Bikini Isekai 2: Bikini Gym

Should you be joining us mid-story, Danny died at the start, and has since been recruited to work for Candy, The Muse of Raunchy Sex Comedies. His first tale of boobs and bombast has come to an end, and this is a new tale. You can treat this as a standalone tale, though you might miss a running bit or two.

This is a long one, but I chose to keep it as a single entry, rather than trying to break it up into story and sequel. Also, while I am Mr. Slow Burn, let's just say this one is packed a bit fuller with sex than Bikini Detailing 1 & 2... It's a 90s story, and the softcore comedy industry had more room to 'maneuver'...

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Bikini Isekai 3: Bikini Gym

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Oh, for frick's sake, I thought, as I faded back into the pseudo-existence I was starting to call The White. I could perceive myself again, and I was still in the featureless whiteness where I could speak to the boss directly. But Candy was no longer right in front of me, and those breasts were certainly no longer within my reach. I rummaged around in my memories to try to figure out if I had spent any intervening time reading or actually watching American Pie again. Huh. I was pretty sure I had. Yep, I definitely had. But I was pretty sure that I had not just been sitting on an invisible couch, watching the movie on some big screen. It had been immersive. Oh, wow. Alyson Hannigan and Shannon Elizabeth...

Less wonderfully, I absolutely did not remember getting my hands on Candy the way I had been sure I was about to. All other intervening memories of whatever happened during that fade, however long it had been, were hazy for me at best, but I was quite bitterly certain that I had damn well not closed my grasp on those breasts.

At least I could swear a bit more here...

I heard the squeak of sneakers approaching, and I looked up to see Candy once more coming into view from the mist of the... whiteness. She was now wearing an aerobics outfit with shiny teal tights, a horizontally striped, pink and white sleeveless leotard, pink leg warmers, and teal terrycloth wrist bands.

It all covered acres more of her skin than the bikini she had on the last time my eyes were privileged to rest upon her, but there was just as little concealed about her unearthly hot figure.

"All set for another adventure?" she asked with a smile as she approached.

"I guess," I said. "Just like the last one?"

"This one's a bit more modern," Candy said. "The results of your first job shook some things loose, and there are creatives who are new to me, with more modern sensibilities. For instance, this time, the real protagonist is a woman."

"You are going to make me a girl?" I yelped, a feeling of panic surging up my gorge.

"Relax! Of course not," Candy laughed. It was a gorgeous laugh, musical yet sexy. "You just won't be the hero this time. But I think you will still find this fun..." she added with a private smile.

"Wait! What does that mea..."

*

I found myself unlocking the door to Pinkfit Women's Fitness even earlier than usual this morning. I did not love the dawn hours, but I had to do some maintenance on the showers, and I was always highly motivated to get that sort of job done early, lest I find myself replacing a valve with wet, naked women all around me.

As I pushed through the door, I briefly considered what that unbidden thought told me about the character I was playing in this story.

Am I gay? Please, Candy, you wouldn't do that to me, would you?

No.

Anything but, actually.

Ah.

Apparently, this Danny was constantly surrounded by often naked, gorgeous, female flesh on this job. And the flesh that wasn't naked was still pretty gorgeous, and very much on display. I was most definitely not homosexual, and looking at all that flesh was... painfully distracting. It was painful because of how all that flesh looked at me... Or rather, how it all did not.

I already had my toolkit in my hands, and I grabbed the UPS box that had come in yesterday with the replacement valve I needed. I headed back to the changing room. There was only one changing room at Pinkfit, as it was a women-only fitness club. I was the only male employee.

The place was a haven for hardbody women who wanted to be able to concentrate and have fun while using the gym and enjoying all the activities and sports available, all without having to deal with being ogled by beefy gym bros while they were doing it. These women just wanted to get into shape... so they could be ogled by beefy gym bros everywhere else they went.

I got to the dressing area and was relieved to see that none of the occasional crack of dawn types were in yet this morning.

I caught sight of myself in the mirrors over the sinks and dressing counter.

Oh, for crying out loud, Candy!

I thought I had started out as a hapless nerd in Bikini Detailing One and Two.

Wait. Please let this only be how I was starting out!

What peered back at me from the mirror through even dorkier black-framed glasses than last time was... one helluvan uber-nerd. I was taller than I had been in real life, at least six feet, maybe more. My posture was not so much good as painfully ramrod straight. My clothing choices made me want to hunt down my fictional mother in this world and give her a piece of my mind. My pants were khaki work slacks with the big pleats in front that made me look even hippier than I probably was to begin with. I looked like a damned pear... My work shirt was a light blue, Oxford cloth button-down that I had closed all the way up to my throat. It was so loose, it hung on my puffy frame.

I wasn't just a nerd, I was a fat, blue-collar nerd! No wonder I already knew I was functionally invisible to the customers of the gym.

I needed to get this valve replaced before anyone came in, and I was forced to endure naked bodies using the shower around me. Naked bodies, I had no prayer with.

To be clear, I already knew there was no chance that Candy was going to let me get away with not staring helplessly and painfully at naked bodies I had no prayer with. I just did not know how she was going to accomplish that... and when.

Rats...

No, I mean, actual, physical rats. In the locker room. Running around loose!

Crap. This was the sort of thing that hurt gyms' reputations. Erica, my boss, would flip her lid if she saw these rats, or worse, any customers saw these, or any other, rats.

I considered beating the rats to death with my broom.

There were lots of problems with that. The rats would be fast, and chances seemed slim for success. I also have a real-life softness for rats, going back to a pet one I had when I was in high school. But mostly, I wasn't even sure this incarnation of me was strong enough to kill rats with just a broom.

My mind whirled, and I tried to stave off panic. The three brown and white rodents were crawling all over the place. One scampered along, leaping from one small bench to the next. The sturdy benches were bolted to the floor in front of the row of lockers. Another rat was sitting in the middle of the floor, scratching itself.

I almost screamed when I saw that the third was trying to get into someone's locker. If he succeeded and was subsequently found by the member who had that locker... My hands flew to my face, and I heard slasher movie strings in the background.

I decisively ran for a bucket. I had experience recapturing Mr. Wigglesnout on those occasions when he did not want to go back in his cage, back when he and I were both still alive. A bucket is a great tool for rodent rodeo.

I ran around the changing room like a maniac. Time seemed to be going at three times the usual rate, and some kind of Benny Hill music started playing in the background until I finished capturing all three rats. I heaved a sigh as time went back to normal.

I had no idea what to do with three rats. They were pet-type rats, I could tell that much. Wild rats would have bitten me several times. That, at least, was a relief. Also, it meant that for sure, I wasn't going to kill them. But if I didn't get rid of them, Erica would kill me.

I shoved all three in a big cardboard box, along with the cheese from the sandwich I had in my lunchbox, and taped it shut. I needed to get that valve replaced before the naked bodies started filling the shower. I had to rush because the rats had succeeded in the narrative mission Candy had given them of imposing time urgency on me. Were one or more of them little Rodent Sparks?

I shook my head and got to work replacing the valve as quickly as possible. I might still get out of there and on to my other tasks in the fully-clothed but still bad enough sections of the gym, without having to endure...

Sure enough, just as I had the old valve all the way removed and I could no longer take a break, into the shower wandered two women about my age. My 'memory' supplied that they were Felicity and Ginger, two of the gym rattiest of our gym rats. They both were also capable of unspeakable acts of morning personhood, thus their need for showers already at this early hour.. They were also good friends with each other, so they often worked out or played any of the available sports together. In fact, they were the best beach volleyball team we had at Pinkfit.

I had the water cut off to the left bank of showers, but they happily moved to take up adjacent showers directly across from me on the right wall. The members did not bat an eye at the fully clothed guy in the shower with them, because they hadn't looked at me... ever.

I did not look at them.

I tried not to look at them.

I did my best. Really.

But they were Right. Damned. There.

I managed to avoid the slack-jawed stare my body wanted to engage in, but I could not help but split my concentration between the new valve and all the prep needed for it to go into the wall, and the two of them.

Felicity was tallish. She had her long blonde hair pulled up into a topknot while in the shower this morning, so she would not get it wet. Her figure was leonine; slender overall, with a stomach flat as a board, and nice little breasts with nipples that I had from past experience learned were always hard as diamonds. All. The Freaking. Time. No matter what was going on, those nips were on red alert. Even when she wasn't naked, you could still see them, because you'd need iron pasties to hide those spears. And above all else, Felicity had an ass that was magnetic. She chattered away to Ginger as she soaped up her body, white rivulets running down her slender curves.

Ginger was shorter and more muscular. In comparison, you might almost call her a fireplug... if fireplugs came in achingly sexy varieties. He tits were three times the size of Felicity's, with slightly larger nipples that, while not the permanent high-beams that Felicity's were, often perked up pretty spectacularly in the cold water she preferred to shower under. Her ass seemed like twice the size of Felicity's, but was otherwise just as round, just as tight, and just as flawless as her volleyball partner's. Ginger's reddish hair was soon snow white in thick waves of shampoo suds.

Despite my sometimes open, always timid, stares, they paid as much mind to my presence as to the little plastic stools that Erica and I kept scattered in the showers because women liked to use them to more easily shave their legs... and other areas.

