Night of the Were-Bimbo

"Why?" Laurie asked. "What happened?"

"Grace Boswell was a test subject for a new therapy Dr. Velli and I were working on," Dr. Howard replied. "Unfortunately, it seemed that the treatment was ineffective. The trial ended last month and she was sent home with our thanks."

"And a handsome payment," Velli growled under his breath.

"So why do you think there is a connection between what happened to Susan and this woman?" Laurie asked, her eyes sharp.

"Grace was -- or rather is -- a woman with a known mental history," Howard said easily. "And last night, she left her apartment, in circumstances so strange it made us suspect she was having a psychotic episode of some sort. Or perhaps a nervous breakdown, brought on by stress and study. There were...similarities between what her roommates reported she was saying and what you described in the police report, Miss Mason." She held out the picture again. "Are you absolutely positive this isn't the woman you saw?"

She studied the image one more time, making sure. But she remembered the hair, the body, the curves that seemed to come out of a dirty magazine or a porn site. "Sorry. No." She handed it back with a wry smile. "I don't want to sound like a pervy old man, but unless this girl, Grace, right? Unless Grace had a boob job, at the very least, there is no way she could be the woman who I met last night. I'm sorry," she added.

"That's all right. It was a long shot, anyway." Howard tucked the photo away again. "But please keep an eye out for her, will you? We're quite fond of her. She's a very sweet young woman."

"All right. We will."

"Oh, once more thing," Dr. Velli said, as the pair paused at the door. "When you were attacked, was there any exchange of fluid between you and the other woman?"

"What?" she asked, startled by the crude question. "What are you talking about? You mean like blood? Gross!"

"Blood, saliva, sweat. Any of those things."

Her mind flashed back to the image of the woman, her head buried between her thighs, her tongue lapping hungrily at her. Even now, the memory wasn't completely unpleasant. Her face flushed. "No. Nothing like that," she said, disliking the pair more with every passing minute. How dare they pry into her life like this? "She was touching me. But I got her off me as soon as I could."

"And why are you so curious about that?" Laurie asked, her dark eyes sharp with suspicion. "If the woman was having a psychotic episode, it's not as if it would be catching or anything. As far as I know, mental disorders aren't contagious."

"Of course not. What a ridiculous notion," the man said. He had a very slight accent, which Susan couldn't place. Italian, maybe? "But if the woman was as unbalanced as it appears, she might be very...promiscuous. And if she is, there is a high chance that she might have an STD of some sort." He smiled, though the expression didn't reach his eyes. "You might want to get tested."

"Nothing happened," she repeated, just wanting them gone.

He tipped his head at her. "As you say." He sighed. "Well, let's hope that Grace turns up soon. Let's go, Marian."

*****

"She was lying," Velli said as they crossed the street to their car.

"Like a rug," Howard nodded. "Not really hard to see why. If the information we have about young Miss Benton is correct, she has had very few serious relationships. What happened to her last night would have been very traumatic." She got into the car and buckled her seat belt. "Of course she would hide the more intimate details. Especially from a pair of nosey people like ourselves. The question is," she added as she pulled out into the street, "is what we should do about it?"

"I don't think we have to do anything," Velli replied. He smiled thinly. "We can't take her in, not without our project blowing sky-high. And our...superiors...would be quite aggravated if that happened." He leaned back in his cheat, blowing out a breath. "We'll keep an eye on her for a few weeks, but if she doesn't show any adverse affects, we can let it drop, I think." A balled-up fist hit his thigh in frustration. "But what I can't figure out is the delay. A month between the last treatment and what happened with Grace last night. It's like lighting a match and having a fire start the next day."

"Thank God we found her before she met anyone else." Turning onto a main street, she put on a little speed. "And I want to be there when she regains consciousness. The changes, Francisco. You can't tell me you expected those."

"Expected? No. But what is science, after all, but a search for what mankind can do?"

Chapter 3: Good Moon Rising

"Well," Laurie said as the door closed behind the two doctors. "That wasn't creepy or anything."

"Right?" Susan crossed to the other side of the apartment, peering out the window as the pair crossed the street. They seemed to be talking, misty breath rising from their mouths in faint clouds before it was snatched away by the wind. "I don't care if they are doctors. If they meet a guy in a trenchcoat, I'm getting their license plate number and calling the cops."

