claire must have been the final jolt to unlock the memories of her having slept with her mother, and the culmination of their relationship in them becoming lesbian lovers.

Now that she had come to the point of asking Claire to hold her and kiss her like her mother had done, although the attempt had been aborted, all her past, all her desires, and her very nature had suddenly come into perfect, clear focus, as it had never before, or at least since she had left her mother’s loving care and had then lapsed into forgetfulness, as she now understood her past. Now, at this moment, with her memory fully restored, as she supposed, she knew, or thought she knew, that she had been a lesbian much longer than she had assumed, that it was her own, dear mother who had made her into a lesbian, that Claire was not the first woman with whom she would sleep, that most of the numerous times she had slept with a woman, namely, her own mother, aunt, and her female cousin, had been filled with sexuality and romance, ranging in scope from stealthy sapphic titillation and unspoken infatuation to unrestrained, explicit lesbian sex, and that she was, therefore, not a novice to lesbian feelings and behavior, contrary to her previous supposition, but was an experienced lesbian woman, even at her relatively young age of nineteen. This recalled pseudo knowledge made her want to sing, as now, it dawned on her, she was all the better equipped to seduce the girl in bed with her at this moment...if not tonight, then in the future.

Jessica now looked at Claire with hope that she would be sympathetic to her implied but not yet plainly stated request to hold and to even kiss her, and not find it repulsive—in contrast to her reaction when Jessica, acting before Claire was ready to accept, offered her cum-covered finger to her earlier in the evening. This request, for Claire to act the part of Jessica’s mother, would likely be something Claire could find to be more palatable, and hopefully wouldn’t, on its surface, strike her as too weird.

Claire understood what her friend wanted to request and, after all that had happened today, she began to realize that this might be a good way to end the day, and to possibly make amends. A part of Claire felt that she had been rather neglectful with Jessica recently. Claire had, after all, spent a significant amount of her time either with Regina or complying with her counsel, both focused on trying to save her academic career as well as getting to know Regina better personally. She definitely had no regrets about that, yet it had seemed that Jessica had wanted to spend more time with her over the past few days, and that time just hadn’t been there. Even during the course of this day, she had been occupied with the move and, as well, had been absorbed with trying to get to know Abby and, later, Regina and Abby together...Jessica having been left out of much of that. Still, during all that, Jessica had been patient and understanding, offering her moral and emotional support and staying by her side through it all...like a...a girlfriend……..or dare she think it?...like a dutiful…….wife………And what did Claire give to this her—well, yes, her girlfriend—in return? When Jessica had tried to show her a good time, all Claire did was just brush her off and snap at her.

Looking at her best friend, the sexy young mulatto beauty she had known ever since she arrived at Preston University, Claire started to see Jessica in a different light...again...for this wasn’t the first time today that Claire had noticed, with appreciation and attraction, this pretty young woman in ways she hadn’t ever before, as if Claire’s eyes relative to Jessica were being opened in stages, and this moment was a whole new stage. She suddenly noticed the exquisite beauty of Jessica’s facial features and her smooth, caramel-colored skin, how enticing her ample bosom looked restrained by the icy blue bra, her silky, honey-colored locks draping over her face, neck, and shoulders, and her chocolate-colored eyes peering at her.

It dawned on Claire, as it had earlier in the day, but even more so now, that she had never realized before today what a hottie she had for her bestie and felt a little foolish that it had not registered on her, like this, until now. What… Why did I not notice...her...like this...before? Am I blind? She...she is a...a babe! Claire felt as if she had missed out on a significant and important truth or opportunity or something in her life, and yet it seemed that life was giving her a second chance, and this time she wasn’t going to turn a blind eye and ignore it. It felt like a high privilege to be able to spend the night in the same bed with such a foxy girl. And while Claire’s conscious mind didn’t see Jessica’s unspoken but obvious wish as an attempt to initiate lesbian intimacy, but rather one of a close friend reaching out to another for comfort, Jessica’s allure made the prospect of hugging and kissing her all the more agreeable. It was, in fact, something the raven-haired coed wanted to do, wanted to do a lot, and quite possibly would have done, and maybe could not resist doing, even without an invitation.

“You don’t need to ask me. I know what you want.”

“You do?”

“Hmm hmm. You want a goodnight kiss and to snuggle...don’t you?”

