The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Suzy thought about her unexpected encounter with Thane for the entire duration of the Friday which remained after it. She had not anticipated it happening; but if all sex could be like that; light and easy fun, then Suzy knew she wanted more of it. She wanted to further exalt her body in the rushing release of pleasure; with new partners, who would be as light about it as she was.

Thane kept his unspoken promise to her; for all the rest of the day, though she saw him in the halls once or twice, he did not look at her. Through his distance he made it clear—he would not further pursue her. He would leave her be.

This was the outcome she’d hoped for; she didn’t want the pressure of expectation, and definitely didn’t want to be hounded after by someone who wanted things she couldn’t and didn’t want to give. She had chosen well in Thane. She could leave him behind and choose others.

Friday came to an end, and she was at home again; with no new friends to replace the old ones who had gone out; Suzy knew she didn’t want to wait, didn’t want to depend on luck in finding new sexual partners.

And she didn’t want to limit her territory to high-school, finding a new boy looking at her each day, and then hoping he’d be interested in following her back to some out-of-the-way, overlooked place... she wanted to expand her search parameters, she didn’t want to keep repeating the same experience.

The whole point of moving on from Thane was to find new people. It made no sense to seek new people but confine them to an old location; the same acts. If one thing was new, all things should be.

The other reason that Suzy had ruled out Pine Ridge High as her searchfield was that she knew she could not wait until Monday before again enjoying her body the way she’d done with Thane that early afternoon.

So on Saturday night, Suzy decided that she would go out seeking further pleasures. She knew where. She had been turned away from its doors before, but that had been when she had still resided in her old body. She had looked younger when she had been slight; when her breasts had still only been Bs. Her smallness had aged her down.

But with her 36DDs, and the expansion of her body that had accompanied them, she was aged in the other direction. She looked womanly; in appearance, she had grown up quickly, with the development of her new body.

And if she still looked a little too young, Suzy was sure that with her much more attractive form she could convince whoever was at the door to let her through; and could convince anyone inside that she belonged there. She’d be going to Pine Ridge’s nicest nightclub.

Or what she’d heard was Pine Ridge’s best nightclub, from people who looked old enough to get into it and experience it for themselves. In the days where she had still been talking to Magdalena, Magdalena had confirmed that, also. But Suzy would find out for herself now; she looked forward to a night of honest enjoyment.

But first, she had to dress herself for the occasion. She was looking forward to that night; to filling up with joy by means of the experience, and she wanted to fully dress herself up in recognition of that.

Suzy went to her closet. After her shopping spree, she had many options to choose from.

The shirt that drew her eye was a soft green one; the fabric of it was taut enough it would hug her breasts; it was off the shoulder, but there was a trim of lace edging that went all along the line of the shirt’s neck. It gave the shirt a delicate look, but because of the flirty design of the neckline, there was playfulness about it. Because of Suzy’s tan, she always looked good in green, she thought; and this was a pleasant seafoam-green.

So that decided half of her outfit for her; Suzy got herself into one of her new bras. She chose her favorite, since this night was all about treating herself to a true buffet of enjoyable time. It had been her favorite since she’d tried it on. Made of black lace, mostly, with those two arcing strips that had no fabric at all and opened onto her chest, exposing her skin for just those two arced-strips.

Once that was on, she pulled down her seafoam shirt, and the thing was taut; her breasts settled up a little higher than they would have normally hung, and Suzy turned to the side to admire herself in the mirror. She looked sexy; naked from the waist down, yet, and wearing a shirt that made her look great; played off her tan; made her look feminine and tender, but also playful and fun. She looked; then went back to her closet to continue dressing.

She had a pair of black lace panties to match the bra; she put these on, and again admired herself in the mirror, in the state of half-dress; underwear and shirt; she hoped to get back to this state, but with a partner to admire her while she was in it. She looked good even half-dressed. The shapely-ness of her legs, the result from years of running, had not undone itself even when the rest of her had changed. She still had that asset to her look; she would emphasize this too; she would leave a good portion of her legs visible.

She had a skirt that was the same color as her shirt; it was shorter, and it came only halfway down her thigh; it was not delicate like the top, only suggestive. But she figured the design of the shirt could balance that. This was an outfit it would be easy to play coy in; and yet, nothing about it made her look younger. She ran no risk of barring from the club.

She next chose a pair of nice heels; her shoe size had gone up slightly as the rest of her body had spread out—the better to bear the redistributed weight of her new body, but she’d made sure to get some more shoes while she’d been getting more of everything else necessary to fill out her wardrobe.

She thought a pair of silver shoes would look good with seafoam; she had a pair of heels just like this that were mirrored in broken fragments, so their surfaces glittered like discoballs just a bit; the mirrors that had been fragmented were not completely reflective, so it wasn’t a blinding thing when they were struck by light beams; it was just enough to give the impression.

Her height was the one thing that had not changed, so heels were a bonus, raising her up to a more impressive height than her natural 5′3. She had always tended to like wearing heels when she dressed up for this reason, even before. And Suzy thought small silver hoop earrings went with her shoes; and a silver bangle bracelet, too; so she added these; and she was so in the celebratory mood that she decided she wanted to add a little makeup to her ensemble, also.

She had silver eyeshadow that was almost a perfect match to the shoes; that even though it was painted on, could glitter in such a way and in such variation too, that it also looked like a broken discoball, fragments pressed against her eyes; the lights of the club would illuminate off of her, dazzling her to the eyes of anyone who looked onto her; and yet her actually clothing was reserved enough it could balance this.

She finished her look with a little lip-gloss to her naturally pink lips.

Her outfit had everything; a bit of bling and dazzle, a bit of flirtation, a bit of suggestion, a bit of femininity, a bit of playfulness. Her only other thought was to slip a ring onto her second righthand finger, just for a little more glitter to her overall appearance. She finished finished by tying her hair up first in a ponytail, then then weaving the end of the ponytail back through the elastic so that it would hang in a bulb, with the ponytail end just visible underneath, coming through the elastic again. She favored the hairstyle when she needed her hair to be a little more contained than just a ponytail could be; but she enjoyed the look of it so much that she had started using it more and more when she wanted to look just a little prettier.

What she also liked about it was the air of effortlessness it could project; it was projecting it now when she considered it again. It had been what her look had been missing; that suggested idea that she’d just thrown it all together in five minutes without even trying; that she was just this naturally alluring. She had been, before, she’d had to be; relying on personality alone. How much farther could she get now, that she was starting from a baseline of this, and could still go further beyond that using her old personality ticks and crutches? She was looking forward to the night even more, and there was no reason to delay any longer.

She grabbed her little purse up off of her dresser, and went for her window, not her door. Her mother, if she’d caught her, would not have thought well of Suzy going out at this hour of the night; and if she’d known where Suzy was going, she would have stopped her. Suzy would have lied, but wasn’t always the best liar, so likely would have been caught. Better to just go out the window and let her mother think she was still here in this room, sleeping.

She was inshape enough to get down, even in heels; and she made it to the ground without making hardly any town, and clutching her purse, she took quick steps down her street, drawing herself closer to Pine Ridge’s central area, its downtown, where could be found the club that Suzy was going to sneak herself into.

It was a Saturday night, but Pine Ridge was neither too big nor too populated, so there wasn’t a line outside.

Suzy plucked herself up as she walked towards the bouncer. She was a fun young woman, aged 21 years or older, instead of eighteen, and there was no reason in the world she should be turned away.

The bouncer looked at her, but it was clear he was appreciating her for both her body and her dressing of it; and not scrutinizing her for age. He only gave her a nod of his head, and she stepped past him, in through the club doors having faced no obstruction or delay at all. Then she was inside.

She’d never successfully snuck into a club before; but though she knew she was dazzling that night, she was the one dazzled once inside; strobes of color windmilled through the room, streaking random walls in alternation, and there were a lot of people; though not too many to be oppressive; there was a bar further back, against the far wall of the room; a stage, leftmost and against the wall there, and stairs to a second level on Suzy’s right.

