The Fraternal Order Part V (remastered edition)

By Zapped!

All characters & content copyright © 2021 This story will not be reproduced in any form without the express written consent of the author. This chapter was inspired by a mind control scene from the film The Corporation (aka Subliminal Seduction).

Previous part



(Nearly a month ago…)

The ad had caught her eye:



Ages 18-29.




TEL (451) 555-0199

It almost seemed too good to be true at the time. Now she was starting to wonder…

Jennifer glanced at the watch on her wrist; it was going on 2:30 P.M. and she’d been waiting for nearly thirty minutes. Her shift at Chez Paul would be starting soon, and these people needed to get on with it. She sighed and looked around the waiting room like she’d done so many times before...

It was your typical office sitting area with potted plants, gray commercial carpet, and white walls dotted with abstract paintings. Four chairs were placed opposite from one another, their strait-back design forcing you to sit with an alert posture. A coffee table was placed in between them, its glass surface covered with various dog-eared magazines.

The entrance door suddenly opened at left, and another woman stepped into the waiting room. She was young, shapely, and possessed these fantastic cantaloupe-sized breasts that noticeably jiggled with every step. Her sandy-blonde tresses were swept back into a loose ponytail that hung down over her right shoulder.

“Kimberly?” the receptionist inquired.

“―Or Kimmy!” the girl answered with all the bubbliness of fresh champagne. “I’m here for my 2:30 interview.”

“Yes, well they’re running a little behind back there, so if you’d just take a seat until you’re called…”


Jennifer couldn’t help but judge the competition. Although on the ditsy side, the new arrival certainly looked cute in her wispy sundress and strappy heels. The twenty-eight-year-old waitress had a bad feeling that this interview was going to end up as just another one of those “Thanks for your time and we’ll call if we ever need you” scenarios, and she’d have to go back to her life-sucking job at Chez Paul.

Little-Miss-Young-Thing gazed around the waiting room and then parked her tight little Pilates butt in the seat right across from Jennifer.

Oh wonderful.

Jennifer gave a polite nod, and Ditsy beamed right back with a smile so bright it could light up a darkroom...

I hate her.

“I really like your earrings!”

“Thank you,” Jen replied, thoughtfully touching one of them with her fingers. “My eight-year-old daughter made them for me.”

“Oh wow…Cool… You really don’t look that old.”

No, seriously ― I fucking hate her.

“…So are you here for the cocktail waitress position?”

“I am.”

“Is this your first time on campus?”

“Yes it is, and you?”

“I’m actually enrolled here,” Kim replied, before flipping her loose ponytail back over her shoulder. “I’m studying photography.”

Of course you are.

“I see,” Jen responded, pretending to be somewhat interested. “So you need the money for tuition costs?”

“Not really; I actually dance over at The Cheetah Club for that, but I could always use the extra money for the weekend.”

Fucking great; I’m one late payment away from having my car repoed, and this bitch is worried about her drinking money.

Jennifer narrowed her eyes and gave the girl a tight grin. Once again, Ditsy beamed right back. This kid sure does smile a lot.

“So, how do you like stri―” Jen caught herself, “…er, dancing?”

“It took some getting used to in the beginning, but I’ve grown so accustomed to it that it doesn’t even faze me anymore. Plus the patrons seem to really like me.”

“Mm, how nice.” …I’m sure you’re a big hit once you release “the twins” in front of the 9-5 crowd.

A door on the far side of the room finally opened, and a dark-haired woman dressed in sharp business attire appeared in the frame. She looked down at her clipboard, and then regarded the two women seated in the reception area.


Oh, thank god!

“Right here.” Jen acknowledged. She arose from her seat and quickly shouldered her purse.

“Hey, good luck in there,” Kim said, looking genuinely excited for her.

“Yeah, thanks. Good luck to you as well.”

As Jennifer approached, the interviewer looked her up and down. She cracked an appreciative smile as if she liked what she saw.

“Hello, Jennifer.” The woman said as she offered her hand. “I’m Mrs. Kessler; it’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Nice to meet you as well,” Jennifer responded.

“Come on in and we’ll get started.”

Once inside, the woman walked over to a second door labeled Employees Only. She pushed it open and led Jennifer down a long hallway that was white and sterile-looking.

“I want to thank you for coming in and helping us out on such short notice,” the woman stated, the heels of her pumps urgently clicking against the floor as she walked.

“Oh, no problem; I’m glad you called.”

“This dinner is private, and by private I mean very exclusive. We’re only interested in hiring a professional with the proper credentials. You will be required to sign a confidentiality agreement, of course.”

“Sure, whatever it takes.”