“.... Y-Yes… But, Claire...if you think it’s weird or inappropriate...”

“I find nothing wrong in helping my best friend get a good night’s sleep.”

“Really?”

Jessica couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She had made, or implied, that request half expecting Claire to turn it down or, worse, to berate her for suggesting such childish folly, or something so sexually questionable. But, no, Claire was amenable. It was going to happen.Whatever drowsiness the athletic girl had been feeling was now dispelled by the sudden surge of lust rushing through her body. A million thoughts ran through her mind as to how to prepare for Claire’s promised gift.

However, she hadn’t had much chance to think anything through when she felt Claire place her right hand on her left, which was resting palm up next to her head on her pillow. Claire slid closer and rose up slightly, her face hovering directly above and within inches of her bedmate’s, while interlocking their fingers. Their eyes locked and both young women remained fixed on each other for what seemed to Jessica like a dreamy eternity. The perfumes that each wore—Claire’s applied to her while unconscious in Abby’s apartment by Regina as a catalyst for whatever might happen when her new daughter and that daughter’s beautiful roommate slept together for the first time, as well as to get Claire started into wearing perfume regularly, and Jessica’s put on in anticipation of a moment such as this very one—helped to pull the two young women and their lips toward each other magnetically.

Jessica sensed that this was a turning point in their relationship, or a point of no return to mere friendship, and the beginning of many good and new things to come between them. Jessica could feel the electricity in the air as a loving, tender moment continued to blossom between them.

“And, may I add,” Claire uttered softly as she drew even closer, until their lips almost touched, and did touch very lightly when Claire spoke certain words, and Jessica felt the air from Claire’s mouth brush her face and enter her mouth, “my very cute and supremely kissable best friend...”

“Clai—”

Before Jessica could finish her sentence, Claire, taking a page from Regina’s playbook, leaned in suddenly and planted a kiss on her friend’s luscious lips. It lasted just long enough for Jessica to respond a little by pursing her lips into her beloved’s before they separated. As Claire drew her lips away, Jessica let out a soft moan. Then she blushed as what had just happened struck her more fully .

They stared at each other longingly, saying nothing and yet both understanding and acknowledging with their eyes that this was the first kiss between them, likely merely the first of many, but the one that would come to their minds in future recollections of this night and this momentous turn in what they meant to each other, and the cornerstone on which their relationship would hereafter be built. Further, to Jessica, it breathed vibrant life into her hope that Claire was coming to see her as more than a friend and that they eventually would become an intimate couple. To Claire, it was one of many stepping stones—but a big, nice one—on the path of discovering the joys of female intimacy, and a demonstration that her beautiful best friend was there for every step of the way, willing to submit, to be used, and to give her pleasure as she wished...and surely the kiss was a delight.

Claire disengaged her hand from Jessica’s to run a dark-violet-tipped finger slowly along her roommate’s cheek and lower lip, while scanning her eyes over that moonlit face and lips, debating whether to drop down for another, deeper kiss. While highly tempted, she decided against it, realizing that would probably be just a little too gay for one night. But...there would be other nights…

Jessica’s similar urge was to sink her hands into Claire’s lustrous black hair, reel her face downward, and press their lips together again, but she hesitated, not wanting to presume too much and, thereby, to tick Claire off again. She nevertheless ended up deciding to risk it and was about to act, when Claire preempted her plan. Instead, Claire retreated a little by rolling off her bedmate, pushed and prompted Jessica to lie turned away from her, so that Jessica’s back faced Claire’s front, lay on her side next to Jessica, facing her backside, wrapped one of her arms around Jessica’s bare waist, and drew her body close into Jessica’s.

Little did Jessica know, but such was Claire’s current state of oblivious lust for Jessica, and her enjoyment of their first delectable kiss, and her hunger for kissing girls in the wake of having done so with Meredith, Abby, Regina, and Traci, and her resolution to not spurn Jessica again, that it would not have taken much to nudge Claire over the edge into kissing her a second time. Claire would have been quite receptive to any move on Jessica’s part, and would have kissed her again. It would have been enough if Jessica had just brushed Claire’s cheek with her fingertips, or told Claire simply that she liked her, or stated how much she had liked the first kiss, or played with Claire’s or her own hair flirtatiously. In fact, if Jessica had gotten around to initiating the move she had just contemplated, instead of hesitating and thereby losing the fleeting opportunity, Claire would have responded so eagerly that they would have ended up passionately making out.