There was no live band on the stage, though the setup was clearly ready for one if they should come; Suzy couldn’t imagine that Pine Ridge was a prominent stop on any up-and-coming artist’s tour circuit, but the club must find enough people to book anyway, to get by; Suzy thought she could remember seeing pasted up posters around the town on a semi-frequent basis announcing some band or another playing here.

Tonight, the club was just playing music over their speakers, but it was fast, the kind of music that made Suzy want to shake and gyrate her body to the beat; all other thoughts left her. She was here to enjoy herself, and to follow every impulse, with no strategy, or agenda. Suzy through herself into the crowd on the dancefloor before the empty stage, and let herself move just as she wanted to, to the music.

Song after song played, and she only seemed to lose herself deeper into the sounds that rippled around her surroundingly; sometimes she danced in a group of strangers; sometimes she danced in a duo with any one of a number of revolving guys; sometimes she dance alone; but whatever the circumstances, she was moving her body, she was moving her body in a way that felt good, and her heart was thudding in her ears from dancing so hard. She loved the feeling; she loved that she had become a person so bodily connected to herself, and the world around. She was, truly, embodied.

So far through the evening, Suzy had only come out of the music’s haze now and then to note who she was dancing with, if anyone... but it occurred to her, after coming out of this haze a few times and finding her dance partner the same on each verification that she should pay a little more attention to this guy who apparently just wanted to keep dancing and dancing with her and letting her go to no one else.

He was a much taller guy; he looked strong; his dark was dark, and so were his features, something that seemed just a little dangerous about him, in a thrilling way; he had to crane his neck down to look at her while they danced, but he kept doing it; smiling in an absent way until her recognized her more active presence behind her eyes, and then he smiled in a more knowing way for knowing that she was paying attention to him now, and looking him over.

There was such strength in him, it seemed, that Suzy was already fantasizing about him picking her up with those big arms of his... she wanted him, she knew in the next second. She had come onto the dancefloor for the wanting of it; now she’d see how fluidly she could move things forward with this guy, just for the wanting of that.

She beckoned him down a little closer over her, with a repeated curling down of her index finger to draw him. He followed it, bending himself over her so his face was close enough to hers that it only took a little pushing up onto her tiptoes to make their lips join.

He was a good kisser, too, so that was an added bonus. She felt all kinds of vibrancy sparking to life within her body—she was kissing a stranger, kissing a man whose name she didn’t even know, and she felt no shame. She felt only an eagerness for things to go further—she didn’t care who among the crowd on the dancefloor might look over at them and see them kissing. In fact, when she thought of being spotted, her solitary feeling was further thrill... it seemed exciting, a little dangerous, a little naughty to kiss so openly and not care who might see it. It was the kind of thing she had never done previously, but also the kind of thing she couldn’t have her fill of now.

Their kissing was rapidly leaving the territory of politeness and entering a more desperate, more lewd place; Suzy didn’t care if they kissed right in the middle of the dance floor, but her once-dance partner, now kissing partner, did seem to care. He stumbled them back off the dancing floor, and then brushed through several dancing people on the way, but despite heard vocal protestations, never looked aside to see; they had made it to the stairs that led up a level, and, Suzy’s kiss-partner was the one to break it.

Still he didn’t speak to her... just roughly took her hand, and pulled her up the stairs. She followed, feeling giddy with excitement, the unknown of what was unfurling between them, and what they both pursued... on the second level, Suzy could see there was a balcony to one side, and scattered tables with little candles on them between, but Suzy’s beau was pulling her back to the far wall, with its little dipping alcoves that provided casts of shadows, and once the two of them had dipped into one of these, Suzy’s guy a little roughly lined her up to the wall, and started kissing her again.

This was a little more private than kissing in the middle of the club’s open floor, and it was definitely less peopled up here, on the second level; but still, any of the few who were present might have looked over and seen them, and that was thrilling too...

Suzy had never thought of herself as one who liked to self-exhibit... but she did have so much to show off... and she was glad he had taken her to a slightly more private place, because she could feel the way she was slicking up between her legs from his kisses... she almost wanted him to take her right here, didn’t want to have to go to a second location, even if it was only steps down the hall to even greater privacy found in a bathroom...

She kissed him harder, but whimpered; their difference in heights was starting to become a detraction, to interfere with the speed and frequency that were able to kiss, and he seemed to understand her whimpering without any use of formalized language necessary; and she got her fantasy at the same time, too, because he picked her up, easily, like she weighed nothing; though she knew her breasts had added heft to her, he made it seem effortlessly easy; and he had brought her up so her mouth could be level with his, and she naturally wrapped her legs around about his stomach, where they rested from this position... and he kissed her back into the wall; she thought he might have well been able to pin her there, just by kissing alone, because of the strength with which he kissed her back; but it was nice to have the grip around him, provided by her legs.

He kissed her harder, she kissed back; he was delving tongue into mouth’s furthest depths, and she met him there. It was hot, wet, messy kissing, audible; maybe it was drawing eyes to them, but Suzy didn’t care. He’d picked her up but lifted more than that. She felt raised to exultation again, exuberating in her body, and she needed still more.

She tugged at his clothes; he understood; he helped her slide down her skirt; it was only supposed to go to above her knees and then stay there, but in the shift, her feet had ended up parallel to the floor, and the skirt had slid right down; leaving her legs naked; her kept her a bit lower on the wall, this time, so their pelvises aligned; and he partially rolled his pants down, too, but they did not drop down, and he had not worn boxers underneath... so maybe he came to clubs a lot and did this kind of thing, but it was an easy slide to get him inside of her, and she wrapped her legs around him at this level to keep hold of him by them; and it settled him snug up inside her.

Her head was level with his chest, now, and she let it rest there, holding on to him, and he kept shifting her, and making the full weight of her body drop back on to his dick at the place it was settled inside of her... having so much gravity pushing on her, pushing her down onto him, felt like getting impaled; it was a very satisfying penetration, and there was added thrill, too, in reflecting on herself, in exactly what she was doing.

She still didn’t know his name, or anything about him—he might have done this with lots of other women in lots of other scenarios just like this one, and she didn’t care—she was having sex in a public place, on exhibition for anyone to see, and this was so far the greatest risk of the night and the most dangerous.

This could be a light felony; the two of them could be brought in together on charges of public indecency; and they would call her mother from the other side of the bars of her jail cell, and she didn’t care... She didn’t care if anyone looked over and saw them fucking, didn’t care if an officer in uniform came over to arrest them. She only cared about the way it felt to be bouncing on his dick, wrapped around him, with all of gravity sending her down, again and again, her breasts jiggling and jutting up and then back down again with the total motion of her body... it felt like nothing else, like nothing else she’d ever felt. The pleasure was so intense it made her see white, at brief intervals blinding her, and from the hard breathing coming out of her man, she thought he must be feeling the same.

But it was equally thrilling that they had not talked, had only communicated with their eyes, their bodies, their actions. They might go entirely through this engagement without ever once speaking; they might go their separate ways after getting what they both needed, and never speak to each other again. She might never know the sound of his voice, or even his name.

What mattered was that for their time together, what they’d done had counted, had brought them each such great mutual pleasure. Suzy was glad for that; loved the experiencing of this all so much.

He put his hands onto her breasts; she’d only had two sexual partners so far, but she blamed neither of them for wanting to touch her there when her breasts were so pleasing to look at, so appealing, she imagined, to the opposite sex. He had to shift her shirt down by its off-the-shoulder neck, but he got to her bra, and first stroked her through arc of exposed fabric, touching bare skin, stroking both arcs of it on both breasts, then putting his hands up under her cups and feeling her from beneath them.