The pair came to a second door, this one requiring a keycard for entry. The woman swiped the card down through a slot, there was an audible click, and then she pushed the door open. With a flourish of her hand, the woman motioned to go inside.

The interview room beyond was warm, tranquil and dimly lit; the only source of light came from the dozen or so burning candles and whatever spilled in from the hallway she’d just entered from. The golden glow from the candles seemed to add to the calming atmosphere of the room.

Three people were already waiting inside. One of them was a female with latte skin and bushy black hair wearing a black tank top. The young woman was seated in front of an opened laptop, and she stared fixedly ahead, almost trancelike, the glow from the screen reflected back in her glassy eyes. Flanking her were two men: one quite older with wire-rimmed glasses and wearing a white lab-​coat; the other a stocky man sporting a crew cut and a purple and white tracksuit.

Well this is certainly different.

The man in the lab coat was leaning over the young woman and detaching what appeared to be some sort of electrodes. Once he was finished, he gave a nod and stepped back into the shadows…

As if on cue, tracksuit guy stepped in behind the woman, pulled her chair back on its wheels, and then slowly raised her up into a standing position. The female’s head wobbled a bit on her shoulders and her arms dangled limply at her sides, as the man carefully steered her around the desk. He then walked toward the door on the opposite side of the room, towing her along behind him. The poor thing looked drugged and in a total fog, nearly stumbling over her own two feet and seemingly oblivious to her surroundings. When she blinked, her eyelids slipped open and closed in a sleepy way, as if she were trying to fight the lethargy off, but couldn’t snap out of it.

What the…?

Mrs. Kessler’s voice broke Jen’s train of thought.

“Now before we get started, here’s $400 just for appearing for the job interview; you’ll receive another $600 once you’ve completed the job. In addition, you’ll also get to keep your tips, which I’m sure if you play your cards right, will more than double your earnings― all under the table and paid in cash, of course.”

“Oh, well that’s certainly cool! Thank you!”

The woman waited for Jennifer to place the money in her purse and then motioned with her hand to take a seat at the desk.

As Jen sat down, she noticed a half dozen roses in a white vase. She closed her eyes, leaned in, and inhaled their scent…

“Mm, I just love the smell of freshly-cut roses.”

“Their fragrance can have a calming effect on a nervous applicant, even induce a sense of deep relaxation.” Kessler then leaned in close and whispered, “…I prefer to bath in them, myself.”

The woman gave Jennifer a just-between-us-girls-type-of-wink and then opened a manila folder. She spread some forms out across the surface of the desk below.

“And what are these for?” Jen asked curiously.

These… are the privacy and confidentiality forms that I mentioned earlier,” the woman informed. “They’re a legal agreement that binds one or more parties to non-disclosure of confidential information.”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry; your secrets are completely safe with me.”

“Yes, I’m sure they will be. However, you’re still required to sign the waiver before we can go any further.”

The woman flashed her dazzling smile and handed Jennifer a pen. The applicant accepted the instrument and smiled right back…

Jen briefly skimmed over the contract, merely pretending to read the content. She crossed an X in the I accept all terms and conditions box and quickly scribbled her signature at the bottom of the form.

Kessler shot a knowing glance to the man in the lab coat; he nodded his head, apparently pleased that the applicant had signed.

“Here you go,” Jennifer said as she handed the pen back.


Kessler gathered up the papers and placed them back in the manila folder. She set the items aside and then powered up the laptop…

“Now, I’m going to have you watch an orientation clip about what is expected of you. Shouldn’t take too long…”

The older man in the lab coat then stepped into view. Several electrodes hung over his liver-spotted hand like lilted flowers.

“This is Dr. Schultz; he will be here to monitor your blood pressure and heart rate. And if you’re wondering why all the fuss; one can’t be too careful in this age of rampant lawsuits…”

Lawsuit? Why would there be a lawsuit? Jennifer wondered. Her eyes anxiously darted back and forth between Kessler and the doctor. And why on earth would you need to monitor my vitals during an employee orientation?

Dr. Schultz leaned over the woman, the candlelight eerily glinting off the round lenses of his glasses. He peeled away the first adhesive strip, stuck it to her temple, and then he pressed several more patches across her forehead. Once he was finished with those, his eyes lowered to her chest…

“It vould be eazier if you unbutton zee blouze.”

Jennifer shot a look of concern at Mrs. Kessler, but the woman returned a glance that seemed to imply just do as he says.

Fuck it; the man’s supposed to be a doctor right?

