Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Copyright (c) Robin Neal, all rights reserved, reposting without permission
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   THE BEST CHEST IN VEGAS

   Scene 1 - Awesomely Totally Great Chick Stuff Galore

   Pan-Clorheptanol-D, it was called.  Three tiny pills a day, and Shellie
had enough for about another week, which should be EXACTLY right.  It
hadn't been hard to get one of her fans, Dr.  Scheidler (in her mind, she
always called him Dr.  Stinky because of his cigar habit) to provide the
magic medicine.  He was an endocrinologist, which Shellie didn't have to be
able to pronounce to know it meant hormone doctor.  She didn't have to fuck
him; he was putty in her hands, totally slutty for any kind of attention
from her.  Hey, that rhymed!  "Slutty putty, slutty putty, slutty putty..."
she giggled softly as she pranced up the walkway to the house, glowing with
self-admiration.

   Fifty thousand bucks, Shellie, you incredibly smart naughty wonderful
brat!  And for what?  Doing what you already do five nights a week, just
once and in a bigger showroom, for a bigger audience (WAY bigger counting
the pay-per-view, and then the video), and it isn't going to do your fan
club any harm either!  She pinned the Neiman's bag between her hip and the
wall, dropped the Bebe bag on the flagstones (nothing in there was
breakable), shifted the bigger of the two Vicky's Secret bags up to the
angle of her elbow, and tussled with her keychain (GOT to take some of that
shit off of there!) until she got the door key lined up with the lock. 
Finally it turned, and without a broken nail.  Her good karma was holding
steady.

   Carla was home, more good karma.  Shellie almost never made it to the
alarm control thingie in time when she came in from shopping.  Then she'd
have to figure out how to shut it up and find the number and call them and
tell them it was her again.  Life is just TOO hard on a girl.  But Carla's
Explorer was in the carport, so it was all good this time.

   Nudging the Bebe bag ahead of her with her foot as she tried to stuff
her keychain into her purse, Shellie made slow progress toward the living
room.  She stopped to get her breath, puffing her unruly bangs off her
forehead in a habitual gesture.  The rest of her hair (well down her back
and a chestnut-auburn-honeyblonde that was TOTALLY the look this month) was
pretty out of control too, at the moment, a hazard of being out on a
semi-windy day with a really big style.  But hey, it goes with the
territory and now that she was home, she could put it up, finally.

   With her giant load of treasures dumped at last in their temporarily
proper place on the floor by the couch, she collapsed in the Lazy Boy and
called, "Hey, Carla, I'm home!  I went to the mall, check it out!"

   Carla came in from the kitchen, lovely, leggy and athletic in a little
belly top, short shorts and tall wedgies, a wine cooler fizzing in her
hand. "To the mall without me?" she smiled.  "You suck, but I might forgive
you as long as you didn't get anything good!"

   "Hah, I got TONS!" Shellie smirked as Carla spied the loot and her
eyebrows rose.  "MAJOR damage.  They gots new perfume in at Vicky's, purple
stretch jeans at the Runway, don't EVEN get me started on shoes!  You're
gonna hate me so bad!" She indicated the pile with a limp wave of her hand,
too exhausted to move otherwise but managing to exude extreme enthusiasm
nonetheless.  Carla looked appropriately blown away.

   "Woah!" She genuflected before the shrine of Chick Stuff and dug in,
paper fountaining over both shoulders.  "You SLUT!  You WENCH!" She opened
a shoebox, the lid sailing across the living room like a Frisbee.  "You
back-alley, schoolyard, BARNYARD..." She held up a pair of elegantly
painful-looking stilettos in a rich shade of fuscia and adored them, eyes
wide.  "What were you doing at North Beach?!!" she accused.  "Their sale
doesn't start 'til tomorrow!"

   Shellie made her wait for a second while she dug in the chair cushions,
came up with a reasonably new scrunchie, and constructed a voluminous pony
tail.  "God, I'm sweating like a mare in heat!  It's like the Siberian
Desert out there, or something.  Hey, Babe, who needs a sale when you're
the GUARANTEED future Best Chest in Vegas?" That got Carla's attention, and
Shellie batted her eyelashes winningly, sat up in her chair and arched her
back, throwing her hands in the air with a studied abandon left over from
her cheerleading days.  "Whaddaya think?" she chirped.  "Ready to give up?"

