The MILF Machine: The MILF And The Mobster free porn video

The MILF Machine: The MILF and the Mobster By Dr. Beaubourg Commissioned by Jwargod Like most of the nights in this city it was raining, and hard. Tonight would happen to be the night that would change the lives of two down on their luck strangers. For Shane Willis and Derek Kastanos, it all started at a shitty diner in an even shitter part of town. "Oh great," thought Shane, gazing out at the droplets on the window "And me without my umbrella." A normal 20-something college dropout, Shane had just finished his shift at the local Gas n' Gulp and was rewarded with a pink slip. This wasn't the first time it has happened, and Shane guessed it wouldn't be the last. He finished the fries on his plate, and dreaded the moment the waitress would come around, requiring him to pay and venture out in the rain. He felt like crap, but at least he wasn't sopping wet. Two seats over sat the lumbering 30-some year old Derek Kastanos. Unlike Shane, who was killing time after his work, Derek was anticipating the hour before his own shift with a quick bite to eat. He was in a bit of a hurry, so he quickly wolfed down his meal. Soon enough, the waitress popped out through the door behind the counter with two receipts in tow. She laid them carefully beside their plates, as the two scrounged around for their wallets. Shane visited the ATM before coming and cashed out his meager paycheck, so he had a few bills to pay for the meal. Derek had not. He fumbled about with his wallet, failing to produce his credit card. After a minute, he assembled all the loose cash and change he'd stored in his wallet and pockets, but even that was a buck short. Meanwhile, Shane was watching from his stool. "What the hell, I'll help him out," he thought, reaching for a spare dollar. "Here," Shane said, laying it on the side of the plate. Derek looked at the bill, then back up to Shane. Before he could say anything, Shane was well on his way out the door. Derek lumped the stranger's donation along with his own money and stood up, following Shane out the diner. "Hey pal, wait up!" said Derek as he walked through the door. It appears he caught Shane just before he left. He was huddled beneath a balcony taking shelter from the downpour. Derek went up to him, splashing in puddles with each step. "Hey, I just, uh, wanted to say thanks back there." "Er, don't mention it. It wasn't much," said Shane, adverting his eyes in embarrassment. The truth is he didn't get many thanks nowadays. "It's just a dollar, you know." "Yeah I know, but I appreciate it. Look, the least I can do you is walk you to where you're headed. You're apt to catch a cold without an umbrella of your own." Derek gestured to his own umbrella which looked large enough to shield two people from any torrent of rain. Shane fidgeted about. First a thanks, and now this? He certainly wasn't accustomed to this kind of consideration. "Er, I'm not so sure. My place is a few blocks out, and it's not a good neighborhood, so you probably don't want to head out there..." mumbled Shane. "Bad neighborhood? Trust me, I've been there and back. Which way are you headed?" "That way, I guess." Shane pointed down the street in the direction of his home. "What a coincidence, I'm heading over there as well. C'mon pal." Derek unfurled his umbrella and guided Shane under it, heading back to Shane's apartment. The two of them strolled on, the bright lights of restaurants and businesses glowed about them like a museum of neon art. Along the way the two of them made small talk. Shane told Derek about his work troubles, and Derek listened. He felt a little strange, a guy as scrawny as he was walking side by side with someone as physically intimidating as Derek was, but something about his demeanor set him at ease. Shane thought if felt good to let it all out for once, even if he's never see Derek again. At least that's one person that might remember him the day after. After 10 minutes, the two of them had reached Shane's apartment complex. "Hey, thanks man, I really appreciate it," said Shane, his spirits lightened. "Don't worry about it," replied Derek. "After all, you're the one who helped me out. I just thought I should return the favor." "Well, if you insist. Have a good night." With that, Shane disappeared behind the door, and Derek returned to the street. Who'd of though he'd be working across from Shane's apartment that very night. "It sure is a small world," he thought as he entered the building. Derek ascended a few flights of stairs as dim fluorescent lights beamed their soft rays down on him. At the end of the hall was an older man, even bigger than Derek, leaning against an old doorframe. "Yo, Derek," he called in a gruff voice. "Yo yourself," Derek said dismissively. "Listen D, your job tonight is to guard this creep," he said, pointing into the room. Past him was a waifish looking man hunched over a desk, the smell of his soldering tools burning Derek's nostrils. "Keep an eye on this one. He may be building something for the boss, but he's an antsy one. Anyways, you're on point, I gotta' take a piss. Don't nod off, ya' hear?" The other man walked down the hall, and Derek took his place. From where he was standing, it looked like the guy he was guarding was tinkering with some elaborate remote control. Derek observed as the man frantically flipped through the blueprints, the back to his soldering. Derek felt like it was going to be a long and arduous night. In the mean time, Shane was having a good night's sleep for once. The prospect of finding another job lingered at the back of his head, but he was nevertheless relaxed. For now he was lost in the aether of his dreams, surrounded by his subconscious REM. Until he was jolted awake. "You can't do this to me!" Shane stood up in his bed, awakened by the sharp voice from outside his window. His apartment was only on the second floor, so he'd become accustomed to picking up chatter from below, but nothing as frightening as this. He peered through his blinds to get a better look at the cacophony outside. From Shane's perspective it looked as if a really thin guy was trying to wrestle out of this bigger guy's grip. The thin guy had something the big guy wanted. A burglary perhaps? Against his better judgment, Shane sprung to his feet. Normally he'd just ignore the events outside and return to his slumber, but tonight he felt great. Maybe he could make a difference in someone else's night, just like Derek had done to his. Still clad in pajamas he slid out the door, invigorated with a sense of pride for once in his life. Shane slid down the stairs and busted out through the door, ready to confront the ne'er-do-well. He turned the corner, took a deep breath, and hollered "Hold it right there you-!" His statement was cut off by the reality of the situation he had so precariously thrown himself into. By the looks of it, the big guy was much bigger than he seemed from the second floor. Also, he seemed to be pummeling the shit out of the thin guy, as evidenced by the blood caked on the big guy's fists. The thin guy hung limp in his grasp, the thing-a-ma-jigger he held on to earlier resting on the ground. "Ah, er, I think I'll just be going then..." said Shane, his fight-or- flight reaction set to flight. With fear replacing his bravery, Shane failed to notice the big guy motioning to something behind him. He also didn't notice the leather sap coming straight down on his cranium. It wasn't until Derek brought the sap down on him did he realize that the victim of his stealthy assault was Shane, the guy from earlier. Shane dropped to the ground, beads of red dripping from his scalp to the damp pavement below. Lifting him up, Derek turned to his companion with his scrawny acquaintance slung over his shoulder. "Good job D, you dealt with him and not a single witness from the looks of things. You know what to do next, right?" asked the companion, his own victim still laying in a