Dr. Schultz observed Jennifer’s face as she unbuttoned her top for him, her expression a mix of unease and uncertainty. By the time the woman was finished, she’d unbuttoned far more than necessary, allowing him a clear view of the flesh-filled cups of her lacy bra.

The right corner of the doctor’s mouth began to tic.

“Zis might be cold.”

Jen took a deep breath and gave a nod that she was ready.

Slowly, methodically, Dr. Schultz went about attaching a few additional electrodes to Jennifer’s upper chest area. Despite holding her breath, her body still managed to shiver at the doctor’s touch.

“All zet,”Schultz confirmed after a long moment. But as the doctor withdrew his hands, his fingertips casually brushed across the tops of Jennifer’s creamy mounds; he turned his back to her before she could give him a dirty look...

Dirty old man.

But the doctor didn’t care; he was already preoccupied with turning on and adjusting the portable medical equipment. Seeing the rhythm of Jennifer’s heart rate appear on the screen for the first time, knowing that she was now being monitored so closely― every single trace of her activity on display for his eyes to see― was more than enough to make his tired old member stir beneath his slacks.

Maybe zey let me put zis one on ice when zeir done viz her. He was already picturing the woman standing upright in one of his refrigerated storage units, her cryogenically frozen body a pale blue, her lips and nipples a darker shade, the fine veins showing just beneath the surface of her exposed skin…

But Dr. Schultz knew this wasn’t the time for such fantasies. That’s when he reached for a different piece of equipment; the one that wasn’t approved by the F.D.A. He cranked the power up on the Kinetic Reflex Inducer (or K.R.I.) and from the corner of his eye, he saw Jennifer’s foot twitch… then an elbow. He heard the tiniest of moans escape from her lips, turned to watch as her eyes rolled back in their fluttering lids. Secretly, the doctor wondered if this new applicant would be stronger willed than the last...

He always liked it when they put up a good fight.

But even as the doctor observed the woman, he saw that struggle come to an end. Jennifer let out a deep sigh, and then her shoulders slowly relaxed in place. All of the tension had drained from her face, yet her eyes remained open and staring. The K.R.I. had effectively seized her mind, rendering it docile and open to instruction; now it would rewrite her thoughts to be in step with the practices of the Fraternal Order…

“Focus on the screen, Jennifer.”

The instruction came from Mrs. Kessler, who apparently stood somewhere behind her. The woman’s voice sounded distant and hollow despite being mere inches away. Jennifer’s lips parted as if to respond, but she was having a hard time forming words...

“You will breathe in and out… very slowly… As you do, let the words on the screen seep into your mind. Physically feel what these words mean within your body. You will need to commit to these commands in order to fulfill your assignment.”

The computer screen started flashing the words in three second intervals: . . . receive stimulus . . . succumb . . . receive stimulus . . . succumb . . . it feels good to obey . . . you will submit…

Jennifer regarded the screen with a look of dull fascination. Her head began to tilt to the side, as if the words being reflected back in her eyes confused her.

Dr. Schultz continued to study her from beside her chair, admired the way Jennifer’s face was completely doused in the bright blue light. She looked so delicate and soft . . . So utterly open and vulnerable . . . So his…

Maybe not foreffer, put at leazt for zee next haf-hour or zo― Heh!

Mrs. Kessler leaned over the back of Jennifer’s chair, where she was enjoying her own bird’s-eye-view of the subject’s cleavage. The advisor reached down, cupped the woman’s face with both hands, and then physically tilted her head back into an upright position. Once Jennifer’s face was straight forward, she gently drew the tips of her fingers up over her cheeks…

“Check her vitals.”

Dr. Schultz watched the monitor; the slight rise and falls in the hills and the valleys of the bright green lines assured him that Jennifer was completely relaxed. He put on his trusty stethoscope, pressed the circular end to her chest, and then moved the diaphragm around a few times, dipping lower and lower into the cup of her bra…

It was Mrs. Kessler’s turn to give a funny look.

The doctor glanced up at her and shrugged his shoulders. “Chust in caze zee caliprazion is off.”

The advisor didn’t look so convinced.

Schultz withdrew a penlight from the front pocket of his lab coat; he waved the beam across Jennifer’s line of sight, but she didn’t so much as blink. The doctor lifted her right hand six inches up from the armrest and let it go; the appendage dropped with a plunk. He did the same with the left hand and it also dropped like a rock. His subject remained unresponsive and appeared to have no awareness of herself or others throughout the entire assessment…

“Zee supchect iz ready for phaze two,” the doctor confirmed. He pushed a pre-recorded disc into the internal drive slot, turned to the advisor and gave a nod.

Mrs. Kessler smiled conspiratorily.