Suzy moaned; making their actions louder still, and still not caring; her eyes rolled into her head; and she was at once bounced on him and crushed back into the wall, squeezed by his hands, stabbed inside. All sensations at once set off explosion; she was blinded by her coming again, and felt him sputter gunk into her; the timing had been perfect this time too. Then they separated in silence, and went away from each other without ever once speaking, just as Suzy had thought they might.

On Saturday night, Barry was once again at a party thrown by some of the members of his new social circle.

Barry had liked the new people the more time around them he spent, and their parties were typically a good time.

Tonight’s party was loud, and populated as these things mostly were; as on most nights like this, Barry had a girl-of-the-day falling over him; there was always a new one, they always found him and fell over him this way; they did usually continue to circle him, even if he’d already hooked up with them once, but Barry never went back to the same girl a second time. There was always another girl waiting to step in and take the place of the last one, and he was always only ever too eager to help usher the next girl in to replace the previous. The sad eyes the old, discarded girls made at him never particularly moved him, either; he never promised these girls anything but a fun night together; he felt he was pretty upfront about the fact that he had nothing more to offer them, and that he wouldn’t be offering that nothing, once their time together had passed.

Barry knew this was a little different from his old way of thinking; likely a result of all the changing he’d done, and about which he could say he’d made an informed decision, unlike the others. But knowing this didn’t bother him; he enjoyed the parade of new girls that kept marching past him; most of them were quite a prettier calibre than he could have gotten before, and for the time they were with him, were truly eager to make him as happy as they could.

His mindset hadn’t been the only thing to change; he’d been well aware of the physical changes in his body, but he’d also changed in his habits around these; he’d started dressing less slobbily; he’d had to get himself new sets of clothing, because all his old clothes had become too loose and billowing. He wore clothes that looked similar to the wear of his other new friends; crew necks, collared t-shirts; things that made him look preppy; things that made him look like he came from their world.

On cooler days, checkered or diamonded sweaters; or sweater vests; his parents had never done badly, in financial terms, but Barry knew in hanging around with these guys, he’d transited social classes. His parents were very successful working class; maybe pushing middle class, since they owned their own restaurant and turned a profit... but these guys came from upper class families, the parties he went too were thrown in luxurious, fancy houses with endless rooms—houses with more rooms than Barry’s own home would ever have, no matter how many times his parents renovated or added on extensions where the money was good; all these guys he knew were looking at football scholarships to expensive colleges for which their parents would completely bankroll them... it was fun to hang around with the guys, but Barry knew his path would have to look different... he didn’t know if he could stomach the thought of working in the restaurant anymore, but he didn’t know what his other options would be now that his taste in activities had so drastically shifted.

But he didn’t have to worry about things like this tonight. It was Saturday night, he was at a party in what was practically a mansion, sitting on a couch somewhere among a lot of other people; and there was a pretty girl beside him; sometimes laughing, sometimes talking, but Barry never paid much attention to her, except to look at her. She was easy to tune out, and nice to look at. Her hair was a sharp black, and her eyes were so deep a brown they almost matched it; it was a sheeny straight curtain, and Barry didn’t care if she’d artificially straightened it to make it look that way.

It looked glossy. Barry wasn’t sure of the exact word suited to describe these kinds of things, but he thought that ‘chic’ might have been it... maybe... he’d missed her name, but all her attention was on him, and she petted and pawed at his arm every chance she get. Barry was feeling particularly doted on, but not particularly affectionate in return. She’d offered multiple times to get him a drink; Barry had paid enough attention to hear that, and finally, he told her to do just so she would stop asking; he’d since been drinking the beer she’d brought him back in the plastic cup as slowly as humanly possible to stretch out the time before she asked him again.

She was wearing a sleeveless shirt that left her shoulders bare and glimmered with sequins that seemed to change color depending on the light. Barry felt a little plain next to her, wearing another one of his newer t-shirts, the collared things they were; he knew his developing muscles showed well in them, though; the starts of his more sculpted pecs, and biceps; the girl who had been his company this night had found plenty of excuses to touch and feel at those, too. Barry had tolerated it.

Barry had tolerated it; but he was starting to feel a bit of something... gnawing at him. Though he never felt particularly connected to any of these girls, he did usually tend to mess around with them, and he was starting to feel that wanting happen in himself again; the black-haired girl’s lips were glossy, and Barry wondered if it was flavored gloss; if it would taste good against his mouth; flavors like these had supplemented his original love for flavors of food; and Barry had turned, inclined himself towards his girl for that night, and he was looking down at her mouth, watching it though he still wasn’t registering what she was saying.

He’d been feeling more confident lately too, less afraid to leap for things and risk falling facefirst, risk making himself a fool. He rarely seemed to fall at all, these days; and when he leaned in to kiss his girl, she only seemed to perk up in anticipation, and the gloss was flavored when Barry tasted it; it tasted like sweet peach, and Barry let his tongue enter and exit the girl’s mouth a little messily, so he could get further darting tastes of her lip gloss flavor.

He put his arm around her, and kissed her more. Suzy’s Frenching so long ago had been good practice for all the Frenching he’d been doing lately; he’d been so heartaching about it with Suzy, and now when he remembered that, he felt nothing at all; and in the moment, only felt simple happiness from undertaking the activity.

The girl tittered laughter when they stopped long enough; the kisses were making her giddy; that was one thing Barry had to admit, it was fun to see the way different girls reacted. Some girls made out with real focus; others seemed to be consumed with lust when they did; it was a rare few who laughed between puckerings, but this girl was one of them.

Her hands were in his lap, Barry realized, when he kissed her again—and she was feeling his length through his shorts. She broke the kiss that time, to whisper, “why don’t we do something about that?”

Barry rarely took things that far with any girl, more out of lack of interest than anything, but it was true; kissing her tonight had woken him up there, and some relief would have been pleasant.

Barry nodded his response, and was the one to stand first; he surveyed their options for retreat; there seemed to be a lot of people upstairs, so it wasn’t the first place that Barry wanted to go.

There were doors that opened out onto the lawn of the house, and outdoors it looked pretty sparsely occupied; plus everything out there was shadowed and dark; it seemed the better of two options, so Barry gave a nod of his head, and forged forward outside, through the doors that opened onto the stone terrace, then down stone steps onto grassy land.

They’d gone a number of steps down the slightly sloping hill, and Barry took a seat at a distance he’d judged was far enough from the house to avoid at least a cursory detection by casual glance; the girl sat herself down by Barry, and Barry put his arms back, leaning onto his hands and looking to the stars; while the girl undid the zipper of his pants, and without asking or speaking or checking, just immediately wiped the gloss of her lips onto the back of her hand, and then wrapped her newly nuded lips around Barry’s cock.

It was a challenge for her; Barry knew. His cock had not grown or changed at all, even as so much about him had; but it had already been well-above average in its size; there was a lot of girth there, and he could tell she was struggling to get it all fit within her mouth. Bless her, though. She was trying.

What started as a fumbled mouthing soon became a bit more practiced; then outright successful. She’d taken a few moments to adjust to both his shape and his size; but now that she knew the layout of him by feel, she was starting to do things with it; tracing her tongue with a practiced art; slavering all over him with strings of her saliva.

It felt slick. It felt wet, and her mouth was so hot in contrast to the night. Barry could feel himself getting harder; felt his balls tugging downwards, felt himself tightening in near-pleasure, and she seemed to sense this subtle shift; she knew what she was doing, and she was very attentive; so she worked her mouth on him with greater pace; and Barry felt himself on the brink; then she flicked along the line in the center of the front of his cock just once, and he shot into her mouth, painting her throat in ropes and cords of his jism.

It had been good pleasure; but Barry hadn’t done more than breathe a little more quickly. Getting worked up about anything these days just wasn’t his style; he told her his gratitude; that he needed just a few minutes to recover and he’d do something about her... and she smiled at him, and popped a mint from her purse into her mouth. She’d brought the purse with them outside; the strap had stayed diagonal across her body the entire time she’d serviced him.

