Walking across the road, George's returning alarm regarding her swollen tongue was equalled by its pleasurable sensitivity. Also, her blouse was feeling increasingly tight on her, yet there was something else that offset her growing concern over the changes her body was experiencing.
As though she'd read her mind, Bess asked, "George, are your tits getting bigger?"
"What? No," George denied.
"They look like they are."
"Well, they're not."
"It looks like your bra isn't even holding them anymore."
"It shrunk."
"If you say so," Bess allowed with a doubtful expression.
"Never mind about my tits," George told her, irritation covering her fear of how the changes to her body were now becoming noticeable to others as she changed the subject with, "Was Father Stephens telling us to do what I think he was?"
"I think so," Bess replied, her curious eyes lingering on George's chest.
"But, that's... I mean, a priest asking two girls to... to force themselves on a female priest? And did you see his hardon?"
"
Did
I?" Bess laughed. "Why, if he
wasn't
a priest, I'd have asked him if I could suck on it till he came in my face right then and there!"
"I'm surprised he didn't just tell you to! Anyway, I take it things didn't go so well with Reverend Muren?"
"That's an understatement. She's upset about what went on in the boutique yesterday and she's blaming us, so she doesn't want to talk to us and she certainly doesn't want us up there."
"Oh. Well, so much for what Father Stephens wanted. Where are we going now?"
"To her suite," Bess supplied with a sunny smile.
" ... But... if she doesn't want to talk to us, what's the point?"
"You're forgetting," Bess interrupted, her mouth still craftily smiling, "Father Stephens wants us to, uh...
make
her understand."
"You're not serious? I mean, you're not really going to
do
that?"
"No, I'm not," Bess agreed as they approached the front steps of the Faldor. "
We
are. After all, you're the lesbian here."
"Bess, no! We can't do that!"
"Sure we can, George. There's two of us and one of her, and we have a key to her suite. We can so easily do that."
"That's not what I mean! I mean that it's wrong!"
"But you want to. I can see it in your face."
"I-! Yes, I want to, but-!"
"So let's do it," Bess decided with a shrug before pulling one of the heavy front doors of the Faldor Hotel open. "Nothing bad will happen. We won't get into any trouble for it and, before we're done, I'm sure she'll very much enjoy what we'll do to her. We'll take a look and see if she has the same crystal growing in her suite first and kill two birds with one stone."
Standing outside Suite 503 while busty Bess knocked, George wondered how she could go from the closet to forcing herself on a female priest with her own cousin in a matter of only a few days. Said cousin was still smiling, obviously too horny to think rationally and that, George realized, was the problem. It was hard to resist when such exciting mental images of what fun they were about to have kept racing through her mind, forcing her to side against her morality.
Long past thinking about such things as morality, the only thing that Bess deliberated was Father Stephens's invitation to stay in Cinder Bay to make a life for herself there. To say it was a tempting offer was a massive understatement, but it did bring back to her the reality that there was another whole world outside Cinder Bay and that she and her two friends were there with a job to do. It was an easy thing to forget and it disturbed her that, half the time, she no longer even wanted to remember. She only wanted to immerse herself in Cinder Bay, to be the cock sucking slut she was so quickly turning into. And what about Susan Quinn? If she really didn't want to be found, Bess had little trouble understanding why that might be, but wasn't it fair to assume that Susan's mind was also corrupted? If Bess had a responsibility to second guess her own corrupted desires, didn't she have the same responsibility toward Susan?
After a few moments, her divided mind was distracted from these questions when the door opened, if only a little. From the three inch crack between door and jam, Reverend Candace Muren peered out, her eyes widening at the sight of Bess.
"Go away!" she ordered, about to close the door again before Bess spoke.
"Reverend Muren, wait! I know how you're feeling about us, but we're in the same boat here!"
"I don't think so," Candace countered, her eyes momentarily dropping to Bess's chest.
"Why, Reverend, that's not fair!" Bess implored. "You know how tempting it is to dress like this! You told me that you want to do it too, that you're glad your old clothes are gone!"
"But I was wearing the most decent thing they gave me," she pointed out. "And I'm trying to
act
with decency."
"Well, so are we, but you know that's not easy here! Just because you've been more successful at it than we have isn't a reason to shut us out! To abandon us to whatever's happening in this town! You have a responsibility to us and if your strength of will is greater than ours, that only proves it!"