What I Think Of You Pt 08

What I Think of You pt. 08

Alex was returning from a rather pleasant lunch, he didn't dislike Sebastian, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't feel some sense of smug superiority.

His more interesting than usual lunch had reaffirmed his theory that if he just went with the flow, and took advantage of opportunities as they presented themselves, it'd most likely end well, or at the very least, Yoshiko probably wasn't out to get him, from the start, he'd had some terrible sinking feeling that at some point, a TV crew or something stupid like that was going to jump out from behind the curtains and say "surprise, you're on weirdo pervert watch" or something equally stupid.

Alex knew that was paranoid, but it was a paranoia that influenced him heavily, his life had largely been a collection of mundane misery throughout high school, and his university life had been a slow gradual increase in self-worth, largely due to the deepening relationships he was building with his newfound friends, not to mention Olivia.

Simply put, he didn't believe that good things would happen to him for no real reason, that didn't make just didn't happen to people like him, to his mind, a relationship was earned, he'd done nothing to earn what had happened to him over the past couple days, he'd never really been close to Rachel, he'd tried to be nice to her when he could, but no real memories with her stuck out in his mind.

The lack of any real build-up went even further with Yoshiko, not to mention her roommate was a total unknown, it all felt like his recent sexual experiences came from nowhere, he hadn't built those relationships, they'd just offered themselves to him, for seemingly no reason, and that frightened him, he'd felt for the longest time now that he was stumbling in the dark, afraid.

But time had passed, the other shoe hadn't dropped, and he was beginning to feel like it wasn't going to, maybe it was okay to just... enjoy, the change in life circumstances, maybe he could just go home, fuck Yoshiko, and her roommate if he ever saw her again, and not have to worry about it quite so much, maybe it was all a bit beyond his grasp,

But maybe he didn't need to know,

Alex didn't know the science behind how his car worked, but he still drove it, he didn't feel the need to question it before he could use it, why did he need to know the inner workings of Yoshiko's mind? It's not like he was doing anything wrong per se, she told him to do it, if she called him a pervert, and tried to tell Olivia or pull anything along those lines, tried to socially ruin him, then he had the photos from earlier, the photos she sent of her body, captioned crudely and seductively... would those be exonerating proof, or would they just dig the hole deeper?

It was impressive how Alex's thought process tied itself into knots, deep down, he knew the problem, something had changed, something was bigger here than just Olivia leaving, something important had happened that he was unaware of.

But try as he might, nothing came to mind, and as his attempts at understanding his situation petered out, he came to a sudden realisation.

He'd been in a lecture for 20 minutes now and had paid attention to none of it.

So, he'd tried to refocus his attention, pay attention to his lecturer, and try and maintain his slightly above-average grades.

It was in vain, he didn't have any context for the words he was hearing, and he'd missed too much to reasonably recover.

What's more, as he turned his gaze towards the front of the class, something more caught his eye, there was a girl near the front of the class, he didn't know her name, he was pretty sure she was a member of the drama club, although he wouldn't bet anything of value on that half-remembered recollection.

She had black hair and eyes to match, along with a petite body, but with breasts that seemed notably big for her frame, what stuck out to him about her was the mole she had under her bottom lip, he couldn't put it into words, but he found moles to be plenty sexy, and one day he'd really like to properly articulate why.

He couldn't see any of her facial features from where he was sitting, he could really only see her backside, and her tantalisingly short skirt, but he didn't need to see her face to remember what she looked like, he'd never spoken a word to her, but he'd run into her on his first day of university.

This was before he had his heart set on Olivia, he'd met Olivia by that point, but at that point in his life, he still had feelings for another girl at the time. Those feelings had been rejected, and he was still reeling from the heartbreak at the time, looking for something else to latch onto, and when he'd accidentally bumped into her in the hallway, he caught a twinge of lust in his heart.

She'd seemed apologetic, she'd offered him a warm smile, she'd apologised, said it was her fault, and scurried off, wishing him a nice day as she did. It wasn't much, but at the time, Alex wasn't used to much.