crumpled heap beside the doorway. "No, should I?" asked Derek in a sarcastic tone. Part of him wished the answer would be different than he has ascertained. "Hey, don't get cute. Just take him out to an abandoned lot and plug him. The Boss said that we don't need any more prying eyes, we're in hot water enough as it is." "But can't we-" "No buts! It's either him or the both of you. You're a good guy D, I'm trusting you to make the right decision here. You go ahead and deal with that, our friend here needs to learn a lesson," He smirked, dragging to the tinkerer off the pavement. He then made for the door, slamming it behind him. Derek and Shane were left all to themselves out in the cold alley. The reality of the situation got to Derek, who had to lean against the wall to catch his breath. It's been a while since his last panic attack, and he was getting awfully close to his next. When things got tough, Derek though it helped to check his surroundings, see if anything could help his predicament. Resting across his shoulder was Shane, the problem at the moment. Garbage cans, old cardboard boxes, and an old remote control on top of some papers laid on the ground before him. "Wait, haven't I seen that before?" thought Derek as he grabbed the remote. He gave it a once over, and then snatched the moist the papers beneath it. By the looks of it they were an elaborate series of blueprints and instructions on how to use the remote. However, it was clear to Derek that this wasn't any ordinary remote. Just then, an idea had taken hold in Derek's mind. He pocketed the remote and it's instructions, and walked off with Shane in tow, disappearing into the shadows. When Shane awoke, his head hurt. Like, really hurt. That was the first thing he had noticed. The second thing was that he wasn't at home. It was somebody home, as evidenced by the lumpy couch beneath him, but definitely not his apartment. It was also very dark. He could just barely make out the walls around him, but anything else would be a pain. Speaking of pain... "Ow... Where am I?" asked Shane, not expecting a response. "That doesn't matter right now," replied a gruff, yet all too familiar voice. Shane jumped at the disembodied voice, his eyes darting about to find his captor. A shadow he could only assume was a man stood by the doorway. "What's going on?! Who are you?!" asked Shane, his voice becoming shrill. The pain in his head flared up again, a sharp red bolt within his skull. He tried standing up, but his limbs felt heavy. Who ever jumped him last night really did a number on him, or so he thought. "Listen, this is for the best," muttered the shadow in the door. "For the both of us," Shane could hear the soft sounds of someone grabbing papers from their pocket. Suddenly, a light shined on the figure. The bright LED of a keyring light illuminated the figure before him, revealing to Shane the fellow from before. Derek, wasn't it? "H-hey! I know you!" exclaimed Shane. Maybe he could guilt Derek into letting him go. If only he knew why he was held captive... Derek said nothing in return, only shutting his light off. Shane could hear him crumple up something wet, followed by the sound of him fiddling with another object. A few clicks, a few beeps, then silence. "Trust me, this'll work out in the end." Suddenly, green sparks erupted from Derek's hands, shooting out towards Shane. Instinctively Shane threw his hands before his face in the hopes that he can protect himself against whatever sorcery Derek had cast on him. A few seconds passed as Shane forced his eyes shut, unable to face his own doom. His body felt warm, but he didn't feel hurt. If this were death, than Shane would have thought it was quite anti-climactic. Sure enough, he opened his eyes, trading the pitch black of his eyelids for the dark of the room. "Wha- what was that?" asked Shane. A rhetorical statement, though he wouldn't mind an answer. Instead, he was greeted with Derek's sharp light nearly blinding him. He shielded his eyes against the harsh ray. "Hmm. Good. Looks like this thing is working," said Derek, giving Shane a once over. The light dimmed, and Shane heard a sound of breaking plastic, followed by him discarding whatever he used beside him. This was followed by the sound of keys jingling, and a door unlocking. "Look, I'll be back in the morning to check on you. There's a bedroom in the back with clothes for you. Don't try to break out; I've fool-proofed this place. Just let it happen, and we'll work something out," Derek then opened the door behind him as fluorescence lights shined through the crack in the door. "Wait! Don't leave me!" called out Shane, his voice cracking ever so slightly. He held out a hand, hopelessly grabbing for the door. As he did, Shane could feel a pulling sensation in his fingers. He held them up to the light behind the door and stared. Before his eyes, the shadow of his hand began to change. His fingers shrank, becoming petite as his nails lengthened. It was then that Derek poked his head through the doorway for one last comment. "Just act you're age, and we'll be fine." And with that Derek left, dimming the room once more. Shane's eyes tried to adjust to the darkness as he felt a chill spread throughout his body. At first Shane felt the shrinking sensation from his hand throughout his whole body. His pajamas, which once fit snugly about his body, now felt a bit big for him. The sleeves hung loosely from his now manicured hands, sliding down soft, hairless arms. His legs also felt smooth within his pants as he couldn't resist rubbing them together through the thin fabric. As they rubbed, he found more resistance against his legs, as if they were bulking up. It was slight at first, focusing in on his calves, but the bulking rose to his thighs which increased dramatically. Shane was a thin person, but within a few seconds his thighs mashed together, straining his pajamas as the seams. Shane's hips began to widen as well, straining the waistband of his pajama pants. It was a bit uncomfortable, the change leaving him sitting on his coccyx. However, this was soon alleviated. Shane felt the rear of his pajama pants becoming tighter as his seat taking up more space then before. He could feel the back seam at its limit as Shane rose in in the air as if sitting on a fleshy inflating cushion. By this point Shane suspected that he had been drugged with something, and that this was becoming a very bad trip. So bad that he was actually starting to feel numb. His penis, which had become a throbbing erection through all of this stimulation, felt anesthetized beneath his pants. More and more it seemed to slip away from his body, as if it never existed in the first place. The sensation of arousal was still there, centered between his legs. It was different than before, a warm feeling in his groin. Shane dismissed this as part of the trip as his torso followed in the bizarre changes. Beneath Shane's pajama top he could feel his waist diminishing even more than before. He brought a dainty hand to it, feeling how much smaller it was. Beneath his touch it felt toned as well, but Shane never found the time to work out in his schedule. Shane's fit tummy seemingly contradicted his chest, which felt flabbier than before. Shane tried to look down at his fit stomach, but found that a shadow blocked his vision. As he gazed down, the shadow grew, blocking most of his vision. A tingling sensation emitted from his chest, joining the one in his groin. Suddenly, his pajamas seemed all too tight. It was only a momentary discomfort, as he felt the sensation of buttons popping on his pajama top, airing out his sweaty skin to the cool air. Finally Shane was able to breathe. He took a big breath, another button popped forth from the strained shirt. How weird. Shane stood there, the pleasure from his body distracting him from his predicament. Suddenly, he felt an itching sensation in his face. He decided to ignore it, but it grew, and Shane had no choice