Chapter #7Heading to the city by: BayBelly   Your first day in the big city, how exciting! You'd just gotten off of your train, and were now wandering the streets, trying and failing to make head or tails of the map you'd picked up. Your new college campus was supposed to be roughly a ten minute walk from the train station, but after wandering for a half hour you were beginning to guess you were horrendously off-course. It didn't help that you'd been getting cat-calls all day. Sure, your jean shorts showed off your ass very well, so perhaps your fashion sense wasn't helping here, but it shouldn't be your fault for how lewd -other- people act twords you. People today needed serious manners.
You were beginning to get the feeling that you'd need to ask for directions... but all you'd really seen in this gloomy part of downtown were guys whos eyes were only on your curves rather than your face. You could always call a cab, but then you'd be stuck in a car and -forced- to interact with a complete stranger, and with how the rest of the cities company had been so far, you weren't sure you wanted to risk that.
A pungent scent hit you, forcing you to pause in your tracks and scrunch up your nose. It wasn't unplesant per se, but it was along the lines of the scent of freshly vulcanized rubber; heavy, unnatural, and it made you slightly dizzy. Turning to see its source, you found yourself looking at a massive skuntank woman. She was nearly twice your size, with a body plushed out by quite a bit of fat that she wore amazingly well. It hugged her hips to give her rather beautiful curves, plumpened her stomach without making it sag, and fattened her breasts up to an incredibly enticing size you weren't sure you'd be able to measure. You figured there must not be a lot of clothes that fit her, because the only thing she was wearing was a brown open sweatervest with the tag "Vorre Municipal Waste Disposal" on the corner and... nothing else. Her assets were on full display. ( https://static.f-list.net/images/charima... )
If you hadn't spotted the tag on her jacket, her actions might seem a tad odd... or at least, odder. She was rummaging through a garbage bin and hefting out large black bags... at which point she'd yawn her mouth open an incredibly wide margin and let it slide in and down her gullet with a thick GLURP, with nothing more than a slight groaning rumble from her gut as it domed out ever so slightly more. It seemed her job was to be a... rather literal, garbage woman.
The voice of a female punk rock singer was coming from her truck next to her, performing some breakup song she was grinning and tapping her feet to, giving you the impression she wasn't listening to it because she'd personally just been through a breakup. This, coupled by the fact that the populace which had so readily been ah... 'appriciating' your own form seemed to be ignoring her quite frankly stellar one, and the bumper sticker on her truck proclaiming "Men are Garbage!" and all that probably implied with a woman like her, gave you the swift impression that she wasn't the kind of person boys should talk to. She was the first woman you'd noticed though, and you'd feel much better asking her for directions than any of the misogynist guys in the area, that was for sure. Besides, her bumper sticker couldn't be... literal... right? And even if it was, you'd been mistaken for a girl by most people you'd met, so perhaps for once this would work to your advantage. Hell, even if she realized you were a guy, perhaps she'd sympathize with your plight still on account of your... effeminate body.
...or maybe you should just risk it with the taxi.  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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