He'd immortalised the image of her smiling face in his mind, and the hormonal part of his brain immortalised the fact she clearly wasn't wearing a bra that day, and with every word she spoke, her breasts noticeably shook, he silently hoped he hadn't come across as a pervert that day, but knowing his younger self, it was a possibility.

That had been the extent of their interaction, a momentary fascination with a pretty face, spawned from a brief meeting, in a moment of desperation.

Within the next month, he would start spending considerable amounts of time with Olivia and had largely stopped looking at other women. His eyes had no real need to wander, and in the past, thinking about this girl, whose name he didn't even know hadn't so much filled him with lust, as it had filled him with a sense of regret for his high school days.

His high school days were a time in his life that seemed bleak on reflection, a time of failing to fit in, and increasing loneliness, even as he found himself surrounded by people he called friends, he tried to forget those days and focus on the present, but some old 'friends' had recently kept messaging him about a reunion party, and so he'd had high school dredged up from the bowels of his memory.

He snapped out of his thoughts and came to the realisation another 10 minutes had passed, and he'd gotten lost in thought again. It was an hour-long lecture, and he'd missed half of it.

Putting party invitations from people he pretended to like aside, he tried to focus on the lesson, which was even more of a lost cause than it was 10 minutes ago. Hence, his attention deflected onto the nameless theatre girl he'd fantasised about years ago, he'd avoided thinking about her in the past because it just felt like a reminder of his own somewhat pathetic past. But he didn't feel pathetic now, he'd achieved far too much in the past week to feel pathetic, right now, all he felt was... lustful.

She was hot, even from his angle, he had a good view of her ass, shapely, and not as bony as you'd expect from her frame, and now that he looked at her for a bit longer, he noticed that her skirt was pretty short, he could easily imagine it creeping up her thigh, his mind raced, imaging what kind of panties she'd be wearing.

He hadn't thought about anything sexual in days, most of his fantasising had been done for him by Yoshiko, it didn't feel like the sort of thing you could outsource, but apparently, you can.

He decided on purple, it just felt... right... he hadn't spoken to her enough to have any real grasp on her as a person and his mind had her given something of a generic theatre-girl personality, someone obsessed with acting. From there his imagination wandered, and he imagined her as pompous, he imagined her being mellow-dramatic, a constant over-acter, someone who added incessantly long pauses to their performance for no reason, he was cribbing every satirical portrayal of theatre performers into the personality he was imagining for her, filling the empty vessel in his head.

The shade took notice, and from Alex's disjointed and rambling stream of consciousness, took three main orders, interpretations of Alex's though process.

Her skirt is very short

Her panties are purple.

Her personality is that of a melodramatic theatre arts performer.

It couldn't act on the personality changes, its powers were confined to the domain of loss, a change that wasn't at least indirectly related to lustful thoughts was difficult for it to manifest, so it simply opted not to.

After a few minutes of comedic daydreaming about her being a bad performer, reciting the words of Shakespeare with unbelievable emphasis placed on every word, regardless of tone or importance, his imagination was growing crueller to the point he felt bad, she'd done nothing to him, why be so spiteful?

But when he looked back, he noticed something, her skirt was short, far shorter than he'd remembered, and he could see the very bottom of her panties.

Purple, huh, he supposed he'd guessed right.

Part of his brain told him that her skirt was longer a couple of seconds ago, but it didn't matter, he dismissed his suspicions, he must just be sitting so far away he missed the full extent of just how short her skirt was, what other explanation could there be?

Her comically small skirt fell under his harsh gaze for the better part of a minute, but after the initial thrill of voyeurism wore off, he started to ponder what kind of person she must be to wear something like that, the jumped-up art student personality he imagined started to dissipate in his mind, he imagined her being something of an exhibitionist, someone who didn't like to wear clothes, someone who liked to rebel when they were forced to dress up, someone who was passionate and followed those passions to a depraved degree, someone who saw their own body as a performance to be enjoyed.