It was a nice night, so they stayed outside; anything they might do together after, anything he might do to her could be done out lying in the grass where they already were... there was no one else around, so they wouldn’t be disturbed. Barry kept looking up to the stars, waiting for his body to recover, waiting for his body to refract... the girl sat up like him, but she didn’t lean back onto her hands, she cuddled up to his side, wrapping her arms around him and putting her head to his shoulders, looking at the stars too.

She was a nice enough girl, really. But Barry knew that he wouldn’t bother her once the night was out. He’d once thought so much about finding that one girl; that one girl who was that perfect, that one girl he would want to love and wake up next too. He’d had the longstanding fantasy of marrying, and marrying right out of high-school, post-graduation, it was true. But as he sat there, in the night, he couldn’t quite remember why he’d wanted that at all, really.

He’d been having a lot of fun with the string of girls he’d been hooking up with; and it was fun to have a new girl every night, fun to compare and contrast the way they reacted, the way they behaved, the little ticks in their mannerisms. To give all that up in favor of having just one girl, and knowing her inside and out, and watching her change and change over the course of years and decades... it seemed like a ridiculous trade in.

Barry didn’t think he wanted to be married at all, any longer. He’d be much happier permanently single, he thought—at least legally. More fun to find new girls, night after night, and learn them in that time and forget them the next morning; only conjuring their memory back as a point of comparison for any other girl that might come after them. That was the way to do it, Barry thought. And he thought it was the way he always would. Better than marriage—more fun. What had been thinking before? Whatever it was, he wasn’t thinking it anymore, and he preferred it that way.

He sighed happily, settling down into his vision of the future, and the feeling of the girl’s warm body curled against his in the night’s breeze. This was the life; the better life. He didn’t think he would give it up for anything. He was glad to have changed, glad to have found out how to live this way; he appreciated all over again; knew he was looking forward to more time spent with this girl, and others after her.

Autumn’s first few modeling campaigns were successful in her local modeling community. Her modeling agent had been right; she had just enough of a unique look that she’d made a splash, and the department store she’d modeled clothes for had seen an uptick in sales in the areas she’d posed for. It had felt like a dream come true to Autumn; she loved clothes so much now, and dressing well, that to be able to do it was very much a delight for her.

She liked the feeling of being appreciated, and the photographer she’d last worked with had made her feel that way; and the response to her posted ads had made her feel that way too. She’d enjoyed it all way more than she’d ever enjoyed reading a book, or knowing things. When she was called on in class and put on the spot, unable to give answers, and only able to stare back dumbly, she never felt bad about that anymore. In those moments, now she remembered the way it felt to be appreciated and taken in by someone’s gaze... that was worth more to her than knowledge ever could be.

Since her first campaign had gone well—and Autumn had enjoyed getting the check for a few hundred dollars, too! The old Autumn would have responsibly put it into a savings account and tried recuperating interest on it, but the ins and outs and intricacies of such a thing were beyond Autumn now. She’d cashed the check and gone on an immediate shopping spree; the clothes she’d chosen for herself had played up what she thought of as her Quality even more; she’d notice a few more heads turning to follow her than before. She did know how to dress now, and she took pride in that.

But since she had been so successful, her modeling agent had already booked another modeling gig for her; they wanted her posing in sleepwear this time, for a store that specialized in that and which had been seeing a lag in sales; Autumn had the address written down, but she’d had her agent make arrangements for someone to specifically bring her there, since she couldn’t easily take care of things like schedules or addresses anymore.

So now here she was, for a Sunday morning-shoot; at a local photographer’s studio who’d be taking the pictures of her. He’d left the door open. She entered.

It was a quick walk up the narrow stairway to the photographer’s studio. He was waiting for her inside, already having set up the shoot for the both of them to make use of them together.

He’d put up the lighting screens; his very expensive, very professional looking camera was in hand; and everything had been set up around a central chaise lounge in the middle of the studio, which was clearly going to be the setting he situated her in. There was an outfit sitting folded on top of the lounge; her ensemble to showcase, Autumn was still intelligent enough to guess.

“I’m Blake,” the photographer greeted her. “There’s a bathroom through there,” he added, gesturing with the hand which did not hold his camera, along the way. “I’m ready to start as soon as you are.”

Autumn moved forward, and took the folded outfit up into her hands. “I’m Autumn,” she told Blake. “I’ll just be a second.”

The bathroom was where he’d gestured it to be, and the outfit she’d been given had been a pretty typical pair of pajamas; a long sleepshirt that was a pale blue color—it actually worked nicely with her natural coloring, and her red hair. The pajamas were a darker shade of blue, but had polkadots forming a pattern on them; the polkadots were the same color as the sleep shirt; and the shirt’s hem was low, coming well-down past Autumn’s thighs.

It was the kind of cutesy things she had once worn so much of; she figured she still had the same face as ever, the kind of face that people read adorableness into. She knew how to turn other things loose within herself to be projected outwards now, but clearly this would be a shoot where she had to play more to her old type. It was sensible... even with a dimmer mind, she could see that... the store this shoot was for was a sleepwear store, so this was the kind of outfit that should be expected of it.

It didn’t matter that it was less than stylish. At least it was comfortable; she’d come out looking very stylish in the last thing she’d posed for; she could do a shoot like this that was less fashionable; this one paid better than the last, and had followed quickly upon it; she didn’t regret taking it on, even now.

Besides, at least with such a simple shoot the outfit was easy enough to get changed into. She imagined that someday she might be given a more complicated set of clothes to get into. That would make changing a real ordeal... or if she went on at this, long, enough, maybe someday she’d be given assistants to help her change... she mused fantasies of future ambitions as she changed into the provided pajamas; and it was a quick change; and then she stepped back out into the studio.

Blake had been serious when he said he was ready; he was all business; telling her each way to pose. It was nice to have all her decisions made for her; nice not to have to think, or to choose. She could just follow what Blake said. He had her place herself in a variety of positions, stepping closer to her, stepping back, adjusting the lighting; she moved as she was told; accepted props when he passed them to her; a blanket to curl up under, slippers to put on her feet; and she posed around these props, too. She found it easy to pull expressions; to look relaxed when told, to look tired, when told; to look up from beneath partly-lidded eyes in a way that was inviting; and he told her which sightline points to find on his walls; she stood when he said, he seemed to appreciate that she took his guidance well.

He was watching her through the little eye of his lens, from every possible angle, but she was also watching him. Blake was good looking, and Autumn couldn’t help but notice that. He was a rugged-type, with scruffy facial hair; he looked like he might be the outdoorsy-type on weekends; she imagined he took a lot of... whatever those pictures were called, which were of nature and from a pulled back perspective, trying to represent natural prettiness... land... land-somethings.

She didn’t care; she had never really been interested in older men, but Blake was so manly; she’d been out of her skull just in her attraction to the boys around her at school, but her attraction to Blake felt even more powerful than that. All she could think of was him coming over onto the lounge with her; imagining how his facial hair would scrape at her face if she kissed him; if he kissed her places other than her faces... she flushed even in thinking about it... but it was a fun, thrilling kind of flush that made her excited the more that she gave into it.

After a long time, Blake seemed finished. “I think I got what I need,” he said, pulling his camera back and pressing the buttons of it to look on back through the shots he’d taken. “You can go now, if you want. Just change back into your own clothes first.”

Autumn wasn’t quite sure what made her courageous enough; maybe it was only that she so appreciated her newfound desirability, how she could invoke it and so affect her the people around her; maybe it was the fact that she hadn’t had the chance to invoke it for this shoot, but something emboldened her, and she put that air on about herself, and said: “Wait, Blake—” —and he waited and looked—“I had such a good experience working with you, I’d like to know you a little better. Why don’t you sit down next to me, and we can talk a bit.”