Considering how close Claire obviously was to a second kiss, both girls wondered whether a bit of lipstick might have made a difference in her final decision. What if Jessica had worn lipstick, like she had worn earlier? Claire suspected that she would not have been able to resist returning for more of Jessica’s lips if they had been painted the compelling pale, frosty, lavender-pink matte color she had worn before. Her suspicion was, in fact, correct, in that she, indeed, would not have been able to resist. Jessica also mused over the question, making her curious enough to wish she had applied fresh lipstick before bed tonight and to conclude she ought to do it the next time she and her beloved slept together.

It was also true that the unseen agents of Hecate who were watching could have, through a few more lines of background brainwashing, enticed this pair into further erotic indulgence at this time, but they elected not to, knowing Goddess’s plans for these girls did not call for that yet. The consensus was that what had occurred already was plenty for one day for Claire and Jessica...although Sandra was still secretly in favor of pressing these girls together as quickly as possible.

After a little wiggling, the two nubile, half-naked coeds settled into a spooning position, with Claire on the outside, nestling her face into Jessica’s smooth, bare shoulder and silky light-brown hair, and Jessica curled up and embraced by Claire. Jessica felt Claire’s arm around her waist and Claire’s firm, bra-encased breasts poking pleasurably into her back. The contact of her friend’s warm body made Jessica tremble with excitement. Claire savored the warmth and satiny smoothness of her roommate’s skin, hair, and curves in her arms, as well, and, perhaps as much, the sensation that she was possessing her, claiming the beauty for herself.

With the close posture, Claire again picked up the fragrant perfume that Jessica had applied before getting onto the bed. Claire had noticed it peripherally before, but now it was grabbing her attention in a compelling way.

“Mmmmm… Jessica, you smell nice.”

“Thanks. It’s a new perfume that I got a sample of. I thought it smelled nice so I’m trying it out.” ...on you...just for you…

“I feel like kissing you again. You should definitely keep it.”

“I definitely will, if it does that to you…”

Claire took Jessica’s reply as intended humor, although she wasn’t sure about that, and hoped, deep down, that it was more genuine than jest, and a true flirtation, and just smiled as her eyes began to close. Her thoughts then drifted lazily to some of the highlights of the day, but weariness and the approach of sleep, combined with the cumulative effects of various rounds of stealthy psychological bombardment and arousing sapphic experiences and temptations over the course of the day, opened the door for her new subconscious lesbian personality to express itself in her thoughts largely unhindered by her original personality.

As she had promised Regina, Claire had been trying to see the world—and other females—from a lesbian perspective, and had continued doing so today, she reflected. I’m getting better at it. In truth, she had found the endeavor to be not only enlightening, but surprisingly exhilarating, as well, stirring something intoxicating within her which she couldn’t quite define but, she sensed, could lead her to exciting discoveries about the nature of the world, about previously unknown opportunities and delights—maybe dark, forbidden, wicked ones, but if so, then so be it—and about herself. Moreover, she had also started to feel detached from the conservative, limiting values of Mary, her attractive but misguided birth mother...and that emancipation was feeling good.

In the morning, it had been exciting, in a naughty way, for Claire to sneak a use of some of Monica’s things and to dawn a sexier look than she had in the past. Her class and subsequent private—and flirtatious—visit with her attractive teacher, Kim, had been interesting, to say the least, too. She was already looking forward to seeing Kim in class on Monday.

The move had been more work than she had anticipated, but at least she had spent the activity in the company of her cute roommates and had ended up in a palace, as it were, like none she had imagined might be available to her as a college student.

As had been her normal reaction in the past when reflecting on her blessings, she started to feel a sense of gratitude to God, which in times past would have led her to offer a prayer of thanksgiving. In fact, it had been her practice, up to a week or two prior, to kneel by her bed and pray before retiring for the night, every night, as her mother had taught her. However, since around the time she met Regina, that habit had started seeming less important to her, and had now ceased. Moreover, if she had taken the time to reflect on the subject of God—which she had not, not recently—she would have found that she no longer believed much in the traditional Christian God and his dictates, but rather that she had come to think of God as a goddess, whom she envisioned as a familiar and exceedingly beautiful and voluptuous woman with long, pale, pearl-colored hair, one who demanded little in the way of moral virtue, maybe nothing, but, rather, seemed to favor the opposite, carnal licentiousness, and one for whom she felt an inexplicable love and devotion.