The shade could work with those personality changes, its ephemeral form approached the girl, its form invisible to all, and with a wave of its hand, the girl's reality had warped, her attire had changed, her everything unravelled, and by practised craft, the hand was reassembled, her mind reformed, changed into something unrecognisable, the shade had done this many times in life, and even now in death, it remained the sitting god of lust.

Ophelia had been the nervous type, she'd pursued drama, but never really felt confident in her own skin, she stuttered her lines, she could never fully slip into character, she always felt a strong pang of self-doubt, she always wondered how she must look, she always wanted to hide away, to cover her face whenever she attempted to act out even a mundane scene. She was strongly considering dropping out, it just wasn't something she could do, and she regretted even trying.

All that changed in an instant, Ophelia was never the type to be nervous, Ophelia was comfortable in her skin, In fact, she was all too comfortable in her skin for most people's liking.

Ophelia was now something of a nudist by nature, someone who felt completely comfortable in her own body, why should she hide it? She was a work of art, something to be displayed, something to be admired. She didn't wear a stitch when she could help it. She'd tried to show up naked the first day and had been less than gently informed by many people that this wasn't how things were done.

She showed up naked the second day anyway. then the next, and then the next.

After several write-ups and a small fortune in public indecency fines, Ophelia relented, she'd wear something, she'd meet the minimum requirements for an outfit, or at least, she'd pretend to whenever someone was looking.

She wore the absolute bare minimum of an outfit, the shortest skirt she could get away with, and a shirt that covered her nipples, but bore a stronger resemblance to a bra than a shirt. She didn't own underwear, and no number of fines was going to convince her to cover herself to that extent.

Whenever she felt she could get away with it, she exposed herself, her outfit meant that with minimal movement, she could completely expose her privates to anyone, Ophelia hated modesty in general, she was a proponent of utter shamelessness, to be true to your desires, to forget yourself and to embrace your passions to the greatest extent, she hated people who felt any sort of shame for what they were when she acted, when acting, she threw herself into character to an extent she forget herself, and had to be reminded it was all a performance.

The new Ophelia saw nothing wrong with even the wildest acts of self-expression.

She was a big fan of an online artist who called herself "Free Use Slut" she felt she was one of the only other people in the world who truly got it, someone who understood the desire to express yourself, to be free and commit to your every desire, to be truly passionate, unashamed to be something.

Ophelia had originally been shy, but kind, the new Ophelia was harshly judgemental, she valued free expression, she valued passion, and generally frowned on concepts such as fore-thought, or even basic concern for others, as far as she was concerned, she wanted to display herself, she wanted to show off her body, if someone wanted her to cover herself, that was their problem, her passions shouldn't be limited by others of her conduct, nor should anyone else.

She extended this belief to the way that others should perform, she was generally not a fan of people who asked for permission to do things, she looked down on people who timidly stood back and asked what she was doing, she loved people who were true to their desires, those that groped her, those that pushed her down and fucked her, who muttered words of scorn, who complained they couldn't focus because of her "slutty ass" or "whore tits" or whatever uncreative insults their hormone-addled brain constructed. They were the ones she liked, they knew what it was to be uninhibited, to be free, there was no inhibition clouding their actions.

She remembered her old roommate, a shy girl with a crush on some guy named David, Ophelia hated just how inhibited she was, she was loathsome, she pined so much for this guy, but never acted, she was afraid to even talk to the guy. This continued for years with Ophelia telling her to act, to do something, anything.

She didn't listen and just continued to pine, and was very, very slowly cultivating a relationship with David.

As far as Ophelia was concerned, If you want something, take it.

Ophelia decided to demonstrate that firsthand, she went up to David, and without saying a word, stripped naked, and with a bright smile, told him that she wanted to fuck him. They'd had sex three times in quick succession, with her roommate walking in on the third.

Later that night, Ophelia found herself looking for a new apartment, her roommate hadn't learned anything from Ophelia's example, and was mostly just angry at Ophelia for "stealing her crush." Ophelia found it in her to think even less of her in response. The two were now mortal enemies.

