The Day before the Big Presentation

"Oh, I'm so glad they dished out for first class tickets!" Jen collapsed into the relative comfort of the window seat near the front of the plane.  She'd flown many times before, and on longer flights, but this was her first trip in First Class.  "I hate waiting in the terminal.  I feel like someone's going to brush past me and sneak off with my purse or carry-on."

Kim - looking quietly sexy as always - half-shrugged in an agreeable acknowledgment of the point, then slid her own carry-on into the overhead compartment.  "I never minded the wait in the terminal so much.  Even if all I do is sit there until I board the plane, I at least have the option of going somewhere and doing something, like checking out the bookstore, or grabbing a drink."

Kim finally managed to close the overhead compartment, and plopped into the aisle seat next to Jen.

"Now that we're on the plane, we're pretty much stuck in these seats until we disembark in Middleton."

Jen giggled, and leaned in conspiratorially.  "Unless you want to visit the bathroom mid-flight to join the mile high club!"  She'd never tried it before, and the suggestion was pretty out there for her, but the idea was so thrilling she couldn't decide if she wanted Kim to say, 'Fuck, yes!' or 'Fuck no!'

Kim groaned.  "We've had more sex in the past few weeks than I had in the year before that.  I need some time to recover for this demonstration tomorrow."

Jen pouted.  "You're no fun."  Of course that was a blatant and pithy lie, and she realized she was kinda relieved Kim said no, but if she couldn't play off her youth then she was just wasting it.

Kim just rolled her eyes and glanced at her purse between her feet, probably wondering how much longer before they got off the ground so she could pull out her handheld console.  Jen knew Kim had doubts about her actual 'gamer skillz.'  It was true most of her subscribers didn't tune in for her ability to play games well, but Jen knew Kim liked to focus on the banter and her subs.  Kim had to play regularly to keep the muscle memory that let her hands handle the gameplay on their own.  Jen, by contrast, was quite gifted with her hands, in more ways than one.  Something she was quite proud of, especially when she was making Kim squeal in pleasure.

While Kim was busy thinking about her game console, or whatever, Jen resolved to get her sexy friend to focus on something more productive and eminently important, like Jen herself.  So, she turned up the pouting.  She crossed her arms tight across her chest, harrumphed as she looked out the window, watched a couple baggage carts go past outside, and harrumphed again for good measure.

Jen fully expected Kim to do something to pull her out of her faux funk, but she didn't expect her to slide off her flat, cross her legs, and hang her bare foot over Jen's knee.  A dull, aromatic medley of sweat, lavender, and coconut oil steadily drew Jen's attention from the goings-on outside, and her fingers had wrapped around Kim's foot before her eyes and conscious mind took full stock of the situation.

Kim suppressed a groan of contentment as Jen's thumb worked deep into her arch.  Jen's fingers intertwined with Kim's long, slender toes, and the stimulation for both women was invigorating.  Jen saw Kim peek up and down the aisle to see if any of the flight attendants were giving them funny looks, but for the moment it seemed they were in the clear.

Which is why they both groaned in frustration when Kim's phone started chiming like a JRPG notification.

"Just ignore it, I'm sure it's nothing," Jen said.  Her grip on Kim's foot tightened possessively.

Kim nodded emphatically.  "Yeah, keep going.  That feels amazing."

Jen's thumb hadn't made a full curcle around the arch of Kim's foot before the damn phone chimed again.  And again.

"Ugh, fine," Jen grumbled, letting go and crossing her arms again.  "Just tell off whoever it is for interrupting our travel plans."

"That was planned, was it?" Kim asked, righting herself in her seat and grabbing at her purse.  She got her phone halfway to her lap when a passenger in the next boarding group bumped into her, knocking the phone out of her hand.  It landed between Jen's feet.

"Sorry Jen, mind if I get a little handsy?"

Jen nodded, a saddened pout still pasted on her lips.  "At least you apologized, unlike certain rude people!"  Jen looked back to see if the guy wanted to make anything of her comment, but of course the asshole hadn't paid them any mind when he hit Kim.  Why the heck would he start now?