   Carla stared, the delicious shoes forgotten.  "Woman," she asked
seriously after a moment of disorientation, "what is UP with your tits!"
She looked like she'd landed in an X-Files episode without Mulder to
explain the madness.  Shellie returned a sparkling smile that would have
cost God-could-only-have-known-how-much if one of her fans hadn't been a
dental cosmetic technologist.  She offered not a word.

   Scene 2 - Cheaters Cannot Be Allowed To Prosper

   Carla's mind churned as she stumbled back into the kitchen, put down her
drink, sat on the barstool where she'd left her Cosmo open to this month's
version of "99 Positions He Never Heard Of" and distractedly lit a
cigarette.  Shellie had gone to take a shower, but not before smugly
resisting Carla's pleas for an explanation.  Those were NOT her real... 
um...  her PREVIOUS breasts.  Shellie was a "surgically improved" 36DD. 
Carla was a natural 36DD.  It was the true order of things, a fundamental
building block of their universe.  Shellie was a former cheerleader, Carla
was a former volleyball player.  Shellie was a showgirl at the Bellagio,
Carla was an RN who only OCCASIONALLY worked at Cheetah's, and only when
she really wanted to buy something she couldn't otherwise afford.  Shellie
gleefully took jewelry and clothes and cruises and stuff from men, Carla
took men (when she wanted them).  Shellie's boobs were fantastic and
artistically done by the best in the business, Carla's boobs were fantastic
and original equipment.  Carla was the Boss.

   Today, with a thrust and a bounce, that had all changed.  Shellie was at
LEAST an E cup and they had a plump, ripe look, even stuffed into that
sports bra, that Carla would certainly have remembered if it had existed a
few days ago.  So round, so firm, so fully packed, as the saying goes;
Shellie was absolutely right about the guaranteed contest victory, and HOW
had she done it?  There hadn't been time for another operation, and besides
the Best Chest in Vegas was in six days and the final judging was topless.
Shellie couldn't have counted on recuperating that fast.  And she WASN'T
recuperating, she was SHOPPING.  And the brat wouldn't TELL!  Carla
absently made a smoke ring, then swatted it into oblivion with her other
hand.  This was not good.

   Casually torturing one another in the name of friendship was normal for
the girls, but there was never any real jealousy.  Their taste in men was
diametrically opposed, so they had been practically perfect roommates for a
lease and a half.  When they had heard of the Best Chest in Vegas contest a
month earlier, they had entered together without a thought of cattiness. 
If the judges went for sleek, sultry curves and unspoken promises, Shellie
would have a good chance.  She had already started working her magic on the
sponsor, a pudgy, florid businessman of forty-five or so.  If they wanted
fitness-contest definition and magnificent natural charms, Carla would do
better.  Either of them might win, and it would be a great party afterward
no matter what.  But this...  THIS wasn't fair.  And Shellie wasn't going
to get away with it, not if Carla could help it.

   She wracked her brain.  A change so pronounced, so abrupt, had to have a
medical explanation, didn't it?  There were certainly medications that
could make girls' bodies react radically, but where had Shellie gotten the
stuff?

   From a man, of course.  Everything was becoming clear.  One of her
sloppy old doctor customers, it HAD to be.  And what was it?  Well...  that
could be revealed too, now that they weren't playing fair.

   Carla tiptoed barefoot into the bathroom, where pieces of outfit
including the new and heroic sports bra were strewn everywhere, and
listened to Shellie humming brightly to herself as she soaped and shampooed
and probably touched herself inappropriately on the other side of the
shower doors.  A glance at the toilet told the tale.  It was only justice
that one of Shellie's stubborn bad habits was going to prove her undoing.
Carla slipped the lid off of a little Tupperware cup that she had just
taken from the dishwasher, easily sterile enough to do the job, and dipped
it in.  She could just imagine Shellie's shriek of "Eeeewww!" if she'd seen
Carla purloining the urine sample.  Carla was an RN, though, and this was
NOTHING compared to some of the world-class grossness she'd been through in
her Candy Striper days.