but to scratch. He nearly forgot about his nails as he scratched, but he was glad that he didn't. His face felt somewhat swollen, particularly in his lips and cheekbones. The former stuck out from his face, clearly plumped out. Maybe he was having an allergic reaction, although Shane wasn't know for them. He pressed down on them, surprised at their springiness. "Weird" muttered Shane. It was difficult to enunciate with his swollen lips, the extra mass pressing together with each syllable. It also didn't help that his voice was still cracking. It's like puberty all over again. He suddenly felt a tickling sensation on the back of his neck, and swiped at it with his hand. At first he had batted it away, but it returned to his neck, nearly reaching his shoulders. It bothered Shane, but he didn't care. He just sat there in his seat, feeling like a stranger in his own body. A minute passed, and the changes ceased. Shane had partaken in recreational drugs before, mostly to keep his mind off of his miserable life, but found than no high was quite as short-lived or intense as this one was. Now that it was over, Shane had to come to the bottom of his situation. First off, he had to turn on the lights. After all, he couldn't stumble around in the dark all night. After a few tries, Shane mustered up the strength to stand up, still feeling the effects of whatever he was given. He stumbled about in the darkness, wobbling about in an odd way. He walked around, trying to find a light switch. It took him a minute or two, but Shane finally found one. Finger on the switch, he counted to five, not sure of what he'll see when he flips on the lights. He hoped to god that this wasn't some sort of slaughterhouse and Derek was a secret serial killer. At long last, the lights flickered to life, revealing a normal, if not drab apartment. This wasn't like his own; this apartment was made for a small family to live in, as opposed to his own one-person abode. From the looks of it, there was a dinette, living room (where he assumed he was sitting before), and a hall, most likely leading to a few bedrooms, maybe even a bathroom. At the end of the hallways was an open door, where a woman stared at him. "H-hey! Where is- Ah!" said Shane surprised at the tone of his voice. It was light, almost sing-songy, and certainly not masculine. Shane brought his hand to his throat, and the woman did the same. It looked as if she was mimicking Shane, as he felt embarrassment roll over him. Shane adverted his eyes, looking down at the ground, but two large objects greeted him, poking out through his pajamas. A pair of fleshy lumps protruded out from beneath his shirt. Shane grabbed a hold of them as a foreign sensation took over, a pleasure he hadn't ever felt in his life. "Ah!" he gasped in a feminine tone. He looked back up at the woman, and to his surprise she the same, grabbing her breasts in a crude, lecherous fashion. The pieces began to fall into place as Shane approached the woman, still mimicking his movements. Her wide hips swung back and forth as Shane stepped closer and closer, her tits bouncing as Shane's did. Finally he was standing right in front of her. She was beautiful, a voluptuous older woman, with blonde bobbed hair that rested atop her shoulders. Her outfit barely contained her curves, as evidenced by the seams on her hips and busted out buttons containing her breasts. Shane bent back, snapping off the last two buttons that held his pajama top on, casting it aside. The woman did the same, bearing her heaving breasts to Shane. It was official, as Shane could no longer deny it. Shane stared into his own reflection, and that he was now a she, transformed into a milf. The realization shook Shane to her core as she stumbled about, leaning against a wall for support. The body that was hers for many a year was gone, perhaps even for good. His body didn't do Shane a lot of good, but damn it, it was hers. Emphasis on hers. The cold apartment air seemed to caress her soft flesh, raising goosebumps all about her body. She could feel her nipples harden and become erect as if to remind Shane of the alien body she now inhabited. She felt exposed and embarrassed without her shirt, which laid behind her. Shane bent over to pick it up, her slim arm outstretched to the garment. Midway through her descent, Shane heard a rip from behind her, followed by the bitter chill of the open air grazing her cheeks. She bolted to attention, checking the rear of her tightened pants in the mirror. Sure enough, the seam had split right down the middle, placing Shane's bulbous ass out on display The blood rushed to her cheeks as Shane blushed, embarrassed by her own voyeuristic stare from beyond the mirror. She attempted to cover up her rear, but was unable to completely hide her fat rear behind her dainty hands. Defeated, Shane gave up, and decided to explore the rest of the apartment before she had another breakdown. If Shane remembered correctly, Derek said something about a bedroom in the back. Sure enough, an open door led to a dim bedroom. There were the usual accommodations. Bed, bathroom, vanity mirror. By the looks of it, this belonged to someone's mother. The photos that littered the dressers confirmed this, although whoever lived here was long gone, as evidenced by the layer of dust coating the drawers. After a few minutes of riffling through the clothes, Shane finally procured a few appropriate articles of clothing. Namely, a pair of bra and panties. For a minute she debated with herself whether she wanted to wear them or not, and found that they were indeed designed for women's comfort, and something was better than nothing. As she slipped them on, Shane found that the panties fit well, although her rear was much too full for them, with the back finding no place to go but flossed between her sizable ass cheeks. The bra proved more difficult, as Shane had no previous experience with them, taking them on or off. A few minutes passed, yet she managed to place them properly. However, the bra was made for a woman much less ample-chested than she. However, she now felt some semblance of modesty, even if the garments were a bit restrictive. Still, Shane thought that a shirt would be more appropriate, so she threw on the largest shirt she could find. Up next on the agenda was finding out just where in the world she was. Upon further examination of the apartment, the windows we either blocked off, or weren't even windows at all, leading to a cement wall. Derek was right, this place was fool-proofed. No one sees in, no one sees out. Of course the door was locked, Shane didn't even need to try it to find that out (but she did anyways). One point of interest was a trashcan beside the door, empty save for two items. One, a slightly wet pile of what appeared to be notes or blueprints. The other, a smashed remote control. Shane felt like she had seen something like that before, but just couldn't put her finger on it. "Well, I might as well check it out," thought Shane. Suddenly, she had become bothered. Even her own inner monologue began to sound like her new voice. Shane thought that she must have been getting used to it. Frightening. Shane plucked the notes out of the trash and scanned it for any clues. Luckily for her, it was chock full of information. "MILF Machine Prototype: After you gave me the scrapped parts, I managed to put a prototype together. While I'm not sure that this'll make any person a whore like it was proposed, it's at least a starting point. Altering someone's will is something beyond my skill, but you're in luck. I know a guy who can, although he'll need some "convincing". He's a bit of a nut, but If you can get him to comply, then you might be able to work on making more of these. Until then, it'll have to do." The note ended with a bunch of diagrams and addresses and other things Shane couldn't wrap her mind around. What she did catch was what this thing was used for. It seemed to Shane that Derek had used