Wrapped-up in the torn blankets and soaking in the rising sun, it was nearly impossible for Callie to want to release her comfortable hold on Jersey. Even after her feral transformation wore off another hour later when the knot finally softened, she was still enjoying squeezing the little cow like a particularly adorable stuffie. Nuzzling against the soft scent of her golden waves, she would’ve been perfectly content to let another few hours of sleep claim her.
Ultimately it was the almost-forgotten lunch that inspired movement, the teenager’s ravenous hunger overpowering her desire for mutual physical affection. Padding down the stairs behind the smaller girl, she followed after Jersey to make sure her shaky legs didn’t cause her to stumble, and eventually their cautious pace brought them back to the kitchen where their mum and the djinn waited.
Given the mildly-disheveled looks the two adults hadn’t possessed that morning, Callie figured that Genie must’ve found the time to help Kelly with her ‘problem’ while the younger girls were still upstairs.
After seating themselves at the island, Callie dug out her phone to check for updates on her prior exploits. Having churned its wheels as the day wore on, the story of the ‘brutal attack’ on the officers morphed into suppositions of an escaped zoo lion, accompanied by hateful theses on ‘antifa and transtifa terrorist attacks’ and uneducated discussions on whether global warming had driven the alleged predator to hunt for game inside the city.
Unfortunately, only two of the three officers had succumbed to their wounds and their names and photos had been displayed with all the gravitas of fallen heroes; infuriatingly, the man Callie could recognize wasn’t among them.
I was sure I got him, she mused to herself, recalling the image of his nearly-armless body pumping blood onto the city streets that had burned itself into her memory. If he somehow comes around again, I’ll have to take his fucking head off.
The only other local headline was some news about a dozen children at a nearby middle school suddenly falling ill and requiring hospitalization, but she chalked it up to the last year of the conservative-led dismantling of the CDC exposing kids to illnesses that had been conquered by previous generations; whenever Jersey’s baby made it out into the world, Callie promised herself that she’d find a doctor with a backbone to ensure the little one got all their shots.
As Kelly set about serving the meal, Callie was only vaguely aware that the other three women had been talking about something else; once the plate of delicious-looking little meat pies landed in front of her she immediately became absorbed in making them disappear. Occasionally remarks were thrown her way, but it was hard for her to provide meaningful commentary when she was busy tearing into the flaky crust and devouring the tender insides. She’d already made it through her allotted portion before anyone else had really made a dent in their own lunch, but her observant and indulgent mum was happy to provide her with seconds. And then thirds.
“Is that alright with you, Callie?” Kelly asked, drawing the taller girl out of her thoughts as she set another pie on her plate.
“Uh, yeah, probably,” she answered vaguely, having completely missed the conversation that had occurred around her, as focused as she was on satisfying her caloric craving.
“Probably?” Jersey echoed, eyeing her.
“Sure,” she nodded, not wanting to reveal that she’d hadn’t been paying attention. “I bet it’ll be great.”
It must have been the right answer because Kelly let out a squeak of excitement, apparently eager for whatever it was Callie had just agreed to.
“Brilliant!” she exclaimed, beaming an enthusiastic smile in the taller girl’s direction. “We’ll go as soon as you finish.”
A slightly-embarrassing number of baked goods later, Callie regretted her choice not to ask any clarifying questions.
Insisting that the taller girl’s limited wardrobe looked more at-home on a ‘particularly unimaginative chav,’ Kelly dragged the pair out to the city with the intention of rectifying the problem. Naturally Callie objected once she’d been made aware of the plan, but by that point they were already heading into the first shop; forced to be a good sport and play along, she reluctantly allowed the other two to pick out a number of things for her to try on.
Hoping to get away with as little involvement in the process as possible, she gave vague and unhelpful opinions in the mistaken belief that she could discourage the activity; that quickly proved ineffective in the face of Kelly’s desire to play with her new dress-up dolls, but shifting her attention away to Jersey was a mixed bag of results. The smaller girl’s petite stature and enormous assets meant that finding the correct size was a difficult endeavor, and her resemblance to Kelly’s own little sister meant she lacked the novelty supplied by Callie’s physique.