Accordingly, this night the brainwashing which had twisted her passions and corrupted her morality led her down a different path of gratitude for and evaluation of her situation and of herself than the path the more contrite and more wholesome Christian girl she had so recently been would have taken. Thank Goddess for all this good fortune coming my way. It can only be a sign that I deserve it...this...and much more. I’m entitled to it...to the exquisite, finer things in life. Someone as beautiful as I am...why not? Why shouldn’t I have all of it?

As she resumed her review of the day, she saw Abby in her mind’s eye...crossing paths with her again...beautiful Abby...sexy Abby…Abby in the tight, sheer blouse...braless...her dark nipples tantalizingly discernable and poking like little tents into the thin material...and that shiny, tight, short black leather miniskirt……..wow…

Better yet had been that amazing daydream in the apartment across the hall...of Abby completely naked...what a beauty...and...and Abby doing things...sexy things...exciting things...wonderful things...beautiful things...to her…….. Mmmmmmm…

I can’t wait to see Abby again… I want to really get to know her… We...we belong...together…..… Girls should date girls… Abby and I should date… I should...ask her out… It’d be great if we were a...a couple.... I could fall so hard for her… I’d love her to be my...my girlfriend…

Beautiful girls should be naked with each other, too...and show their bodies to each other…and touch each other…and kiss each other…….. I want to kiss Abby…….. And I...I wouldn’t mind being...being naked with her...completely naked...for real… ….and doing things...all kinds of thing...sexy things...wicked things...with her……….

As her mind continued to dwell on the daydream (as she supposed it had been) she had had of Abby but an hour ago, she remembered Regina joining in the fantasy...and disrobing...showing off her magnificent body… I really shouldn’t think of Regina like that… I owe her so much...and she’s, like, my...my mother now………. But what a mother!...What a woman!… It’d be awesome to see her...like that...naked...totally, wonderfully naked… Regina...the woman of her dreams...her new mother...her new ideal…the woman she wanted to become…and soooo sexy……..

And what about that kiss?!... I can’t believe that happened!... But it did!! That was real!… We kissed!!… Claire closed her eyes and relived the brief yet landmark labial exchange, mentally viewing and feeling the approach and joining of the two sets of heavenly lipstick-slick, lipstick-scented, lipstick-inviting, lipstick-irresistible, lipstick-sexy, lipstick-delicious lips… Mmmmmm...

I think...I think I wanted to kiss Regina from the very moment I first saw her…and I just didn’t know it...until she...she did it……... I don’t know why I wanted to...but it’s true……… No, I do know why… It’s because she’s so utterly wonderful...and soooo beautiful.......

But...why did it take so long to happen? Or why did it happen today?....... Oh! Lipstick! That was what was different today. I was wearing lipstick…….. Hmmmm… I should wear lipstick more...maybe...always…….beautiful, sexy, inviting lipstick…

I love Regina so much… That kiss was the highlight of my day… No, of my life…….. And there was nothing wrong with it… It was perfectly natural… Mothers should kiss their daughters…….. Beautiful women should kiss each other………. And, anyway, it wasn’t like it was the first time I’ve kissed a girl… There was Meredith a couple of mornings ago… And then, before her, there was Traci… And I just kissed Jessica… That was delectable… She is delectable… It won’t be the last time I taste her lovely lips...or kiss a girl…

Tomorrow...I get to see Traci again. A bolt of excitement surged through Claire’s body. Oh, wow… I can’t wait… She said it was a date… I’m going out on my first date with a woman… a beautiful woman… I wonder what she’ll look like… How will she wear her blonde hair?... What will she wear?... Will it be that...that revealing blue sundress? .............. And her daughter...Natasha… She looked so pretty in the pictures… I can’t wait to meet her……..… I’ll have to look really nice………. Girls should look good for other girls... They should look sexy… I should look sexy… I should be sexy………..