I wish I could shrink that guy down and shove him in my shoe where worms like him belong.

It was at that moment that Jen felt a thrill of excitement run up her spine.  Such a thing...

She glanced over at Kim typing in her phone's password, but it seemed Kim wasn't as phased by the rude brush as Jen was.

Shrinking rude assholes down and putting them in my shoe is actually possible.  Shoving them down in there and holding them in place with my toes, forcing them to deal with the sweat and grime even as I just sit there, and then having to support my weight as I walk around all day - fuck, that makes me hot.  I know that's not what these older ladies designed it for - Jen was pretty sure they had designed it so they could keep up with the college guys they wanted to have sex with - but it's physically within the realm of possibility.  That's so fucking insane!

Jen caught sight of the corner of Kim's lips curling up into a smirk, before she schooled her features.  She could have ignored it, but after that asshole she was feeling oddly confrontational.

"Was that your mom?"  Jen could see Kim tense, but it seemed she realized that wasn't so delicate of a subject these days.

"Yeah, it was.  You know how she gets about flying.  She's hated the idea of planes ever since she saw the Concorde blow up at that airport in France.  She was scheduled on the next flight to leave, and she saw the plane go up in flames.  After that, flying has been almost anathema to her."  Kim sighed.  "She just needed some encouragement that we're both alright.  I reminded her that she came home to dad and me just fine, and told her I'm sure you and I will do the same."

Jen nodded, her expression distant.  "You're mom's pretty awesome, Kim, whatever her quirks may be.  Must be nice to be able to chat all the time. Mine... well, you know."

"Have you spoken with your mom, since your father..."

"No." Jen said sharply.  "The last time I tried to speak to hahaue, otousan found out and disconnected the call.  Given how badly I saw him treat her while I was still over there, I worried what happened after the call disconnected.  I'm too scared for her to reach out again."

Kim gave Jen a flat look.  "Why do you still use hahaue for your mother?  She's enabling your father's abuse.  She already told you that she won't call the cops on his ass, and she won't even consider talking to your father about adding you back to the family registry unless you find yourself a nice, successful young man."

Jen's usually immature features hardened.  "I use the more formal and respectful form of address, because I've seen what otousan has put her through, and whatever her faults, she deserves my respect and admiration for not only staying strong through all of that, but for getting me out of it.  She's the one who made sure I was put on the path to citizenship while schooling here.  She may not have tried very hard to keep me in the family, but she did everything she could to set me up for success here.  What you keep seeing as a lack of compassion, is her way of keeping me safe, and giving me the tools to do better.  That is why I respect her so."

Kim ran her hand through her hair, sending it into disarray.  "And yet you still want to get back with your family.  That's why you keep dating boring, milquetoast guys, why you keep working a successful job but not finding a career, why we were never..."

Kim trailed off, and took several deep, calming breaths.

"I know your mother has done a lot for you, but it's all been in pursuit of shaping you into the woman your mother wants you to be.  Your dad may be an abusive asshole, but I think we both know you could write him off in a minute - hell, while watching that high school zombie anime, you said the first thing you would do in a zombie apocalypse is make sure your father got bitten, so he could feel just a touch of the helplessness he made you endure - so we both know he's not the reason you're putting yourself in limbo just to try and get back in with your family.  The darkness and depression hanging about the edges of your life, that's all your mother, your okaasan.  You need to move on."

Jen could see Kim wince as she said it, but that didn't make the words hurt any less.  Jen opened and closed her mouth a few times as she considered what she wanted to say.  Before she reached a decision, the intercom in the plane's cabin crackled to life overhead, and any further conversation was pre-empted by safety proceedures, flight updates, and the not-so-witty sense of humor from the flight attendant with the microphone.  Dumb bitch.

Jen knew Kim meant well with what she said, but the sexy streamer didn't understand the cultural expectations she had lived under her whole life, nor the importance family held for her.

The rest of the flight promised to be long, quiet, and awkward as all hell.

"Fuck, that was heavy," Ronnie said. 