Blake stood there looking at her in surprise for a moment; she had played the adorable, cutesy girl-next-door for him; he had not expected the coyness, the open flirtation; he didn’t know she could make herself turn so charming; but it had clearly appealed to him, because he seemed a little less business-like in his demeanor. “Sure, Autumn,” Blake said. “I have a few minutes to spare.”

He sat down next to her; he’d been willing to go along with her this far; she didn’t feel like concealing her intentions. She dialed up her energy of wantonness. She put her hand playfully on Blake’s arm; this seemed to surprise him, but he didn’t pull away. “You’re really nice looking, Blake... I was looking at you all the time that you were photographing me, and I kept thinking so...”

She was glad to see that Blake was responding to such a simple come-on; she didn’t have the skill for stringing together complex sequences of words anymore, let alone the skill for expressing difficult, challenging concepts.

“You’re nice looking too, Autumn,” Blake said; sounding friendly but looking as if he was feeling a little more than friendliness. “Or... maybe you’re not quite naturally pretty... but you have an attitude about you that’s... very drawing... I’ve photographed a lot of other models this week, but there’s something about you that stands out to me... you’re memorable in a way I can’t exactly point to...”

He seemed dissatisfied with his ability to find the right words for expressing what he meant; but Autumn didn’t care... she was a bit infatuation struck, and she only wanted to be closer to him—she scooched herself over until their bodies were touching.

“You understand what I’m... saying...?” She gave him a lidded-look again, remembering how he’d asked her to make it for show; he seemed affected to be getting it freely given.

“I... do...”

She parted her lips; she tilted her head back but arced her neck in closer, putting her face nearer to his. He swallowed visibly; but she had painted the expression on herself right... she wetted her lower lip with her tongue in a darting, and it drew him like a trap... she followed after her tongue when she slipped it back into her mouth, and he kissed her lips experimentally.

For Autumn’s part, she tried her best to show Blake there was nothing for him to be uncertain about; she took all the arts she had learned in kissing Keith so long ago; and which she’d remembered in briefly kissing Barry the once more recently, before his betrayal had been made known to her. She didn’t want Blake to have any regrets about kissing her at all; she wanted him to fully enjoy the experience, and what was more than that, she wanted to express the completeness of her attraction to him, to feel it coming from her, to feel wanted.

It was a delight for her too, kissing him with purpose, kissing him with meaning, becoming only more desperate as their kissing continued on. She’d been in a state of constant frustration for weeks as a result of all the changing she’d been going through. Surrounded by cute boys she was noticing sexually for the first time; surrounded by people she was attracted to, couldn’t stop herself from fantasizing about to the point of distraction and uncomfortable arousal... but all of whom she couldn’t have. To finally be with a guy she could have, to finally be playing fantasies and getting them outside her head was a relief after long frustration, and it spurred Autumn on to kiss that along to Blake and appreciate what he kissed back to her all the more.

She was getting more turned on with each continuing minute; and Blake had seemed to settle into the kiss; he was surer of her now, not so experimental or uncertain in his approach. Autumn was feeling every flick of his tongue on hers throughout her body. It tweaked her nipples from the inside, tickled her pussy from inside, too and made her dribble her enjoyment. He kissed in just the way that could make Autumn’s toes curl, and she liked it.

She hadn’t known what she’d want when she started kissing him, but her attraction had only grown, and she wanted more than just kissing. She felt a burst of the same courage from earlier, and she took up Blake’s hand in hers, and moved it onto her breast, keeping her lips moving all the time.

The smacking of their lips could be heard loud in the air; and Blake took her lead, starting to move his hands on her.

It made her breaststroke tingle; and she felt more interest dribbling out of her. He kneaded her, kissed her harder and she gasped into his mouth; she was completely lost in the joining of their mouths, forgetting who she was, forgetting her name; forgetting her day inside his mouth. She lost the transition; somehow he had leaned them back, shifted them down, and now he was half-straddling her, half-laying on her, and her hands had found his body too. Sometimes pulling him on to come closer, sometimes just to feel his chest under his shirt with her hands. She was being smushed back into the lounge, overwhelmed by his presence... and after all of this, she still only wanted more.

She was something tasty serving up to his lips and he was something tasty meeting hers... and then she was undoing his shirt and getting it off of him, and her sleepshirt was coming off just as easily. Her modeling outfit had been easy to put on; it was easy for him to take off of her now. She was naked to her bra; his hands were hot on her skin, feeling her, rubbing her, and she felt at his skin too to return the favor. He got her bra off her and handled her breasts directly, handled her nipples too... she gasped and her mouth fell away from his.

“Oh god, oh my gosh, oh it feels so good, I never knew it could feel like that— oh please don’t let it stop happening— don’t—”

She clapped a hand over her mouth, surprised at herself. She’d never had sex before so hadn’t known. But clearly the least bit of pleasure made her want to blab on about nothing, made her run her mouth. A little of her old self-consciousness came back to her. She hadn’t known that about herself, and she’d had to go and find it out in front of this guy who was a bit older, and much cooler than her.

He hesitated only briefly to wipe excess saliva from his mouth with a pull of one hand. Then he chased his fingers back through his hair; and gave her a goofy smile. “I don’t mind,” he said. “It’s adorable. That girl-next-door thing isn’t just an act after all, is it? Talk it up, baby. I want to hear you.”

He lowered his face from hers to wrap his lips around her nipple and he sucked there instead of sucking on her lower lip when she pouted it out in the kissing. She was talking again without trying to, without planning on it... telling how good it felt, how much she liked it and didn’t want him to stop...

He slid down her lent-pajama bottoms, and felt at her through her underwear; he’d made her wet with all the attention he’d paid to her, and she was chattering on, having the best time of her life. Her self-consciousness was gone. She’d been seen acting out a quirk of her personality she hadn’t known about, and she’d been accepted for it, appreciated for it. It made her feel confident again; and Blake was clearly listening to her ramble and then getting inspired by it. He got more worked up and active with everything she said; running his fingers through the wetness he’d caused and trailing his mouth across her chest and back again, breast to breast, staying at one nipple for a while before trading it for its partner.

Her arousal had reached an extreme pitch; and she was impatient. She thrust her hips at him impatiently, and he hot the message. Once naked, he lined himself more closely to her body; wrapped himself in a condom, and plunged home inside her.

They moved together so frantically that they shook the lounge Autumn almost thought they might splinter it beneath themselves and leave it a heap of broken wood in his studio. Autumn had been so aroused, too, that when Blake had come into her, she had only shifted aside and hadn’t torn apart into bleeding. It was better than the best first time Autumn could ever have expected or hoped for; and she had used to worry about it so much. She exhilarated in the pleasure and found her orgasm. It took Blake a little longer, but he kept shocking her sensitivity with his continued penetration, and it was definitely kinda nice... then he pumped himself into his condom inside of her, withdrew, and rolled the sticky thing off himself.

Autumn lay satisfied on the lounge for a second, flushed, glad to have done it. The she dressed herself, and thanked him for the shoot.

She didn’t have to change in the bathroom to redress since he’d now seen her naked; she pulled her clothes back on, went back down the stairs— left.

What had started as fun danger and risk-taking for Magdalena gradually became something else. Friends who had been happy to share their drug stashes free of charge didn’t want to be free suppliers anymore. They expected her to pay, now; a stash would be given to her but she had to buy it off of them first.

Initially this presented no real problem to her. Her parents gave her a generous allowance to cover any of her various wants, and this amount was more than enough to keep her in the drugs that kept things interesting. And after buying the drugs off of them, her cheerleading friends were still more than happy to get high with her and have a good time together. She just had to pay her way to get there. Nothing in life was free— so Magdalena thought, and so her father hag always said.

Things went on this way alright for a while; Magdalena partied it up with her friends, slept with a changing cast of boys and experimented with other, newer drugs and found more and more of her money going to get drug habit and less to anything else.

This was the point things had reached when first semester of senior year ended for Christmas break. She had luckily stocked herself in drugs before school was out, because for the two-week duration, she’d be out of touch with her drug connections.

