Azaleas Cursed Pasties Ch 02

As soon as Azalea got home, she prepared herself a quick, healthy late-night dinner. More of a midnight snack, really. She wanted to give herself a break from her pasty problem to avoid stressing herself out too much over something that really wasn't any danger. Regardless, she found herself toying with the shields through her clothes as she finished her meal. This, in turn, started to make her horny again. So much for putting it out of mind, but at least she wasn't stressing out over it, exactly.

After dinner, she took a long, hot shower. Maybe fifteen or twenty minutes of soaking them in soap and hot water would loosen whatever was sticking those shields to her nipples. There was no such luck. The only thing all the scrubbing, kneading, and pulling had accomplished was to further stimulate her nipples.

Even though it was late, once she was done with her shower, she pleasured herself one more time that night, if only to calm herself down enough that she could fall asleep quickly. She grabbed her vibrator from her nightstand, laid down on her bed in nothing but her pasties, and gave herself what she needed. It hadn't been the wild, primal sex that had completely overtaken her in her changing room, but it was still a good one.

More importantly, it did the trick. She woke up the next morning still fully nude except for the shields, with her vibrator next to her and all the sheets kicked down below her ankles. She always washed her vibrator immediately after using it. The fact that she hadn't meant she must have gone out like a light once she had finished. She felt marvelously rested!

She sat up on her bed, then gave a couple tugs on the pasties, only to determine that they were still firmly affixed to her nipples. Those tugs felt amazingly good, so she decided to stop before she wasted her entire morning having sex. Not that that was a bad way to spend time, but, just like every day, she had a lot she wanted to accomplish. She grabbed her vibrator and went into the bathroom to clean it and herself up.

When she got dressed, she wondered what she could do make the shields less obvious. It was far from jacket weather, but she found that by putting on her thickest bra and a thin sweat shirt, she could at least hide the chains. The nubs in the center were another matter. She looked like she had the pointiest nipples in the world. Even her friend and fellow dancer, Dakota Peters, who was kind of known for having unusually pointy nipples, didn't stick out of a sweatshirt that much. She tried a few different options, but eventually decided that hiding the chains and not dying of heat stroke was the happiest medium she was likely to get with her current wardrobe. And it wasn't like a little bit of nipple was going to corrupt the moral fiber of society.

She decided to take care of essentials, first. Breakfast was a blueberry danish and hazelnut latte that she grabbed form the coffee shop around the corner from her apartment building. That kind of junk food was deadly to the physique she maintained, but with this strange predicament from last night still unsolved, she just wasn't in the mood for her usual yogurt and an apple.

Now, Azalea was a gorgeous woman, and putting up with stares from horny men and the occasional cat call was normal to her, even when she dressed modestly like today. Today, however, was different. Several men, even a few women turned away from their conversations mid-sentence to stare open-mouthed as she walked by. Were her 'nipples' really that noticeable?

Maybe not. Many of the stares didn't seem to be focused on her chest any more than usual. Possibly even less than usual. It was oddly similar to the audience's unusual sense of awe from the previous night.

As chance had it, she ran into Miguel at the grocery store, and even he seemed to be affected. He did a double take when he saw her.

"Oh, hey, Azalea! How... uhh..." He trailed off as that same wide-eyed star-struck look came over his face for a moment, before he snapped out of it.

"Something up? You never see a pretty girl before?"

"No, but did you change something? You look amazing today, but I don't know what it is."

"Thanks! But not really. Cabaret went particularly awesome last night, and I had some of the best sleep I've had in a while. I guess I'm just in a good mood!"

"I'll say!"

They continued to chat for a few minutes about the things they normally did. The whole while, Miguel gazed into her eyes, seemingly infatuated with what he saw. She caught him making a few quick glances down at her chest, probably him noticing her 'nipples,' but those didn't seem to be the focus of his unusual interest. He was acting very strange for himself, and it was making her feel a little uncomfortable.

"Hey, what are you doing for lunch today?" he asked as they were about to part ways.