With a grunt and a mighty heave, she finished loading her suitcase into the back of Richard's towncar.  She glanced back at the entrance to her building, and Richard followed her gaze, seeing movement through the frosted lobby windows that was a little too fast for a tenant just walking.

Richard watched through the rearview as Ronnie jumped into action.  She slammed shut the back of the car and quick-stepped to the passenger door, whipping it open and back closed behind her as fast as she could manage.  She didn't bother to buckle in, instead grabbing the overhead handle to brace herself, and said in no uncertain terms, "Drive!"

"Veronica!"  A tall, muscular, and heavily tattooed man hustled out of the building and started towards the car.  "Veronica, you stuck-up bitch!  Get back here!  You owe me for this month!  Veronica!"

"Dammit boss, drive, please!"

Richard didn't hesitate.  The only reason they weren't already gone is he had to baby the car between gears, or it wouldn't shift right.  He'd meant to get that taken care of last week, but there just weren't enough hours in the day.

The car tore back onto the street just as the thug reached them.  The asshat managed to bang his fist against the rear quarter panel as they were pulling away, but it would take more than that to leave a mark on this car.

Ronnie had been on her knees looking out the back window, but as they rounded the corner, she settled into the seat and took a deep, calming breath.  Richard waited for her to calm herself and get buckled in before he opened his mouth, but there was no way he was going to ignore what had just happened.

"So," he started, and he could practically feel Ronnie tense up.  "I can see why you asked me to wait in the car."  Ronnie shrugged, but the gesture was a bit stiff.  "That guy didn't look like one of your friends, assuming the two of you weren't just trying to prank me," he added, trying to make a point.

Ronnie rubbed her hand over her eyes, and Richard was content to let her process.  She would get around to answering on her own time.  For now he'd focus on getting them to the airport.

"That was Crusher," Ronnie said into the tense quiet.  "I think his real name is Russ, or Rush, or Russel - something like that.  He's the building owner's grandson."

"Seems like a real piece of work," Richard said vaguely.  He didn't want to push too far, but if he could help Ronnie with this asshole, he would.  She was a good woman, and didn't deserve to be treated like that.

Ronnie sighed.  "You could say that.  He tries and fails to be the 'white knight' of the building.  Mostly he just keeps homeless people out of the lobby, and exploits the single women and handicapped who live in the building."

"He exploits them?  How?  Are you alright?"

Ronnie scratched below her eye, looking somehow annoyed and embarrased at the same time.  The embarrasment had Richard heated.  If she was a victim of this asshat, she had nothing to be embarrased about.  What Ronnie said next did nothing to cool him down.

"The walking billboard for steroid use likes to extort money and favors from people who are traditionally considered 'at risk' when living alone.  This includes getting handsy with cute single women, inviting himself into any apartment with a door left open, and collecting money for his so-called 'protection services.'  Of course, you find out pretty quick you're not paying him to protect you from thugs, but rather paying the thug to keep him from making your life a living hell."

Richard was a little surprised to hear how this jerk operated.  "So he ran outside, chasing you into the street, in broad daylight, to demand protection money?"

Ronnie exhaled in a heavy sigh.  "Yeah, he's not the most polished bead on the braid.  I've been able to get away with paying him every other month, but now I'm going on three months without paying, so he's getting a bit more aggressive.  At this point I'm half expecting to come back and find my lock broken and my room tossed.  Bastard will probably try to charge me for the lock he broke, too.  I just hope he doesn't leave my door open.  I really don't want to replace another TV."

"Another TV?" Richard asked, surprised.  "How many times has this asshole done this?"

"Just the first time, when I refused to pay after he'd asked twice."  Ronnie slumped a bit in the seat, her shoulders sagging a little. 

Richard couldn't imagine what she was going through.  Even back when he lived with his cousin in the trailer park, he hadn't had to worry about that kind of bullshit.  Raccoons getting inside?  Wasps building nests in the walls?  Sure that sucked, but that was just animals trying to survive.  This man was a knowing and eager predator.