Patiently waiting out the seemingly-endless shuffle of fabric as her mum held up various clothing items against her chest in a sort of spot-check, she was further disheartened by the fact that both of the other women expected her to actually try on the articles they’d picked out. Her stubborn assertions that she preferred to simply take the clothes home and return whatever didn’t fit fell on deaf ears; what started as gentle encouragement soon became a dedicated mixture of pleading and demands, eventually convincing the mulish girl to play model for the afternoon.
Paraded in front of her adopted family, she begrudgingly spun and posed at their instruction as they appraised their handiwork.
“Honestly I think we should bag the whole lot,” Kelly mused, tapping a well-manicured finger against her lips as she considered the alarmingly-high hem of the dress they’d made the taller girl wear. “She looks brilliant in everything.”
“She’s certainly got quite the figure,” Jersey agreed. “She could carry off whatever as long as she wore it right.”
“I don’t appreciate being made fun of,” Callie grumbled, trying in vain to stretch the hem down to a length that would make her feel less exposed.
“Who’s making fun of you?” Kelly demanded.
Callie fixed her with a flat look. “There’s no way I can wear any of this,” she whinged. “If I don’t take tiny steps and turn in just the right way, I’m going to be flashing my ass or my bulge at the whole store.”
“And thus providing a valuable public service,” the older woman nodded sagely.
“Surely her thighs are already gifts enough,” Jersey teased, playfully ribbing the taller girl.
Thoroughly unamused, Callie didn’t have the heart to push back. Glancing around the store with building apprehension, she clutched the edge of the dress tightly in her hands while she tried to stifle her sense of panic over whether or not anyone else in the shop could see her. It wasn’t particularly busy, all things considered, but there were a number of women grabbing items off the racks with the intention to try them on and if she didn’t slip back behind the mirrored door there was an increasingly large chance that someone would spot her. Normally she would’ve never been caught dead within fifteen feet of a changing booth and her relative inexperience with the situation meant she had zero scripts for how to respond in an emergency. Her mind began to race as she considered the scenario in painstaking detail, her threat assessment reaching a state of hypervigilance as her heart rate spiked.
What if someone told the staff? She didn’t have stubble anymore, so it’d be easy to slip her mask back over her face without it seeming like she was trying to hide facial hair. Would that be enough? They were far-enough into the city that maybe the staff would be predisposed to take her ‘side’, but she didn’t want to have to count on such a shaky detail.
What if they called mall security? Could she get Jersey and Kelly to leave fast enough to evade them, or should she ditch and hope that the other girls could convince security that they weren’t with her? If she was caught, would security simply ban her or would they escalate to calling the cops?
Could she overpower a security guard? Probably, but some of the rent-a-cops in Seattle carried guns; her late-night exploits suggested she might be able to survive a gunshot, but what about Jersey or Kelly? What if they really gunned for her and ended up hitting bystanders?
Perhaps she should let herself get arrested. Kelly was lawyer and had gotten her out of lockup before ⸻ but what would that do to her current sentencing? She might fail the terms of her probation, and any judge would look on her far less than ‘kindly’ after that.
Should she try to wolf-out and break out of the situation?
Eyes wide, pupils dilated, she hadn’t realized Jersey was calling her name until the third attempt.
“What?” she replied in a shaky voice.
“I asked which ones you were thinking of keeping,” the smaller girl repeated, “so we know what to put back and what to have rung up.”
“Anything,” Callie hurriedly blurted out, eyes darting around the room. “All of it looks fine, right? Whatever you think is good.”
Brows furrowing, Jersey fixed her with a concerned look. “Are you alright?”
“M’fine,” she nodded, clenching her fists to hide the quavering of her hands. “Can I get changed?”
“You don’t want to wear it out?” Kelly joked, oblivious to the other girl’s inner torment.
“No thank you,” Callie mumbled, her voice shrinking as she drew in her shoulders, her posture slumping as she tried to minimize her height, falling back on her old habits of struggling to blend-in. “I’d really like to put my clothes back on, now.”