   Now, off to the lab!

   Scene 3 - Busted

   Friday morning dawned bright and early.  Shellie dawned somewhat later
and somewhat less bright.  She had really had her butt kicked at work the
last couple of nights as her startling new dimensions led to sharply
increased attention from sundry admirers in the audience, and her attempts
to fend them off after the show had often melted under an assault of cash,
waved by the fistful and stuffed into various parts of her costume and...
elsewhere.  Last night she had finally succumbed to an eleven hundred
dollar bottle of champagne pressed on her by a dorky Saudi prince, and
while she had eventually escaped his advances with the help of hotel
security, she hadn't escaped the alcohol.  The graveyard security
supervisor, who was totally married and really sweet, had impounded her car
keys and sent her home in a limo.  How she had actually made it to her bed
was something of a mystery.

   She sat up and looked muzzily around her bedroom, trying with both hands
to get her hair out of her face.  Carla, evidently having heard Shellie's
confused groans, padded in and presented a huge cup of hot coffee ( five
creams, seven sugars and a shot of Frangelico ) and Shellie almost burst
into tears.  "God, I love you, you are the BOMB!" she moaned as Carla
pressed the insulated Starbucks mug into her fingers and sat on the edge of
the bed with a fond expression.

   Shellie took a big sip, closed her eyes and moaned louder, swallowed,
then set the mug on the nightstand and yawned mightily, stretching.  As she
did so, Carla eyed her roommate's mind-boggling physique and asked, "Are
you okay?  They look like they're sort of out of control, y'know."

   Shellie didn't have to ask who "they" were.  Her boobs had continued to
plump and swell all week, and now the common "watermelon" euphemism wasn't
too far wrong.  In addition, her nipples had swollen and lengthened in
proportion.  She put her hands under her bosom and hefted it
experimentally. Wow.  She was glad the contest was tomorrow.  These things
were getting HEAVY.  And SENSITIVE.  And what was she going to find to wear
today?  No more pills, she decided; she definitely didn't need them even
though she had a few left.  In fact, maybe she had gone just a TEENSIE bit
far with it?  To herself, she wondered how long this was going to take to
go away.  To Carla, she said dismissively, "I dunno, must be some hormone
thing, like when I'm gonna get my period.  It'll go away, prolly." She
picked up her coffee mug and took an even bigger sip, trying to maintain an
expression of total innocence.

   "Okay," said Carla with a shrug.  "Why don't you drag yourself out of
there and come in the living room.  Oprah's on and I want to chat about
something."

   "Sure, in a sec." Shellie was mildly curious.  "Aren't you going to
work?"

   "Nope, I'm going to stay home with you today.  I've got some stuff I
need to take care of."

   Shellie made it to the living room, plopped on the couch next to Carla
and started digging in the cushions for a scrunchie.  Oprah was indeed on,
and the lifestyle diva was holding forth on some topic utterly crucial to
all womankind, managing to be simultaneously bubbly, incredulous, sisterly
and sage.  Shellie had ransacked her dresser drawers for a top after
struggling out of the cotton stretch nightie she'd worn to sleep, and
finally resorted to an old boyfriend's white rib-knit tank undershirt to
wear with her little cutoffs.  She was truly bursting out of it, but at
least it covered her nipples.  They tingled and stiffened as the fabric
slid across them.

   "Okay, whassup?" she smiled at Carla, who was nursing her own coffee
mug.

   "Okay.  Now listen...  you know you don't always do exactly the smartest
thing sometimes, right?  I mean not like you're dumb or anything, but you
get excited and just do stuff.  And I've always taken care of you, haven't
I?  Like when you're wasted, or when that guy wanted you to do that
modeling thing in the Philippines, or when your girlfriend from the hotel
tried to get you to put your savings in that marketing thing."