In the back of her mind, as Ophelia felt her revised life flowing through her mind, she felt that her memory was... wrong, wasn't it? Her roommate was her best friend, she'd never kicked her out, she'd helped her and David get together, and they had a cute relationship... all of this was wrong, wasn't it?

The shade calmly corrected her thoughts, the memories Ophelia tried to hold onto were snatched from her grip, she hated her former roommate, this was the only reality she'd ever known.

Ophelia's life had been twisted beyond recognition, and Alex hadn't noticed, he'd day-dreamed the remainder of the class away, never bothering to look back at Ophelia, whose name remained a mystery, he'd changed her to suit his own desires, and wasn't even aware of it. He wandered out of the lesson without looking back at Ophelia, if he had, he'd have seen a girl whose short skirt was completely rolled up, and whose button-up shirt had no buttons.

Alex had no idea of the havoc he'd wrought.

Meanwhile

Yoshiko hadn't bothered to return to her lesson after lunch, she couldn't be bothered, she had shopping to do.

Ignoring her own rapidly encroaching poverty, she steeled herself to go for her first real shop in months.

Her first stop was a kitchen supply store, she had the idea of the naked apron which seemed smart to her and concluded that while most of her shopping would be done at the local sex shop, they most likely wouldn't carry aprons.

Moving past a row of novelty aprons and pop-culture-referencing aprons, she found some more standard aprons and began contemplating if she should get a plain white apron, a black apron, or one with a saying on it.

There was an apron that said "Kiss the cook" which felt a bit... meh. Maybe she could cross out the word "kiss" and substitute the word "fuck" or "Molest" but either way it felt a bit banal.

There was another apron that read "So good you'll want to lick it all up." Yoshiko gave a moment of silence for the poor smuck who wrote these aprons, she found it funny to imagine a living, breathing human coming up with all these inane aprons.

Although maybe if she added an arrow pointing to her pussy, then that apron could be good... no... no it couldn't. She decided against it and kept thrumming through the rack.

The next apron simply read "Here to serve you food" with a smiley face. These aprons were all a bit crap in their own way, but this one felt at least a bit on point for what she was trying to communicate, she just had to remove the word "food" from the apron, and it'd be acceptable. Maybe she'd also remove the smiley face as well.

She made her single purchase from the kitchen supply store and pulled out her phone to search where the nearest purveyor of adult entertainment paraphernalia. It was at this point she learned that some weirdo in the city planning department put the kitchen supply store and the adult implements store right next to each other.

"Do these stores... feed into each other, in any way whatsoever? I feel like these should be further away from each other... Oh well, you know what they say about gift horses, I shouldn't complain, benefits me."

Yoshiko mused with a smile on her face, she enjoyed humorous coincidences, especially when they benefited her.

Yoshiko was mainly looking for a sex shop as a means of purchasing more risqué outfits, when it came to toys, she already had most of what she felt she'd need, the only thing she could think of to buy in that department was a collar, that sounded like something to show off to Alex, and It'd hopefully be fairly cheap.

Yoshiko's dress sense had always been somewhat modest, at least when it came down to what she wore, when it came down to what Jiggly wore, Yoshiko preferred her to wear almost nothing at all, consequently, she'd never gone shopping for anything too slutty, she didn't even know if this shop would carry clothing, part of her worried it might be all toys and zero attire, or maybe only leather straps or gimp outfits.

She was a bit pleasantly surprised as she walked into the aptly named "Mischievous Implements and Attire" and found it indeed carried a somewhat varied attire, the name wasn't just for show.

Looking around, the store was far larger than she was expecting, she imagined it'd be a dingy store with a small bin for clothing, but this store was quite a fair bit larger than the kitchen supply store, apparently, this town had the sexual appetite necessary to keep a store like this in business, the more you know.

Yoshiko looked through rack upon rack of clothing, just about everything was in some way deeply perverted, and it wasn't uncommon to find clothing that covered everything save your privates, alongside clothing that was essentially just a piece of string.