"Velli," Laurie mused. "I've heard of him before, I think."

"Oh? What's he do?"

Laurie shrugged. "No idea, really. You know how it is with the med students. The ones who want to go into R&D are always gossiping about who's got a line on something really big. New drugs, new antibiotics, or a big research grant from the government or a multinational. Most of it turns out to be hot air. I think I've heard his name a couple of times, that's all."

"So you think he was telling the truth?" Susan felt oddly disappointed.

"Well, you can check him out in the campus database, if you like. If I'm right, he'll be there. Him and the other woman, too. Howard."

"I think I will." But at that moment, her phone buzzed. ~Hi Susan. I just picked up Christine. We'll be at your place in ten.~

She smiled. "Liam?" Laurie guessed.

"How did you know?"

"Because the only time you ever smile like that is when you're thinking about him. Girl, you have it bad."

She smiled softly. "Maybe I do."

*****

The next few weeks went by, and that strange Friday night faded into her memory, much like the bruise on her face. For a few days, as rumors about the attack spread, she was asked about it in class and by her other friends. But since she really didn't feel like talking about it all that much, the subject was quickly dropped in favor of the unrelenting grind of class and studying. Thank goodness her parents didn't get a whiff of what happened. If she had mentioned it during one of her infrequent calls home, her mother would have hit the roof, taking it as another sign of the undeniable decadence of university life. She probably would have tried to have a religious intervention with her over the phone.

Yeah, Mom. You keep praying to Jesus to give you a big winner on your scratch-off tickets. And I'll actually work. We'll see who does best.

The only real change in her life, as September slipped into a golden-leafed October, had been at night. Despite the fact that her last serious relationship was over a year ago, Susan had never really had many erotic dreams. But now they were almost a nightly occurrence. She found herself waking in the early hours of the morning, hot and sweaty and wetly aroused, with her body on edge with unfulfilled need. Often she had to masturbate before she could fall asleep again, lying on her stomach with her hand between her legs, her moans muffled by her pillows as she came, her climaxes almost violent in their intensity.

"And that will be all for today," Professor Reynolds said one Friday morning about four weeks after the incident, his nasal New England accent echoing through the classroom. Susan started and blinked, tearing herself away from the memory of the previous night's sleep-induced fantasy, in which Liam, a white-sand beach, and copious amounts of cocoa butter had played a prominent role. "If any of you would like to discuss this week's lectures, I will be holding my usual office hours on Saturday evening, between six and eight PM. Have a good weekend, everyone."

He flipped off the screen on which he had been dissecting that morning's subject and walked out. Around the classroom, there was the usual flurry of activity as people packed up textbooks and notebooks and laptops and began the rush towards their next class.

"Susan? Do you have a second?" a voice asked at her elbow.

She turned, smiling. "Sure Liam. What's up?"

"Well, I was wondering," he said, and pushed back a lock of hair which threatened to fall over his glasses. "If you wanted, you know, to maybe go out this weekend. With me," he clarified.

Say no, her mind said, suddenly scared. But before she could, she found herself smiling, enjoying the way her friend's eyes widened.

"I'd love to," she said honestly. "Tonight?"

He shook his head. "I can't, sorry. I'm on the late shift tonight."

Liam, she recalled, came from a family that wasn't much better off than hers. In addition to his classload, he also worked several evenings a week at one of the local stores, stocking shelves and bagging groceries.

"Can we do tomorrow night?" he asked.

"Tomorrow..." she chewed her lip. "I really wanted to corner Reynolds to ask him some questions. That last case we looked at...he kind of skimmed over it."

"That asshole," Liam muttered. "I'm sure he has his office hours on Saturday evening just so we won't bother him. Well," he went on, "if you want to pick his brain, I can meet you afterward at your place. Say, around eight? We can grab a late dinner, and maybe a movie. The New Art runs some old classics at midnights on weekends."

"That sounds fantastic," she smiled.

"Good. That's good." His expression was faintly shell-shocked, as if he hadn't really expected her to say yes to his invitation. His hand reached out, then fell back to his side. "Well, I'll see you tomorrow night, then. And you can text me if something comes up."

She surprised herself by giving him a quick hug. He flinched, but then relaxed as she held him close. He was only an inch or so shorter than she was, she was surprised to note. The way he slouched, he always seemed shorter, and it was only with difficulty that she kept her hands from roaming over the long muscles of his back.