this to make her his whore, trying to get some money on the side. Well, no dice. It seemed to Shane that she was plenty capable of resisting him. Maybe not physically, after all Derek seemed like he was carved out of rock. No way she could fight him. But maybe Shane could play mind games. After all, what man wouldn't fall for a busty blond babe like herself? She certainly hoped that Derek would. Shane stood up and gazed into the mirror across the hall. Sure enough, the stranger Shane had now become looked back. Imitating one of her pin- up posters from some playboy back when he was young, Shane pulled down on her baggy shirt, displaying her deep cleavage. "This'll be a cinch," thought Shane, unable to take her own eyes off of her large tits. Talk about turning lemons into lemonade. Shane was going to use her new feminine wiles against her captor, and when he least expects it, she'll make her escape and try and find another one of these "MILF Machines" with the hope that the next one has an undo button. Shane yawned, throwing her arms up in a stretch that pushed her breasts against her shirt, the fabric pressed snugly against her large breasts. "I guess I should sleep for now," she thought aloud. She snatched the sheets from the bedroom and rested on the lumpy couch. It felt weird to her to sleep in someone else's bed, so this would have to do. She thought once more about her predicament before she drifted off into a dreamless sleep. The sound of the front door slamming jolted Shane from her rest. She first thought that all that happened was some sort of strange fever- induced dream. Shane threw back the sheets to check if she was still a man. Two plump tits proved that she was not. "Hey, over here," a familiar gruff voice said from the door. Shane whipped her head in that direction as a bright flash filled her vision followed by the familiar sound of a polaroid picture's printer. The glare ceased as she rubbed the spots from her eyes. "Hey, what on earth was that for?!" she said, blinking the spots away. "Oh nothing. Just providing you with tools to live a productive life. Unless you want bum around on a couch for the rest of you, er, adult life," said Derek, giving Shane a look over as he spoke. Shane could do nothing but try to avoid staring daggers at him. If she wanted her plan to work, she was going to have to act inconspicuous. Meanwhile, as Derek shook the picture into visibility, he pulled a small black box from his coat. He placed it on a counter, and fed it the photo. A series of loud clicks and whirrs from the device and finally it spat out a card, ejecting the excess waste behind it. He then walked up to Shane and handed her the still warm card. "Here, take this. You're going to need this if you're going to go out and work," he said, slipping the black box back into his jacket. "W-work?! You're putting me to work?!" Shane yelled, dropping the card before she could even give it a once-over. Shane knew that Derek was going to do something like this, but she couldn't possibly expect to be out on the streets turning tricks as soon as the next day. Shane felt desperate enough to bolt for the door, but Derek was far too imposing for her to consider it. More than ever before, Shane truly felt powerless. "Don't worry about it. I've got a friend who owes me a favor. He runs a small casino downtown and he'll set you up with a job. Nothing fancy, just serving drinks," Derek said. Whew. Shane wouldn't have considered herself a godly person, but she'd thank just about whoever intervened there. The longer she stayed without a man taking advantage of her, the better. As the dread in her gut subsided, she felt a distinct warmth between her bosom. She dove her fingers down her shirt, procuring the card from earlier. By the looks of it, Derek managed to print off a forged I.D. using the photo from earlier. Shane was embarrassed by the face she made in the photo. Honestly she would have preferred some time to get ready. Male or female, she could have like to look nice for her only form of identification. "I decided on a name that sounded close to yours. You'd better get used to it, because I'm all outta' ink with this thing," he said, patting the black box through his jacket. The name "Sandra Webb" captioned the photo, along with a bunch of other bogus info. Sex: FEMALE (that was a given). Hair: BLONDE Eyes: GREEN. Height: 5'8". DOB: 4-17-1966. "April 17th, 1966?! That would make me-" "Forty nine. That's how old I'd guess you are. Unless you've got a better idea, that's what you're going to stick with. Anyways, get ready. You've got an interview in an hour," Remarked Derek, sitting down in a chair opposite Shane. Or Sandra, as it now were. She thought that using that name for a bit would be opportune, sticking with Shane might make Derek think that she was resisting. Right now, keeping him unsuspecting was priority number one. With that, Sandra reluctantly got off of the couch. She regretted not finding pajama pants of some sort as she had to trek back to the bathroom, her full ass exposed for Derek to see. She darted into the bedroom to avoid his gaze. Sandra spent the better part of the next hour getting cleaned up. A quick hot shower was first, washing her drowsiness away down the drain. The next part proved more difficult. Sandra spent a while drying and preparing her hair, unsure of how she should present it. In the end she decided on wearing it down. Sometimes the simplest route was the best. By then she had noticed a pink bag sitting by the vanity mirror. Inside were the usual adult woman's accessories, including a small makeup set. Sandra (back when she was just plain Shane) had spent enough time around girls in high school to know the basics of putting on makeup. A bit of eye shadow, some mascara here, already she was looking a lot better than her photo. She used up a lot more lipstick than the thought, with her lips a lot thicker than the norm. Sandra shut the purse, leaving herself to the clothes that barely fit her. After a few minutes of sorting through all sorts of outfits, Sandra decided on something simple. A blue satiny blouse (to which her bust barely fit in without bursting a few buttons), with a high waisted pencil skirt (this one a bit too tight around the hips). There didn't seem to be any regular shoes in the closet, so Sandra settled on a pair of black three-inch pumps. Sandra admired herself in the mirror. She didn't look too shabby for someone who just rummaged around in a stranger's closet. Tempted, she decided to play with the outfit a bit to see how she looked. Sandra popped out a few more buttons, spilling out her cleavage. "Let's try to see if you can resist this, buster!" Sandra muttered to herself. She pushed her breasts together to see how it looked in the blouse. Then spread apart (the former being much easier in her more- than-snug bra). With all this stimulation she could feel her nipples becoming erect. Sandra quickly threw off her bra to see how her breasts looked in the blouse. Just as she suspected, her nipples poked through the sheer cloth, giving her the look of an erotic librarian, sans the horned rimmed glasses. Sandra rubbed her palms over her nipples, the moaning ever so slightly. A warmth seems to accumulate between her legs as she rolled her pert nipples between her fingers. This was nothing like anything Sandra has experienced as a man. Her mind blanked, only focusing on her heightening arousal. A sharp rapping at the door brought Sandra back down to earth, nearly making her yelp. "Hurry up in there. You do not want to be late for your interview, do you?" said Derek from behind the door. How long had he been there? Had he heard her? These things flashed through Sandra's mind as her face turned beet red. "Ah- I'll be out in just a minute!" Sandra responded. She suddenly remembered her own adolescence, pleasuring himself before his mother came in to clean his room. "Some things never change..." she muttered to herself as she