“Sure thing, love,” her mum answered, still not catching on to the trembling hidden in the taller girl’s timbre.
Callie shut herself back into the changing room. Collapsing onto the little bench, she put her head in her hands and tried her hardest not to cry.
Once she’d finally collected herself and exited the booth more or less in control of her emotions, she was dismayed to discover that the day’s tribulations still weren’t over.
Despite the armfulls of bags filled with brand-new outfits, she’d already forgotten the necessary accoutrement that would have to accompany her clothing ⸻ well, not ‘forgot’ so much as she had been pointedly not thinking about it, hoping against hope that she wouldn’t be forced to repeat the experience but with much higher stakes. Even after they entered the boutique she had hoped that the outsized lingerie store visit was for Jersey’s sake and not her own; the petite girl’s bras hadn’t fit her well even before that morning’s filling, which meant that by the end of the afternoon they were fit to bursting. In the face of such an obvious problem she dared believe she might be spared, but a pit of anxiety opened in her stomach once Kelly confirmed that the trip was also aimed at Callie.
“You’re not fooling anyone with doubling-up those shelf camis,” she chided as she waved the taller girl into the store. “You’re a big girl in more than just stature, and you’re going to need some real bras or you’re liable to knock someone out in gym class if you turn a little too fast.”
“I have some sports bras,” Callie argued, indicating the handful of things she’d kept from her more-mundane transition.
“You have a recipe for muscle pain is what you have,” Kelly countered, shaking her head. “Be a good girl and listen to your mum, right?”
“Yes ma’am,” she muttered indignantly, shuffling in behind Jersey. Find the original chapter at g.com.
If she had been apprehensive in the clothing store, she was downright miserable in the boutique.
Stiff-jointed and eyes down, she did her best not to look at any of the shelves nor allow her arms to accidentally brush against the hangers dripping off the circular racks. Drawing her elbows in against her sides, she paced aimlessly through the aisles hoping to stumble upon the least-offensive item in the store, something that Kelly would find agreeable-enough to let her off the hook and allow her to leave.
Frustrating her plans, her mum decided that it was the perfect time to engage in some bonding with the taller girl. Enthusiastically leading her by the arm, Kelly rifled through the displays with the same glee she’d shown in the other shops, delighting in playing with her doll. Plastic frames clacked together as she pressed darkly-coloured lace-and-cotton numbers against Callie’s chest, remarking on their suitability in a variegated lexicon of hums and smirks.
“Which do you suppose is more ‘you’?” she asked, swapping between an unadorned bubblegum pink item and a deep-purple, lacier option.
“Either is fine,” Callie answered woodenly.
“Surely you have a more nuanced opinion than that,” Kelly snorted, assuming the other girl’s reticence was rooted in unfamiliarity. “What kind of vibes are you looking to put out?”
“Does it matter?” she retorted, her nails sinking into her forearm as she sought to calm herself with the painful pressure.
“Of course it matters!” her mum insisted, rolling her eyes. “What would you rather be seen in? The flirty, playful stuff, or a more mature style?”
“I would rather not be seen at all.”
“No?” Kelly asked skeptically. “Not even to show off for Jersey?”
“There’s nothing to show,” Callie insisted, wishing they were somewhere else as she dug her claws deeper. “Her chest is like twice the size of mine.”
“Proportionally, maybe,” Kelly allowed, studying the taller girl’s rack, “but the overall volume isn’t that far off ⸻ well, at least until her milk comes in.”
That threw her off. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“I keep forgetting that you haven’t met Candi,” her mum chuckled, as if the comparison between her mum’s sister (her aunt?) and her own little sister was somehow humourous. “For now, let’s just say she might have a lot of growing left to do depending on her wish.”
Deciding Kelly probably wouldn’t give up until she’d given something that counted as an opinion, she gestured at the darker bra, hoping to hurry the unpleasant task along. “Pink’s more Jersey’s thing,” she mumbled, careful not to let her eyes linger on any one lacey object for too long. “I like the darker colours and ⸻ … yeah.”