“…Now Jennifer, we’ve got some bedtime stories for you to listen to; doesn’t that sound nice?”

Jennifer didn’t give a sign that she’d heard the woman, nor did she react as Mrs. Kessler lowered a set of headphones down over her ears. The advisor glanced down at her watch and noted the time…

“How long before zee next subject arrifes?” Dr. Schultz asked from the opposite side of the chair.

“She’s already out there in the waiting room.”

“Oh?… Und she’z attractiff Fräulein az well?”

“Even more so.”

“Ah… veddy goot.”

For the next twenty minutes or so, Jennifer sat upright in her chair, both hands calmly unfurled and resting on the armrests. She stared right through the monitor, seemingly comatose. Her eyes were glassy, her expression flat and neutral, as if something had been snatched from within...

About ten minutes into her conversion, Jennifer’s hips began to roll in a rhythmic motion, her undercarriage slowly writhing against the seat below. These were relatively subtle movements at first, but as time passed, the movements became more aggressive. The software had already rewritten her thoughts; now it was manipulating her body to improve its hold. The gaps between her breaths were coming a little quicker, and her fingers started to twitch involuntarily…

The nervous tic had also returned to the right corner of Dr. Schultz’s mouth. He quickly reached into the pocket of his lab coat to retrieve his cigarettes. Wondered if Bebe might notice the leaky erection tenting the front of his slacks…

Mrs. Kessler’s right arm rested lazily over the seatback. From time to time she’d reach down with her left and casually squeeze the other woman’s breast, a simple pinch of her hardened nipple provoking a brief gasp from the subject. (Like human squeeze toy, the doctor crudely joked). The deeper Jennifer went into trance, the further her thighs fell open...

The advisor stole a quick glance at her watch to verify the time. She then looked over in the doctor’s direction. Schultz was already checking the monitor and verifying the readings.

“She has to be close, right?”

“Accorting to zee inztruments, she can’t be much farzer.”

“Come on, sweetheart,” Kessler encouraged, “You need to climax for us… Climax in the name of the Fraternal Order.”

The advisor cupped her hands around Jennifer’s face again, this time stroking her thumbs over her cheeks in an affectionate way...

The look on Jennifer’s face remained blissfully calm, yet her hips were still rolling, her ass grinding impatiently against the seat in a sign of her desperate need for release…

“That’s it, Jennifer.” Kessler urged. “It feels good to obey… You want to obeyIt turns you on to obey…”

All the while, Schultz’s intrusive programming continued to filter in through Jennifer’s headphones. The doctor’s lips had curled into a sly grin; he could see the subject’s pace increasing… Imagined being inside her as if experiencing that dire need together.

And then then it hit.

Jennifer gave a little gasp and her eyes went wide in shock. Her hands reflexively clutched the armrests and she pushed herself up in the seat. Her torso arched in a sexy bow, and then her hips began to buck and thrust against the air in uncontrollable spasms of pleasure. Her creamy thighs visibly shuddered and then all at once― she went completely rigid!

Jennifer just sort of hung there motionless for an interminable moment, white knuckled and back straining, the cheeks of her ass tightly clenched from her mind-blowing orgasm.

She wasn’t the only one.

The sheer anticipation of the event, coupled with actually seeing his subject arch up in a silent plea as she climaxed, was all it took for Dr. Schultz to do the same. He tightly gripped Jennifer’s arm just as his own body stiffened in orgasm. A spurt of cum spilt into his boxers, where it dripped down his leg and eventually seeped through the thin material. Schultz’s eyes never left his subject throughout the entire encounter…

Das mädchen.

Jennifer’s orgasm seemed to subside just as swiftly as it began; the poor thing collapsed in a spent heap against her chair. Her eyes remained open and staring, but they managed to appear even more hollow and lifeless than before…

Mrs. Kessler looked on with glee.

“God I just love that part!”

“Um… ja,” Schultz responded with an obvious sense of distraction in his voice. “Zee K.R.I. can be, uh… quite zee effectiff tool for acquiring power over anozer individual.”

“That’s good,” Kessler replied. “I happen to like the idea of having power over another individual.”

At that point the advisor’s gaze mistakenly dipped to the noticeable wet spot that was forming on the front of the doctor’s Khakis. Her face immediately shot upward to notice the corner of his mouth twitching like it often did when he was up to no good. She let out a groan of dismay when she finally grasped what might’ve happened…

“Please tell me you didn’t.”

“Ja, afraid I did.”

“Oh, for god sakes, Otto; you couldn’t hold onto it until later?”