"Why? You have something going on?"

"No, not really. There's this new taqueria down the block that I wanted to try, and I didn't want to go alone."

That taqueria had been there for months, and she was reasonably certain she had seen him with food from that place before. Why would he make up lies just to ask a friend out to lunch? He was nervous. Was he asking her out?

"Oof, I don't know. I already had my cheat meal this morning. I've got stuff at home I was going to eat, and I've got a couple of term papers I need to get started on. Is Mailey not going with you?"

Miguel suddenly looked guilty as soon as she had mentioned his girlfriend of five years. Those two were practically married, and as far as Azalea could tell, he was as faithful as any boyfriend could be. He was a charming, handsome guy, but she had gotten to used to him being unavailable that the thought of them being anything more than just friends had left her mind a while ago.

"Oh, yeah, I mean, I should probably bring her to. I mean, of course I was going to. I was thinking it could be the three of us, or maybe you could bring a date or something..."

Miguel was back-pedaling so furiously she felt bad for him. She wasn't angry at him, regardless of what he may have intended. He had just surprised her, not to mention confused her a little. Had something happened between them?

"Mig, don't worry about it! I'll see you around, okay?"

***

When she returned home, she had a few hours to work on her next term paper. She was often quite a fidgeter when she focused her mind on something like this, and it was hard to keep herself from toying with the disks through her clothing. This, of course, made her horny, which in turn made focusing somewhat difficult.

By two in the afternoon, she finally gave in and took a break to play with herself. Once she was done with that, she found it a little easier to stay focused, though by early evening she had made less progress than she had wanted.

She packed down a light dinner in time to get ready for Krav Maga, but soon decided against it. Many days, practice could be a full-contact ordeal. The shields were hidden well enough from sight to avoid suspicion, but touch was another matter entirely. She didn't feel like explaining why there was something hard and pointy under her shirt. She made one last ditch, and ultimately unsuccessful attempt to remove them, and called in sick. She would have to make due with practicing her moves at home.

In the evening, she was on schedule to dance at Vaqueras. Vaqueras was a fully nude strip joint, but maybe she could get away with leaving the pasties on, especially if she made them part of the presentation. She would have been embarrassed if anyone were to find out she couldn't remove them, but she decided to risk it.

As it turned out, things went wonderfully! She went on stage in knee-length boots, short shorts, and a skimpy top that just hid the pasties underneath them. Right off the bat, the patrons seemed to be particularly fascinated with her, a repeat of cabaret the previous night and breakfast and shopping this morning.

Were these pasties really giving her some sort of preternatural sex appeal? That was a fun thought, but probably not. It was probably just her increased sexual arousal due to the constant nipple stimulation. Either her arousal was somehow subconsciously apparent in people who saw her, or even simpler, maybe she was just keener at noticing all the attention she was getting.

As she danced around the pole, she took her items off one by one. First, her shorts, which she slid off over her boots, showing off her favorite g-sting. She did a few moves to show off her newly uncovered butt cheeks for the ass men in the audience. As she danced around the stage, she started thinking of what to do next. Typically, her boots or outer top would be next on the schedule, but since she couldn't go completely topless today, the routine would be non-standard anyway. Why not save the surprise for last?

Far sooner into her routine than usual, she hooked her thumbs into the sides of her G-string and pulled it down. She turned so her butt was facing away from the onlookers as she crouched down and slid it down past her leather boots. Now her martial arts training came into play for a brief moment. She stepped one foot out of her G-string, and as she stood up, she did a high kick up over her head, sending the minimalist garment soaring in an arc ten feet above her head and behind her, where it was promptly forgotten by everyone.

She planted her foot back on the stage shoulder width away from the other, and, now facing the audience in nothing but her boots and top, swayed her hips seductively back and forth, inviting everyone to gaze to their hearts content at the breathtaking sight of her proudly exposed vagina. She ran her hands seductively up and down her hips as if to further draw the eye to the prize, not that they needed any help there. This whole display earned her more than a few whistles and shouts, not to mention a sudden deluge of bills thrown up on the stage. This was usually the grand finale, but nobody seemed bothered by the backwards order. They were still eager for more.