"Have you gone to the cops about this guy?"

Ronnie laughed, though there was no mirth in her voice.  It just sounded like weariness.

"Yeah, I went to the cops.  Once.  Me and half the building.  The only result has been an uptick in police presence around our building, looking to hand out fines for anything they can get away with.  Turns out his uncle is a sergeant in the local precinct.  Short of armed assault or murder caught on camera, the bastard's basically untouchable."  She shook her head.

Richard was fuming on her behalf.  He saw how hard she worked to keep him organized and his company afloat every single day.  She shouldn't have to go home and deal with this dillhole.

Richard heard a dark chuckle come from his assistant, before she raised an interesting idea.  "Honestly, if the shrinking stuff we're supposed to see tomorrow is real, I wanna bring some of it back with me, and invite Crusher in for a frank discussion about finances.  I'll ask all the other single women to show up ten minutes late, after he's had a chance to drink some of my refreshments.  Then when he's an inch tall and completely surrounded by pissed-off women, we'll see who really needs protection in our building."

Richard felt a chill run down his spine.  If Ronnie acted on that idea - and he wouldn't put it past the little spitfire - that would be scary as all getup.  But also kinda... hot.

Richard shook his head.  Now was not the time to be thinking about that.  They had a great opportunity coming up tomorrow.  They should be focused on that.

"I have to say, the idea of getting shrunk down sounds kinda intimidating, even when the people around you aren't out to get you."

Ronnie raised an eyebrow at him.  "Is my big, strong bossman worried about tomorrow's demonstration?"

Richard chuckled at her teasing tone.  "Honestly, yeah, a little.  You mentioned before I was gonna be shrunk with you at some point during the demo.  After you, you said, right?"

Ronnie nodded.  "Right.  You're going to be trying out their weird bondage contraption first, while lil' ole me gets handed the controls."  She gave him her best wicked grin.  "You worried at all about what that's gonna be like?  The big, strong bossman dancing on my strings?"

Richard coughed, thinking better you in control than me.  He was still reeling from misunderstanding the situation a couple months ago, and losing a couple of his more visible employees.  They had since been replaced, and the new hires would be up to speed before too much longer, but Richard had just been trying to bond with his employees - employees who, in both hindsight and in light of some of Ronnie's comments, might have been into him - but instead he somehow insulted them to the point they had threatened to sue him for emotional damage.  He was glad nothing had yet come of that.

"Better me in control than you?  Everything alright in that big, bald head of yours, boss?"

Shit!  I didn't mean to say that out loud!  Richard took his eyes off the road for a moment to see genuine concern in his assistant's expression.  He hated to see worry in those piercing gray eyes, so he tried to reassure her.

"You know me, Ronnie.  You keep me on schedule, and I'll make sure I'm right as rain."

Ronnie's expression turned skeptical.

"Boss, you haven't been the same since Shaina and Lynda lost their marbles and stormed out.  You used to act like a real man's man.  You would flirt shamelessly with porn stars, or offer to cast dildoes from your business parter's dicks, and when you went out for a business dinner, tales of your conquests echoed from on high.  But of late, you've been reserved.  Take two nights ago at the grand opening of that topless restaurant in Vegas.  The waitress came up to you with a complimentary shot between her tits, and instead of complimenting her beverage holders and motorboating for that shot, you just froze up and kept glancing at me, like I was going to call down the wrath of god on you, or some shit.  I mean, c'mon boss, it was a topless bar and restaurant, in Vegas, called Liquor Tiddies!  The owner specifically set that up with a waitress who was interested in you so you could play off the name of the place!"

"I, uh..."  Richard was a little lost for words.  Eventually, he managed to get an answer out.  "Don't you think that makes me sound like a terrible person, Ronnie?  I mean, it seemed like fun in the moment, but after-"

"Dammit boss, it was fun in the moment!  You never insulted anyone, or belittled anyone!  I know at least half the girls you slept with, and except for Candace, not a one regretting the time they spent with you."

Richard looked startled at the declaration.  "I thought Candace and I parted on good terms.  What did I do to upset her?"