“It’z natural reaction,” Schultz admitted rather unashamedly. “Zometimes zee penis has a mind of it’z own…”

“Well that’s just great,” Kessler complained. “We’re ready for the next candidate and now you have to go and clean yourself up!”

“It’z not big deal.”

Dr. Schultz withdrew a handkerchief from his back pocket; he spit on the material and began to dab at the stain with the diligence of a proficient housekeeper. Mrs. Kessler rolled her eyes and made impatient tut-tut-tut sounds while she waited…

Today, Otto!”

The doctor tugged his shirt from his waistband and left it to hang loose to cover the stain. “Chuzt like new.”

“Wonderful,” the advisor approved. “Now unplug her so I can retrieve our last applicant.”

Mrs. Kessler spun around on a heel, her gloss-black pumps click-clacking loudly against the floor as she made a beeline for the door. It was on that march that she came upon Coach Walker patiently waiting in the shadows…

“Escort number two next door for her fitting,” the woman ordered. “I’m going to retrieve candidate three.”

“It’ll be my pleasure,” assured the coach before flashing her a devilish grin.

Mrs. Kessler opened the door, paused, and then turned around in afterthought.

“Oh, and Albert...”


“We only have one applicant left; please try to show a little restraint.”

With a disapproving sniff, he replied, “Sure thing, boss.”

The coach turned back and walked in Jennifer’s direction, the grin on his face slowly morphing into a sadistic sneer…


* * * *


Bebe Kessler glanced at the watch on her wrist and visibly winced.

God, is it getting that late already? I hope she bothered to stick around…

The advisor opened a manila folder and was greeted by the smiling visage of their next applicant. The beauty exuded confidence and vivacity that only youth can harness, as she hammed it up for the photographer. Yet another photo, (this one obviously taken via zoom lens and from a concealed position) captured her in black and white as she walked across campus, textbooks held back against her chest.

Bebe put on her designer eyeglasses and quickly skimmed over the candidate’s stats:

Kimberly Bowen age 19 Athens, G.A.

Physical Details:

Height: 5 ft. 6 in.

Weight: 125 lbs.

Bra size: 32D

Chest size: 36 in.

Waist size: 26 in.

Hips size: 36 in.

Shoe size: 9.5 US

Hair color: Medium-Ash Blonde


Majoring in Photography

Prior Activities: Drama Club • Photography Club • Yearbook • School newspaper • Majorettes

Majorettes?... Oh, I think you definitely missed your calling, sweetheart.

Current Place Of Employment

The Cheetah Club

- Well I stand corrected!

Past Employment

Bikini barista at Bottoms Up Coffee (2 yrs.)

Special Skills and Qualities

Effective Communication Skills • Attentive and patient w/ customers • Outgoing • Very Flexible

In more ways than one, I hope.

Sexual Orientation:


We shall see.

The “organization” performed very thorough background checks on all potential job applicants, and it was no surprise that they’d been eyeballing Kimberly pretty hard. An attractive girl like her, transplanted from out of state and living on her own, made her perfectly suitable for their particular needs. By the time any relatives noticed her missing, they’d have young Kimberly deprogrammed and dumped on the street, leaving her none the wiser.

Cruel, perhaps, but sometimes you have to sacrifice a lamb for the Greater Good...

Kessler let out a sigh knowing how much work was left to train these girls. Collecting, redressing and posing the suspended contestants was one thing; training a few locals to serve cocktails at the Fraternal Dinner and (perhaps) perform a sexual favor or three was an entirely different story. Enter the K.R.I.

“Zis is real,” Dr. Schultz had boasted during a presentation to the board, “Zee pozzibilities are endless!”

The advisor recalled the test subject, a normally bubbly exchange student who’d slowly stripped out of her clothes and just stood there stone-faced and glassy-eyed while the panel gawked at her explicit nakedness… The excited buzz in the room over how easily she was controlled… Those endless possibilities the good doctor was referring to and who’d be the first lucky bastard to benefit.

For now, it looked like it would be those Fraternal Order members attending the ceremonial dinner next month.

…Well here goes.

Mrs. Kessler opened the door and peered out into the waiting room. Her troubled expression immediately brightened when she saw the real-life version of the beauty from the photos, still patiently waiting in her chair, her knees pressed together in a lady-like fashion. The advisor made an exaggerated ‘PHEW’ motion with her hand and addressed her next applicant.

“Kimberly, right?”

“Or Kimmy,” the girl corrected with a radiant smile. “But yep, that’s me!”

“Well I’m glad you stuck around, Kimmy. Come on in.”