So, I was so undesirable as to be completely invisible to the customers here. Swell. Was I supposed to work my way out of this situation... or to take advantage of it?

I doubted it was the latter. Candy has said this scenario had more modern sensibilities, so playing a Peeping Tom for laughs seemed out of date. I just hoped I'd be allowed to work my way out of this invisibility somehow. I wasn't the hero this time around, so I was a little worried I was to be the comic relief: The quiet loser in the background, always staring mournfully into the camera from underneath one catastrophe after the next, whilst all the fun goes on around him.

I managed to get far enough into the job to turn toward the wall and start installing the new valve, relieving me of the burden/delight of Felicity and Ginger's naked bods. Behind me, I heard their showers cut off. They chattered happily about some minor beach volleyball tournament coming up at a bar across town as they toweled off and headed back toward the lockers.

I heaved a sigh of relief and started to sweat in the valve, free of distractions.

Two screams from the locker room caused me to simultaneously roll my eyes at my cockeyed optimism, burn my fingers on the hot pipes, and then drop everything to run after the girls. It sounded like there was an axe murderer in there.

Were there axe murderers in raunchy sex comedies? Had Candy actually loaned me out after all, but to the Muse of Slasher Flicks?

I skidded around the corner, crashing into a locker as I did so, erasing any trace of a heroic vibe in my hasty rush to help. Both girls were standing on the benches in front of their lockers, still stark naked, waving their towels around wildly. What this did to Ginger's tits in particular made it hard for me to concentrate on the crisis, whatever it was.

"Whu- whau- what's th- th- th- the matter?" I stuttered.

Great. I was stuttering again. Worse than in San Ramona, too.

"Rat!" screamed Felicity, pointing in a panic.

A fourth little stinker was in the middle of the room.

Yeah. These rats were all domesticated. This little one, mostly brown with a white mark on its back, was fastidiously clean and calmly making itself more so in the middle of the floor, utterly undisturbed by the two giant, pink, hairless, unclothed creatures making loud, high-pitched noises up above where it was minding its own business.

How the hell had I missed one? Fortunately, the bucket was still close at hand. With a swoop, I had it over the rat, and blessed silence descended on the room.

"Oh, thank God," Ginger gasped, clasping her hands to her heaving chest, but not bothering to cover her tits in so doing.

"Heh," Felicity chuckled in a moment of humor. "I think we need to thank... um... I..." She stumbled to a halt, obviously not remembering my name. It was understandable. She had probably never even heard my name to begin with.

"Wait, it's Danny, I think," Ginger said uncertainly. That was a win in my book. I smiled pathetically. "Yeah, we need to thank Danny," she said with a nod.

"Yeah, that's it," Felicity agreed.

Neither of them actually went ahead and thanked me, however. I was about to be forgotten again when I heard a beautiful alto voice behind me. An unhappy, beautiful alto voice. "What is happening in here? What's the problem?" my boss, and Pinkfit's owner, Erica asked anxiously, entering with truly graceful haste..

"There is a rat under that bucket," Felicity said, pointing dramatically, but she was already calmer than Erica.

Erica suddenly levitated onto a bench of her own, as if by teleportation. I learned back when I was alive and married that snakes and rats are magical creatures. They can impart the power of teleportation upon female humans... "A Rat?" Erica yelped. "How? Oh God! No! A rat?"

"It's a- a- a- a- alright, Erica," I said, as firmly as my stutter would let me. "He's in th- the bucket."

"How is there a rat in my gym, Danny? I thought you kept everything clean?"

Swell.

"Just le- let me get it out of here, and we w- w- will talk in your office," I said, rushing to slide some cardboard under the bucket and hightail it out of the changing room to put this rat into the box with the other little troublemakers.

"How did it get in here?" Erica demanded as I collected bucket and rat.

"I have an idea," I said grimly, not stuttering for once. Erica heard my tone and did not follow up in front of Ginger and Felicity. Instead, she turned to apologize to the two members, who honestly were becoming rapidly very chill about the situation, but still not bothering to get any less naked. Since I did not exist, they did not care about their nudity. This was a changing room, after all.

I popped Rat #4 in the box with the others and headed for Erica's office. She had beat me there and was pacing around.

"Rats are a disaster, Danny! Members freaking out would be bad enough, but what if the health department hears? What got these creatures to come into my building?"

"They are not a health hazard," I said, again on solid ground enough to not stutter. I usually found myself relaxed around Erica, even when she was mad like this. She did see me as a human being at least. And one she liked. But she nevertheless seemed to be unaware that I was male, even at the best of times, considering how she expected me to wander around among all her often naked members. "They are pet store rats," I emphasized. "Domestic. And very docile."

"THEY?!?!?"

Oops.

"I caught three others before anyone came in. I thought I had gotten them all. I'm sorry," I said uncomfortably.

Erica, who is a great boss, waved my screwup off. "I still don't... You said you have an idea of where they came from?"

I nodded grimly. I had a solid, plot-advancingly certain memory from the past. "I'm guessing that 'someone' put them in here. They are not w- w- wild rats."

"Wanda!" Erica growled in understanding. "Or one of her merry bitches. You know, the prank thing used to be all in fun, Danny. My pranks still are, like when I coated her sauna benches in honey last month. But this is getting mean."

"Did- didn't you two used to be friends?" I asked.

"Besties. We started this whole Gym Wars rivalry to drum up membership for both of our gyms," Erica mused. "But she has gotten nasty lately."

"I'm sorry," I said.

"It's not your fault," Erica waved me off, regaining her equilibrium now that she had a rival business owner to blame. She popped up and ran out of her office to the big whiteboard covered with messages. She erased a big space in the center and and the FitDames crew have struck again!!! If you see a RAT, just scream (You are going to anyway), and Danny will come and take it away. They are HARMLESS!!❤️

Oh no! Could there be more rats?

"I'll stay late today, just in case I missed another one," I sighed.

"Thanks, Danny," Erica said absently but sincerely. "I know I can always count on you."

She walked back to her office, and I watched her go, grinding my teeth in frustration. Even when fully clothed in loose terrycloth warmups, Erica was damn near as hot as either of the members from earlier had been naked. Erica, I had never seen naked.

I actually bit my lip at that thought. I brought up my character sheet.

Name: Danny

Age: 25

Intelligence: 17

Height: 6' 2"

Build: Bulky

Cash: Good

Game: None whatsoever

Hair: Mom still cuts it

Debuffs: Nervous stutter, heavy glasses, invisibility

Buffs: Trusted

Virginity: Null

Ugh. With all my other miseries, I had not even noticed how bad my hair was. At least it wasn't a bowl cut... And my mom? Really, Candy?

I could somehow hear the unapologetic shrug in reply.

It wasn't mentioned on the character sheet, so I furtively felt the front of my pants. Whew. At least the gift Candy had given me the first time around was still in there. Not that there was any viable avenue toward using it...

I finally got the valve installed, with only the most minor of montages from naked chicks who had begun to fill the showers by the time I got back from dropping the rats off at the only pet store I could find that would swear to me they would not feed them to the snakes.

The rest of the day passed in one of those timeslips, and I found it was the next day, with no important memories from the prior shift except that the nasty prank seemed to have brought the customers closer together, and united in the belief that Something Must Be Done.

At home, I took off my glasses, then undressed for bed. Probably the wrong order of operations, as I banged my shin on a table, but I just could not abide wearing those ugly glasses for another moment. I blindly fell asleep to dream of the wicked awesome specs that Phylicia had given me in Bikini Detailing 2.

Of course, I forgot where I had taken off my current glasses when I woke up, and banged my shin again looking for them. I only found my specs at last by sheer dumb luck, and only after I had fumbled my way through a quick shower and gotten completely dressed.

I chose to come in late and stay late this day, since I had no tasks planned in potentially naked areas of the gym to get out of the way in the early morning slow time. When I got to work, there were more customers just hanging out than usual, and there was an excited buzz.

"What is up?" I asked Erica, my stutter in abeyance since there was currently no actual nudity, and no one was yelling at me.

"Hmm?" Erica asked initially, sort of unaware that I had been standing right in front of her. "Oh," she then said, registering my presence. "The Department of Parks and Rec is sponsoring an all-city interclub championships, men's and women's divisions. It's sponsored by a big shoe company, and there are prizes for the participants and winning clubs." She looked steely-eyed and determined. "When we win, I'll have the high profile and the down payment to get the money I need to open my second location! We are going to the big time, Danny!"

"When you win?" I asked, feeling a bit like the fool who rode in the chariot with Caesar, reminding him that he was mortal.

Erica grimaced. "We will. I need this. We have the best female athletes in town at this club, Danny. Even Erica and her five damned locations can just barely compete. And we will beat her when it counts!" She looked at me as if really seeing me now. "I'll bet she had gotten word about this contest in advance," she said with a confidential grimace, "and the rats were supposed to be sabotage--to scare off a crucial member or two."

"That was a mean thing to do to those rats," I said angrily.

Really? I was going to go to bat for the freaking rats?

Erica looked at me and smiled. "You are so cute, Danny."

I sighed again as she instantly forgot my existence.

Someone told me that they needed more towels at the pool.