After showing off a few more of her moves, she kicked off her boots, which few seemed to care about. However, it did make gripping the pole a little easier, and allowed her to show off some of the more difficult moves she knew. She passed a few minutes climbing around on the pole like an acrobat.

At last, it was time for the big reveal. She crossed her arms and put each hand on the opposite hip, slowly worked them up her sides, and hooked her fingers under the cups of her bra. She paused right there to tease them a little, and lifted up her boobs a few times. At last, in one swift motion, she slid her top up over her head and tossed it behind her. She now stood as naked as she was able to get.

The cheers were quieter than when she had kicked off her G-string, but that seemed to be because many of them were simply too awe-struck to say much of anything. In fact, it turned out to only be a delayed reaction. In a couple of seconds, the wave of cheers that resonated through the club dwarfed the cheers when she had revealed her early grand finale. Apparently, they loved those things! Yes, they did look good on her!

For the rest of the routine, she chose moves that focused on her pasties. She crouched down with her hands on her knees so her upper arms squeezed her boobs together and pointed them straight at the audience. She shook her chest and twirled the chains around. She cupped her breasts in her hands and toyed with the pasties, even tugging lightly on the chains. And with the weight of the pasties now unsupported by any other garments, they tugged at her nipples at the perfect strength to excite her. By the end, her pussy might have been wet enough for them to notice, but there was no rule against that. Plenty of the men were visibly aroused, why couldn't she be?

Finally, it was time to duck out. She bowed to them and blew a kiss, the standard end of any routine, then gathered up all her earnings, which were noticeable greater than normal. Nobody seemed bothered by the fact that she never exposed her nipples. Those pasties must have looked exceptionally good on her! They had loved the show!

Azalea strutted into the changing room after her gig, still wearing nothing but the pasties. There she was greeted by Dakota, currently her best friend in the world. Dakota was dressed to go onstage next, and she was quite a sight. While both women were beautiful, Dakota's body drew the eye like nobody else at the club. She was Caucasian, with a voluminous mane of fiery red hair, quite a rare sight in this part of the world. But that was far from her only distinguishing feature.

Her body was a canvass for one of the most intricate works of art she had ever seen on a human being. It had a nature theme, with a motif of green vines and leaves and flowers in vibrant pastels of purple, red, and yellow. It would have been worthy of a Monet paining. The pattern started from her right ankle, worked its way up her leg, seductively wrapping itself around her thigh. It spread over her right hip, then crossed over her stomach and wrapped around her back, where it crept up the back of her neck and covered both shoulders. Finally, it ran back down her left arm, stopping on the back of her hand.

"Oh my God, you were amazing tonight!" Dakota complimented her. "I don't know what it was, but I've never seen you so... energetic? Is that the right word? I can't explain it, you were just sexy like never before!"

"Thanks! Yeah, I've just been in a good mood lately."

"Interesting how you took your G-sting off but kept the pasties on. Unorthodox, but I like it! Those things are... wow! They're amazing! You look good in them. Where did you even get them?"

"Oh, let's just say they were antiques. It was a lucky find!"

***

Sunday was rather uneventful. She finally caught up on what progress she had wanted to make on her papers, though at the cost of a few chores. She made a few more attempts to tug the pasties off, but had no more luck than before.

Tugging on them caused her surprisingly little pain. It felt nothing like trying to rip off a stubborn band-aid, which could tug painfully on her outer skin. It was a firm, tight bond, which seemed to be at least as strong as the surrounding flesh. Was it possible this bond reached into her skin, into the living layers that would never slough off?

"What the hell is holding these things on me?" she cursed, as she tugged away in vain. The tugging only stimulated her, and she ended up masturbating twice before she had even left her apartment that morning. Once out, she went shopping for some thicker bras, including a sports bra she could wear to the gym. Even through the thicker bras, the points were still visible. At least she didn't have to wear a sweater to hide the chains anymore.