The young woman shot up from her chair and swung her purse over a bare shoulder. She crossed the floor, absolutely glowing with enthusiasm and completely unaware of the fate that lay ahead…

As with Jennifer before her, Mrs. Kessler looked Kimberly over with a critical eye. The bubbly ash blonde wore a wispy sundress that swirled around her bare legs—One of her best features, no doubt. The advisor felt her mouth pull into a smile as she looked down at freshly pedicured feet, the toes tipped with bright red polish that peeked out from a pair of strappy block heels. Boy are they going to have a field day with you.

“I’m Mrs. Kessler,” the advisor announced as she offered her hand. “Sorry to keep you waiting, but we’re running behind schedule.”

“Oh, no problem,” Kimmy responded while shaking the woman’s hand. “I actually have the night off.”


Mrs. Kessler led her through several doors and then down a lengthy hallway. As they walked, the advisor explained, “Now this dinner is a very private affair; you’ll be required to sign a confidentiality agreement prior to employment.”

“Oh, okay!”

A door suddenly opened at the far end of the passage, and a stocky man in a purple and white tracksuit appeared. Jennifer, the woman that Kimmy had met earlier, was with him. But rather than walking on her own accord, the man seemed to be guiding her along like a friend assisting a drunk roommate after a wild night of partying. She appeared to be in some sort of trance, and she moved as if some unknown power was controlling her actions. Her eyes were open, but sightless; her arms hung listlessly at her sides…

“Hey, are you okay?” Kimmy asked with concern.

“She can’t hear you,” the advisor said rather cryptically.

Kimmy looked back to see Jennifer come to a complete stop. The really odd part was that she was just stood there, facing the wrong direction as the man opened the door to her immediate right. He had to physically turn Jennifer’s body to the right and then practically pushed her inside…

Well that’s pretty weird…

Mrs. Kessler cleared her throat to redirect Kimmy’s attention.

“This way, please.”

Kimberly felt a hand at the small of her back, noticed the warmth of the other woman’s touch through the thin fabric of her dress. There was a restrained sense of urgency behind it as the advisor guided her into the candlelit room beyond.

“Oh wow,” Kimmy was heard to observe out loud, “It smells like freshly-cut roses in here.”

The door gently closed behind her.


* * * *


Coach Albert Walker sat quietly in one corner of a black sectional, his pristine runners casually crossed over on top of a coffee table. He was lazily flipping through a dog-eared copy of Sports Illustrated to pass the time. Usually, the teachers’ lounge was a place for informal sharing of ideas, team building, and fraternizing with fellow staff members.

For the next few hours, it would serve as a makeshift tailor shop.

Albert’s eyes flicked up to the thought-provoking scene that was taking place on the other side of the room.

A bespectacled woman of Asian descent worked swiftly and efficiently, being extra careful not to prick the model’s chestnut skin with one of her dressmaking pins. The professional costumer had been commissioned to recreate the iconic Playboy bunny uniforms that the wait staff would wear for the upcoming Fraternal Order dinner, (an idea suggested by Dean Kessler himself). It was one of those last minute deals where “the powers that be” expected a month’s worth of work to be finished yesterday.


Vera wasn’t used to dealing with such ridiculous demands, but the substantial sum of money the University had offered was pretty hard to ignore. She wasn’t getting any younger, and at 61, she was getting too close to retirement to ask any questions that might get herself fired from such a lucrative job.

And Vera could keep a secret; the ability to remain discreet was an essential trait to have when dealing with the Fraternal Order; the privacy agreement they’d made her sign had told her so.

The tailoress adjusted the black bowtie one last time, making sure it was perfectly centered on the white collar that wrapped around the mannequin’s neck.

Mannequin, Vera thought. Now you even sound like them.

The “mannequin” in question was actually a living, breathing woman (presumably a student from the university). Physically life-like in every detail (as she should be), yet completely poseable like one of those articulated wooden figures one might see on an artist’s workbench.

There was a certain emptiness in the young woman’s eyes, a haunted look that spoke of things best forgotten. Vera had found it odd at first (even a bit unsettling) when the model never reacted to her touch in any way, (this was especially true when a misplaced safety pin drew a small speck of blood from the female’s thigh and she didn’t even flinch). The costumer immediately apologized for the misstep, but her words merely fell on deaf ears.

“That should do for now,” Vera said as she hung her measuring tape around her neck. Her hands dropped down to the figure’s bare shoulders, the pads of her thumbs tenderly rubbing at the soft skin before drawing down the length of her dusky arms. She began to circle around her subject, taking in the finished product like a seasoned art critic judging a piece of sculpture.