"Tomorrow, then," she smiled, backing up a step.

"Right." He looked happily stunned, but there was a spring in his step as they walked out of the building together.

"I did it! I did it!" she shouted as the apartment door closed behind her.

"Did what?" Laurie asked. Beside her on the couch, Meg looked up from their mutual cuddle to blink at her unusual exuberance.

"Liam asked me out! And I said yes!" She almost danced into the living room, giving a little shoulder and hip action with her body. Yeah. Work it, girl. "We've got a date! Tomorrow night!"

"Sweet!" Laurie jumped up. "Megan, can we get a 'hell, yeah!" for Susan?"

"Hell yeah!" the three girls chorused in unison, their voices rebounding through the apartment.

"Come on!" The Chinese girl grabbed her hand, tugging her into her bedroom. "We've got to pick out an ass-kicker of an outfit for you!"

A few minutes later she was standing in front of her closet, dressed only in bra and panties, shaking her head in despair.

"I don't have anything to wear," she said mournfully.

"Ah. A universal truth," Megan smiled. She took a seat on her bed. "Girls never do, on a first date. What are you guys doing?"

"Dinner and a movie, probably."

"Okay. So you probably don't need anything too fancy. All you need to do is find something that accentuates your best features."

"Which are?"

"Your legs," Meg and Laurie said in tandem, and grinned at each other.

Someday I wish I had a guy who understood me the way they understand each other. "My legs?"

"Mmmmm," Megan said. "Definitely. Long. Elegant."

"But not too bony," Laurie added. "A little muscle doesn't hurt."

"Elegant? Me?"

"Oh, definitely. Man, my older sister would love to get her hands on you. No, not that way." Laurie made a face. "She works in high-end retail. You have exactly the kind of body she raves about. Give her some time to work on your hair and makeup and she would have you in a killer outfit."

"Oh." No one had ever talked about her that way before, and her hands shook a little as she pulled a dark green dress out of the closet. "How about this?" she asked, holding it up to her body. The flowing lines complimented her legs, she thought. And the thin straps left her arms bare. Perfect for a fall evening, if the weather stayed nice.

Laurie pursed her lips and nodded. "It goes well with her hair."

"And her eyes," Megan added.

"What do you think?" Susan gestured at her chest. "Bra? Or no bra?"

Laurie put her head to the side. "Well, are you looking to get laid? And do you want to be really obvious about it?"

She blushed. "I don't know."

"Then leave the bra on. They have hooks," she added with a grin. "And most guys can figure out how to get them off eventually. And heels," she said firmly. "You need heels."

"I'm already too tall," she protested.

"No, you're not. You are exactly the right height for you," Laurie disagreed. "Don't pretend to be someone you're not. Be you. And don't apologize. I'm not saying you should put on a pair of platform heels like a five-dollar stripper, but some high-heeled sandals will make your rear end look nice and perky. It's almost as good as your legs," she said with a cheerful leer. "So why not make sure that Liam gets a nice, good look?"

Susan gave up, and slipped into a pair of sandals that had hidden at the back of her closet since summer and slowly turned, blushing under the twin gazes of her friends.

"Good," Laurie said judiciously. "Yes. Very good. Now," she stood up. "Let's go to the bathroom so we can do something about your hair. And then you can try on the dress and we can pick out some jewelry. Liam," she grinned, "doesn't stand a chance."

The next evening, she stood in the bathroom, looking at a stranger.

Her roommate and her lover were miracle-workers, she decided. Somehow they had taught her to arrange her mousy brown hair into a style that was both simple and stylish. Pulled back and knotted at the nape of her neck, a few curling tendrils were allowed to escape to frame her face.

I look...good. She put a hand over her stomach, which wasn't quite as flat as it had been when she was eighteen and starting for the volleyball team back home. But I should start working out more. Or watch what I'm eating a little better. Too many late-night pizzas when we're cramming. A few more years of this, I'll be a tall version of Mom.

She looked at her watch. And I better hurry if I want to talk to Reynolds and still get back here by the time Liam shows up. I don't want to keep him waiting.

"All right," she said to Laurie as she left her room. "I'm off." She picked her purse up from the table and put a small notepad inside for her talk with the professor. "If Liam gets here early, send me a text, okay? But I should be back before he arrives."