Ronnie smacked her forehead.  "She's a lesbian, Dick!  She went along with the whole thing because you were kind, and funny, and interesting company.  She genuinely liked spending time with you!  She wasn't sure how to back out after you brought her back to your place, and she hadn't been with a man before, and she decided she wanted to try it once.  Her only regrets are that you don't have tits, and that the dick between your legs is a permanent fixture!  Stop sign!  Stop sign!"

Richard slammed on the brakes and just barely stopped before proceeding into the intersection.

"I, uh... I didn't know she was gay."

Ronnie punched his beefy shoulder.  "That's your takeaway?  Fuck, I've got my work cut out for me.  Dick, get your head out of your past, and get us to the airport in one piece.  We can talk more about this tonight at the hotel."

"R-right," Richard stammered, then blinked and made his turn.  He tried to focus on the road, and succeeded well enough to get to the overnight parking lot without hitting anything.  They boarded their plane, and hours later landed safely in Middleton.  The whole time, their unfinished conversation weighted heavily on his mind.

Stella adjusted her bikini top before climbing out of the hotel pool.  Her motions were slow and measured, letting the water stream off her as she climbed onto the pool deck.  There were a few hot college guys here in the pool house, some SMUT undergrads hanging with friends visiting from out of town.  Yeah, she had a job to do tomorrow, but she'd been here two days already, and she would be here for two more nights.  She was on a job, across the country, in a luxury hotel, and without parental supervision.  She was not going to spend those nights alone.

Stella walked to one of the deck chairs near to the college boys, who were currently teasing one of their number about their grade on a physics test.  She bent slowly at the hips and slightly arched her back as she placed her towel on the deck chair.  She didn't glance at the boys; she'd seen all of them looking at her at least once while she was swimming, and there was no way they were ignoring her now that she was on full display.  Rather, she focused on arranging herself on the chair just right to showcase her curves, and her athletic legs.  Now she just had to sit. And.  Wait.

With nothing better to do, Stella thought about the events of the past few days, both her travels to Middleton, and what she'd seen in her wanderings.  It all started two days ago, when she'd been picked up from her house.

Stella had been surprised to find her ride to the airport was a high-end limo.  She had enjoyed a couple mocktails and soul-throbbing music beneath the dim, intimate lighting.  It had taken a little bit to loosen up to the point of enjoyment, but she was pretty sure the driver intentionally took the longest route to the plane to give her that time to relax.  Upon reaching the airport, Stella realized the luxury of the limo was nothing compared to what awaited her on the tarmac. 

The customized Gulfstream jet, gleaming in the sun on the private runway, had to cost ten years of the average salary for her dream job.  At least.  Even still, she wasn't prepared for the furnishings.

When she was born, Stella's family was upper-middle class, and it had only grown more successful thanks to some timely and targeted investments during the pandemic several years ago. She had attended Montessori schools since she was old enough to enroll.  She'd had a private tutor for coursework, and another for flute and piano lessons.  She typically wore silk pajamas to sleep on her queen-sized bed with cashmere sheets.  She was enrolled at an Ivy-League college.  She was living her best life.

She had been floored by the wealth on display inside that jet.  Everything was crafted from rare, endangered, unique, or ridiculously expensive materials.  In chatting with the two flight attendants, she came to learn that the cabin seats were originally commissioned by a Czar from the region that is modern day Russia for his private parlor.  The decanter and wine glasses were from the Palace of Versailles, and were likely comissioned for Louis XIV.  The table had been recovered from the burned husk of the U.S. Capitol building after the War of 1812, and had been restored and embellished.

As the only passenger, the flight had passed as an object lesson for Stella.  It was in part a lesson on history - or the plundering of history - but it was also a lesson on just how insignificant she was to Vane Enterprises, by comparison of scale, yet at the same time it demonstrated how much her potential was valued.  The implications of the excess of wealth that could be deployed at a moment's notice to impress a nineteen year old college student and potential intern were frankly staggering. 