   "Yeah, I guess," said Shellie cautiously.  Carla was right, although
Shellie hadn't exactly spent a lot of time thinking about it.  Actually,
Carla really did take care of her a lot, and Shellie maybe should have said
Thank You more often.  She caught her plump little lower lip between her
teeth and looked up at Carla from under her lashes.

   "So now I'm going to take care of you again, because you haven't exactly
been a good girl and I'm afraid something bad is going to happen if I don't
do something." She scooted a little closer, holding Shellie's eyes, and
their knees touched.

   Shellie went very still, butterflies starting to flutter in her tummy.
"What do you mean I haven't been good?" she asked softly.  "Is this about
some guy?  Because I'd NEVER if I would have known..."

   "No, no, Babe," Carla said just as softly, "it's about these." And she
leaned a little closer and slipped her fingers up Shellie's ribs to the
side of one of those outrageous breasts and gave it a gentle caress. 
Shellie's breath caught and she tried to suppress a squirm at the
unexpected heat of Carla's touch.  That was just because her boobs were SO
sensitive right now.  Wasn't it?  Carla didn't take her hand away.

   "What...  what about them?" Shellie whispered cautiously.

   "It's about the Pan-Clorheptanol-D," Carla said and Shellie said
"Uh-oh!" in a tiny little squeak, guilt written all over her face.

   "I'm not mad at you," Carla went on.  "Really I'm not.  I'm worried
about you, 'cause I know you don't understand how it works.  Whoever gave
it to you should have told you.  You took too much for too long, and now
other parts of you are going to start getting like this if you don't get
treatment."

   "Other parts?" Shellie gasped in alarm.  "WHAT other parts!"

   "That depends.  When did you stop taking it?"

   "I...  um...  I was going to stop today?" Shellie's green eyes were wide
with dread.

   Carla started stroking lightly where her hand still rested on her
roommate's breast, calming Shellie with her best bedside manner.  "It's
okay, it's okay, I know what to do...  Don't worry, I can take care of it.
We can do your treatment right here at home, you won't have to go to
Emergency, nobody has to know."

   Shellie sighed with relief.  "Really?" It never occurred to her to
wonder how Carla had known about the hormone stuff.  Carla was a nurse,
after all, and Shellie was used to her taking over whenever some medical
thing happened.  "Okay, what do we have to do?"

   Scene 4 - Emergency Treatment

   "Carla, are you sure about this part?  It feels weird!" Shellie hadn't
been surprised when Carla had done a careful examination of her boobs,
although it was a little embarrassing and secretly a little arousing.  She
hadn't been surprised when Carla had had her swallow of couple of small
pills, and she hadn't been surprised that she was going to have to stay
home today and tonight to rest and let the treatment take effect; she'd
called in to work and told them she couldn't make it tonight, which was
never a problem, there were lots of on-call girls always anxious to be in
the show.

   But now, as she sat on her bed and watched Carla take this tacky
stretchy medical bandage stuff and wrap it around her waist and up her rib
cage to just under her bosom, she wondered just how the heck it was going
to help.

   "Compression therapy, it's called," said Carla.  "Whenever we anticipate
abnormal swelling of some part of your body, it helps to use this med wrap
to keep light pressure on the area.  We do it all the time, don't worry."

   Shellie subsided, a little intimidated by the hospital terminology. 
"Oh, okay..."

   "It's not too tight, is it?" Carla asked in a professional tone.

   "No...  not really." It always made Shellie feel good when Carla was in
charge like this.  She just seemed to totally know what she was doing. 
Shellie had never really stopped and thought about it before, but now it
just seemed so RIGHT to relax and do as she was told.  And the way she felt
when Carla touched her...  that calm, reassuring, but warm and personal way
Carla had with her, why hadn't she noticed that before?  Carla had taken
care of her LOTS of times when she was drunk or had the flu or a cold or
something, but she couldn't remember it ever feeling exactly this way, or
this good...

   Shellie looked up, surprised, as she realized that Carla was wrapping
more of that stuff around her thighs, binding them together.  And what had
happened to her cutoffs?  She still had her cotton thong on, but nothing
else, and Carla was finishing up, the clingy, stretchy stuff snug and
smooth from Shellie's knees to right under her butt.  It didn't feel
sticky, like tape, exactly, but it sure wasn't going to come loose.