Every year for Christmas holiday, Magdalena’s family went to stay at an expensive ski lodge in Switzerland; Magdalena looked forward to it, enjoyed going down the slopes and hanging around the chalet. Her parents made no comment expressing any reservations about continuing the tradition of other years, and the day after school let out, the three of them were on a long international flight to Switzerland as in other years.

The difference was this time Magdalena had smuggled all her drug stash with her in her on her person. Security was lax, but she had still risked discovery; and didn’t care. Consequences weren’t real to her anymore— and she planned to use her entire stash before the return flight.

They made it to the chalet after long travel; and it was the same as Magdalena always remembered. For the first day there she situated herself, drinking hot cider, taking the slopes sober, sitting before the great fireplace in the chalet’s main open area.

But by the second day, Magdalena was craving a little danger. And more than that, on a chemical level, she was craving a fix. So after pretending to sleep late, in order to make sure her parents had gone out of the room— she had noticed only one room was booked this year instead of the usual two— she took her stash into the bathroom, got started.

She was pretty far into her high, when her mother unexpectedly opened the door and caught her. She’d forgotten to lock it.

Immediately, Magdalena knew she’d made a mistake, though her mother said nothing; just made a facial expression Magdalena was too high to read, apologized for intruding through pursed lips, and then left Magdalena to her illicit activities.

It was not the reaction Magdalena would have expected, given what she had been caught doing. But though no consequence seemed to come, Magdalena didn’t remotely believe that she’d heard the last about it that she was going to hear.

Her parents were particularly frosty with her for the rest of their ski vacation; but the lack of any obvious reprimand, as well as the lack of any direct reference to what had happened emboldened her. She went on with her plan to finish off her stash, making sure to lock the bathroom door properly from that point on. And when they all boarded the flight, in first class, that would take them back to Pine Ridge, Magdalena had successfully finished her entire stash and was looking forward to being back in school after the end of the weekend, so she could purchase more of a supply to replenish all that she’d used up.

Magdalena had known the other shoe would drop; it had only been a question of when it would, but finding her parents sitting at the table in the great formal dining room that they hardly ever used on that Saturday seemed fast even to Magdalena.

Her father was sitting at the head of the table, like a true patriarch; Magdalena’s mother sat off to the right side of him.

It always fell to Magdalena to sit to his left. At least, it fell to her to sit to her father’s left when the three of them were in this formal dining room, which happened rarely, but on occasion.

The habit of it gave no comfort to her; she had sat down without asking or waiting for invitation, because she’d sensed the seriousness in the room; sensed that her parents wanted her to sit there; could feel how much they had to say to her.

As soon as she was sitting, her father began to speak.

“Your mother and I have been aware for some time of your drug habit,” he said, tensely. “You’ve been disgracing the family with it, and I think you know that. But we were willing to overlook it to a point; we thought it might be a phase, we thought you might just need a little time to work out whatever it is that’s got you obsessed with it. But we’re not willing to overlook it any longer.”

Magdalena felt her stomach swoop; she sensed threat in the offing; the danger of something she would not want, and she tried to brace herself for it.

“We have to draw the line at the fact that you smuggled drugs with you, to Switzerland, and spent the family holiday getting repeatedly high, even after you had been caught one. To us, that proved this was not just an ill-advised hobby, or a little thrill seeking. This is full on addiction, and it’s the last straw, Magda. You’ve been painting the society page of the newspaper red for month with your scandals, but smuggling drugs and getting high in a foreign country— that’s it, for this there must be consequences.”

Magdalena braced herself again, and her father seemed to shift his shoulders up too… Magdalena had, to this point, being so well-behaved that her father had not had to be in the practice of disciplining her. It was unfamiliar to him too; she’d behaved so well in the ways that had mattered that it had been easy for him and her mother both to spoil her; but that time was over now.

“We’re revoking your allowance,” her father said, with a sigh. “You won’t receive it anymore until you’ve sobered up.”

Magdalena sat there, staring. No more allowance— no more money— no more drugs! The concept danced in her mind, and she wanted to cry out— she couldn’t be without them, she so needed them—

“And,” her father added. “I made arrangements with the family lawyer while we were on holiday. We’ve changed the terms of your trust-fund. You were set to receive it on your 25th birthday, pending no other condition. But now it’s conditional on your sobriety. Unless you can prove by several consecutive drug tests within a period of multiple months, you’ll never receive any of that money.”

Magdalena said nothing. There was nothing to say. “Understood,” she said, and she pushed her way back from the table. She had accepted what she’d been told with no contesting; but though she had no protested, it had not been that simple for her, really. She didn’t intend to quit using; she wasn’t ready to give up the thrill. She’d just have to find another source of money.

She had never yet worked any job; and it ran counter to her generally thrill-seeking lifestyle, but it would give her the money she needed to keep funding her habit. So as second semester of senior year started, Magdalena applied around in town, and found a job at a little food shop. It was the kind of job she’d judged Barry for wanting; but it was mindless, easy work she could do even when she was high out of her skull. It didn’t pay as much as her allowance; but it was still paying her enough that she could afford to keep buying drugs for herself.

Her grades kept dropping; she kept trying new varieties of drugs, taking them in the company of the other cheerleaders; her parents didn’t take anymore direct action against her; though she knew they knew she was still taking them, buying them with her job. Despite her almost constant high, she held down her job, and kept the money coming in.

But the pressure of that was all she could take so affected; her school performance fell apart a few months into that second semester, and she was, for performing so badly, expelled. At the point that she was expelled, her parents kicked her out of their house, too, saying they would no longer support her while she was such a mess… and that they feared she might start thieving things around the house to fund her habit.

So she was out; she had to find a place to rent in town; she got a cheap enough room, a basement in a house, and when Pine Ridge’s graduation day came and went for that year, she was not among her class on the stage. She spent the next few years of her life living in that first place she’d rented, working at that same job she’d gotten, putting herself in the company of those old cheerleaders… using her money for monthly expenses, and then every free cent leftover on whatever drugs she could get. It was a mundane life; but Magdalena didn’t mind it. She’d been aimed for greater things, and ended up cut-off and estranged from her family instead… but life was never dull; a constant excitement instead, and Magdalena had no regrets. She was happy with it like that.

Sometimes, when she was dreaming, Cameron imagined herself to be much shorter than she was; at her 5′7 height. Instead, she pictured herself 4′10; and then when she woke up, it was always like finding herself in a new body, finding herself in a dream, though she’d just left one, in which she was beautiful and looked exactly as she’d always hoped.

But she couldn’t remember even being any other height. She’d always been as tall as she was, she was sure. It was still nice to have those dreams… they always lifted her heart, gave her new appreciation for the life that she was living, day by day.

She had been more dour before; she didn’t remember why, but she didn’t find a reason to be grim now; she didn’t see a reason to hang back in the shadows the way that she had done before. She stopped wearing her grays and blacks, and traded them for more vibrant shades of color. Life seemed something worth celebrating to her now, particularly on the days she woke up from dreams of shortness.

And dressing this way, standing a little taller than her own height just because of the way she felt inside, seemed to draw other attention to her. She was not an invisible creature on the fringes of school society… other students actually noticed her. In class, when she raised her hand for a question, the teacher’s eyes did not slip past her; they settled on her, she was called on.

All of these things made her walk and sit taller still; she found happiness and then in being happy found reasons to get even happier, to propel herself further into it.

She did find, sometimes that there was something in her mind unexamined… something that was missing, something she was forgetting; but she was so happy with the way everything was going, the way everything had went, however it had had to be to get her to this point, that she didn’t truly want to remember whatever it was. If there were things from the past few months that were missing for her, she did not care… she was starting to have friends now; she was starting to go on dates, to really be looked at. It felt different to be among people after having felt she was so alone for so alone; it had started to warp her, but she could feel herself unwarping… she could feel herself getting all better about it.