Great. The pool was always busy, and there was always a need for more towels. At least the women in there would all have swimsuits on... usually. Sometimes, one or more of the members would decide the pool was a part of the spa and would just go swimming naked. Since it was an all-female facility, random Nude Day breakouts were never a problem for anyone except me. And since I did not exist, no one took me into account. Hopefully, today when I entered the pool area, I would just have to suffer from being around bikini babes I had no chance with, rather than naked babes I had no chance with.

I grabbed a huge stack of white towels from the laundry and carried the tottering mass into the pool area.

Things were set up for water polo at the moment. As usual, it was more mayhem than drills.

"Come on! Get serious here," called Jayne, a tall, athletic brunette. She sounded mildly exasperated. "Those city championship things are soon, and if we want to win water polo for Erica, we need to actually practice." Jayne always tried to be the serious one in most gatherings.

Things calmed down a hair as most of the girls in the pool turned to look at her. Felicity, who was in the pool along with Ginger, was treading water next to Jayne. "You are right. Absolutely," Felicity agreed seriously... right before she flat-out dunked Jayne by surprise.

That set off an absolute riot. A song came up loudly out of nowhere, and I was suddenly enduring a Water Fight Montage, with women bouncing below and above the surface of the water, dunking and splashing, and occasionally practicing passes with the ball. They were all, of course, wearing bikinis. And bikinis are, of course, not the best garment for maintaining modesty while playing sports like water polo. So, of course, I was treated to the odd breast making an appearance for a flash. Sometimes more than just a flash. Xaviera got her top so tangled that she just ripped it off in frustration and tossed it to the poolside concrete.

The fact that I somehow already knew Xaviera and Jayne's names told me they would likely be significant characters in the story.

Good Candy, I hoped so.

My first adventure, the girls in the world had mostly been hot, and mostly formed from the same sort of mold: Hardbody Barbie.

This time around, the women were almost all still hot as Christmas, but in a far greater variety of form.

As the montage song felt like it was coming to an end, I took the stupid risk of trying to get on with delivering the towels to the rack on the far side of the pool atrium. But the montage was still going, and a hurled ball cutely bounced off the noggin of a girl in the pool and ricocheted out toward me.

I stared stupidly at it until it hit me right in the face, sending my glasses God knows where. I stumbled, staggered around like an idiot, then tripped over Xaviera's bikini top where it lay on the poolside. My six-foot stack of towels tilted toward the dim blur that was the pool, and I wildly twisted myself to tilt them away instead.

Wouldn't want to get them all wet after all.

I succeeded, sending them scattering all over the floor instead.

And sending myself hurtling into the pool in their place.

I popped to the surface, sputtering like a total douche, to the sound of peals of laughter from all the girls surrounding me. At least they knew I existed. Temporarily.

Then they suddenly didn't, as the montage music ended and they all got spontaneously serious about practicing water polo and ignoring me. I thrashed around, fully clothed and shod in the water that was over even my head, let alone all theirs, and reached the side, pulling myself out to lie on the hard poolside like a beached whale. A beached, blind whale.

"You okay, Danny?" I heard a voice popping out of the pool. Ginger. She popped out of the water to stand above me as if the maneuver required no more skill and effort than standing up from a chair.

"M- m- my g- g- glasses," I said, both thankful and in anguish that I could not appreciate the sight of her standing right over me.

"Oh no! And you are soaking wet," she said. It was almost like she was having to make an effort just to keep thinking of me as a person.

"I, I've got dry clothes in m- m- my office," I stuttered, hating myself for it. "B- b- but my glasses..." I stared around feebly.

"You go get dried off," Ginger said firmly. "I'll try to find your glasses and bring them to you."

"Y- you will?" I asked in pathetic surprise.

"For my knight in shining armor that saved me from the rat?" she said cutely, and almost not condescendingly. "Sure."

I stumbled off, windmilling my arms to find the door out and get down the hall to my office.

It really was an office, not just a janitor's closet. In addition to being a janitor, I remembered that I also maintained and repaired the fitness equipment, did all the IT, and even some bookkeeping.

I was a Renaissance nerd.

I struggled out of my work boots and socks, then shucked the rest of my clothes, leaving them all in a dripping pile amidst a growing puddle on the floor. I slowly turned around in a circle, trying to remember where I had my dry change of clothes, while trying to forget all the nipple slips I had just endured.

"Danny! I found... whoa!" Ginger called, stepping into my office.

Oh shit! I was naked here!

I grabbed my junk, which, yes indeed, still had the generous proportions Candy had gifted me before, and which, yes, had already started getting chubby, what with certain memories. I yelped, "Ginger!"

"Holy shit, Danny!"

"I'm sorry," I babbled, not wanting to be fired for exposing myself to the clients. "I hav- hav- haven't gotten changed yet!"

"No," Ginger said swiftly. "My fault. I should have knocked. I should have known you'd be, um..." she apologized. But I dimly noticed that she didn't reopen the door and get out of my office.

"Here's your glasses," she went on, almost sounding nervous herself.

Well, yeah. Naked nerd on near-full display here.

I had to move one hand to fumble for the glasses, which left one less hand than was necessary to fully cover my, um, shame in its current condition. I cringed as I slid the frames back on my face.

Ginger was still not moving. But at least she wasn't screaming or freaking out.

In fact...

"I mean, damn, Danny!" she said softly, outright staring at me.

Shit. The dick. I should have turned away. It was a problem.

I started to do just that when I caught sight of my naked form in the mirror on the wall.

Holy shit! I was built like Chris freaking Hemsworth! Chris Hemsworth, after he had spent six months working out and eating nothing but skinless chicken breasts for a Thor role!

Oh. So, I could use words like 'damn', and 'shit' this time around, but still no fu... f-word. Weird.

"Why do you always wear those baggy clothes?" Ginger breathed, still not going anywhere and, in fact, taking a step closer to me.

I edged a step away, which was stupid. But I did it because it was apparently in character.

"And how did you get ripped like that, Danny?" she added in wonder.

"I- I- I like to use the machines after closing," I stuttered. "Working out always has always let me think."

"You must think a lot," Ginger said with a snort.

"I... uh," I said. What I thought at the moment was several things: Ginger wasn't going away. My glasses were mildly busted, and I was having to hold them onto my face. That left only one hand to cover my junk. And while the rest of me was nervously mortified, said junk was making itself increasingly difficult to hide. Finally, Ginger in that little green bikini was almost as hot as Ginger not in that little green bikini...

Ginger took a breath, shrugged as if to herself, and smiled at me warmly. "You know, Danny, I never did actually thank you for saving me from those rats," she said, stepping several steps closer to me.

I summoned the guts to not back up any further as she approached. I also didn't back up any further because I was already pressed against my desk. "I... I- I- I was j- j- just doing my job," I struggled to protest.

"You are too modest, Danny," Ginger said, now standing right in front of me with her hands clasped behind her back. That thrust some very nice breasts, clad only in that semi-modest bikini top, toward me. "And besides, sometimes a girl wants to feel like she's been rescued. It makes her feel like a princess," she chirped girlishly. She lifted a hand forward and actually touched me, dragging a finger down the biceps on one arm. Her voice dropped about two octaves and grew husky. "Especially when her rescuer is such a sexy-looking guy..."

Gulp!

Look, this body, this character I was inhabiting, was hapless, and I had already been kind of sneering at myself occasionally. But even back when I was alive, there had been no point in my life where I would not have been a nervous wreck had this situation occurred.

I just trembled.

"I think I want to reward you, Danny," Ginger purred. I could see the front of her bikini top tenting out from those only sometimes perky nipples. They were sure as hell perky now... "I think I'm going to enjoy rewarding you..."

She hesitated only a beat, a beat that made her seem at least plausibly real, and then swiftly unhooked the back of her top and lifted it off over her head.

I moaned in agonized delight as those breasts came into view. Yes, her nipples had fully bought into the situation...

"Come on, Danny," she snorted at my goggle-eyed reaction. "You've seen them before. Lots of times. You're always around, just doing your job. I admit I've never really noticed, but you have to look at least a little!"

"There..." my voice actually squeaked. I cleared my throat. "There is a big difference between seeing breasts and having them shown to you!"

Wow! No stutter there at the end!

"I'll bet there is an even bigger difference when a girl puts your hands on them, then," Ginger cooed, and did just that.

Oh, wow. These were some nice boobs. Each was a good bit more than a handful, and I realized that I had pretty big hands. They were warm and firm, and trembled nicely as my fingers closed on them.

Should I fumble at these beauties like I was an idiot? Well, my character sheet said that this Danny was not a virgin, so at some point, some nerd girl must have gotten his hands on her. I chose to believe that he had learned something.

I squeezed gently, massaging the reward I had been presented. I bent my index fingers and slowly circled the knurled surface of the straining aureoles surrounding Ginger's very hard nipples.

"Oh, wow," Ginger murmured, melting lightly toward me. "You are good with your hands in everything."

"I... it's..." Don't say it's your job, moron! "I try," I gasped.

I was cut off when she kissed me.

Very nice.

Ginger tasted deliciously like the cinnamon mouthwash we keep in the changing rooms. I felt her tongue brush my lips, and I opened them eagerly. I kept my hands on those luscious tits as we kissed. There was no move on her part to dislodge them.