As she was, Stella was nothing next to the might of Vane Enterprises.  But if she did well, and proved herself a valuable part of the business, then she would become a part of so much more than she could imagine.  Stella had long been impressed with the scope and resources of Vane Enterprises, but that flight had been a learning experience she would never forget.

Landing in Middleton, a star-struck Stella had been greeted by a woman in a black dress with purple highlights, going by the name of Elise.  Stella had been escorted to a shiny, black mustang with black interior andnpurple accents, and off they had raced towards the local university.

Stella loved to talk to people, and to find out how they got to where they are in life.  She didn't believe it to be a manifestation of the competitive nature of her schooling - after all, not everything in life had to be a competition, including life, right? - rather, it was a way for seeing potential paths for self-improvement.   Unfortunately, Elise had been a tough nut to crack.  All Stella really understood from their conversation was that Elise was something like a close confidant of Miss Vane's, and was in the area to support Stella's efforts to get Miss Vane what she asked for.

And in the interest of doing so, Stella had directed Elise to several locations where she picked up supplies.  These included a couple different wigs, some SMUT merchandise to serve as camouflaged changes of clothes, a venti clover-brewed coffee with four shots of espresso, and a spiral notebook and pen.  Then Stella had Elise drop her off outside the super-over-designed Rachel Greene Memorial Science Building and Conference Hall.

Victoria's brief on these Fab Four freaks didn't go into specifics on the tech they're using, but she mentioned that in the wrong hands it could very well turn entire populations of people into pets.  How fitting it started inside a building constructed like a terrarium.

Stella walked around the building, seeking out her targets.  She found the tiny corner office where Olivia worked, and she ducked into the ladies room to slip on a SMUT track suit and auburn wig, leaving her bag in a locked stall.  She returned to Olivia's office door, and knocked.

When there was no answer, she knocked again, louder.

The third time she knocked, she finally got an answer.  The woman who opened the door was not what she expected.  Stella had read this woman's description in the dossier Victoria had sent her, but the mental image and the person standing before her did not match.

Stella knew this woman was engaged to Veronica's sister.  She knew this woman had curly blonde hair.  She knew she had light, almost creamy skin.  She knew she had caught the eye of a member of the prestigious Vane family.  She knew the woman's measurements were 37, 26, 35, and that she stood at five feet and five inches tall.  And she knew the woman was going to marry Melissa Vane, the woman who could have been second only to Victoria Vane had she only gone to college for business management instead of pharmacology.  So how in the world could this, this woman before Stella be so, so...

So normal?

Sure, she was cute, in that busty, nerdy aunt sort of way, but she wasn't the pin-up model or sex symbol that Stella had been expecting, not by a long shot.  And those clothes?  A plain brown skirt and a simple turquoise blouse, neither from a respectable brand?  And she was wearing sneakers!  Stella literally couldn't even!

"Hello?  Greene Hall to random stranger?  Can I -- help you?" Olivia asked.  Apparently not for the first time.

"I-I'm sorry," Stella blurted out, "I was just a little star-struck.  You're Doctor Olivia Mathers!  The researcher awarded the Dyson Grant.  You're generating AI capable of passing a double blind Turing Test, the Lovelace 2.0 Test, and the Winograd Schema Challenge, right?”

"And trying not to pass the Connor Test in the process, that's right.  Though, I’m not sure you understand how introductions work.  I already know who I am, Miss..."

Stella quickly covered her mouth.  "Oh, mygosh, I'm so sorry, I just absolutely had to meet you, and I got more than a little carried away.  Sorry, I'm Carrie Cooper.  I'm actually one of the undergrad reporters for the Yale Daily News - and yes, I realize I'm a bit outside my usual stomping grounds.  I ended up on a trip out here to Middleton, and just had to get an interview with you!"

This Olivia woman looked a bit taken aback and off-kilter, but not as much as Stella had hoped.

“I’m sorry, Miss Cooper, was it?”  Olivia took what looked like a practiced breath, and clutched a hand over her chest.  “Unfortunately, I have a very full schedule, and much of it is filled with things I cannot or will not talk about.  If you’re here for a scoop on Melissa Vale, or after something for Veronica Vale, I’m sorry, but I will have to disappoint you.  Enjoy your time in Middleton, Miss Cooper, and have a pleasant day.”