“Small chest, like teacups, but firm for their size,” Vera fussed. She took a moment to tuck the figure’s soft, yet pliable titty-flesh deeper inside the cups of her corset to create the illusion of more cleavage. “Cute shape too; slender but curwy.”

She gave her mannequin form (ugh ―model) one last adoring look, let out an envious sigh and then pondered … Ah, to be a gū niang again.

Even as Vera stepped away, the silent form never tracked her movement…

Another woman stood a few feet to the left; this one nearly a decade older, but still attractive in her own right. She was something to look at in her floral-print top, denim-styled yoga pants and strappy heels. The American moniker hot soccer mom immediately came to mind.

Vera glanced down at her next work order. “Jennifer?”

At least this one has a name.

Her latest subject remained as silent as the last, arms relaxed at her sides, the expression on her face just as empty as her neighbor’s.

“I strip you down to basics so I can get precise measurement, okay?”

Jennifer didn’t protest.

Vera raised one of the woman’s arms up high above her head, where it stayed without any effort. Just like a dressmaker’s dummy. She repeated the process with Jennifer’s other, leaving her to stand there like a referee signaling a touchdown.

Albert looked up from his magazine with interest, raised a bushy eyebrow when Vera gave Jennifer’s top a demanding tug. The tailoress shimmied the floral print top up over the model’s head, gradually revealing the lacy black demi-bra she wore beneath. The older woman raised up on her tippy toes to pluck the last bit of material off from the figure’s bladed hands…

Jennifer’s long raven locks fell down in a weighty mess, partially blocking her vacuous stare from view.

“Oh my,” the clothier reacted, “Your hair go everywhere!”

Vera set the garment aside. She wound Jennifer’s static-filled locks into a sloppy knot on top of her head, securing it in place with a few claw clamps. The costumer stepped back and took in the subject’s appearance with a quick but thorough appraisal…

“Another měi nǚ,” Vera commended in a coquettish tone. She reached out, extended her fingers and idly traced the curve of Jennifer’s cheek. Then her gaze fell to the figure’s chest. “…Equally attractive, but more endowed.”

Albert continued to eye the pair from across the room, the expression on his face twisted in wonder. This ole’ bag is nuttier than a holiday fruitcake. She’s literally trying to have a conversation with her, like some little girl playing with her new doll.

How ironic.

“We have lots of measuring to do,” said Vera as she gave Jennifer’s hip a fond little pat. “But still too many clothes.”

Albert’s ears perked up again, the costume-maker’s eccentricities quickly forgotten.

“Here, let me help you,” Vera urged in a matronly voice. Her fingers curled into the model’s elastic waistband, grasping yoga pants and underwear alike; she tugged downward past hips and thighs, leaving her “mannequin” completely naked in one fell swoop…

Jennifer wobbled in place from the force.

Albert elevated himself on the couch. Panties and pants in one go. Nice.

The coach watched, attentively, as Vera grasped Jennifer around the lower waist and gently tilted her from one side to the other. Despite her age and size, the older woman was robust enough to raise each foot up off the floor to remove the items from around the figure’s ankles.

Once Vera stepped out of the way, Albert’s eyes flicked to Jennifer’s pubic mound. The dark hair was cropped close to her skin and neatly trimmed into a thin landing strip above her lips.

The costumer noticed it too.

“Already shaved; that’s good thing. No unsightly hair to stick out of leg holes.”

Albert swallowed a little harder when the woman reached behind the figure’s back to unclasp her bra...

Vera slipped the straps down over Jennifer’s arms and allowed the underwired cups to fall away from her pale breasts.

Across the room, Albert inhaled sharply and murmured “sweet mother of god” beneath his breath. His gray eyes skimmed over the key points of Jennifer’s body: hips, waist, that glorious chest. Her tits were clearly bigger, (at least a full C compared to her neighbor’s B) and the contours delightfully upswept. The nipples sat up high as well, the darker pink rings of her areola covered in little goose bumps. The coach watched with bated breath as the costumer’s hands reached up to cup them, her fingers pressing and kneading the firm flesh, the pebble-like nipples surely scraping against her opened palms…

Vera side-glanced over her shoulder, made an annoyed face, and then cleared her throat.

Too many eyes.

“…Let’s get to work.”

Jennifer stared through her in response.

Vera let her tailor’s tape unfurl from her hand. She wrapped the tape around the figure’s waist and eyed the results. “Twenty four inches,” she called out before withdrawing the pencil from behind her ear and writing down the results.

Vera squatted down in front of her mannequin, the costumer’s face now level with her subject’s exposed vagina. She was so close that she could actually smell the feminine scent of Jennifer’s sex. She wrapped the tape measure around the figure’s shapely hips, pinched the two halves in front, and then peered out over the frames of her glasses...