"Your lips are great, too, Danny," she breathed. "But your hands are amazing. What else can you do with them?" she asked, nipping my lower lip.

Okay, enough of my current personality held sway to make me infantily reluctant to let go of either breast, but I managed. I slid my hands downward and briefly cupped her rounded ass. She sounded pleased and nipped my lip again.

I hooked my thumbs under the broad waistband of her bikini bottom and tugged. I worked it down against some resistance, as it fit her very tightly. But once I had it down to mid-thigh, the bottom dropped away on its own. She was as naked now as I was. I pulled her against me hard.

She gasped at my sudden assertiveness, but flowed into my embrace easily. I clutched her ass and tugged on it, sinking my fingers into her flesh.

"So many nice things you can do with those fingers..." she murmured.

I was going to reach her limit here soon. I could tell there was only so far Ginger was going to go on a first... rat rescue? But I wanted her to be enthusiastic enough about what we did do here, to maybe one day want more.

I traced the fingers on one hand around her curvy hip to her soft abdomen. I let them slide lower, and they encountered the downy bush Ginger sported. You got red hair, I guess you kept the pubes... I let my first and middle fingers trace downward through the curls. Apparently, even for redheads, it was not necessary to keep the pubes, red or not, down underneath at the cleft.

Her labia were steaming but not dripping, and I set to correcting that. My fingertips caressed the edges of her slit, back and forth, and I got some little, but gratifying, moans for my efforts.

But again, I had that sensation of 'the camera' remaining steadfastly above our waists. I could play down there, but the current level of content filter or whatever was Candy's deal, kept my actions from being the focus of the 'audience's' eye. It made no sense to me, but hey. I was dead and here in a bikini isekai, with a woman applying her naked body to a nerd for 'saving' her from a pet store rat. My job for Candy wasn't to make it all make complete sense. I was just supposed to make things progress plausibly, if ridiculously, right?

I sensed a quiet murmur of Right in my head...

So if I kept up like this, the camera's eyes were going to get bored, and a time slip might truncate whatever fun I was going to have.

Nope.

I broke off her kiss and stared into her eyes hungrily. Then, my fingers still happily stroking her increasingly receptive slit, I bent to suck on her tits.

Hey, what do you know! The content restrictions for this story let me actually get my lips around her nipples! This was awesome. I put this era of production at around the early 2000's. I could hope for some more... involved sex this time.

Except I was the nerdy comic relief, and I was already getting more than my character likely would in any real show or film.

Apparently, I had a babble debuff on my character, along with the stutter, even if it wasn't listed on my character sheet. "I... I didn't rescue you, Ginger," I found myself saying. "I- I- It was a pet store kind of rat. Th- th- th- they don't have any diseases or fleas."

Ginger just pulled my head back up gently and then kissed me less gently. "Girls like being rescued, Danny," she explained sweetly. "It makes us princesses feel like we are being rescued by a prince!" I felt her hand softly wrap around my steel-hard tool. "But I think I've been rescued by a king. Kings are the ones who have scepters..."

And suddenly, she was sliding her hands and face down my chest until she was on her knees before me. I had no difficulty summoning a shocked, ridiculous face to keep the camera interested and away from what she was doing.

Girl could suck some dick. Like, Ginger was a serious expert.

She knew how to take a bunch of me in her mouth with seeming ease, and she demonstrated that knowledge swiftly and surely. And repeatedly.

If I had the body and especially the dick I'd possessed when I was alive, she would have been easily deep-throating me to the root, though I'd never have had a prayer with a babe like Ginger in the first place. Occasionally, she'd pause her devouring of my dick and take a breath while exquisitely pumping my spit-sodden shaft.

But she sensed I was getting close before I did, and she paused.

"Danny," Ginger smiled up at me. "I need you to lie down on your back so I can get at you better, okay?"

Really? This was how she could suck dick from a bad angle? I hastily complied with her wishes, sinking to the floor and relaxing back on my back, ready for things to resume.

But I was to get no further oral, alas...

No, she swung a leg over me and in moments was directing my tip against her opening! With a sigh, she sank down on me, her taut interior caressing me and molding to my size. "Oh, wow, Danny," she crooned as I felt her thighs come to rest on me. "That is seriously nice..."

And then she was riding me, energetically. Short thrusts, though, as if to ensure any camera would not be able to tell if this was simulated or real.

It was real. And my rod was singing in pure joy in moments. She was similarly excited, and I could feel her body writhing in pleasure as she took me. Her one hand was draped down at her crotch as we joined. In the movies, it would have been positioned there to hide any dick-related sightings of whatever sort from the camera. But she was fingering her clit, not hiding my dick. My dick was gloriously well-hidden already.

Definitely not an 80s-era softcore. This was hardly explicit, but it also was not some soft-focus, slow-motion musical number either. Her tits flapped around mesmerizingly, but also pretty funnily. They were so nice and big, and complemented her short, curvy form to perfection. It was almost a shame to grab them, because it stopped most of their scenic flailing. But grab them, I sure as heck did!

I felt like I had died and gone to Heaven.

No, I had died and gone to a Bikini Isekai.

This is not an Isekai.

I know, Candy. But it kind of is.

Ginger was growing short of breath, and I knew she was nearing. I relaxed and let myself go as well.

Aaaaaand a timeslip happened. Just a quick one, but both our orgasms kind of got glossed over!

What the hell?

I mean, really.

I guess the content filter wasn't loose enough to fully show either of our delicious climaxes. And they had been delicious. And simultaneously. Happening simultaneously, the porniness of our experiences would probably have been multiplicative, not additive.

It was weird to be able to remember something that I definitely did not actually experience in full.

But time immediately resumed normal flow, and I found myself holding Ginger in my arms. Damn. I really had seriously big arms...

Ginger helped me get dressed. "I kind of want to sing your praises to the heavens, Danny," she said, "but we better keep this a secret between us."

"Sure," I said sadly, understanding what she meant. Getting with me? She'd be embarrassed if any of the other girls found out...

She saw my face. "It's not that!" she said hastily to reassure me. "But you would probably get in trouble with Erica! And, well, if other girls start thinking about you the way I always will whenever I see you from now on, you won't be able to move around the gym and do your job!"

She giggled. "I'll bet you kind of like being sort of invisible, don't you? Wandering through the showers? Watching naked girls scream about rats?"

"It's miserable," I admitted.

"What?" she laughed, then sobered. "Why?"

"No one treats me like a human being, much less a guy," I muttered, not wanting to harsh my first post-sex mellow in years.

Ginger actually considered that. "I guess I see your point," she mused. Then she stepped up to me, her top back on but not tied in place, and kissed me again deeply. "Well, I hope you'll let me help you deal with those feelings from time to time, hero..."

Except I am not the hero. Erica is. I'm the comic sidekick.

*

I found myself heading home. How a guy like me afforded a house, I don't know, even a ramshackle one like this. The yard was overgrown, but it was also almost... big.

As I walked up the path to my front door, I spied a speckled black rope. Decisively, I reached down and grabbed the snake. The snake was not happy about this turn of events. But it was a King Snake, and while they literally eat rattlesnakes for breakfast, they present absolutely no danger to humans. So it was going to have to deal with its unhappiness. I didn't want it in my yard. Can't have it scaring the mailman.

I entered my house and put the snake in the empty 20-gallon aquarium I had by the door, closing the lid firmly.

Why did I have an empty 20-gallon aquarium sitting around? Darned if I knew.

But... maybe it was there for plot purposes. I guess I was going to find a better fate for the snake than being taken to a different pet store from where I had taken the rats.

Whatever.

When I got back to the gym the next day, I was reminded that this whole thing was Erica's story, not mine. A bunch of what seemed like important stuff had transpired, and I was just now hearing about it. The schedule of competitions had been released, and the events were spread out over the course of a month, starting soon. A variety of swimming events were being held the upcoming Saturday, with the water polo tournament happening on Sunday.

Not my problem.

A broken locker was.

Welp. Time for a trip to the changing room, to fix a locker door and endure all manner of naked women who didn't notice my existence, and would be uninterested in it if they did.

I grabbed an extra replacement door and my tools and headed for the problem.

Yep, the changing room had half a dozen hot women in it, each in a different state of undress. Two were done showering and already back in their underwear, having an idle conversation and making no move to dress further. That would have been easy enough to ignore, except that one of them had some kind of strappy black bra and panties that suggested that she was into bondage...

Xaviera and Jayne have lockers next to each other. Both were getting ready to hit the pool, but for the moment, they were both still stark naked, holding their bathing suits in their hands, and having a conversation about the impending water polo tournament.

Jayne was really tall, with long legs to match. Legs that were lean and muscled, and looked even better when you could see directly how they attached to the athletic masterpiece that was her lean, muscular ass. Her tits were nice too, but the legs were a serious distraction in her case. Her long brown hair was streaked with sun-bleached blonde highlights.

"I think we have to decide which event the gym wants to win this weekend," Jayne said.

"Both!" Xaviera snorted. "Duh!"

"Nope. Not a good idea to try," Jayne said. "Each member can only compete in one event. If we spread out our strong swimmers between water polo and the swimming events, chances are, we won't beat Wanda's crew in either. She just has too many members compared to us."