While doing the day's routine, she noticed several of the men pausing to watch her work out. Conversely, she found it hard to keep her eyes away from some of them, which was unusual for her. There were some lookers there, for sure, but she was usually so focused on her workout, so in her own world, that she put them out of mind. Throughout the session, her pussy grew so wet she discreetly checked herself in the mirror several times to make sure there wasn't a visible wet spot. How were these shields making her so god damn horny all the time? While it was fun, the fact that it was almost constant was getting bothersome.

By Monday, they were still stuck fast. How much longer until these damn things came off? Class, at least, was uneventful. After class on Mondays, she did her internship at the curator's office. It didn't pay her even close to what she made dancing, but it was one of the best chances she had for some hands-on experience in her chosen field.

Luckily, the office was well air-conditioned, and she was able to wear a sweatshirt that hid everything, even the bumps. Not so luckily, Luis didn't need her to wear revealing clothing to send her creepy vibes to the best of his ability. Luis was likely the oldest employee in the office. He was in his fifties, though his poor health made him seem much older. He was so obese he had difficulty getting up out of his chair, and even walking seemed to get him out of breath. She had a running joke with a couple of her fellow interns that they weren't sure if he was an employee or an exhibit. He had been working there at least as long as any of the other students, though he was every bit as much of an office drone as the rest of them. Their best theory was that the head curator just felt bad for him, and didn't want to fire a man in his fifties with no other job experience.

Sadly, his poor health and lack of accomplishments weren't the worst of his traits, nor the real reason Azalea and her female colleagues disliked him as much as they did. He had little grasp of things like boundaries or personal space, and even less so on what was appropriate to say to a woman half his age. He was, in a word, disgusting.

'Oh, Azalea, you look so pretty today!' was typically how he greeted her as she walked into the office. Not today. "You look so... oh my..." was as far as he got before simply staring with his mouth agape. Azalea's skin crawled as she walked past him, doing her best to ignore him.

Off-putting greetings weren't his only inappropriate behavior. He had a habit of touching the young interns anytime he interacted with them. It was usually just on the shoulders or back, sometimes the arms, but it was creepy how he did it. There were off-hand comments he would slip into the most innocent conversations. His crowning achievement so far, though it had been laced with vagueness and inuendo, had basically amounted to him asking Azalea how often she masturbated. She and one other female intern had filed a few complaints against him to the head curator. What had become of their complaints, they could only guess. Reporting his behavior seemed to stop him for a week or so, but he would be right back to his old games as soon as he had put behind him whatever ineffectual scolding he had been given.

Once she had made it past the troll guarding the gate, as she had come to think of him lately, she checked in with the curator and got to work on the day's tasks. Most of what she did there was helping out with boring paperwork and necessary administrative functions. Sometimes she got to help catalogue new exhibits, though today would mainly be going over an agreement with a museum they were to loan a few items to. It was the business side of the trade, and was still worth learning about.

She managed to plug away at her task as efficiently as ever for the first couple of hours. But before long, she became aware of Luis' breathing. It was deep and loud. Was this fat, old fuck about to have an asthma attack? She did her best to not hear it, but after five minutes she was too disgusted to put it out of her mind anymore. When she looked over at his desk to see what his problem was, she saw him staring at her with his mouth agape, and his eyes wide open and staring right at her.

"Luis, WHAT THE FUCK?" she screamed at him, disgusted!

A few other interns popped their heads up to see what had happened. Immediately she felt embarrassed for causing such a scene, but then realized calling attention to this might have given her some level of protection from him. A minute later, the head curator, a woman by the name of Ms. Garza walked in to see what the problem was.

Ms. Garza was a short, slender woman, though she carried herself strongly. A few wrinkles on her face and streaks of gray in her hair put her not too far from Luis' age. Though the interns were allowed to wear whatever they wanted to work, Ms. Garza almost always wore a pantsuit, and she kept her relationship with the younger employees equally professional.