"No problem." Her friend clicked the remote. "And don't worry. If you think you're going to get lucky tonight, let me know. And I'll make sure I'm not around. I'll just slide over to Megan's place."

Her face heated. "That's moving kind of quick, don't you think?"

Laurie smiled. "You've been waiting for this night for months, even if you don't know it. Seems to me you haven't been moving quickly enough."

Twilight was deepening as she walked across campus. Though the night was pleasant, without a cloud in the star-speckled sky, there was hardly a person to be seen.

It began as a tug in her mind, a gentle insistence, as irresistible as the force which pulled a compass needle. Her heart began to pound. Turning, she saw the fat white curve of the full moon, rising above Lincoln Hall.

Come to me. Worship me. You are my daughter.

"Yes," she breathed. She closed her eyes, feeling the moonlight bathe her skin. How wonderful! How cool and sweet! And how had she never noticed before how...sexual...the moon was? Its pearly arcs, rich and round, like the swell of a breast. Or the curve of a woman's hips. Or the tip of a man's cock, seen from above. Or even the rich white droplets of cum as they burst forth from the tip of an engorged prick.

Yes. Feel me. Feel me on your body.

"Yes," she repeated, her voice slow and drugged. "I will come to you."

She lay down in the shadow of the Foreign Language Building. Not far at all, she recalled dimly, from where she had been nearly a month ago. The ground was cool through her dress, but she didn't mind at all. She needed this. The moon called, and she would answer. She needed its light on her skin. Wonderful, life-giving light.

But it wasn't enough. The dress, a welcome adornment on her body just a few minutes ago, was now too hot, too stifling, a cotton prison. She needed the light everywhere.

Slowly, the hem of the dress rose, hitched up by her hands. Past her calves, past her thighs. Her skin took on a cool lambent glow in the moonlight. Up now, hiked to her waist, the pale blue cloth of her best satin panties the only thing between her and her mistress.

Off. All of it off, my child.

She almost laughed. Of course she would take her panties off! Wearing them was so silly! She didn't need them! A lift of her rear, a pair of hooked thumbs under the waistband, and they went sliding down her legs. She kicked her foot, sending them flying overhead. Where would they land? Who cares?

Oh! That feels...so good.

Moonlight shone on her skin, bathing her in its glow. She could feel the erotic touch everywhere, but especially on the folds of her pussy. Light and cool, it danced on her petals, picking out every curve, every sinuous sweep of her sex.

And her pussy...liked it. Disbelieving, she saw her lips open, unfolding like the petals of a night-blooming flower at dusk. Moisture dewed her labia as she lifted her knees and spread her legs wide. "Yes," she hissed, throwing her head back, her hands on her inner thighs, muscles protesting as she opened herself up to her mistress in ecstatic surrender, baring her cunt. "Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes!"

And the light exploded inside her. She could feel it, a glittering, silver river, entering her body through her thirsty, hungry pussy, racing up her veins, until there was no place in her body free of its touch. A power, a blessing, a transformation. Cold fire gathered in her belly, and she watched, entranced, as her stomach shrank, going hard and flat as fat melted away. No, not melted. Moved. Running in sinuous streams under her skin until they reached her breasts. To her disbelieving eyes, they began to swell. From the shallow curves, almost painfully modest, that she had known all of her adult life, to the size of apples. Then to the size of baseballs. To softballs. To...to...

To something wonderful, she sighed in rapture as they spilled over the confining cups of her bra, the inadequate piece of lingerie snapping with a burst like a firecracker. Pieces flew over the ground, but she simply sighed with the sweet freedom of it all, her hands massaging her wonderful, womanly curves with a delight which was almost orgasmic. Her hands couldn't even fit over them, she giggled, feeling the beautiful weight in her palms. Tanned and ripe and achingly sensitive, they seemed made for a lover's hand.

In fact, her entire body was made for sex. And why not? She was young, tall, beautiful, and horny as hell. She closed her eyes, her hands taking in the sweep of her curving hips, the long expanse of her legs, the riotous mass of her dark, curling hair, the sweet bow of her mouth. I could lay here and have a nice little cum right now. Her fingers found the tender lips of her cleft. And then find a man. With a really nicecock.