"Ew," Xaviera, making a sour face. Even sour, Xaviera's face was beautiful. She had a rich Mediterranean complexion, huge, dark eyes, and lush, pouty lips. Half a foot shorter than Jayne, she was still athletic, but also carried a few more pounds in all the best places. Her bubble butt was lush, and those heavy breasts that had fallen out during the pool horseplay the other day were equally resplendent. They managed to bounce just from having a conversation. I realized that I always heard a quiet 'Boing" every time they first came into my view. "I say we go for water polo. If we put our best girls there, I'm giving good odds we win the whole tournament easily. You, Tasha, and Sandy are fast, but if we move you all to swimming, are the three of you enough to carry the whole swimming event?"

"Yeah, that was my calculus, too. I'd love to crush that bitch Hannah in the 100 and 50. But as long as they have Yvette freaking Harris playing Center D in water polo..." Jayne grumbled.

"Yeah, you're the only girl in town who can get through her defense," Xaviera agreed. "Too bad, if Yvette won a free trip somewhere out of town this weekend, you could swim instead, and we might probably steal both events!"

I shook my head and moved on. The machinations for this inter-club championship were crazy, and I'm sure they were the real main plot. But I wasn't involved, and no one was asking me.

A fifth girl was squeezing into her workout clothes. I didn't know her name, but I knew those tits...

The sixth woman in the changing room was Karen, whose locker was the problem that had brought me in here to Blue Balls Central. "I can't get in, the door's jammed," she said, as if to a drive-thru order speaker. "All my stuff is in there."

Not all her stuff. She still had her phone, which currently held her attention as she texted. She also had her wet swimsuit that she must have just gotten out of before her shower. And a towel, of course.

The towel was draped over the bench in front of her locker, with the swimsuit in a wet pile on top of it. This meant that I had to find a way to function intelligently while those spectacular tan lines on her naked body infested my peripheral vision. Karen had a deep, rich, textbook tan all over, except for what looked like a stark white, transparent bikini.

Other than never acknowledging my existence, and indeed resolutely ignoring me right now, Karen was the furthest thing from a 'Karen' type. Her long black hair was always in a ponytail or a messy bun, and she was always a genuine and sweet person to the other members. Just not to invisible me.

She typed on her phone and otherwise generally stood around being spectacularly naked while I jiggled the latch. It would be an easy fix, but time-consuming. To save my sanity, I just took the entire front of the locker off instead, giving Karen access in seconds.

"Already? Wow!" she exclaimed as I stood back to let her get her stuff. "Thanks, um..." She was suddenly awkward as the twin realizations that she did not know my name and that she was stark naked in front of me, hit her. But while the name thing actually bothered her, the whole, Danny is not really a guy, or even a human, conditioning almost immediately reasserted itself. She was not really bothered by my presence, only a little awkward as she slipped on her fresh clothes in front of me, not sure where to turn or what to hide. It was funny, though. I suppose that was what Candy needed, so I did not turn away as I fiddled with the mechanism.

Just as she pulled her sweatshirt on over her head, no bra needed apparently, she snapped her fingers. "Thanks, um, Danny, right?" she said, relieved to have remembered my name and not been totally rude.

I just nodded and smiled, and remembering my name allowed her to promptly forget once more that I was there in any way at all. I could tell she did, because she absently turned away from me to put on her jeans, which gave me a damned nice little ass show. My constricted khakis could have done without the entire experience.

Yes, I know I wore baggy pants. But I can still fill them, I told you.

The rest of the morning flew by in a timeslip, as I was able to avoid any more montages of naked members. Time went back to normal as Erica stopped me in the hallway. "Hey, Danny! How are you?" she asked, friendly as always. When I said the usual, she went on. "How would you like lunch from Kindness Kafé? I'm buying!"

Wow! Erica wanted to have lunch? The boss was an absolute dish, and one of the few women in the place who remembered I was alive. She even had the good graces to remember I was male... sometimes. Not often. But I could tell she did because she never once had gotten even partially naked in front of me.

In her case, I'd have put up with the skin happily.

But Erica was asking me to lunch! Maybe I was not to be the ignored sidekick after all! I knew a goofy expression hit my face despite my best efforts.

Kindness Kafé was a vegan sandwich shop, and under normal circumstances, I avoided it like I had the fat kid who bullied me relentlessly in third grade. But for a date with Erica? Tofu me up! "Sounds great!" I managed not to stutter.

"Thanks so much," Erica said, and then handed me some cash. "Don't worry about change. Leave whatever is left over as a tip. They are good people there. Thanks, Danny!" she said briskly, then sailed off toward her office.

Well, crap.

I slumped over and trudged out the front of the gym and down the street. My irrational hopes dashed, and an impending takeout tofu sandwich in my future.

I was waiting in the shop for my order to be ready when a hot-looking young woman entered. She wore a trim business suit and had nerd-chic black framed glasses with a prescription almost half as powerful as my own. She seemed familiar...

"Oh, hey! Ms. Harris?" a reedy voice piped up next to her in line. Harris? Oh, wow. This was Yvette Harris, the star water polo defender at FitDames, whom Xaviera and Jayne had been talking about earlier.

"Yes?" she asked in a remarkably open tone. At least it was remarkably open for a babe as hot as her being approached by a spotty, redheaded nerd in some store's uniform shirt.

"I'm Tim, from PetsWorld. Remember?" he squeaked.

"Oh, Tim! Of course!" she smiled. I would give odds that she did not remember him.

"How are your new pet rats doing?" Tim asked brightly. "I especially liked the mostly brown one with a white M on his back. I'll bet he is your favorite!"

Yvette blanched for a second, then smoothly said. "They are all doing fine. Great, even! Thank you for your help picking all five out." She lifted her phone, which I was certain had not been ringing, as if to answer it. "Nice to see you, uh, Tim. I've got to take this call. I'll come by and see you if I have any questions!"

"That'd be great," Tim enthused. The chances of hot hardbodies like Yvette coming in to brighten his day at a pet store must be slim, so I understood his hapless enthusiasm. But Yvette was relentlessly ignoring him now, and he left the shop, buoyant with anticipation of helping her with rat chow later.

I grimaced. She would never need to feed those rats, because I had taken them to another pet store!

Yvette was the rat planter!

I wanted to call her out, but what good would it do?

I seethed as I waited for lunch, then trudged back to the gym.

I did tell Erica what I had seen.

"Bitch!" she growled. "I'll... dammit, Danny. I won't do anything. I can't. There's no proof." She sagged. "But oh, man, do I wish I could get her. And Wanda, too! She absolutely had something to do with it..." She grabbed her sandwich and headed back to her office. I was not invited to join her to eat.

Sidekick. Maybe not even that...

I got home that evening and flopped down on my couch. Victor, my trusty mutt, came over and promptly fell asleep on my feet. I could not get how irritated I was with Yvette out of my head. Was there anyone at our club who could make her life miserable?

I actually Googled her. It was hard to find anything about her until I tried 'Yvette Harris Water Polo', and found an Instagram account under the handle @YvettePoloXO.

Holy cow! She was a bit of an influencer! That must have been why she instinctively acted so nice to Tim. She had a lot of followers, too... I could not help but scroll her feed. She had been an All-American player in college. And she was an All-American babe now. Most of the feed had nothing to do with water polo. It was almost all bikini and slinky dress pics. Lots of pokies. Lots of cleavage. I hated myself, but I followed her. And I scrolled. For a while.

On a whim, I hit her link in the bio, just to see if she had any major sponsors.

She did not.

But she had an OnlyFans page! Her handle there was @WaterNymphYvette...

No. Come on. Just... no.

Fat freaking chance, bitch. I get paid to see naked women that I can't touch parade around right in front of me in person. I certainly don't pay to see mere pictures of tits I can't touch!

That was the most Alpha thought this version of Danny had ever had. Hell, it might be the most Alpha thought real, dead Danny had ever had!

My snort of laughter was so loud, I woke Victor. He started up and decided that the snake must be at fault. Her growled and barked at its aquarium, as he had done every ten minutes since I brought the snake into the house.

The snake...

Erica needed help. A good sidekick helps when he can, right? And if he can make some mischief to make Candy happy in the process...

I left the house and found some reason to walk down the street in front of the main FitDames gym. I did not even slow, but I made a careful survey as I passed. Their security system was the same as ours.

I grimaced in decision. I was pretty sure how Wanda had gotten Yvette and the rats into our place. I had seen a gizmo on a spy gadget website that was designed to defeat our current system (and Wanda's) easily. I had already been thinking about replacing ours with a newer system. Now it was a mandatory job...

No more rats in my domain!

I hopped online and bought a replacement system for our alarms.

I also took a deep breath and bought one of those gizmos that could defeat our current one... and FitDames's. In a click, it was all coming overnight via FedEx.

I then went to Wanda's website and instantly hacked in.

Yes, instantly.

Look, I was a computer nerd, right? In this kind of story, all that was required was to be a nerd in the first place, and then typing 'override firewall' into the email contact form, and I had total control of the gym's entire database.