   "Wow, I'm not going to be able to walk, I don't think...  do I have to
stay in bed all day, Carla?"

   "Pretty much, but it's all right, I'll be here to help you.  We do this
stuff all the time at the hospital, people get used to it." She smiled
kindly.

   "What about my...  my boobies, are you going to wrap them up too?"

   "No, they're already affected and it'll be better to let the air get to
them, and massage them periodically as the inflammation goes down.  You'll
see, they'll be better real soon.  Here, you sit up, Babe, while I get a
couple of pillows behind you."

   Carla got another roll of med wrap out of her little work suitcase.  She
seemed to have an endless supply of the stuff.  "Okay, now let's get you to
put your arms behind you, here, like this..." Carla took Shellie's wrists
and gently positioned them behind her back.  "Reach up a little, now, I
want this to be comfortable."

   Shellie looked a little perplexed.  "Are you going to keep my arms back
there like that?  I mean...  how am I going to do stuff, you know?"

   "We can't have you wiggling around too much, Sugar, the point is to
rest. And especially you're going to need to keep from touching your
breasts, there's going to be some sensitivity, some tingling, maybe a
little soreness." Carla seemed so sure of all this, Shellie just found
herself going with it.  Carla helped her fold her arms up behind her, her
hands reaching up toward her shoulder blades, elbows close together, and
wrapped her wrists together snugly, then started doing her whole torso,
around and around, under her breasts, around her elbows, then above her
breasts, up to her shoulders, around and around and around...

   Carla sat back and breathed a heavy sigh, feeling the warmth between her
legs, a little slippery sensation, which she chose not to pay much
attention to at the moment.  She smiled encouragingly at Shellie, who was
breathing a little hard.  "There we go, all done!  How does it feel?  Hurt
anywhere?  Too tight?" Shellie was sheathed in smooth cream-colored stretch
fabric from her shoulders to her waist, arms neatly packaged behind her,
only her immense bosom left free.  Then from below her buttocks to her
knees, and from below her knees to her ankles, with a little more wrapping
securing her insteps.  She looked down the length of herself and wriggled
her toes.

   "No, it's not too tight, it just feels really funny.  Carla...  how come
you did me like this?" She looked at her roommate with a level, speculative
gaze.

   Carla smiled.  "Because I'm going to take care of you, like I said.  You
know I'd never let you be hurt, don't you?  You're not in danger or
anything."

   "Yeah, I know, but...  it's not just about the Pan-Chlor-Whatever, is
it?"

   "Uh, no." Carla admitted with a wry smile.

   "So how long is it FOR?"

   "Until you're better, of course, until we're sure you're not going to
have any adverse effects from that stuff you've been taking." Carla leaned
forward and brushed Shellie's bangs off her forehead, then put her hand
gently under her roommate's chin.  "And until after the contest."

   "Ohhhhhhh..." Shellie wailed softly in frustration.  "I knew it, I just
KNEW it!  I'm SO mad at you, Carla."

   "Then how come you don't LOOK mad?"

   Shellie ignored that.  "You're sneaky and mean and I hate you and..."
She caught her lower lip between her teeth, dropped her lashes and pouted.
"And I gotta go to the bathroom."

   Scene 5 - Private Nurse

   It didn't turn out to be as hard as Shellie had thought.  She WAS a
dancer, after all, and her balance and flexibility allowed her to handle
the odd restraint pretty well.  Her elbows were wrapped closely together
behind her, arching her back and forcing her to stand very straight.  She
wasn't going to get loose, but she might have made it to the bathroom by
herself, even.  Carla helped her shift around until she was sitting on the
side of the bed, then Shellie stood up and Carla stepped behind her and
steadied her shoulders as Shellie took a little experimental hop.  Toes
splayed on the carpet, Shellie caught her balance easily, but whimpered a
little at the heavy bounce of her bosom.  Carla made a little clucking
noise of sympathy, reached all the way around the shorter girl and put her
hands under her breasts, supporting them as Shellie hopped again.  They
were in the bathroom in a minute.