“Thirty-six inches,” Vera observed. She smiled, jotted down the results and commented, “Your tushy pert and round; you will fill out uniform nicely.”

Nicely indeed, Albert thought.

Vera wrapped the tape around Jennifer’s leg at mid-thigh, pinched the halves together, and recorded another measurement. When the costumer moved the tape further upward to measure her inseam, her left hand jerked a bit; her middle finger had accidentally brushed against the rubbery folds of Jennifer’s pussy. It was just a brief moment, but it felt like a jolt of electricity sparked against her finger… There’s some moisture there too. Vera guessed that her mannequin was a bit turned on by all of this attention.

…Or whatever it was they did to her in that room earlier.

Jennifer remained completely still as Vera wielded her tape measure across the width of her shoulders and then down the length of her arm, the older woman clucking in admiration the entire time. She jotted down the results and went on to explain:

“This next measurement is circumferential, so I need to encircle your entire torso from upper shoulder to groin...”

Vera placed the center of her measuring tape where Jennifer’s shoulder met the base of her neck. With both halves hanging freely over her front and back, the costumer ran the forward portion over the fullest part of her mannequin’s bust and then down the length of her torso. Crouching lower, Vera reached in between the figure’s legs, grasped the end of the rearward tape and then stretched it up through the crack of her buttocks. Pulling the forward half tight from Jennifer’s neck down to her twat, the tape burrowed down in between her nether lips. Vera’s mouth curled into a half-grin as she pinched the two halves together, the backs of her fingers pressed up against the damp creases of Jennifer’s undercarriage.

Why you so wet?... Do ole lady excite you, or maybe posing like a mannequin?

Across the room, Albert shook off a chill as he considered how cold that metal tip must feel on Jennifer’s bare sex.

…I’m sure she doesn’t mind.

In truth; Jennifer hadn’t flinched or batted an eyelash since he’d brought her in there. There was a legitimate reason for that.

The woman recorded another measurement on her yellow notepad.

“Finally, we do the chest.”

Vera reached through Jennifer’s right armpit and then drew the tape around through the left, fully encircling her shoulder blades and the fullest part of her bust. The costumer was extra sure not to cinch the tape so tight that it compressed the breasts themselves.

“We don’t want to squish them too much.”

The costumer read the tape; she clicked her tongue as she made some quick calculations in her head and came up with the answer she was looking for.

“So, a 36 C.”

I don’t need no damned tape measure to tell me that,” Albert muttered to himself.

Vera loosened the measuring tape a little, watched as Jennifer’s nipples sprung into view. Then she released it all the way. Slowly, the tape slipped down off her succulent breasts, unraveled itself from around the figure’s torso, exposing her in full once again.

Such a sexy mannequin,” the costumer whispered against her ear.

Vera drew the backs of her fingers over those nipples, grazed them with such sensitive lightness that she swallowed hard in her throat. She was so caught up in the moment that she gave a little start when the door opened to her left…

Bebe Kessler came in, this time escorting a woman with sandy-blonde hair by the arm. Like the others, her eyes seemed glassy and distant.

They say good things come in threes, Vera mused.

“This is Kimberly,” the advisor informed, “she needs to be measured for a uniform as well.”

The young woman walked with an inebriated sway to her step, (at one point even bumping into Vera’s arm without acknowledging she’d even done so). The advisor guided her past, swung her around 180 degrees and left her to stand a few feet to Jennifer’s right.

“That should do it,” Kessler said. “Like I said: you will have three weeks to complete the uniforms and five days to make any alterations.”

The woman walked back in the direction from which she came, but as she opened the door, she turned around to ask, “Have you taken a break yet?”

“Um, no.” Vera confessed. “You are in hurry; the faster I get measurements, the sooner I go back to shop and cut fabric.”

“Yes, but union regulations require a 15-minute break, so do that now before you start on Kimberly.”

The costumer just shrugged her shoulders and said nothing.

“In fact: why don’t we go next door so we can get you paid ― in cash, of course. You can take a break while you’re at it.”


Vera set her tape measure and things aside and then walked over to where Kessler was holding the door open for her. As the two walked down the corridor, the advisor commented:

“I want to thank you for offering your services on such short notice; the preparations for this event have been, well … very hectic.”

“I’m happy to help.”

As the pair came to a second door, Kessler swiped her key-card down the slot and waited for the beep. She reached for the door handle and asked, “Do you like the smell of freshly-cut roses?”

“Oh yes.”

The advisor smiled at her in a knowing way.


* * *
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