I know it was not even remotely plausible. Sorry, Candy. But who, watching a movie like this, is going to complain that we were saving them five minutes of screen time with me, and no naked chicks, doing traceroutes, decryption, and directory searches?

So, once I was in, there was her listing: Yvette Harris. And there was her locker: #277.

I was about to log out when I saw the link to security cameras. Wanda had a lot of them. Erica didn't want them because of privacy concerns for her members, and had put me off when I had suggested some.

I set up a login and controls that let me, among other things, send Wanda's cameras into a recorded loop so no activity inside the building would be available for 30 minutes.

I took a deep, trembling breath and went to the kitchen to eat a late, animal protein-heavy, blessedly tofu-free meal.

The next night, a good hour or so after the FitDames system locked out even the after-hours members, I walked near to the building in the pitch black of after midnight. I started the 30 minute loop on the security system's cameras, using my phone, and then swiftly defeated the locks and alarms with my new gizmo. I entered, holding my burlap bag.

Locker #277 was easy to find, and just as easy to get into without key or combination. Lockers are not meant to be safes, and all I needed in the way of high-tech tools for this was a set of hex-head screwdrivers.

Getting the king snake out of the bag and into the locker, then keeping it in there long enough to screw the door back on, turned into a bit of a Keystone Cops routine, but I pulled it off. You are welcome, Candy, I thought as I sucked on my injured thumb.

Wiping the locker door down with a rag like some kind of international super-spy, I stole back out of the gym.

When I got home, I shoved a new USB into my laptop.

In the morning, after enduring another fix-it job in our crowded showers that was mercifully timeslipped over... mostly, I went back to my office and checked my laptop.

Wow. Nice. I wanted to light a victory cigar.

On a whim, I checked various social media feeds and found this, trending heavily:

Wow! @YvettePoloXO seen streaking on the sidewalk outside @FitDames this morning! Some new engagement farming stunt? #HubbaHubba The post had some shaky, grainy, video of Yvette screaming down the street, failing to hide her flailing naked breasts with either ineffectual hand.

The replies were glorious. And as problematic as I could have hoped for.

That post, and numerous others with the same subject of Yvette's panicked naked dash out the front door of FitDames, were all racking up the likes.

And on my computer, I had much, much clearer video of it all, straight from all the inappropriately numerous security cameras Wanda had throughout her gym. There was even one pointing right at Yvette's locker, and it caught the snake giving her a piece of its mind when she opened it. That would have been glorious enough, but she had already undressed before opening the locker. Redundant cameras provided many more angles as she exited the locker room and the gym at high speed without thinking to correct her wardrobe situation. I edited up a Best Of reel and put it on the key drive.

I walked down toward Erica's office, where the sounds of hilarity were loud. She and several of her favorite members were having an absolute ball, surfing their own social media feeds and reading the best posts about Lady Yvette Godiva's ride...

I slid in among the merry makers, being ignored as usual. They weren't being mean. I just didn't exist. Erica did notice me, enough to giggle and ask me, "Have you seen this?" She showed me a video from a different bystander.

Despite having my boss show me video of a naked woman, I managed to not stutter. "I have Instagram, too," I said.

Erica went back to mostly ignoring me and celebrating with her friends. I just casually put the key drive on her desk and slipped back out.

Erica called me back into her office an hour later. I saw the USB stick plugged into her laptop's port.

"Danny, did you leave these files here?" she said, then immediately held up her hand. "No! Don't say anything. I want to know nothing. But these files are... I just haven't had so much fun in ages."

"I- I- I don't know what you are talking ab- ab- about," I said, cursing myself for losing vocal control in front of Erica. "But, apropos of nothing, I am pretty sure that she is the woman who actually put those rats in the building here," I finished more calmly.

Erica stared at me like she wanted to hug me. Long enough for me to get my hopes up that she was going to hug me. She did not hug me. "This is the best day in forever," was all she said. As I started to leave, she added, "I see you ordered us a new security system. You should probably get that installed this afternoon. And maybe order us some cameras for the doors and lobby. Just don't put any in the dressing rooms," she added, nodding toward the key drive we were not talking about.

"Who would do that?" I asked innocently, and bailed before I panicked.

I got to work on installing the new system and ordered 5 new cameras overnight from Amazon.

Several hours later, I was in the electronics room where all the fuseboxes, computer servers, and the lighting master controls were, wiring in the new, much less hackable control panel. There was a knock on the door, and Jayne poked her head in. "Um, Danny, right?" she asked.

I nodded.

"Hey, I just wanted to say thank you, or... or, just tell you that I am really happy today," she said, as if having said too much. "I, uh, did you hear that Yvette Harris has quit FitDames? Now, before the water polo tournament? She and Wanda were seen having a huge shouting match after she went back inside from her naked, screaming streak down the sidewalk. She hates Wanda now, and can't face all the public at the moment anyway."

"Wow," I said. This had worked out really well...

"Whoever put that snake in that locker has made it so I can swim instead of having to play water polo," Jayne went on, stepping happily toward me. "We will likely still win water polo without me now, and now I can maybe help us win swimming as well!" She stopped right next to me, and I straightened up fully. If I hadn't, she'd have been taller than I.

"Erica swears she doesn't know how it happened, but I caught her looking your way at least twice while she was saying that," she went on hesitantly, looking at me as if to see something in my eyes.

I could tell that Erica knew I had done it. I also knew she didn't want to know it, for deniability. Jayne was in the same boat. But she was looking for some kind of confirmation anyway, and I was eager as a puppy dog to give it to her; eager to have another person around here know I was not just a potted plant.

"W- w- well," I started, then clamped down on the stutter. "If I had information that told me that Wanda was behind the whole rat incident, and if I had also known that Yvette was the one who personally put the rats in the locker room, and if I just happened to have a snake lysing around my house that I wanted to get rid of, and if a guy like me had the sort of knowledge needed to get into FitDame's building and security system," I managed to say smoothly, "then I might very well have done what someone d- d- d- did." Damn it! Lost it on the last darned word!

"Well, I just wanted you to know that I think whoever did set up that snake gag is awesome," Jayne smiled at my hypothetical. She seemed a little confused about thanking the lamppost who did maintenance at her gym, but she knew the lamppost had done the thing she needed to thank someone for. She even reached out and clasped my upper arm in a gesture of genuine thanks.

But when she squeezed, she paused. Then she squeezed again, and even let her hand slide up and down my arm. "Wait. Danny, do you work out?" she asked, as if the concept were alien to her perception of me.

"I- I- I take -ake care of myself," I said unsteadily. Jayne, like most members, had never touched me.

Her hand slid up to my shoulder and caressed that too. Then she actually let her hand drop to my chest. When her fingers touched my pec, she jerked it away for an instant, but then reached back out and damn near fondled my chest through the loose but heavy fabric of my work shirt.

"Wow..." she gasped. "What are you hiding under..." she bit her lip. "Show me, Danny," she practically ordered.

"Huh?"

"I want to see how hard you work out," she said, gesturing to my buttons.

Really? My character sheet icon flickered in my peripheral vision, and I froze time to bring it up.

Name: Danny

Age: 25

Intelligence: 17

Height: 6' 2"

Build: Ripped

Cash: Good

Game: Almost Some

Hair: Mom still cuts it

Debuffs: Occasional nervous stutter, heavy glasses, invisibility

Buffs: Trusted

Virginity: Null

My Build stat now reflected reality. My Game stat had improved... ish. And the sheet reflected that I was working on the stutter debuff. Progress...

I shrugged and, amazed at the situation I was in, unbuttoned my shirt swiftly and tugged it off over my shoulders.

Jayne must like muscular dudes, because any invisibility I still retained with her fled in tatters. She bit her lip. "Do you spend all night in the gym?" she asked, almost involuntarily.

"No, but I do use the machines here after people leave," I admitted.

"Do you ever, um, skip leg day?"

"No," I replied, confused about what that had to do with my pecs.

"Show me," she said.

Dead Danny was all-in at this point, but This World Danny was about to have a panic attack. I forced my own personality to the fore and felt myself make a Game check.

I passed, thank you, Candy.

"Uh, sure," I said, and unfastened the work pants. Letting them fall to the ground, I stepped free. Some kind of plot magic already had me barefoot somehow. I stood there in my tighty-whities.

Oops, dammit.

But Jayne was almost transfixed, though not so much that she couldn't reach out and lightly caress the quadriceps of my left leg. But she wasn't looking at my leg.

I could almost feel the world's camera locking in on her face, and the expression on it as she took in how bad a job the white cotton of my underwear was doing to contain my erection. It was a little comical, honestly. And it kept the worldview from having to show my situation. Content filters were crazy...

I know! Batshit, right? There are reasons for it, but they are technical and you wouldn't understand.

Whatever.

"Danny, let's be real," Jaynes said, withdrawing her hand and standing upright, pulling herself together, alas. "Erica, and everybody here owes you one. But I owe you most of all, and, um, can I maybe be the one to thank you... properly?"

"I, uh..." It wasn't a stutter, I just was having a hard time dealing with standing here mostly-naked in my underwear, with the hottest swimmer's bod I'd ever seen standing two feet from me. She even had nice tits, which is freaking rare for a competitive swimmer!