Worrying at her lower lip, she held her tongue, cursing inwardly as she did. She’d been dangerously close to admitting to what she’d found sexy about the lingerie, only a handful of words away from confessing to her repulsive perversion; doubtlessly the revelation would ruin the entire outing, and if Kelly relayed what she’d said to Jersey then it’d be all over.
I shouldn’t be here, she hissed to herself. If I stay any longer, they’re going to figure out how gross I am.
“We can get a couple of those and go, right?” Callie asked, all but begging to leave.
“Of course not,” Kelly informed her with a grin. “These aren’t even your size, probably. You’ve still got to go get measured first; I’m just getting an idea of your style while we wait for Jersey.”
Simmering in her private crucible, Callie did her best not to break down while the impossibly-slow seconds ticked past. Eyes glued to her shoes as she dutifully followed after Kelly, her internal monologue seemed to race at a blistering pace, circling around the same awful thoughts she’d had at the clothing shops ⸻ only a hundred times worse.
She’d been in this situation a handful of times before and it had always ended poorly for her. Before her transition she had staunchly pretended not to be interested in the sea of fabric as she blithely strolled through it, accompanying whatever short-lived relationship she’d had at the time, but the lace and silk pulled at her regardless. It was harder to ignore after she started taking estrogen even as her sense of alienation only strengthened. At first she was an understood as an awkward but charmingly out-of-place interloper when she had been ‘the boyfriend’, a nonthreatening statue that faded into the rest of the decor, but once she was shopping for herself all her physical flaws jumped right to the forefront of her consciousness, making the entire experience feel like stealing through enemy territory; if anyone caught her rummaging through the polyester blends it would all be over for her, ejected from the store as an unwelcome fetishist that plagued the real women with her presence.
Even when she’d gone from ‘the boyfriend’ to ‘the girlfriend’ nothing had changed. Her ex criticised any and all of her choices, watching her eyeline like a hawk and delivering biting comments designed to remind her that the other woman was there as a necessity while Callie’s own purchases were a sick indulgence. The label of perversion had merely shifted from a man that got off on wearing women’s knickers to a barely-tolerated transvestite that clearly didn’t understand a normal woman’s relationship to her body.
And they’d been right all along, hadn’t they? Those sharp-eyed critics who could pierce into her chest with their judgemental gaze, unmasking the predator that lurked beneath.
An eminent distillation of femininity, the walls of garters and racerbacks represented a quality that she wasn’t allowed to possess: sex. Sex in its most literal form and sex as aspirational adornment, clothing designed for the ‘female’ body, that silhouette denied to her by her broad shoulders and thick hands. Neither internally nor externally could she find joy in the simple pleasure of wearing something that made her look nice, that emphasized her desirability; women were allowed to seize hold of ‘sexy’ for themselves, but her interest in experiencing the same was decried and studied as a perverse paraphilia, an unwelcome eroticisation of that which existed to be eroticised.
Cloaking herself in that artifice of gender was unfairly read as a predatory trap, a guise to trick normal people into believing that she wasn’t a disgusting wolf covering herself in purple wool and lacey accents.
Forcing herself not to even glance at the crotchless panties and cupless bustiers, she crushed her desire deep inside herself, binding it with a litany of painfully-clear words she’d been given in reminder of the implied violence of her obscene fetish.
Still wrapped-up in her hundred-thousand strings of Twitter comments and Christian science journalism, she almost jumped out of her skin when Jersey quietly rested a hand on her arm.
“They’re ready for you,” the smaller girl informed her, pointing over to the changing booths where a staff member waited with a tailor’s measuring tape in her hands.
“You’re already done?” Callie squeaked in surprise, annoyed at the way her voice cracked.
“Yep!” Jersey grinned, giving her a thumbs-up. “Twenty-eight double-H.”
Grateful for the distraction, the taller girl focused her attention on her little sister. “I know you made that up just now,” she accused playfully, paradoxically wishing for the trip to already be over while still hoping she could put off the inevitable. “There’s no way you’re that small.”
“Surely you mean ‘that big’, innit?” the smaller girl corrected, her slightly-confused expression becoming almost painfully adorable when combined with her petite stature.