frantically buttoned her blouse up. With that, she was out the door, face to face with Derek. "Let's go," she snapped at him stomping her way out the door as Derek followed. Sandra quickly learned that she wasn't accustomed to high heels as she teetered and wobbled her way through the apartment complex. Sandra managed to falter her way down the stairs (sending her bra-less chest into a bouncing frenzy) and out the door. Sandra stood next to the car, nearly leaning on it to keep her balance. "After you," Derek said, opening the passenger door for her. Sandra reluctantly entered the dusty old automobile, crossing the seatbelt over her sizable breasts. Derek entered, and with the roar of the engine, they were off. It was an awkward ride to say the lease. No music, no conversation, no eye contact. Derek kept his eyes on the road, occasionally glancing at cars behind him with suspicion. Sandra lazily gazed out the window, imaging what kinds of lives the pedestrians they past had. The silence was broken only once during the ride. "...Are you sure you want to go in like that?" he asked, his eyes firmly locked before him. "Like what?" Sandra retorted with a bit of unchecked hostility in her voice. Derek scanned her for a moment, his eyes slightly lingering on her bosom before returning to the road. "...Never mind," he mumbled, shaking his head. Sandra felt a bit self- conscious. What could be wrong with her? Surely she hadn't forgotten something? Sandra returned to looking out the window when her eye caught the side view mirror. She squinted past the sharp reflected glare and noticed that her nipples were still fully erect, sticking out through her shirt. Sandra hid the twin peaks by covering her arms, sinking back into her seat. Soon enough they had reached their destination. Derek drove up an alley, parking before a back door to some shady establishment. "Alright, this is your stop," said Derek. "You go in there, tell him that you want a job and that Derek Kastanos sent you. He'll get you sorted. Call me at this number when you're done, capische?" Derek offered a scrap of paper to her. "Capische," Sandra said, snatching the paper from his grip. She left his car, \ sashaying her way through the door, stowing the scrap paper within her deep cleavage. Just as Sandra had expected, the place's interior was as crummy as it's exterior. It looked like a normal office, albeit with a significantly smokier atmosphere. To her right sat a portly man behind a desk, sorting through papers while sucking down a cigarette. He snuffs it out in an ashtray that's already at capacity, it's embers resting on other extinguished butts. "Alright, whaddya' want lady? I'm a very busy man, so make it snappy," he grumbled, smoke billowing from his maw. "Um, Derek Kastanos sent me. he said you could provide me a with a job...?" Sandra said, sheepishly. She sat in a stool opposite the man, surprised when her rear made contact with the cool metal seat sooner than she was used to. The stool, much like everything else provided for her, was too small for her globular rear as it managed to hang off the back unsupported. "Derek Kastanos?!" he bellowed. His sudden change in tone making Sandra leap in her chair. "Do you know what that son of bitch did to me?" "Er- ah- no...?" Sandra didn't like where this was going. "He made me filthy stinkin' rich, that's what! Hah hah hah!" he chortled, leaning back into his chair. "I kid, I kid. The name's Kolby. Travis Kolby. Nice ta' meetcha'," he extended a meaty palm to her, a brand new cigarette hanging between his fingers. "Sandra Wil- Webb. Likewise." Sandra took his hand, giving it a feminine shake. "Well then Mrs, er, Ms. Webb," he said, peeking at her ring-less fingers. "I believe I've got an opening for you. I'm gonna' put you to work as a cocktail waitress. The hours are decent, but the pay ain't that good. But you do get tips, so make it your prerogative to work hard for 'em. All you gotta' do is sling cheap cocktails and look pretty. That shouldn't be a problem for a woman as," he stopped to clear his throat "-enhanced as you are." Once again with the leering. This Kolby character's eyes were so far into her tits, Sandra could practically feel his eyelashes in her cleavage. This was starting to get old, but she'd have to get used to it if she wanted everything to work out. "When can I start?" asked Sandra, trying to sound cheery. "Well, I'd have you start now, but you'd already be an hour late into your shift. How's about we train you today, let you work the rest of today's shift and call it good. Let me just call in one of your co- workers, she'll show you the ropes," Kolby pressed an intercom button with his meaty finger. "Alyssa, I need you to come to my office." "If you don't mind me asking sir-" "Kolby's just fine." "Kolby, what was your relationship with Derek?" Kolby wistfully leaned back in his chair, taking a drag from his cigarette. "Derek and I go waaaaaaaay back. Like, 2006 back," Kolby reminisced. This struck Sandra as silly but she stayed silent. "Back when I started this place up, the mob was looking to rent out my back rooms for some sneaky shit. Money laundering, drug peddling, I got all the offers and I turned each and every one of 'em down. I wanted to run a clean business see? Well, as clean as cheatin' drunk suckers out of their money is, ya' know. Anyways, without their help I was gonna' go belly up in half a year. That's when I met Derek. They called him the left-hook wunderkid back then, and boy was he! I offered to host his matches here at the casino, and we'd both reap the benefits. Derek would get the attention he deserved, and I got the dough to keep this place in the black. Everyone's a winner." "So, does Derek still box?" "Not that I know. Around 2012 he got caught up with the mob real bad. They wanted him to throw a match or two. The kid's too stubborn for his own good. Long story made short, they ruined him, cut down yet another promising career. When they were done with him, he had nowhere else to go. Last I checked he was doing goon work for them. I'd offered to help him get out, but the kid's more stubborn then my ex. So there. If helping you is helping him, then I'd be glad to be of service." Kolby's story was punctuated by the jiggling of the doorknob, followed by a few muttered expletives. One push, two pushes, and finally the door opened with a clamor. In walked a woman who looked to be in her mid- twenties. She wore a blue bunnygirl outfit, minus all the articles that would make it "rabbitesque". "God damn, I've told you before you need to replace the hinges on this fuckin' door!" the woman said, flipping back her wavy red hair. "Yes you have. Alyssa, you're going to show your new co-worker Sandra her duties as a cocktail waitress, you got that?" "Sure, whatever," Alyssa groaned. She turned to Sandra and brightened up a bit. "C'mon Sandra, right this way. We'll find you a uniform that fits you." The two passed through the door and into a hallway with a locker room at the end. "You go ahead and get started, I'll grab a couple of leotards for you, and we'll see which one fits the best," Alyssa said, shooing Sandra into the room. Once in, Sandra occupied the furthest locker and began to undress. Once out of the blouse she found it much easier to breathe. Sandra practically had to peel herself out of the pencil skirt. Now she was nearly bare, in all but her panties. She took one more good look at herself in the mirror. "This is going to be tough," she thought aloud, cupping a breast in her hand, "But you can do this. Don't let them get to you." "Alright, I've got a couple here, now let's see what fits!" Alyssa said, waltzing in the room. Sandra couldn't help but let out a feminine gasp, trying to cover herself with her arms (unfortunately, there was too much to cover just by her arms alone). "Oh come on, what's wrong with you?" scolded Alyssa. "I thought you were going to just, I don't know, leave them over there or something! You could