"I'll take that as a yes," Jayne breathed, and wrapped her arms around me. Her lips met mine, and immediately demonstrated some serious skill. Her kiss was half-exploratory, half-disbelieving at first, but as her hands traced down the erector muscles running along my spine, and then found themselves grasping my glutes, it became hungry.

I flexed my ass in her grasp, and she practically started fucking my mouth with her tongue. My hands clasped behind her head, and I tried to inhale her in turn. Our bodies pressed together.

It struck me like a thunderclap. Sure, I was a sidekick. But I wasn't the comic relief.

I was a sex sidekick. I was the guy who spent his time running through all the female supporting characters and guest stars, making sure they fulfilled their nudity and intimacy clauses...

Candy was the best boss ever!

I pulled away from the kiss and stared into Jayne's eyes. Then I plucked inquiringly at the fabric of her blue shirt. Her eyes twinkled, and she said, "I guess I can't fully thank you with this on, can I?" Before she could take it off herself, I eagerly grabbed the cotton at her sides and pulled the garment up and over her head. Look at me. All assertive when I had the chance.

No bra. Hallelujah! I gazed at those sweet breasts for just an instant before I buried them in my hands. Like I said, they were nice, but big only in swimmer terms. They would be just a decent handful for most guys, and my large paws engulfed them. Jayne gasped at my touch, then murmured happily as I slowly transitioned to teasing and even tugging her nipples.

"Mmmm," she giggled. "I didn't expect you to know what you were do..." She cut herself off. "Danny! Do you have a girlfriend?" she gasped in dismay.

"N- no. I don't," I said carefully.

"Oh, thank God!" Jayne gasped and reached for the elastic waist of her shorts. "I am going to do this anyway, but now I won't have to feel guilty later!" Her shorts dropped to the floor in an instant. I barely had time to register that her panties were small and pink before they disappeared from the list of things that mattered as well.

I pulled her toward me and kissed her again.

But Jayne was not done getting rid of things that didn't matter yet, and I felt my embarrassing underwear being jettisoned. All the focus of the world seemed to be firmly on our now fevered kissing and my eager handling of her firm, flushed tits, which was great for the world. I was focusing lower down. Focusing on how her hand had wrapped itself around my rod and was exploring its dimensions.

I left one hand up top to keep itself and the focus of the story happy, while I dropped the other between her legs to stroke her febrile slit. Hairless, it was already gently leaking a trace of moisture other than sweat, and under my insistent caress, she soon was soaked. My finger slid into her, and she trembled.

Her hand tightened around my shaft, and I moaned lightly into her mouth.

"So many ways to thank..." Jayne moaned into my mouth as she tugged me. Then she shook her head. "No," she said swiftly. "I need this first." She looked me in the eyes and began to sink downward, pulling me after her.

"Take me, Danny. Take me now," she gasped. "Lay that crazy body of yours on me and let me thank your brains out."

Yeah. Being the sex sidekick was going to be great!

I slid down atop Jayne, right there on the utility room floor, and she grabbed my butt. Without thought, I found my tip already nestled into her crease. Our coming together had been perfect... or I had missed a tiny timeslip necessary to maintain that required simulated/real ambiguity for the 'camera'.

Let me tell you, this was very real. And it was really hard to work my way fully into Jayne's depths. Of course. Every muscle of hers in the neighborhood of her hips was toned beyond belief, and that went for the internal ones clenching around my invading member as well.

It took me a lot of gentle but powerful thrusts to delve fully inside her, and while I could move in and out with relative ease after that, it genuinely was only relative. Holy mackerel, did thrusting into a body this tight make things awesome! My junk was throbbing with the desperate desire to... do exactly what it was already doing.

Beneath me, Jayne started babbling and rolling her head back in forth. Honestly, it looked and sounded kind of silly. I might have been distracted or even annoyed by the display, but I figured it was humorous enough to keep the story's attention on the humor and not the sex, and that meant I could enjoy the whole experience without a timeslip.

It still was not a long screw. Both of us were wound up pretty hard. Me, because I was having sex with an apex athlete whose ripely muscular body was a wonderland to hump into. She, because, um...?

I guess she was wound up because she really was that happy about getting rid of Yvette. And maybe because she had found a muscular dude with a generous package, who knew how to use it.

So we were both going at it hammer and tongs from the start, which was its own kind of silly hot.

And yet, I still felt the timeslip intrude just as Jayne was about to shriek in orgasm, and it lasted until I had finished jerking around like a marionette whose strings were being yanked for my own.

Time resumed as I rolled over onto my back beside Jayne on the floor, incidentally giving the story's camera a great view of her heaving bare chest from above.

Heck, it got a good view of my chest as well. Since Jayne had certainly demonstrated that my pecs were pretty darned appealing, too. I guessed that the whole 'women get theirs too' sensibility was coming into play...

With a sigh, Jayne rolled over against me and kissed me again. "I hope you give me reasons to thank you some more, Danny," she purred. "If not, I'll have to invent some."

"Please," I said, not a trace of stutter in my voice.

She chuckled happily. "But I still am not supposed to know what I don't know," she added. "So we keep it a secret, okay? I can't explain it otherwise." She sat up and traced her fingers around my nipple. "Just don't start being a hero to so many women that I can't get back on your schedule!"

A convenient little timeslip let us dress and her slip away without a lot of tedious details.

That was fine. But the timeslipped orgasms were getting old, and they were weird from the outset.

How could I have such a vivid memory of exploding in Jayne's depths? The ecstatic sensation of my release was a vivid sensory picture. But I had not gotten to actually experience it, dammit. I knew every delicious thing about that orgasm, but I never got to live it.

Poor baby.

I'm not complaining, Candy!

Okay, I was sort of complaining later, when I saw Erica leaving the gym early... with a date.

I wasn't jealous because I wanted Erica for myself. I was the comic... the sex sidekick. The sidekick doesn't ever get the hero, right? So even though that perfect, heart-shaped peach of a backside was just one of a buffet of distracting visuals whenever Erica was around, I wasn't trying to earn my way into her good graces like that. She was simply the hero, and my job, aside from somehow sexing up a bunch of babes while being a dork, was to help her out.

No, I was jealous because my job as sex sidekick would have been a heck of a lot easier had Candy put me in Erica's date's body. Her swain had the most amazingly wavy, naturally blonde hair, an actual cleft chin, perfect teeth, and piercing, smiling, blue eyes. And he might not be built like me, but he owned clothes that made him look like a handsome dude, instead of a ridiculous nerd.

I just grit my teeth and silently wished Erica good luck. I hoped that she would not need it, but sometimes the gorgeous blonde love-interest turned out to be a douchebag.

*

By the time the first championship event rolled around, our rosters for most events over the next month were set. Ginger and Felicity were, of course, doing beach volleyball. "Anyone else would be madness," I overheard a couple of girls saying as they looked at the board.

Our table tennis team was just a couple of girls who were in it for the fun. People shrugged off the obvious loss there because we all knew Wanda's crosstown location had a small group of immigrants from Taiwan who were reputed to be superhuman.

We did have a good chance in Racquetball, though, because our number one, Heather, was a stud. She also had the sort of Barbie body that would have made her fit right in with the rest of my staff back in Bikini Detailing 2.

Other events were filled as well, with only fencing still left blank.

Did we even have fencing? Did anyone? Why was it in the tournament?

*

The swimming competition rolled around, and I was invited along to the city pool to watch, and to... carry towels just like I did at work, but today I was doing it off the clock.

Jayne won all three of her races, beating not just the swimmer from Wanda's FitDames but every other woman in the city! Those wins, along with a smattering of other medals from other members, were enough to give the swimming event win to Pinkfit by two points over Wanda's crew!

After her third win, as I was handing Jayne her towel, she copped a subtle feel of my ass! I made sure to act goofily flustered, to encourage Candy to have more things like that happen.

Sure enough, we also won water polo the next day, even though without Jayne, it had been close in the last match against the city's rec center team. Ginger told me to give her a towel to take to Xaviera. As I handed it to her, she used its drape to cover her hand as she grabbed my dick!

Yep, I was gonna act goofy and flustered A. Lot.

*

Then came the plot twist.

Monday, there was mayhem already in progress by the time I got to the club for work. Women were bouncing around in embarrassment-tinged excitement. I stared at things in confusion until I pieced together what had everyone in an uproar.

One of the richest men in town owned a huge, adults-only, all-inclusive, beach resort down in Mexico, among his many, many other businesses. His son was competing over in the Men's side of the city tournament for the YMCA, and Mr. Grandbux had had a brainstorm.

In conjunction with the end of the city's tournament, he would be hosting a huge swimsuit competition among the clubs, with male and female contestants. Several entries were allowed from each club in the tournament. And the prizes were so awesome, even the comically feminist group among the women at Pinkfit were buying in. Every member of the club with the winning contestant (of each sex) would receive a gift certificate for 500 bucks off the cost of a vacation. And there would, of course, be serious bragging and marketing rights for the club itself. As for the winners themselves? A free week for them and four guests, plus airfare, in one of the resort's large private casitas on the beach!

It could have been a bitchfest over who got to enter, but the lure of a win for everyone turned things into a body-comparing contest. And that turned into a freaking day-long montage as I went about my tasks surrounded by women in their underwear and bikinis, and a lot of times outright naked, as they argued good-naturedly about who should enter.