   "Now what?" asked Shellie as she regarded the toilet uncertainly.

   "Just like in the hospital, Babe.  I've done it for ninety-year-old men,
I can sure do it for you." She had the nail scissors in her hand.  A snip,
a snip, and a gentle pull, and Shellie's panties were gone before she could
object.  Carla positioned her on the throne, lowering her gently.  "Okay,
you're good to go!" Shellie couldn't help a grudging snicker.

   When she finished peeing, though, it was SO embarrassing to have Carla
wipe her.  She averted her eyes from her housemate's sardonic smile, cheeks
blushing cinnamon.  "This sucks, Carla.  C'mon, if you let me go, I won't
go to the contest.  What do you say?  Pleeeease?"

   Carla just shook her head with a sympathetic expression.  "Not this
time, Hon.  You need a lesson.  Cheating on the contest, keeping secrets
from me?  Risking your health?  How many times have you PROMISED me you'd
never take a pill if you weren't sure what it was and what it would do?"
She fixed Shellie with a stern look.  "Ashamed of yourself?"

   Shellie chewed her lower lip, eyes on the floor.  "Kind of..."

   "All right then, let's get you back in bed so you can rest." Carla stood
in front of Shellie this time, walking backwards to the bedroom while
Shellie hopped carefully and Carla held her boobs steady.

   When they were next to the bed, Carla said softly, "Y'know, you really
do look awesome like this, Shel.  Maybe you should think about getting them
bigger permanently.  But maybe not quite THIS big." She lifted Shellie's
breasts and pressed them together a bit, admiring the view.

   "Carla..." Shellie whined, squirming, unable to do anything but present
her charms for the other girl's inspection.  ALL of her charms, now that
she was without her thong.  "This isn't fair," she finished lamely,
blushing again.

   Carla relented.  "Okay, I'm sorry.  Just turn around here and we'll get
you settled."

   When Shellie was propped up comfortably on a couple of pillows, had her
face washed and a drink of water, and admitted she felt tired, Carla left
her with a fond touch and said, "I'll be right in here.  Call if you need
anything, and try to get a nap."

   "Yes, Carla," said Shellie softly, and resignedly settled herself.

   Carla went to the kitchen, poured herself another cup of coffee, grabbed
some carrot sticks from the fridge and went to watch the soaps.  She should
have been congratulating herself on how masterfully she'd outfoxed her
bratty friend, but somehow that wasn't exactly what she felt.  Actually,
she wasn't quite sure WHAT she felt.  The contest was tomorrow and she
wanted to work out later, but for now she lay back on the couch and tried
to concentrate on today's episode of her favorite daytime drama.  She
didn't get to watch it much now that she'd been working the day shift,
although it was sometimes on in the nurses' lounge.  There was the hunky
doctor she used to like, but he was with a different girl now.  Wow, this
scene was pretty steamy, it always surprised her how much the censors let
these soaps get away with.  The girl was doing a pretty good job of looking
turned on as the doctor pulled her into his lap and kissed her ears and
neck, then her mouth.  There went a couple of blouse buttons.  Maybe these
two were lovers in real life, they sure looked enthusiastic...  a few weeks
earlier, Carla and Shellie had been at an after-hours party and one of
those kissing things had gotten started, where people kiss each other just
for fun with everybody watching, and people start suggesting who should
kiss who, and they all dare each other.  Shellie had been pretty toasted
and the guys inevitably wanted Carla and Shellie to kiss and started
offering them money, and Shellie was into it so Carla said what the hell.
The first time was pretty quick and the guys booed, so they'd done it
again, better, and then again.  Shellie's lips were so soft and full and
she'd tasted like a raspberry Cosmopolitan, and that last time she'd gotten
her arms right around Carla's neck and obviously wanted her tongue, so...

   Carla shook her head suddenly and sat up.  A commercial was on and she
had no idea how long it had been, and she realized with a shock that her
shorts were partly unbuttoned and her hand was down the front of her thong.
She looked around the living room guiltily, breathing hard, and reached for
her coffee mug, wondering what in the world was happening to her.  Trying
to collect herself after a couple of swallows of coffee, she picked up her
cigarettes and lit one, put down her lighter and blew smoke at the ceiling.
She felt totally confused.  And totally hot.  And she wasn't sure at all
why.