Olivia went back inside her sardine can of a room, and Stella was left standing there, shocked at how strongly she’d been rebuffed.  Victoria’s dossier had characterized Olivia as ‘meek.’

With one avenue soundly closed, Stella went in pursuit of Claire Barnette.

Claire’s office was on the ground floor of the Greene Science Building, just down the hall from the chemistry labs.  Now in a strawberry blonde bob-style wig, SMUT soccer jersey, and shorts, Stella knocked on the door several times, to no response.  The office hours listed coincided with the current time, so where was…

The sound of raised voices reverberated down the hall from one of the chemistry labs, and Stella decided it might be worth investigating.  She peeked around the door frame to find Claire arguing with a Korean woman, likely in her early forties, wearing a knee-length black dress with lace across the chest and shoulders.  Stella ducked back around the corner and settled in to listen.

“Chae-Won, I am very aware that you want to be brought in on this project, but it is not! Going! To happen!  And before you threaten me with going to the dean of sciences yet again, let me remind you that all of the equipment, all of the materials, and all of the effort have been provided by myself and Miss Vane.”

“But you are using University facilities to store and cultivate your product-“

“For which I have written and express permission!  I have shown you copies of the email!  I no longer care that your pride was hurt that I approached a student before you for this project, especially because the project was Miss Vane’s idea to begin with.  Now, for the last time, stop trying to break into the secure storage room - yes, I am well aware it’s you - and stop sending your students to purposely mislabel my salts.  I’m not sure what you have on them that they would risk expulsion for your saggy ass, but I will not stand for clear and present health risks to my students and these facilities, especially when such conditions are made manifest by your hurt pride and lack of common decency!”

“Claire, do not walk out on me!  I am part of this department, and as such, I am entitled to credit for any and all advancements that come out of this facility!  I do not desire to steal credit, I am simply asking to be allowed to lend my experience to the endeavor!  Claire!”

Clarie shouted back, her voice much closer.  “I’ll believe that when I no longer see you stooping to legally questionable attempts to do so!”

Stella took a few steps away from the door, then started hustling towards it just as Claire stepped out into the hallway.  Stella intentionally moved herself into Claire’s path, trying to get a hand in her pocket in the process, only to realize the suit Claire was wearing had none.  Their collision didn’t knock either off their feet, but it was definitely disorientating. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry!  Oh, Professor Barnette, my apologies for bumping into you!  I heard raised voices, and-”

“Not a problem.  Are you hurt?”  Claire’s tone was softer than she’d been using with the other professor, who a placard on the wall identified as Associate Professor Chae-Won Myung.

“No, I’m fine.  Are you-”

“Just peachy.  If you’re here for office hours, I’ll be in my office.  Otherwise, I apologize, but I must be going, Miss…”

“Carter.  Sherrie Carter.”

“Miss Carter.  If I don’t see you again, have a good day.”  Claire stalked into her office, and slammed the door.

Two minutes later, Stella was sitting in the office two doors down from Claire Barnette’s.  Across the desk sat Professor Myung.

“And where are you getting your information from, Miss Carter?  Are you glistening bead of dew, luring me into your web?  I very much feel like you are asking me to walk into a trap.”

Stella just smiled.  “Such a feat is only dangerous or significant if you are not a spider, Professor Myung.  Please allow me to assure you that the only risk is some small embarrassment if I am lying, or a potentially career-ending move for your selfish coworker, if I am not.  Tomorrow, 1 pm, at Love & Lust, the adult boutique.  Bring a camera, and a bag.  I am not certain of exactly what you will see there, but I can assure you that it will change your world for the better.”

That meeting with Professor Myung had been an hour ago.  Now Stella smiled as a shadow was cast over her.  She opened her eyes, to see Elise in an asymmetrical one-piece that left little to the imagination.