have seen me naked!" she said, continually shifting her arms in fear of revealing herself. "Are you serious? This is a locker room! I've seen plenty of naked girls in here. Lighten up a little. Now, let's see which of these fit the best..." Alyssa walked over to Sandra, leotards in tow. Sandra eventually gave, up, dropping her arms to her sides. The two of them measured her bust, holding up the garments to see how they looked. "You know, for a woman your age, you're in great shape. No offense, of course," she said, measuring Sandra's bust. "None taken," It was nice to be complimented on her looks that didn't focus on how perky her boobs were or how fat her ass was. "Alyssa, why are you working here? I'm sure you're a nice young woman, why would you pick a place like this?" Alyssa stood there for a moment, scratching her chin. "Me? Well, I still have to pay off my student loans. I figured I'd do it with something I was good at. Men aren't that smart, they're all loins and no brains. If you act all nice, put a little swing in your step and a smile on your face and you'll go far. Here, I think this one'll fit you." Alyssa handed Sandra a bright red leotard, along with a pair of heels and some stockings. "I'll let you handle the rest of it. I'll meet you out by the busboy station" said Alyssa, walking off. She disappeared behind the door, the click of her heels becoming softer and softer. Sandra now had the privacy to change alone. She hiked the stockings up her legs, smoothing them about her thick thighs. Next came the leotard, to which she stepped into with ease. She zipped it up her back, pulling the leotard's rear as to not floss between her supple ass cheeks. Sandra adjusted her breasts within the bodice to give herself truly impressive cleavage. Finally, she slipped on the heels, adding about 5 inches on her height. The heels forced her to swing her hips as she walked, but Sandra didn't mind. In fact, the more seductive she could be, the sounder her plan was. Sandra moseyed out the locker room, ready to start her first day at work. It was later that day, and Derek was out and about. He was visiting various friends and tying up loose ends. Suddenly, a soft buzzing sounded from within pocket. He extracted a cheap pre-paid cellphone. It was good for keeping people off your trail and making the occasional call, but not much else. He flipped the phone open and pressed his ear to the receiver. "What is it?" he said. "I'm finished here," a breathy voice said from other line. "You mind picking me up? My back is killing me..." "Yeah, hold on. I'll be there in five." Derek shut the cellphone and made off for his car, glancing behind him in case of snoops. As he drove up behind Kolby's casino, a very tired Sandra slumped out, a cloud of smoke lazily trailing out the door. Sandra opened the door and got in, giving a breath of relief as she sat down on the plush seats. "How was it?" asked Derek, checking his car's blind spots. Helen unbuttoned the first few clasps on her blouse, fanning herself with a manila envelope. "It's hot, demeaning, and the outfit rides up my ass. So yeah, I guess you could say it was alright," Sandra said, wiping the sweat from her heaving bosom. Derek didn't reply to this. The car ride went on for a while, the two minding their own business. After a while, he two finally reached the apartment. Derek unlocked the door and escorted Sandra in, who promptly plopped down on the couch. Her legs were splayed out as her skirt crawled up her hips, but Sandra promptly fixed her posture. "What's that?" asked Derek, pointing to the envelope. "Oh, this?" she replied, opening it up. "These're today's tips. I didn't get a chance to count them out, so here goes," Sandra dumped its contents out, leaving a meager amount of money on the table. Derek walked over to the table and sorted through the cash, furrowing his brow. "This isn't a lot. Did you even try out there?" he asked. His words were harsh, but his tone was honest. "Well gee, thanks. It's not like I wanted to do this or anything." Sandra pouted, crossing her arms beneath her sizable bosom. "Look, we're going to be here for a while. I've just got barely enough money to keep us in this place, so this is your income. I figured you didn't want to wear clothes two sizes smaller, so I figured you could work to make yourself comfortable, but you're not going to afford much with tips like these. C'mere," Derek extended his large hand, lifting Sandra up by her's. "Alright Sandra. You show me what you've learned." Derek flopped down on the couch, propping his feet up on the coffee table. "Serve me a drink." "Alright..." said Sandra. In her right hand she pantomimed holding a drink tray. Her left hand perched on her hip, doing her best to strike a sultry pose. "How's about a drink, handsome?" Sandra couldn't help but sound sarcastic at this time. Derek scanned her from head to toe. She felt a bit embarrassed, but stood as still as she could. A moment passed, and Derek stood up. "Alright, here's your problem. You're standing too stiff. Here, arch your back like this." Derek circled around Sandra and placed his palm on the small of her back. "Eep!" she yelped. "What's the big idea?!" "Trust me. I've seen a lot more cocktail waitress than you have. Here, raise your hips a bit." Derek placed a hand on her right hip, sticking her rear out. Like before, her cheeks became flushed with red. However, she felt another warmth overtake her as well. The feeling of Derek's hand on her hip brought a strange, yet familiar warmth between her legs. Derek's voice started to fade away as she focused on the hand on her hip, imagining it moving about. Prodding, gliding, rubbing about her body. Travelling to her ass, down to her thighs, and then- Sandra was brought out from her daydream as her legs locked up, sending her crashing down to the ground. "Hey! You alright?!" asked Derek, the urgency in his voice was startling. "I-I'm fine..." Sandra mumbled, struggling to stand up. Her legs wobbled as she stood on the still-unfamiliar heels. Her legs buckled once more, tilting her back onto the couch. Derek stood over her and sighed. "You're better off just staying there for a while, alright? Take those things off, I can't imagine you're ready to walk around in them all day," he explained, motioning to the heels dangling off Sandra's feet. "Go ahead and get some rest for tonight. I'll pick you up tomorrow for work. Capiche?" "Capiche..." she replied, craning her neck up at Derek, his large form blocking the light overhead. To Sandra he resembled a large monolith, bathing her in shade. Derek retreated back to the door, undoing the locks. "I'll see you then," he said, disappearing behind the apartment's only exit. "Buh-bye..." Sandra lazily murmured. She laid there on the couch a few minutes, recounting the day's events. In a way, Sandra was thankful to Derek for getting her that job. Had he not, Sandra would have never met with Alyssa, and therein lied her ticked out of this place. She gazed over to her tips envelope, pulling a napkin out of it. Scrawled on it was a series of numbers. She thought back to her break, standing out back behind the casino. "Jeez, I'm sorry to hear about what you're going through," Alyssa said, taking a drag from her cigarette. "I've been through a few shit relationships, but you've really got it bad," Needless to say, Sandra left out the whole "turned into a milf" part of her story. "I know. I've been thinking of calling the cops. Is there a pay phone around here?" Sandra asked. The cold air sent a shiver down her spine. Next time she'll remember to take a jacket when she goes on break. "I doubt they'd be much use to you now. By the looks of it, he's covered each angle. You might just have to stay put, save your tips for later, you know?" She tapped a cigarette from its box, offering it to Sandra. "Want a smoke?" "Sure," She said. Back when she was Shane he had taken up smoking. He quit a year or two ago, but she sure could