Not even forty-eight hours ago. It felt like a
week.
I
set my alarm for noon. I needed to get back to the lab early. Today was the
last day I had to get myself fixed, get rid of this embarrassing lip color and
create a red lipstick without chrystalmic that matched the hue on my lips. And
I had to do it without chronic masturbation or letting Simon fuck me into
unconsciousness in the pursuit of knowledge. Easy as falling off a log.
Stupid
log.
I
slept deeply and Simon figured prominently in my dreams. Very steamy dreams. I
don’t typically experience sex dreams- particularly crazy monkey-sex dreams-
but I did this time. I’d also never orgasmed while sleeping before. Live and
learn.
I
awoke drenched in sweat, still tired and very body-sore. But despite my lips
still being sensitive and low-grade arousal still warming my belly, I was in
full control of my faculties. I was getting better.
My
body also felt closer to my natural dimensions. Perhaps there was hope after
all.
Except
I looked at my alarm clock and realized I had blown it. It was almost nine at
night.
*****
I
groaned. Not only was I still stuck with tingly slut-red lips, Simon must have
thought I’d blown him off. He spent all weekend trying to help me and I
couldn’t be bothered to show up. Not good.
I
stood up slowly and groaned again. I could barely move. Even if I made it to
the lab, I was too tired and sore to do any good.
I
padded out to my kitchen, then stopped. There was a glass of some kind of green
liquid on my kitchen counter. It was sitting on a napkin that had a note
written on it.
Cor,
Drink
this. Put on the lip gloss. See you Monday.
S.
What
the hell?
I
sighed, too tired to try figuring it out. I picked up the glass and sniffed. It
didn’t smell as bad as I expected, but it still wasn’t appetizing. Whatever. I
drank the chalky, bland liquid straight down and then set the glass on the
counter.
Bleh.
Lousy aftertaste. Then I inadvertently burped and thought I would die. I was
going to kill Simon when I got the chance.
The
lip gloss was next to the note. I took it to the bathroom and looked in the
mirror as I layered it over my still-swollen bimbo-red lips. Now my lips were
bright red
and even
shinier. Yeah, perfect. Thanks, Simon.
I
ate some dinner, none of which mixed well with Simon’s green cocktail. Then I
took a shower and went back to sleep.
Tomorrow
was not shaping up to be a good day.
*****
This
time I woke up with my alarm. When I sat up, I realized nearly all traces of my
arousal were gone, as well as most of my body swelling. I was still a cup-size
of so larger than I should be and my red lips were still plump, bee-stung pillows,
but otherwise, I was the closest to normal I had been since Friday morning.
I
drank my coffee and put on my lip gloss. Then I drove to the lab.
I
was dressed more like my professional self today, as dressing like a needy
bimbo no longer seemed necessary. I passed by the security guards and the front
desk. Then I strolled into the meeting room.
“Good
morning, Miss Strait.”
It
was Dr. Banford. He was sitting at the table watching videos. Videos of me from
Thursday afternoon. Videos of me using chrystalmic in an unauthorized
experiment. Videos of me ignoring a dozen lab rules and protocol.
I
was fucked.
“Sit
down, Corine,” said Dr. Banford, indicating a chair at the table. “We’ll be
starting in a few minutes.”
I
sighed.
Two
minutes later Simon and an older man walked in.
Simon
said, “Good morning, Dr. Banford. I hope we didn’t keep you waiting long.”
“No
problem at all, Simon,” said Dr. Banford. “I was just watching footage of
Corine’s experiment.”
I
sighed again.
Simon
nodded. “Excellent. Now, Doctor Banford, Corine, may I present Doctor Richard
Cormick, head of the biology department at Chrystal Heights University?”
Dr.
Banford laughed. “No need to be so formal, Simon,” he said. “Rick and I go way
back. His glowing letter of
week.
I
set my alarm for noon. I needed to get back to the lab early. Today was the
last day I had to get myself fixed, get rid of this embarrassing lip color and
create a red lipstick without chrystalmic that matched the hue on my lips. And
I had to do it without chronic masturbation or letting Simon fuck me into
unconsciousness in the pursuit of knowledge. Easy as falling off a log.
Stupid
log.
I
slept deeply and Simon figured prominently in my dreams. Very steamy dreams. I
don’t typically experience sex dreams- particularly crazy monkey-sex dreams-
but I did this time. I’d also never orgasmed while sleeping before. Live and
learn.
I
awoke drenched in sweat, still tired and very body-sore. But despite my lips
still being sensitive and low-grade arousal still warming my belly, I was in
full control of my faculties. I was getting better.
My
body also felt closer to my natural dimensions. Perhaps there was hope after
all.
Except
I looked at my alarm clock and realized I had blown it. It was almost nine at
night.
*****
I
groaned. Not only was I still stuck with tingly slut-red lips, Simon must have
thought I’d blown him off. He spent all weekend trying to help me and I
couldn’t be bothered to show up. Not good.
I
stood up slowly and groaned again. I could barely move. Even if I made it to
the lab, I was too tired and sore to do any good.
I
padded out to my kitchen, then stopped. There was a glass of some kind of green
liquid on my kitchen counter. It was sitting on a napkin that had a note
written on it.
Cor,
Drink
this. Put on the lip gloss. See you Monday.
S.
What
the hell?
I
sighed, too tired to try figuring it out. I picked up the glass and sniffed. It
didn’t smell as bad as I expected, but it still wasn’t appetizing. Whatever. I
drank the chalky, bland liquid straight down and then set the glass on the
counter.
Bleh.
Lousy aftertaste. Then I inadvertently burped and thought I would die. I was
going to kill Simon when I got the chance.
The
lip gloss was next to the note. I took it to the bathroom and looked in the
mirror as I layered it over my still-swollen bimbo-red lips. Now my lips were
bright red
and even
shinier. Yeah, perfect. Thanks, Simon.
I
ate some dinner, none of which mixed well with Simon’s green cocktail. Then I
took a shower and went back to sleep.
Tomorrow
was not shaping up to be a good day.
*****
This
time I woke up with my alarm. When I sat up, I realized nearly all traces of my
arousal were gone, as well as most of my body swelling. I was still a cup-size
of so larger than I should be and my red lips were still plump, bee-stung pillows,
but otherwise, I was the closest to normal I had been since Friday morning.
I
drank my coffee and put on my lip gloss. Then I drove to the lab.
I
was dressed more like my professional self today, as dressing like a needy
bimbo no longer seemed necessary. I passed by the security guards and the front
desk. Then I strolled into the meeting room.
“Good
morning, Miss Strait.”
It
was Dr. Banford. He was sitting at the table watching videos. Videos of me from
Thursday afternoon. Videos of me using chrystalmic in an unauthorized
experiment. Videos of me ignoring a dozen lab rules and protocol.
I
was fucked.
“Sit
down, Corine,” said Dr. Banford, indicating a chair at the table. “We’ll be
starting in a few minutes.”
I
sighed.
Two
minutes later Simon and an older man walked in.
Simon
said, “Good morning, Dr. Banford. I hope we didn’t keep you waiting long.”
“No
problem at all, Simon,” said Dr. Banford. “I was just watching footage of
Corine’s experiment.”
I
sighed again.
Simon
nodded. “Excellent. Now, Doctor Banford, Corine, may I present Doctor Richard
Cormick, head of the biology department at Chrystal Heights University?”
Dr.
Banford laughed. “No need to be so formal, Simon,” he said. “Rick and I go way
back. His glowing letter of
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