“Good work today.  It wasn’t clean, but I suspect it will be effective.  You also got one of my drones access to Olivia Mathers’ private workroom.  Now, I know you haven’t been read into everything yet, and that was by design - Miss Vane wants to see how you react to this technology in the moment - but we need to discuss some contingencies.  Why don’t you order food, and I’ll meet you in your room, in, say, half an hour?  Order something with caffeine too, this will probably be a late night.

Stella glanced forlornly past her handler at the college boys joking about a ‘smokin’ hot threesome,’ and sighed for the loss of what might have been.

“Hey Titania!”  Melissa walked into Love & Lust with a spring in her step, a bag in hand, and a briefcase handcuffed to her arm.  “I’ve got the drugs!”  She noticed a pink blur come rushing out of the 3D printing corner.

“You alwayth bring me the betht thuff!” Titania lisped, jumping into the air and throwing her arms around Melissa.  She staggered under the sudden weight, but her time spent at the gym paid off, and she kept them upright.

“Easy, Titty!  What’s with the lisp?  I thought your tongue was well on its way to healing?  You sure didn’t sound this bad last week.”

“Oh, it ith,” Titania assured her, and Melissa focused harder to translate.  “I just happened to put some numbing agent on it right before you got here.  I was getting some phantom nerve twinges.”

“Wow, still?” Melissa asked.  “I would have thought you’d be done with that by now?”

Titty shook her head like a madwoman.  “Nope!  Typically I’d still be on the mend for a few more weeks, but I used some of that one foot shrinking serum, and it’s pretty much all healed.  There’s just a ton of nerves in the tongue, so alterations like this come will all sorts of complications and side effects.  Even years from now, I might still get the occasional twinge.  Honestly though, I don’t think I could have asked for this procedure to have gone better!”  Titania stuck out her tongue, and Melissa laughed.

“I couldn’t agree more.  You’ve been talking about this for a long time, I’m glad to see it went so well.”

“Oh!  Oh!  And speaking of going well, check this out!  You gotta see what I’m working on!  Oh, but first, did you bring what I asked for?”

Melissa chuckled.  “Olivia picked them up on her lunch break, and passed them to me for delivery.  What do you need with boxes of fruit roll-ups?”

“You will see!” Titty said, trying to sound mysterious.  “Oh, you will see!  In, like, five seconds.  Come on!”

Titania grabbed Melissa by the arm and dragged her to the 3D printer.  Missy couldn’t help but laugh.  The only other person who dragged her anywhere was Olivia, and she was usually much bigger when that happened.  Victoria had done that when they’d been kids, but their parents put a stop to such childish things when Missy was six.  Her sister had a responsibility.  So did Melissa, according to her parents, but that was one responsibility Melissa did not want to mess with.

No, instead she was dealing with what looked like wire-frame mannequins, in several scales.

“What do you think?”  Titty asked.  “I went and looked up soc. meds. for all of the investors, and of course for you, you sexy little thing, and I made a rough 3D wire-frame model of each of your oh-so-fuckable bodies, and scaled them to right heights for playtime, and now I’m fucking printing them out!  Now we have mannequins to model the undergarments for the presentation!  Fuck, am I sexy-smart or what?”

Melissa looked at the wire-frame model, and at the round base at its feet.  “How are they - or, we, I suppose - supposed to get the underwear off of the model?”

Titty grinned like the pussy cat that caught the canary.  “We make them like stripper clothes!  They open on both sides!”

Melissa just laughed at ridiculous practicality of it.  “And what are you making the clothes out of?”

Titty’s grin widened.  “You know how you were wondering what the fruit roll-ups are for?  Well, you could come with me, and I could show you some very interesting bondage techniques, or we can drop off the drugs, and you can help me play dress-up with some emaciated dolls and their fruit-flavored undergarments.”

Melissa rolled her eyes at the absurdity, but she had to admit, she loved this weird and wacky life she was living.

“Alright Titty, lead the way.  Looks like I’m making my own undergarments.  You know, maybe I should give Olivia a call.  I feel like she would want to weigh in on the design…”