use one now. Sandra plucked the cigarette and placed it between her plump lips. Alyssa procured a lighter from beneath her cleavage, giving it a few flicks before it lit. Her cigarette lit, Sandra took her first drag in a while, savoring smell of burnt tobacco beneath her nostrils. She let out a puff of smoke, glancing at the cigarette between her manicured fingers, the red ring of lipstick reminding her of who she was now. "Thanks," She said, tapping the ashes out. "I'll tell you what. Once you've got enough dough to get back on your feet, I'll help you get out of this hellhole. Anytime, any day, you give me a ring, given you find a phone, and I'll come running over with a ride to get you out of here. How does that sound?" Alyssa proposed, blowing a lock red hair from her eyes. "Really? You'd do this for me?! You're a life saver!" Sandra said, clasping her hands around Alyssa's. "Hey, don't mention it. Plenty of us have been stuck in one way or another, I'm just being considerate. Besides, you're too cute to be locked up. C'mon, break's almost up. Let's head back inside." The memory faded from Sandra's mind as she returned to reality. She slipped the napkin back in the envelope, clasping it for safe keeping. She carefully lifted herself off the couch, and slowly made for the bedroom. It'd been a long day, and if she planned on making some money, Sandra needed her rest. She unbuttoned her blouse, zipped down her skirt, and plopped down on the neatly made bed. A cloud of dust lifted off the sheets, floating in the room's still air. By the looks of it, no-one had slept in the bed for a while. Clad in just her panties, she wiggled her way under the comforter, ready to sleep. However, Sandra still felt a lingering warmth within her. She thought about her episode earlier, how Derek's hands felt on her hips and back. The memory brought the moistness flooding back into her, collecting between her legs. As she daydreamed about it, her hand traveled down her body, almost instinctively. She brought a few fingers between her legs, and pressed on her unfamiliar sex. A small jolt of pleasure ran through her, making her gasp. The pleasure was intense, nothing like she'd felt as a man. She wanted more. Sandra started to rub the moist gap between her legs, her fingers circling in unfamiliar territory. She began to moan involuntarily, biting down on her full lip to dampen them. Each time she pressed her fingers into the fabric of her panties, she couldn't help but buck her hips. Sandra felt the intense urge to heighten her pleasure, as if it was all she could think about. She slid her hand under her panties and down to her snatch, exploring this unfamiliar genital. Her other hand cupped her breasts, kneading it as her nipples stiffened. She rolled them between her fingers, the pleasure becoming sharper still. Finally it reached a point where Sandra could no longer control her moans as her breathy, mature voice rang through the apartment, a signal of the ecstasy she was experiencing. Finally, she reached a climax, giving out a yelp. As the pleasure succeeded, so did her energy. She curled up beneath the blanket, and drifted away into a dreamless sleep. "I can take your glass, if you'd like," asked Sandra, clad in her cocktail waitress outfit. It had been a couple weeks since her first day on the job, and she was proving to be quite the hard worker. She stood over a crowded blackjack table, a dish with empty martini glasses in hand. "Sure thing, sweet-cheeks. Make sure to send some more over this way," the man replied, giving the glass one last swill before handing it off. "Thanks..." Sandra said, attempting to raise the enthusiasm to respond with her usual saccharine routine. As she walked off, she felt the familiar sting of a palm striking her hefty rear. By this point she was used to this kind of behavior, and walked off as the sounds of the men's laughter was quickly drowned out by the din of slot games, roulette wheels spinning, and swindlers snatching fools' hard-earned coin. This was the world that Sandra had grown accustomed to. Back when she was Shane, he had known of misogyny, but never really thought of it. These past few weeks taught Sandra everything she needed to know about male chauvinism. Funny how being turned into a milf changes your perception of things. Sandra glided over the soft casino carpet having mastered walking in heels over the past few weeks. She dashed between groups gathered around craps tables and pitiable men sulking back to the ATMs, passing through a door marked "EMPLOYEES ONLY". Inside was the bartender, busboy, and Alyssa. She was stacking fresh martinis on her tray, ready to pass out to patrons. "Hey Alyssa, send some of those out to blackjack table 3, and spit in one of them for me, huh?" Sandra said, unloading the glasses. "You got it, Sandy. You about done with your shift?" Alyssa asked. "Yeah, just about," replied Sandra, her eyes shifting about. "Did you pick up that stuff for me yet?" "Of course," From within her cleavage, Alyssa procured a small plastic bag concealing an even smaller capsule. She quickly handed them off to Sandra, who stashed it away. "You're a real life saver, you know?" Sandra said. "Don't I know it." With that, Alyssa gave her a pat on the shoulder as she strolled out the door, ready to serve her drinks. Sandra, however has spent too long in her outfit and was ready to change out of her uniform. She walked back to the dressing room, stopping by an old payphone. Sandra fed it her change, and dialed Derek's cell. The sharp dial tone of Derek's phone buzzed in Sandra's ear before his gruff voice was heard beneath the receiver. "Hello?" "It's Sandra, my shift's over. Mind picking me up?" "Yeah. Give me a few minutes." With that, Sandra hung up and made her way to the changing room. Derek pulled into the alley, only to be met with Sandra leaning on a wall. By the looks of it she had dressed appropriately for the weather, clad in a sweater and a pair of jeans (displaying only a bit of midriff, but it's difficult when you're proportioned like Sandra was). He could hear the click of her heels on the bare pavement as she approached the car. Sandra opened the door and plopped down in shotgun. "Hey, Sandra. Do you mind if we talk a bit tonight?" asked Derek, his eyes locked forward as usual. "What a coincidence! I was actually thinking of inviting you over for dinner tonight anyways," Here inlaid Sandra's master plan. Part one was to invite him over, prepare a nice dinner. Hopefully, he'll be off guard by then. Part two: Offer him a glass of wine with a bit of Alyssa's "stuff" in it. All things considered, he should be out cold after a few sips. Part Three: Make off with Derek's phone, call Alyssa, and get the hell out of dodge. It wasn't perfect, but Sandra was confident in this plan. She had to be; this could be her only shot at escape. "Mind if we stop by the store? I need to grab a few things for tonight," Derek nodded in response, pulling out of the alley and into the streets. The afternoon passed by quickly for Sandra, having acquired all of the ingredients for the night's operation. She was in the process of finishing the lamb chops for dinner. Derek always seemed to be watching his back, so Sandra would really have to work at letting his guard down. An acquaintance said that the path to a man's heart is his stomach, so she decided to plan for that angle. However, Alyssa's advice to her also said their libido worked as well, so that's where plan B comes in, taking the form of Sandra's brand new red minidress. She had even cut it extra short for maximum appeal. With hope, Sandra would lure him into a false sense of security. Then she'd deliver the wine and all will be well in her world. Sandra glanced over at the clock. 