“Not your tits, obviously,” Callie laughed, shaking her head; dragging herself out of her introspective mood, she fought to project a carefree facade. “I mean like, you specifically. Did you shrink since yesterday or something?”
“A little bit, maybe,” Jersey admitted, her cheeks turning a delightful shade of pink. “I think the wish had to put some of the band size into the cups after this morning.”
“I see,” Callie murmured appreciatively, entirely unsurprised at the growing hunger that revelation elicited. “I don’t think ‘little’ sister cuts it anymore; you’re positively tiny. I legit think I could fit my hands around your waist.”
Before she could properly consider what she was doing, the taller girl stepped into the other’s space to prove her point. Resting the edges of her palms just above Jersey’s hips, she wrapped her slender fingers around her waist, almost fully encompassing it.
“See?” Callie smiled, flashing thirsty fangs. “Just a couple inches off.”
Heart pounding in her chest, the wolfish girl realised she’d gone too far a moment too late; staring down at the startled expression on Jersey’s face, she understood immediately that she’d gotten too comfortable and crossed a line. Wasting the dedicated focus of only minutes prior she had slipped-up, allowing her bestial nature to leak through and reveal the predatory desires she had intended to keep hidden. In the space of a handful of words she had proved the stereotype warranted, validating every word spoken in castigation of her vileness.
Relaxing her grip, she pulled her hands away with awkward haste.
“... Sorry,” Callie muttered as she turned, pathetically escaping what she assumed was the other girl’s distress by throwing herself into the wretched scenario she’d been avoiding the entire trip.
Stalking over to the changing booths, she kept her head down, far too aware of the way she towered over the shop assistant. Deliberately keeping her back turned to Jersey, she wished desperately that she hadn’t made everything so uncomfortably weird between them.
“Uh,” she began awkwardly, still unused to how far other women had to look up to make eye contact with her. “So like, um ….”
She trailed off, feeling exactly as stupid as she had to sound.
“Sorry about this,” Jersey piped-up, startling Callie with her sudden closeness, “but my sister’s a little shy.”
Dumbstruck, the taller girl gawped at her little sister. Assuming the petite girl would’ve retreated to the relative safety of Kelly after how Callie had manhandled her, she was instead surprised to find her close by as though she hadn’t abandoned the older girl for even a second.
“No, yeah, I get it,” the shop assistant agreed sympathetically, still staring up at the amazon in front of her. “Sisters tho, huh? I never would’ve figured on account of, uh … ⸻ y’know.”
“Right?” Jersey giggled. “She’s a big teddybear, really, but just a little nervous around people she doesn’t know.” Holding out her (small, cute) hand, she gestured in the direction of the tailor’s tape. “Is it alright if I borrow that?”
“Knock yourself out,” the other girl grinned pleasantly, handing it over. “Just take it back to the checkout counter when you’re done with it.”
Wasting no time, the littler sister ushered her elder sibling into the booth and closed the door behind them. Callie had to believe that Jersey was simply trying to protect the employee from having to be alone in such a small space with the enormous fraud, thus sparing her coming into contact with her depravity. If she were honest with herself, Callie couldn’t blame Jersey for doing it, either; were she in the other girl’s place, she likely would’ve done the same. This chapter is updated first at g.com.
“What happened back there?” Jersey asked with a concerned expression that Callie almost mistook as worry for her sake. “I thought we were having a nice … chat, and then you took off.”
“I was just trying to hurry things up,” Callie half-lied. “It’s getting late, so I thought everyone wanted to leave.”
“We’ve only been here for ten or fifteen minutes,” the petite girl protested.
“Yeah and I get hungry kinda fast these days,” she deflected, searching for an agreeable excuse. “I figured the sooner we get out of here, the sooner we can get something to eat.”
“I won’t deny your appetite,” Jersey hedged, “but you’re still keeping something from me.”
“No, I’m not,” Callie insisted, doing a terrible job of obscuring the guilty tone in her voice.
“You are,” the other girl accused, her softer timbre absent any malice. “Be honest with me.”