It made her senior year better than the school years she had had before it; her grades improved slightly with the improvement to her mood; she felt at last that she was truly living out a proper experience of adolescence; making the most of it, reveling in her youth though she was technically in the first year of her adulthood. Because she was having a good time the year went by quickly; and when she graduated, there were graduation parties to attend afterwards, because she had friends to invite her to them.

School had been a bad set of years for her, but she found in the first year that she was out of it, and the next few after that, that she really started to blossom. Without the kinds of constraints that the kind of structured, organized day put on her, she really came into her own.

Though she’d been happier, and she had never needed to fold back into the fringes again, she had also never lost her skill for observation, for understanding people and interpreting them. She had not rushed herself into a job immediately; her parents had not been quick to kick her out of the house, but she had taken the time to really decide what it was she wanted to do.

She still had a taste for solitude, even with more friends in her life, and even with a fuller social calendar… something she’d done and which she could not remember; didn’t care if she did; had taught her how to put the pieces together, and so she sought a private investigator’s license, and operated a small practice in Pine Ridge.

There were clients enough to keep herself living well; and it occupied her mind in a way she liked. Her skill for watching, for seeing, for realizing was well-exercised in that field; and she had plenty of solitude to enjoy, needing to report to no one, pursuing each case given to her and throwing herself into it fully. Whatever it had been that she’d done and forgotten had prepared her well; and Cameron was glad for the life she’d found her way into. It didn’t matter if she didn’t remember how she’d gotten there… it was just enough to be there, and when she dreamed still sometimes of being shorter, she woke up and thought that same thing again. She was here, now. That was the only thing that needed remembering.

Ian Inell liked his chemistry teacher Mrs. Alston very much; she had been trying, all year, to convince him to go into studying chemistry, so that he could become a real, professional chemist.

Ian did have a knack for it. He knew that; and with the creation of his new drug of transformation, he’d more than proved it. But he was reluctant; Mrs. Alston knew, but didn’t know why. The kinds of chemistry experimentation he wanted to do was not always strictly ethical; not quite the kind of thing he thought the academy of science might smile on.

But Mrs. Alston was dedicated; convinced he should be a chemist. She kept finding excuses to meet with him, trying to talk him into it. She offered to fill out applications with him; she didn’t want him to slip through the chemistry field’s fingers, she said. And she was just persistent enough that Ian ultimately decided he would go along with it. He hadn’t had any major plans for post-graduation, anyway. His only personal goal had been the making and refining of his drug, and he had accomplished that ahead of schedule. So he might as well go along with what someone else told him his life should be; it wasn’t as though he’d been planning to do anything else with it.

A few months later, into the second semester of the year, Ian’s acceptance into a prestigious university came; to study chemistry; it would only be an undergrad, and then he’d still need a masters and a post-doctorate, after, but he was ready for a long road… he had a plan that he was keeping to himself.

Sure, he would study chemistry licitly; but he would not stop his private study either, not stop the work that pushed the boundaries. He wouldn’t give up his more unethical pursuits. He could study legitimately and at once keep going with whatever private whims came to him— any other drugs he might want to invent. If someday he ever wanted to legitimate himself, he might bring his findings of the transformational drug to peer review, to the scientific world… otherwise he would keep his discovery to himself, and to bankroll himself, would make it to sell on darker markets; in the underground of the word, out of the eye of the mainstream. It would fund him; and he would study; he would be legitimate and illegitimate at the same time. He liked the plan.

His only regret was leaving Pine Ridge for San Francisco; not because he had such ties on Pine Ridge… but because he had found himself, lately, looking at Cameron James.

She wore her greater height well, but there had been something attractive about her even when she had been short; even before she’d seemed to bloom and go into lighter colors. In the moment she had stood before him, agreeing to take the drug herself; when he had seen the temptation playing in her eyes, he’d felt pretty powerfully attracted to her… that she had agreed, however unethically, to leave justice undone… and been happier for it.

That her mind had accepted it, and could sit even peace even knowing she had done something and forgotten. In his time at Pine Ridge high, he had noticed no girls; Cameron was the first to really stand out for him, and he would be going away and leaving behind all chance of ever pursuing her. There had been a whisper of allure between them… but it might never be acted upon, or examined. Because at the end of that year, when Ian graduated, he packed his things up and moved to San Francisco, finding no reason to delay for the summer and with nothing but Cameron that he was leaving behind.

The first few years of his undergraduate degree went easily; his plan worked as imagined. He funded himself on the black market; he excelled in all his classes, kept himself in a beautiful apartment and paid for everything with cash, leaving no paper trails, laundering dirty money in… after his third year, he went home to visit his family, and stay a few weeks in Pine Ridge again.

He happened to run into Cameron around town; she had developed into something even better in the time he’d been away. Her body had not changed but somehow in the way she’d dressed herself she had become more beautiful. He struck conversation with her. She only remembered him vaguely; it was deeply amusing to him that she had taken up being a private investigator; in service of justice when at the crucial time she had chosen to forego it for personal satisfaction. That was when he knew, definitively, that she was the kind of woman he could really maintain an interest in… A little legitimate and illegitimate at the same time, just like him.

He flirted; she flirted back; the spark he’d sensed before giving her the drug was there, after all. It hadn’t been just imagination; he flirted more; by the end of their run-in they’d agreed to date. A month of this dating went by; and by the end of it, Ian had submitted the paperwork to transfer to the satellite campus that was in Pine Ridge and made plans to move back.

Throughout the years of his study, Ian was with Cameron; they lived together, they loved each other; she shared her cases with him, and he took special pleasure in knowing he was operating just beneath her nose; that some part of her mind had willingly chosen to overlook his badness, and be with him anyway… that that part of her mind, deep down, knew him, and chose to perpetuate denial to be with him; she was the only woman he would ever want, he knew that; and he enjoyed living his double-life with her. Moving closer and closer to having his doctorate, making good cash from his illegal activities; with Cameron, servant of justice or so she thought of herself… willingly turning a blind eye and not even knowing she was doing it. Yes, it had all turned out the best for him. He was glad for everything he had done.

Through the rest of his senior year, Barry kept playing in his community football league. Just for the fun of it, just for the hobby, but one day, there was a scout there from a professional football league.

“You play so well,” the scout told Barry, after introducing himself. “I noticed you most out of all the others… a real grace in the way you throw, you catch, the way you run. Would you ever consider coming up to the minor leagues?”

Barry had never thought of it. When all his friends asked him, again and again and again, if he would pursue football in a more dedicated and formal way, he’d told them no.

But he had not expected an opportunity like this to fall before him, right into his lap. That had been his old way of thinking; waiting for life to just hand him things, so he had been thinking less that way— but in the end, life had handed him this, and with the opportunity before him, he didn’t quite want to turn it down.

So he told the man he would think about it, and took his card. And when he went home and told his father, his father about went crazy; telling him about the amazing life he would; the greatness he could attain, even though it was only a minor league; that he was going places, that he was going to have everything… that it would be like winging himself through the sky… and this convinced him to call the man and tell him, yes, he would come up.

He didn’t finish out his school year; they let him start right away, since he was already eighteen. He played well and seemed to gain skill by the month; he played with a small team for a few years, but it paid well… he moved up the ranks, moved around the state a few times; he enjoyed every game he played, he bonded to every team member he ever had; and women threw themselves after him much like at the end of high school; but he still felt no desire to make it serious with any of them, preferring just to have a good time with them and then leave them behind.

He made it through the minor leagues, and after several years broke into the majors, making bank. He did so well, game after game, he knew his place would always be assured… and when he met with his old jock friends from high-school, he knew they were jealous of him. His notoriety and fame grew by the year, and his wealth, and his professional satisfaction. He became notable enough, ultimately, that he was a cameo appearance on tv shows; he was a recognizable face, he was a footnote in every encyclopedia entry on Pine Ridge; he did commercials when they were offered to him, he got an agent, his publicity would good.