   Carla shifted uncomfortably on the couch.  God, her panties were soaked!
She got up and put out her cigarette, and started for the bathroom.  In the
hall, she changed direction.  Better just look in on Shellie...

   Scene 5 - "...  JUST how to take care of her."

   Shellie had tried to relax, but a minute after Carla had left the room
she hadn't been able to stand the frustration of her bindings and had
started wiggling around on the bed, trying to see if there wasn't some way
of getting loose.  She'd never get her hands free, that was hopeless.  But
maybe if she could kind of rub one of the ends of the wrappings loose, she
could start it unwinding, maybe by rolling over and over, or something. 
She could see where one of the ends was, down near the back of one thigh
just below her bottom, and she twisted around as far as she could, scraping
that part of herself against the edge of the mattress.  Oops, she almost
lost her balance and tried awkwardly to change her position, straining
against the snug sheathing.  She bounced herself back to the middle of the
bed, but that made the box spring squeak and she froze, breathing a little
hard, afraid that Carla might hear her and be mad.  After a minute, she
tried starting at her ankles and rubbing, but there didn't seem to be an
end of the wrapping down there.  Maybe up by her shoulders?  It made sense
that there should be at least one end there, even though she couldn't see
it.  Should she risk hopping over to the mirror?

   She decided to try it.  Levering herself to the edge of the bed, she
stood up again.  QUIETLY now, girl.  Trying to hold her breath and be super
quiet, she made slow progress toward the mirror.  Her hair, up in a pony
tail, seemed to want to get in her face nonetheless.  She shook it back
impatiently.  There, now she could see.

   Yeah, there was an end right by one shoulder.  Was that the right or the
left?  Mirrors always confused her.  She started to turn back toward the
bed, then stopped when she saw her profile in the mirror.  God, LOOK at
that!  On her very tiptoes, her back arched extremely and her butt
clenched, those incredible boobs thrust out as far as they could possibly
go, the image in the mirror was very strange and so very, VERY sexy. 
Embarrassed even though she was alone, Shellie tried instinctively to
change her posture and found that she absolutely couldn't, not even a
little.  Her face flushed with shame, she turned away from the mirror and
started slowly back toward the bed.  She was breathing even harder, and the
room felt warm despite the air conditioning.

   She made it back to the bed, turned and sat, then scooted back up toward
the headboard.  She lay down full length, got purchase with her toes and
tried to get that end of the wrapping against the sheet.  Her struggles
became almost gymnastic as she tried to rub it loose, twisting around, but
SLOWLY, carefully, not too much noise.  Was she making progress?  Shit, she
couldn't tell!  Grrrr...  Sweat started to trickle through Shellie's
hairline as she squirmed on the bed, boobs rubbing on a stray pillow,
swallowing a moan at the accidental stimulation of an oversensitive
nipple...

   Uh-oh.

   Carla stood in the doorway, one finger unconsciously in her mouth,
staring at her with an unreadable expression.  She had a flush over her
beautiful features, her deep brown eyes wide with emotion, breathing
heavily.  Shellie tilted her head up and looked at her, not knowing what to
expect, unable to think of anything to say, as Carla took a couple of
hesitant steps toward the bed and stopped again.  Her heavy, rounded
breasts seemed far too large for her clingy crop top, her nipples
impossibly erect.  With a shock, Shellie saw that Carla's shorts were
unbuttoned and open, her panties pushed down until a few wispy pubic hairs
curled out, damp with sweat or...  Shellie felt the sexual heat like a
thick fog in the room.  Maybe she was SMELLING Carla, her roommate looked
so excited.  Shellie felt dizzy and out of breath, her whole world narrowed
down to just Carla and herself and the bed.

   Suddenly Carla seemed to catch herself.  She stepped over to the bed,
lifted her chin and looked down at Shellie imperiously.  "I thought I told
you to rest!" she said.  "If you can't be good..."