Enclosed together in the tight space, Callie had nowhere to run. Backed into a corner, she leaned on the worst parts of her personality, lashing out to cover her own dreadful embarrassment.
“Don’t act like you don’t know,” she huffed, casting her gaze down and away from the other girl. “You don’t have to play pretend just to salvage my feelings or whatever. I could tell I was making you uncomfortable.”
“Not for nothing,” Jersey explained, her pink colouration returning. “I certainly didn’t mind what we were doing, but I thought we might rather save that for somewhere a little more private.”
“You’re underselling,” Callie replied indignantly, frustrated with how she must’ve terrified the other girl so sincerely that she felt she had to claim fault in order to pacify the much-taller, much-stronger girl.
“Of course I am,” the petite girl admitted, shifting her weight nervously, “but I assumed you wouldn’t care to hear about how turned-on I got when you’re clearly feeling poorly.”
Stunned, her gaze snapped back to Jersey as she stared incredulously at the other girl. “What?” she blurted out stupidly, confused as she was.
“You heard me,” she mumbled, too embarrassed to repeat herself.
“You … liked that …?” Callie asked skeptically.
Red all the way down to her shoulders, Jersey merely nodded. “I did,” she squeaked. “I liked it very much, in fact.”
Inches apart in the small space, Callie was aware of a dozen things at once: her heartbeat pounding in her ears, the muffled sound of music playing on the store’s speakers, the way Jersey’s relative size smashed her chest against the taller girl’s waist ⸻ and the immediate effect it had on her body. Grappling with her hormone-charged libido, she did her best to keep herself under control even though both girls could feel that it was a losing battle.
“... You promise?” she pleaded, barely restraining her growing desire.
“Obviously,” Jersey returned in a small voice. “We can try it again if you want, as soon as we’re somewhere private.”
“Somewhere that we can be alone, you mean?” Callie continued, insinuating what they both already had to be thinking. “Like, say … a locked changing room?”
“Something like that, yes,” the petite girl squeaked.
Holding the smaller girl’s gaze, she reached out with nervous fingers, settling them just above her hips with a questioning touch. The rest of the world steadily faded from her senses as she focused on the gentle sound of Jersey’s whimpered acknowledgement, and the soft curve of her mouth as the other girl bit her lip. Everything else blurred into the background, colours and noise overlapping in muddled synaesthesia; the familiar lingering hunger rumbled in her chest, the points of her clawed fingers steadily closing the barely-there gap they’d left around the smaller girl’s waist. A peculiar tension crackled between them, wordlessly signaling the younger girl's need.
“Jersey,” she snarled reproachfully around lengthening fangs, craving the fearlessness of her other form even as she struggled to remind herself that she needed to resist the change. “In another couple minutes Kelly’s going to come around to see what’s taking so long.”
“And?” the other girl prodded mischievously, clearly of no mind to cease encouraging the monstrous transformation.
“She’s going to be very cross to find a wolf in the dressing room.”
“Out of jealousy, I’m sure,” Jersey gasped, running her hands along the taller girl’s arms.
“We’re supposed to be measuring me,” Callie grumbled, her better judgement wavering as her stiffening bulge pressed against the underside of the petite girl’s bust.
“I don’t know if we have enough tape for that,” she teased, leaning forward to further press the point.
A salacious purr humming in her chest, the wolf seized her prey in strong hands, lifting her up on the little bench; reducing the pair to an intimate distance, she backed Jersey against one of the mirrored walls, the knee-high boost finally bringing them eye-level with each other. Matching the other girl’s gaze as she ran her tongue across sharp teeth, Callie struggled to hold herself back from simply devouring the little cow where she stood; as it was she’d already slid her hands beneath Jersey’s skirt, pawing at her ass.
“I thought we were supposed to be good girls and do what mum asked?” the younger sister giggled, doing absolutely nothing to stop the amazon’s assault.
“I am being good,” Callie growled, pressing kisses against the other girl’s neck, “but if you don’t hurry up with the tape then I’m going to be very, very bad.”