And still nothing was really real to him besides the game. He’d started playing it for the love, and loved it still, loved it more, year over year, as everything for him kept improving, improvement after another. It was more than he’d ever thought he was capable of… but somehow, in the end he had gotten it. It had fallen into his lap, and he had been ready for it. He could take it for granted now. His life would always be this good.

Autumn’s sleepwear campaign did even better than her first campaign; it paid her more, it paid her agent well too, and the next few campaigns booked in short order after that. Her girl-next-door quality, which Blake had appreciated her for, had translated well into the advertisement, and the sleeping-wear store saw an uptick in sales even better than the first campaign. She had an enigmatic quality, her agent diagnose; held a mystery in her eyes that made the casual viewer off the street eager to look closer, want to see more of her; it would take her far, Heather said.

It was starting to be something that Autumn could see herself doing long term; she loved looking good, being admired, dressing up like it was play all the time; and with the money she was making she could turn herself more and more stylish.

The next few shoots had more people around them, and Autumn did as well as before. Everyone seemed to like working with her, she was agreeable, she was a good listener, good at following instruction because she was too confused to fully make her own decisions, her own calls anymore. It was giving her a good reputation on the local modeling circuit, which her Agent told her was also more than worth its weight.

The thing Autumn really liked about the modeling shoots she went out for was that there were always good-looking guys around; and they always had eyes for her. She had her pick of anyone she was attracted to, and usually left her shoots with someone who became that afternoon’s sexual encounter. It worked out well for her, because the lust she felt in response to her attractions was a craving lust, and as she posed and did the things they told her, her mind would fix on the man in the room she found most attractive; and fantasize about him at length; the way she’d once done standing in high-school halls.

The nice thing was, now, that each fantasy, in nine out of ten cases, was a fantasy she could live out; more often than not the guy she was looking at was looking back at her. So she found happy feelings in the work she did, in dressing up and posing and collecting her checks from the agency— in being told she had been booked again— and again— and again— and she found happy feelings, too, in following a different guy home, time after time, and playing out her various fantasies of the day with him. Then doing it again the day after. Then the day after that. It was a paradise.

The rest of that school year went by in a blur of happiness; she flunked out, in the end, her grades were so bad; she didn’t graduate, but she didn’t care. From what she’d heard, Magdalena hadn’t graduated either, and neither had Barry… Barry had gone on towards the pursuit of fame and fortune with a football recruitment, Autumn knew; but she was going on to things like that too. She flunked out but modeling was there to take her in; when she could start doing it full time, and when she didn’t have to fit around a class schedule, she made a lot more money doing it, fit more campaigns in, and they were received to greater and greater acclaim.

Bigger name clients became interested in her; that was the kind of thing she thought about, her old aspirations of academic achievement forgotten. She bothered to be in the audience of Pine Ridge’s graduation that year, the one that should have been hers, only out of curiosity and because she was still in town.

She laughed to herself; three of the four of them in that old study group had dropped out; and the coveted valedictorian spot that she’d once slaved for so hard went to someone else, some guy she’d never heard of, since she was out of the running, long since past the point of being able to compete. Some ‘Ian Inell,’ and she felt no jealousy at all; she watched the whole ceremony as a spectator, and thought about the fact that she had a shoot the next day.

She accumulated greater and greater modeling successes in that first year post-failed graduation date, and had greater sexual escapades too. By her second year she was making enough of a name for herself that she’d outgrown her old agency. She switched to an agency that ran out of Los Angeles, and moved down there; she started getting national campaigns.

They started giving her fashion shows, in which she could walk the catwalk; she made good friends with the other models, with the designers; there was more sex and good times to be had, though she stayed away from the drugs that went around. In her third year, she started getting international campaigns. She split her time between Europe and Los Angeles; she walked for shows all over the world, inculcating herself into the fashion world, making a greater and greater name for herself.

At times she saw Barry Pierce onscreen somewhere; but she knew he was also seeing her, because as the years passed, she was becoming as big of a name as he was; even bigger, one of the top names in the modeling industry; looked up to, respected, with more money than she knew what to do with… and finer and finer clothes all the time.

Life was a joy, an unending fantasy. And Autumn knew she would never have to wake up.

Suzy enjoyed her new body; enjoyed her life on the town; there were other unexpected hookups to enjoy, in unlikely places; down alleys, between buildings. She had really gotten a taste for exhibitions, but she had never been caught.

The men, she never bothered learning the names of; she didn’t bother doing much of anything besides having fun. She put just the minimum amount of effort possible in her studies to get passing grades. She didn’t totally want to tank her future, but she also had no real plans for after high-school. As her senior grew later, her former friends fell away; Magdalena had been expelled by Easter, Barry was gone two weeks later, and in May, Autumn flunked out; she was the last one left, passing; and the guidance counselor kept meeting with her and telling her to make decisions for her life after school; and her mother sat her down and told her to make decisions, and even her long absent divorced father put in the effort to make a call and tell her she needed to make decisions; but she just didn’t care.

She was having fun, enjoying her life; sneaking out of windows at night, to find men out on the town… and dressing herself to draw attention. And doing the minimum everywhere else. She was on track to graduate— she would graduate, but after that, she didn’t know… it didn’t matter to her. She wasn’t that interest in becoming a cop anymore. Law enforcement held no appeal for her; and there had never been any other career option she’d seriously considered. She’d have a high-school degree… her mom would probably let her hang around at home for a few months… maybe a year… and then she could figure out where she was going. What she was doing.

The one thing she did notice was that Thane, though he’d kept his distance initially, kept his eye on her; seemed to be circulating around her. And despite her continued hookups… she found herself looking back. She’d slept with a lot of guys by that time, and had enjoyed each one. But she remembered Thane… he was the only one whose name she had ever bothered to learn, and there had been added electricity between them… he had been just a little more sexually skilled than any other Pine Ridge man she’d so far found.

He surprised her, after graduation as everyone was milling around the lawn of the high-school, by pulling her aside.

“Suzy,” he said. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you since we fucked all those months ago. It might be a little dumb of me, but I think I’ve fallen in love with you. I don’t think I’ll ever love anyone more, so.”

Thane swallowed, and pulled something out of his blazer pocket; like most of the graduating senior guys, he’d worn a suit beneath his gown, and he had since taken his gown off— he’d left an older couple standing a few feet away, the woman holding it— Suzy assumed it was his mother.

She looked at him. “I’ve slept with a lot of other guys since then— does that make you want me less?”

He flushed; maybe relieved she hadn’t shot him down yet. “It makes me want you more. You know what you want; you go for it; that’s very attractive.”

He swallowed. “I don’t have much now, but my family’s rich. I’m set to inherit. My father’s got a three-year plan for me to get involved in our family business. It could be a good life for you; travel, good times. Seeing a lot of me.” He gave a sheepish smile; that was the one thing he was self-conscious about.

Suzy had never thought of doing it— it sounded like Thane was asking her to be a trophy wife. She’d never imagined she could be pretty enough that anyone would want her for that role. But she knew, in her new body, that she was beautiful. And the life she wanted to live was a carefree-life of enjoyment; what Thane was offering her sounded like that. And she liked him well-enough… he had been the one conquest to stand out in her mind.

“Alright,” she told Thane with a smile. “Let’s do it.”

They kissed again; and married a month later, and moved into his family’s quite-large home. The first few years were slow, Thane making the transition of power, but by year five, they were rolling in dollars and he was flying her all over the world, buying her things he thought she would like that were way more expensive then they had any right to be.

Sometimes she caught a look of herself in a hall mirror; in a high-class hotel, or around the mansion; how funny that she had ended up here, in her life, but how happy she was to be there… she was thankful, in the end— Barry had been right. She’d come around to seeing things his way. She thanked life itself every day that she had taken that drug— that she had changed. All the changing had only prepared her to be where she was now. And she’d never have to leave.