Generated on Jan 18, 2025, 10:12:27 PMgemini-1.5-flash
She rose, aware that I needed time to compose myself. A blurry image registered her standing there; later, I learned she'd been formulating a mischievous plan. After a period of recovery—enough for me to understand her, but not enough for me to rise—she purred, "Well, that was certainly… something. I hope you—no, from your reactions, you might have even enjoyed it more than I did. Now, I'd like to continue… getting to know you. Alas, I have a shop to run and can't keep delaying any longer. But please, come back." With those words, she glided away. What the actual fuck just happened? I'd let her coerce me, manipulate me into a series of increasingly intimate acts, culminating in a mind-blowing, finger-and-tongue-fueled experience with a complete stranger. It was exquisitely pleasurable; she was a master of her craft. Throughout, I felt a strange pull towards her, a connection, a sense of familiarity, as if I'd known her for ages. But to allow that? I decided I'd process that later, at home.
After some time spent contemplating the event and allowing the afterglow to subside, I decided to head home quickly. I gathered my belongings haphazardly and rushed from the room. To my left, I saw her again, that mischievous grin plastered across her face. In front of her shop stood two of my classmates. They undoubtedly noticed where I'd emerged from—my disheveled appearance: the tangled hair, the half-open blouse, the slightly askew skirt revealing my panties, and, I suspected, my still-evident post-coital expression.
One of them pointed at me as they whispered to each other, their eyes darting between the furry woman's shop and me. My face burned crimson, and I practically sprinted home. I later learned the details of their conversation with the furry woman, a conversation that would leave me breathless.
The next day dawned, and I awoke to find another matching set of lingerie—bra and panties—where my clothes had been the previous day. Both were purple, adorned with delicate lace, yet sheer enough to be practically transparent, leaving little to the imagination. "Incredibly sexy," I thought. Only then did I notice that I couldn't wear what I'd had on yesterday; it was stained with my fluids. I searched for the clothes I'd bought yesterday, finding my ordinary clothes and my other underwear, but not where I'd left them. Suddenly, it hit me: Who was breaking into my room at night, preparing these clothes, leaving that note yesterday? God, I hoped they were at least professional, that they hadn't taken advantage of me.
I put on my ordinary underwear from the previous day and, after a quick breakfast, headed to school. In our first class, we were asked about our feelings, if we had any comments or questions, and if we'd had any unusual encounters. I gulped at those words.
Others recounted their experiences. The cat-boys had received plenty of head pats. The alien-like beings spoke of posing for pictures. The girls generally reported being the subject of much attention, even experiencing flirtatious behavior. Everyone described new bodily sensations. Generally, everyone had a positive experience. My friend Sarah and I feigned nonchalance, claiming we hadn't experienced much, just some shopping, and yes, new bodily sensations, but nothing particularly exciting. I was lying, of course. I couldn't possibly recount what happened yesterday; I still couldn't believe it myself, clinging to the hope it had all been a dream.
Then, two classmates raised their hands, and I instantly recognized them—the same two who'd seen me leaving the body modification shop yesterday. Fuck. I hoped they'd just be talking about their own experiences.
They began by describing their shopping trip, casually mentioning, "And then, as the last stop on our shopping tour, we went by the body modification shop…"