“I’m not afraid of the big bad wolf,” Jersey cooed, hooking her fingers underneath the hem of the taller girl’s top.
Taking all the layers at once, she stripped the older girl of her covering, revealing the predator beneath. Bared from the waist up, Callie’s toned figure didn’t look so much like a weightlifter as she was just very solidly built, lacking the rippling musculature of her fully-unleashed form. Still, if it weren’t for Jersey’s curvaceous silhouette the wolf would’ve completely dominated her in absolute size, the stark contrast of their bodies reflected in every corner of the little room.
Even hyperfocused as she was, the amazon could still catch her form out of the corner of her eye, admiring how diminutive her younger sister really was when mashed against her looming presence. It took all her conscious control not to simply maul Jersey as she fumbled with the measurements, the little cow just as distracted by her physique in turn.
And why wouldn’t she be? Callie was gorgeous, all strong curves and solid lines. As much as she wanted to deny her own attractiveness, it was impossible to do when surrounded by her reflection. Even her thoughts had turned against her stubborn self-appraisal, full of warm consideration that sounded so familiar and yet contrary to her historical understanding.
Of course you’re hot, the voice purred approvingly, and you’d be daft to think otherwise. You’re tall, terribly fit and strikingly beautiful.
There in the privacy of the booth, alone with her lover, Callie let herself believe the sweet words. Reveling in the self-confidence elicited by her powerful form, the wolfish girl teased her mate with diverting kisses, causing the flustered Jersey to repeatedly forget the number of inches she’d just taken even as the taller girl threatened to give her many more, grinding her bulge against the dampening fabric of her sister’s panties. Murmuring halfhearted admonishments, the little cow accepted the lascivious taunting, letting the taller girl amuse herself with affectionate interruptions.
Caught-up in their little game, the girls were slow to understand the meaning of the mechanical click behind them accompanied by the rising sound of music filtering through the store’s speakers. Turning belatedly, they realised their mistake as the door swung open, revealing the startled features of a shop assistant.
Neither had remembered to set the lock.
“I’m so sorry!” the blushing employee shrieked, the shock of the situation preventing her from deciding on whether or not she should close the door. “I just took over the shift, and the little lock card said there wasn’t anyone in here and ….”
She trailed off as all three recognized each other in one uncomfortable instant; staring back at the couple in disbelief was none other than Megan Baxter, fresh for her shift.
“Forty-four F,” Jersey blurted out as she fumbled with the tailor’s tape, trying to pretend that her tongue hadn’t been deep in her sister’s mouth only a second ago.
“R-right, thanks,” Callie stammered as she recovered her clothes, struggling to slip back into her layered tops while not-quite-discreetly shifting her half-hard erection to make it marginally less-obvious in her jeans.
Pointedly looking anywhere but at each other, the three girls shuffled awkwardly as the sisters brushed past the dumbstruck Megan and back out into the store.
Brilliant! Callie hissed to herself, grimacing as she hunched over and tried to hide her bulge with the length of her hoodie. Couldn’t keep your hands to yourself for five fucking minutes; you just had to show off for Jersey, and now you’ve let Megan fucking Baxter catch you making out with your sister.
The consequences of that mistake would doubtlessly prove to be immense; everyone in their classes had to know that the two called out sick that morning, and now the girl that hated Callie had seen that they’d spent their absence hooking up in the dressing room of a lingerie store. By the time they went back into class on Monday, the ill-meaning girl would’ve told every single person in the entire school, broadcasting the elder sister’s vile behaviour as loudly as possible.
As a senior, Callie would only have to endure the miserable death of her school life for a little over half a year, but she’d already been inured to that particular pain after her first go around. Jersey by contrast would have to suffer through more than two years of vicious rumours and mockery, stacking on top of the jeering she already received for being a pregnant teen.
I’ve ruined her life, she seethed inwardly, gnashing her fangs. Her entire academic career is fucked because of me. I’m going to have to ask Kelly to change school districts or something ⸻ if that’ll even help.
Furious with herself, the wolfish girl stamped out of the store and into the chill fall air wishing that she’d never would’ve touched Jersey in the first place.