6:28 PM. Derek would arrive any minute. With haste, she put together the dishes, laying them out on the table. A few raps on the door announced Derek's arrival as Sandra dashed down the hallway, tossing her apron aside on her way. "Come in!" she said, making herself sound as cheery as ever. Derek let himself in, opening the door locks one by one. This gave Sandra enough time to change into her new dress. Once in the room she flung her clothes off, slipping out of her sweater and jeans. She unclasped her bra, lightly launching off her body from the tightness around her bosom. She slipped the minidress on, filling it out with her curvaceous form. A quick tug of the skirt revealed her bare, thick legs. A quick adjustment placed her tits in the bodice, putting her cleavage on display. The fabric was taught enough about her breasts, allowing her nipples to slightly poke through its fabric. "Not like this hasn't happened around him before," She thought, slipping her heels on. One last look in the mirror to check hair and makeup, and all was well. Time to make her entrance. Meanwhile, Derek stood about the apartment's living room, examining everything around him. He didn't know what to expect from this dinner, let alone something like lamb chops. Taken aback by her efforts, he sat down at the table. Needless to say, Derek wasn't ready for what came next. From down the hall came Sandra flaunting her red silken minidress. With each step her hips swung out to the side in tantalizing fashion, her breasts bouncing beneath her top. It's a miracle they haven't disrobed yet, given how little the dress actually covers. Derek couldn't help but gape at her voluptuous body practically seeping with sensuality. "Hey Derek, glad you could make it," purred Sandra, sauntering over to the table. This struck him as a little odd, given the forced nature of their relationship, but Sandra's jiggling tits were the only think Derek could focus on. "Oh, of course," is all Derek could muster after a few seconds, finally coming back to his senses. "Right, I wanted to talk to you about someth- ." "Let's not let our food get cold now," scolded Sandra. Derek was surprised, where did this side of Sandra come from? Usually she just kind of ignored him. "Perhaps we can finally cooperate," thought Derek. "I suppose I'll play along." The two began eating. Derek was enjoying his meal as Sandra was closely watching him. As if she was reciting lines from a play, Sandra made small talk with Derek, topics that she was sure to keep him busy. Mostly stories from her work, which was enough to keep his attention. Sandra was also sure to bend down or adjust her dress, just enough to let him glance at her plump tits. Soon enough, the two of them were finished. "That was a fine meal," thanked Derek. "Although it didn't look like you've eaten much." "Oh, I didn't have much of an appetite," said Sandra. Truth was she was too anxious to eat. "I could go for a glass of wine, though. What do you say?" Sandra asked, grasping a few glasses. "I really shouldn't..." said Derek, shying away. "Oh come on, loosen up a little. I cooked you a 'fine meal', the least you can do is have a drink or two with me." With a soft pop, Sandra uncorked the wine, pouring the maroon liquor into a pair of glasses. "Go on, have a seat," said Sandra, guiding him to the couch, allowing her ample breasts to press against his back. The two sat down on the couch as Sandra handed Derek his glass. He cast a suspicious glare into the full-bodied wine. "What are you gawking at it for, drink! I haven't poisoned it, if that's what you're worried about," Sandra joked, downing some of the wine. "At least, not yet," she thought. Alyssa's contribution to tonight's plan was still hidden, the capsule was held in a plastic bag, snuggled between Sandra's considerable bosom, and one sip of any drink with that added in would knock even the most iron-willed bruiser out. Although, it wouldn't be bad to enjoy a drink or two before dropping in Sandra's little helper, it looked like Derek was still suspicious. Derek took note of Sandra's gulp, and figured that he could use a drink. He admired the blush creeping over her already rosy cheeks, and took a considerable drink of his own, exhaling harshly as he set the drink down. "That's more like it!" Sandra said, clapping him on the back. She allowed her hand to rest on his back for a second, her nails grazing his shoulder as she retreated back to her own glass. Sandra then continued story from before as they drank. Derek continued to ogle Sandra, who pretended not to notice. She would cross her legs, hiking the miniskirt up further and further, giving Derek a full view of her thick thighs. However, Derek wasn't the only one gazing. Sandra was beginning to feel the wine, having never been a strong drinker even as a man, and couldn't help but feel a stirring within her. The warmth was back, her imbibing increasing her arousal. Her nipples stood at full attention beneath her blouse, but Sandra no longer cared. Right now she had to focus on the mission, no matter how strong her desire was. She brought the glass to her lips to find that it was dry, as well as Derek's. "Would you look at that, look like we're due for a refill. Don't you bother, I'll get it," Sandra announced, the glasses clinking in her grasp. Her steps became wobbly, as the alcohol seemed to cut through her weeks of high heel training. She turned a corner out of Derek's sight to the strategically placed bottle, and poured another two glasses. Sandra dove a dainty hand beneath her tits and procured a small plastic bag, the capsule suspended inside. "Oh Sandra, I remembered what I was going to tell you from earlier..." rang Derek's voice from the other end of the hall. Startled, Sandra nearly dropped the bag right back down her dress, clasping it between her hands. "Y-you can tell me all about it in a minute," Sandra said, fumbling with the bag. "I just figured you deserved some answers after I kept you here. I've been evasive for a reason, but I think now's the time to clue you in." Now this piqued Sandra's curiosity. She was a bit worried that her departure wouldn't answer any of her questions, might as well find out over one more glass of wine. Sandra slipped the bag back between her bosom and returned to Derek, presenting him with a new glass of wine. "Alright, go for it," replied Sandra, plopping back down on the couch. Before she has sat on the other end, but now Sandra was right next to next to Derek, almost uncomfortably so. Derek showed no sign of backing off, so she stayed her place. "Jeez, where do I begin?" mumbled Derek, taking a swig of wine. "I guess if I were to summarize this whole thing up, it's that I did all this to protect you, you know?" Derek's voice took on a wavering tone, most likely from the wine. "I may have forced my hand a little, but it's true." "Yeah, right," though Sandra, sipping her own wine. "Long story short, back when you were, er, Shane, you saw something you weren't supposed to see, remember? It was that rainy night after we met? Well, you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. I knocked you out and dragged you here. The alternative was to kill you, and I was not about to do that, not after you went out of your way to help me." Sandra thought back to that day at the diner, throwing in a few bucks for his dinner. "Oh stop it," she said dismissively. "It wasn't anything big, just helping out a stranger." "Hey, when you're working for who I was working for, a little kindness goes a long way. Anyways, I couldn't just leave you there, you were close enough to their operation as it were, they'd find you soon enough. So now it's my responsibility to play witness protection program, and I figured they wouldn't find you if you weren't, well, you. So I snatched the device that they were working on, and used it to change your identity." Suddenly, Sandra felt a fluttering in her chest. She should be furious at this man for ruining her life so casually, but she couldn't help but feel touched by his consideration. Perhaps it was the wine, maybe it was her arousal. Either way, Sandra had not planned for this. "I knew they'd end up looking