But back to today… We took showers… I saw Meredith...her body...her naked body… I saw her...her breasts...no...her...her tits...little tits...beautiful little tits...and her thingees...her cute little...nipples…… oh! The recollection caused a little thrill to shoot through Claire’s pussy. They looked like little strawberries on her chest… And it wasn’t the first time I saw them… A couple of days ago...when we were cuddling that morning...she was almost naked then, too...and I...I looked down her wonderful, tiny silver bra...and I saw them then, too…….. They looked...utterly...delicious.......... Where did she get that bra, anyway?... and those panties?...Wow… She looked...awesome… Wonder if she was wearing that set today...and when she’s going to wear them next… She should wear stuff like that all the time… What a sexy little thing she is…

I wish I had gotten in the shower with her…offered to wash her body… touch her body… her sexy body… It wouldn’t have been that much different from cuddling with her when we were in our underwear that morning……... Girls should shower with each other… It’s okay… And pretty girls can touch each other...especially when they are naked……... She is my girlfriend, after all… We can do things like that…… I need to let Meredith know that it’s okay to be sexy around other girls…especially around me…... I want to kiss her again...and get into her little panties...like I almost did before… I’d love to sleep with that sexy little beauty…

Claire then remembered the way she and Monica had been eyeing each other during the move. There had been some...some spark...between them...every time they passed...every time they drew near...every time they looked at each other.

Mmmmm...Monica is such a babe… I still have to take her to dinner some time… I’d love to date her… I hope things don’t move too fast between her and Meredith...so that I can… Claire didn’t know quite what she wanted to do eventually with Monica, what kind of relationship she envisioned with her, but she knew she wanted to get it in, whatever it was, before Meredith had total dibs on her. Too bad I didn’t get her as my roommate… I can’t imagine what it would be like to sleep with her...to cuddle with her like I am with Jessica...to kiss her…

That last thought led her back to Jessica. But I’m lucky I got Jessica as my roommate, just the same… I like her so much now...more than ever before, for some reason… It’s like she’s more than just a friend now… This is so nice..with my girlfriend...sleeping with her...holding her.

Claire’s mind rewound to earlier that evening. When I was alone in the apartment with Jessica...we watched that lesbian porn DVD...in our underwear… That was exciting... Jessica showed off her...her pussy...I mean, her cunt...her sexy, sexy cunt...in those see-through panties!......... Wow!… That was awesome……...and it was...normal… Two pretty girls alone together...girls who like each other...should show their bodies off to each other… That is natural… She was simply sharing her beauty with me...like friends do...like girls who like each other...girls who are into each other...and are alone together…

And that DVD… yes...it was “educational”...no doubt about that… Those two girls were...were amazing……. I wonder what...what it would be like to meet them...especially the blonde… But the redhead...she’d be just fine, too...more than just fine……….

I like lesbian porn…no...actually...to be honest...if porn is usually like what I saw with Jessica...then...I love lesbian porn……… I wish I would have discovered it before now… even if Mary would not have approved… I don’t care… I approve… Who really cares what a prude like that thinks?… In fact, she should give it a try… Might loosen her up a little… The thought of her puritanical mother letting loose a little, even to the point of watching some lesbian porn, and possibly even enjoying it, made Claire smile. That wouldn’t be a bad thing.…… But, as for me...that definitely won’t be my last time...

She imagined herself settling down in a dark living room for a clandestine round of lesbian porn...wearing revealing lingerie unlike anything she had ever worn before...a sheer black babydoll nightie with nothing underneath… Jessica walking in to join her...wearing nothing but a transparent blue body stocking...and sitting down right next to her...taking her hand as they faced the screen and pressed the “play” button…

The mental image stirred remorse for having mistreated Jessica… It wasn’t her friend’s fault… Claire resolved to be nicer to her...more attentive....more sensitive to her needs… It was so nice to be holding her warm, sexy, fragrant body now…

Claire started to drift off.

“Goodnight, Jessica.”

“Goodnight… my love,” escaped Jessica’s lips in her softest voice possible.

Jessica tensed when she mistakenly let out her true regard of Claire. Fearing another freak-out, she braced herself…and yet nothing happened. Instead, Claire just snuggled deeper against her body, a soft coo coming from Jessica’s lips as she felt Claire’s breasts press against her back.

For Jessica, except for the one blip, which now seemed long ago and of minor significance, this had been a most successful and rewarding day, one, even, of historical proportions for her. For one thing, she had given herself to her sexy coach, and had been rewarded with a fantastic round of lesbian sex with her, as well as guidance and paraphernalia to help in her intended seductions of one of her cute basketball teammates and of her beloved Claire.