   Shellie didn't let her finish.  She felt like she was melting.  Staring
into Carla's eyes, she arched her body shamelessly and panted, "So what are
you going to do with me?"

   Carla caught her breath, but hesitated only for a moment.  She slid onto
the bed next to Shellie and pulled her close, her fingers moving over the
helpless girl's body until she had one hand behind Shellie's neck and a
firm hold on her ass with the other, pulling their hips together tightly.
She began to rub against Shellie's pussy with an insistent circular motion,
grinding her, and Shellie gasped, "Oh God, Oh Carla please, not so... 
wait..." Carla silenced her by covering that wet, begging mouth with her
own and rubbed harder, ignoring the girl's stifled moans.

   After a few moments of wild pleasure, Carla realized that she still had
her shorts on.  Maybe the buttons were hurting Shellie?  She sat up
impatiently and skinned out of them, flinging them against the wall and
following them with her sticky thong, then her top.  She turned back to
Shellie, growling deep in her throat.  The bound girl was on her back, limp
and ready, breathing hard as she offered her incredibly lush body to her
lover.  Carla kissed Shellie again, hungrily, prying her mouth open and
going ruthlessly after her tongue.  Shellie's eyes went wide and she bucked
against her and squealed wordlessly, and Carla clamped her hand over her
mouth, threw a knee over her hips and mounted her.  She got a grip on one
heaving breast, took the huge nipple into her mouth with a wet slurp, and
went to work on it.  Shellie's eyes rolled back in her head and her toes
curled and uncurled spasmodically.  She fought her wrappings as hard as she
could, not to escape them now, but to feel them hold her, and Carla pinned
her down and moved to her other nipple, rubbing their groins together
harder and faster.

   Shellie arched against Carla frantically, picking up the rhythm. 
"Mmmph! MMM-mmmm MMMmmmmph!!" She was begging to say something.  Carla
lifted her hand for a second.  "Carla, Oh God Carla touch me, put your
finger down...  Yeah, like that, yeah...  faster, I'm so close, PLEASE
faster..." Sure that she had it just right, Carla shut her up again and
pumped her until Shellie had a glassy-eyed, screaming seizure, her nipples
so erect they looked freakish.  Even bound as she was, it was all Carla
could do to stay on top of her.  Carla's forefinger moved to her own
clitoris and pressed with a circular motion and in seconds her own orgasm
slammed her so hard she couldn't breathe and the room seemed to flash and
change color.  And, after a few seconds, another.

   She felt Shellie go limp at last and took her hand from her mouth, and
Shellie rolled her head to one side, gasping and drooling.  Under their
hips, there was a wet spot two feet across.

   "Yes, both of us, I'm calling for Shellie Everhardt too.  Neither of us
can make it, we're really sorry but something's come up." Carla lay
indolently across the couch, cigarette in one hand and cell phone in the
other, wearing nothing but a skimpy bikini top and a really wicked pair of
fuscia stilettos.  The ceiling fan was turned up all the way, and the cool
swirl ruffled her dark, glossy hair.  A wine cooler fizzed and sweated on
the end table.

   "No, it's nothing serious, thanks, Shellie just isn't feeling well.  And
she REALLY wanted to be there, she wanted me to be sure and thank you for
choosing her."

   Carla put her cigarette down, took a gentle handful of
chestnut-auburn-honeyblonde hair and lifted Shellie's face from between her
well-tanned and well-defined thighs.  She waited for Shellie's eyes to
focus.  Shellie licked her lips a couple of times, swallowed hard and
looked up.

   "SLOWER!" Carla mouthed silently, and Shellie nodded wearily, sniffled
once and Carla patted her head, pushed it back down and Shellie went back
to work.  Carla smiled a Cheshire cat smile and turned her attention to the
phone.

   "I know, it's a shame, isn't she just a doll?  She told me she thought
you were really sweet.  She wanted to be in your contest so bad, you
wouldn't BELIEVE all she did to get ready.  Yes, I'll tell her...  don't
worry, she's going to be fine.  I know JUST how to take care of her."