Then she had got to spend much of the rest of the day with Claire, and had learned several highly useful things: First, that Claire’s heterosexuality was not as unshakeable as it had once seemed to be, that she was open to dabbling, at least, in the lesbian lifestyle and mindset, giving Jessica hope in being able to convert her and win her heart; second, that Claire seemed, very surprisingly, quite open to and, even, taken with lesbian porn, and that it could give them a unique and dark common shared pastime, one which would both help to lesbianize Claire as well as to bring them close, physically, emotionally, and sexually; third, that she could capture Claire’s attention with skimpy clothes, makeup, and perfume; and fourth, that Claire liked her and was interested in her in ways which went beyond mere friendship, that Claire was obviously attracted to her, and that that attraction was growing, as could be read in Claire’s eyes when she had ogled Jessica’s legs and the rest of her body—and especially her pussy, when Jessica had dared to wear those provocative, see-through panties, which she was now very glad she had worn and knew she would definitely wear for Claire again, and as demonstrated by the facts that Claire had complimented her looks more freely than ever before, had touched her, had snuggled with her, and, most of all, had kissed her.

Starting on the day they had woken up together in bed, Claire’s new interest in Jessica physically had, in fact, become undeniable in Jessica’s mind. The athletic coed felt giddily certain, after the events of this day and now that she reflected on it, that Claire was noticing numerous physical things about her, and was attracted to them, as she had never seemed to be before, as could be seen in the way her eyes had started to linger on her face and body, and to scan her over noticeably, and in her compliments about Jessica’s hair and perfume. She sensed that she could seduce Claire with her legs, her ass, and her pussy, as well as with her breasts, her lips, her eyes, her hair, her hands, and all of her other feminine assets.

Yes, she had actually kissed her dream girl! Jessica had gone from almost losing her soulmate to kissing her. And now, she was in bed with her! They were actually sleeping together! The girl of her destiny was wrapped around her, and they were both dressed in just their bras and panties! It was nearly beyond belief. This had got to be the best day of her life...rivaled only by the night she made love with her mother for the first time....

Yes, my love… You will definitely kiss me again… I will make sure you do… You won’t be able to resist me…

Visions of herself using lipstick, and other makeup, and nail polish, and jewelry, and perfume, and cute hairstyles, and short skirts, and tight, revealing tops, and lacy, see-through lingerie, and lesbian porn, and every other imaginable thing to capture Claire’s heart and stir her lust floated through Jessica’s head as she drifted off.

Had Jessica turned her head, she would have seen a small smile appear on Claire’s sleepy face when she heard Jessica’s endearment and it in turn caused her to be a little more amorous with her friend.

Mmmm… Someday, Jessica’s going to make someone a wonderful wife…a loving wife…a lovely wife…a sexy wife…

As slumber took over, Claire thought one last thing.

Jessica is my best friend. There’s nothing wrong with her loving me. It’s what friends do… It’s what girlfriends do…

Then, far in the back of Claire’s mind, so faint as to be nearly imperceptible, the voice, her voice, now whispering from her subconscious personality slid a step further. … It’s what wives do………… She’d make a very sexy wife……………..for me……………

Soon both women drifted off and joined Meredith and Monica in slumber, their dreams full of lesbian fantasies with and desires for each other and other women in their lives.

In the command center Sandra had monitored everything that had occurred. She and her operatives had observed Claire’s conditioning and development in her new apartment and in Abby’s apartment with Regina. However, despite the successes Hecate had notched up this day, Sandra’s emotions were mixed. Yes, she enjoyed watching this Love-Livingston chick and her roommates being turned into wanton lesbian sluts, step by step, hour by hour. Few things gave her greater satisfaction. Moreover, this Claire girl was an exceptional beauty, and her roommates were not far behind, so being able to watch them, in various states of undress and in the early stages of sapphic flirtation and intimacy was undeniably titillating. Yet...it had been difficult to observe Regina join Abby in ravishing Claire’s body...and to do so with such unveiled lust for the girl. My Regina.

Looking around, Sandra observed her team too occupied in their tasks to notice her. Pulling out a USB drive, she secretly slotted it into her terminal and a command prompt window popped up. She punched a few commands and ran it.

Sorry kid, but all’s fair in love and war.