Ultimately, the montage ended when Erica shouted everyone down and said we needed to wait to decide until the judges were announced, so we could try to discern their specific tastes. This really was the most ridiculous scenario that had happened yet, but since I had nothing to do with it except to suffer through it, I guessed its plausibility was all on Candy.

Thanks.

Racquetball and then table tennis were up next.

*

Toward the end of the week, I was walking past the racquetball courts when I heard thunderous whacks and thuds from inside one. Odd. Who was practicing at this time of day? No one had a court reserved for hours. (Yes, I ran the court reservation system, too.) The whacks and thuds of racquet hits and ball bounces were so fast, it had to be just one girl practicing nothing but whaling the tar out of the ball.

I started to move on, when I heard a break in the rhythm, followed by a sharp cry, another, softer but heavier thud, and a low moan!

I dropped the stack of toilet paper rolls I was carrying. They went everywhere, and I started to gather them up in panic. But I heard another moan, and I froze like an idiot. Then I waved off the TP, and yanked open the door to the court where the noises had come from.

Heather was sitting on the floor, holding her leg and softly saying, "No, no, no, nononono!"

"Oh no!" I gulped. "Heather, are you all right? What happened?"

She looked up at me, momentarily distracted from her pain as she tried to figure out who the hell this gangly dork was, peering at her through Coke-bottle lenses.

Really? Even looking right at me, you don't at least recognize me, Heather? Really?

You were bare-assed naked in front of me in the dressing room just yesterday while I knelt, trying to fix a bench right beside you.

That had been a severe pants constriction event...

"Oh!" she said, putting my face together with my invisible presence. "Hey! I'm so screwed," she wailed, any recognition of me fading back to the background in the face of her dismay. "I just at the very least tweaked a quad," she moaned, rubbing ineffectively at the top of her thigh and wincing.

"Did you pull it?" I asked. We could not afford to lose racquetball. We were hardly certain to win that event anyway, but we had at least a great chance if Heather played, and Erica needed every great chance she could get. We had no prayer against any club in basketball, much less FitDames, which was a shoo-in to win the event, as just one example. An injury to Heather would be... grim.

"Do you want some ice?" I offered, trying to think quickly.

"I want this to just be a spasm, and not a pull or tear!" Heather spat, her anger making her actually look at me. "Look, I'm sorry. What's your name? I'm so embarrassed," she said.

"Danny. Don't worry about it. But some ice..."

"If it is just a spasm and I put ice on it now, it'll make it worse. I've got to relax the muscle first before I can use ice," Heather groaned. "Let me just rub it out, if I can."

"Want me to try?" I asked earnestly. We needed this gorgeous leg in tip-top shape come Sunday.

"Could you?" Heather asked desperately. "I think I'm getting a back spasm from leaning over to work on it," she added, despair hitting her voice again.

"I'll try," I said, and knelt beside her leg. She leaned back on her elbows to dubiously watch the doofus leaning over her.

I asked a question or two, then cautiously began to knead the smooth flesh of her thigh where she indicated. She hissed in pain, and I stopped.

"No! Keep it up," Heather gasped. "Just start gently with those big hands." She lay back fully and threw an arm over her face to hide her eyes in fear.

I worked slowly, probing for any hardness that might indicate a spasm, and praying I would not find a knot that would signify a pull... I found a rock-hard stretch of muscle and pressed gently on it, my head filling with thanks to Candy. Our ringer hissed again, but less distressfully. I made gentle circles around the spasm, and then pressed against it again, harder. She moaned this time, and I asked if she was okay.

"Ohhh! Yes. That hurts, but also feels so good. Keep it up, and maybe I'll be okay."

Listen, rubbing my hands firmly all over this amazingly soft but strong leg was entirely too much fun. The view up that leg to where it disappeared under the dubious coverage of skin-tight lycra short shorts was even more fun. Best of all was the view of the upthrust oversized breasts in her tight nylon tee.

But I was getting uncomfortable again in my pants, and even with her arm shielding her eyes, I did not want to get caught adjusting myself and creep her out. So I 'suffered'. I was good at that, after all.

All of a sudden, I could actually see her leg muscles relax. A moment later, she let out a sigh of relief. "It just let go," she said with a happy moan. "I felt it!"

"Good," I said brightly. I started to lift my hands free, and she held up her other hand. "Don't stop, though. Keep working it, harder now. Make sure it doesn't come back." She sighed.

Feeling a little more relaxed, I kind of let myself enjoy the massage now, not just the view. She seemed to enjoy it also, as she did not stop with the occasional tiny moan of relief.

But I was still uncomfortable. More so, really, now that I was no longer afraid, and letting myself enjoy this little perverted activity. "I think that's got it, don't you?" I asked.

"Not done yet," Heather sighed, lifting her arm to look at me, a relaxed expression on her face. "You do this really well, and I need you to do the other thigh too, please."

"Is it hurt too?" I yelped.

"No. It's just not as relaxed as this one is now," Heather said, flopping back fully against the floor. "I need you to even it out so that the other doesn't spasm out of jealousy."

Well, okay...

I moved my hands to start kneading the other thigh, and soon I was getting tiny moans of pure pleasurable relaxation from Heather that went straight from my ears down to my... situation. Once or twice, I almost lost my balance and needed to put one hand back on her injured leg. I covered for it by massaging it a little too.

After a long period of this relaxation for her and extreme tension for me, she sighed happily. "You are really pretty amazing at this... Danny. Please don't stop."

I had massaged the lower two-thirds of both legs pretty comprehensively by now...

I checked my character sheet again, on a hunch.

Name: Danny

Age: 25

Intelligence: 17

Height: 6' 2"

Build: Ripped

Cash: Good

Game: Situationally okay

Hair: Mom still cuts it

Debuffs: Occasional nervous stutter, heavy glasses, near-invisibility

Buffs: Fully trusted

Virginity: Null

More advances. Nice.

What the heck did 'Situationally okay' mean?

What the hell, I was the sex sidekick, right? Let's see if I could make a Game check...

I let my hands start to work their way higher. And after that was met with quiet approval, I also let my thumbs and then fingers move deeper down between her legs. Yep, that was some serious camel toe up where my hands were approaching...

Slowly, I worked higher. And higher. And then, with a deep breath, I let a thumb sweep upward and over her crotch.

Heather jumped and snapped up to her elbows again, with a surprised yelp.

"Oh, geez! Sorry!" I yelped in turn. Damned missed stat check!

She locked eyes with me. "No!" she said quickly, then kind of froze herself. "I mean... Danny, I..." she started and stopped. I knew the feeling. I sympathized. "I- I just think that the muscle spasm might have, um, come from general stress, you know?" she said slowly.

I just nodded, uncomprehending.

"So, if you, um, keep doing that, it, um, might go a long way to fixing the underlying source of the injury," she said, genuinely hesitantly. "You, um, you seem really, really good with your hands."

I gulped. And I went back to work, my knuckles now grazing her pussy with each knead of her scrumpdillyicious legs. In moments, she was back flat on her back. It took very few caresses before I could feel things getting damp between her legs.

Screw deniability. I had obviously passed my Game check. I started to just outright massage the crease of her camel toe. "Soooooo goood," she murmured. I gently lifted her no-longer injured leg and slid myself between her thighs before I let the delicious leg slump back bonelessly to the floor of the court. She made no objections as I knelt and bent over to get more overt with stroking her camel toe.

Her only reaction was to lift a hand and run her fingers through my hair. She was pushing me down...

I had definitely passed my Game stat check.

I let her push me down and nuzzled her belly, then slid slightly lower. Sure enough, I felt the focus of things go up to her suddenly gasping face as I nuzzled the thin fabric right over her crotch.

"In the way," was all Heather gasped in response. Her hands scrabbled at the waist of her shorts, and I rocked back as she swiftly pulled up both legs and ditched the shorts to the side. The camel toe had already told me there were no panties under there... I bent down further.

Good Candy above, did Heather taste amazing! Her legs wrapped up around my shoulders as I licked her, as if to hide what I was up to. Her sleek, soft thighs caressed my face on either side. Content filter for another inexplicable win...

I did not care. This was amazing. And I did not sense a timeslip even threaten to ruin my enjoyment as my tongue traced her nether lips, then poked at her clit often enough to keep that comically aroused expression on Heather's face. Gotta keep focus here...

I drove my tongue into her now, and twisted it around happily, reveling in each new, soft moan of delight.

Even her orgasm did not get timeslipped, but that was likely because her cries were so comically over the top that I had to hold myself back from laughing. I may have been aided in holding back the laugh by virtue of almost drowning when she squirted. Hard.

I popped up from between her legs, and we grinned at each other. I discovered it would be too explicit to wipe my face, so my hands stayed low, despite the desire to clean myself, or at least my nostrils, of excess juices.

Heather recovered swiftly and spun around on the floor. In an instant, her head was down over my lap, and she was thanking me profusely, without words. She had ditched her headband at some point, and her long blonde hair spilled out over me, obscuring things.

This was hardly deniable!

Shut up and enjoy what gets past the filter! Or do you want it to stop?

I shrugged. With her hair like this, at least everything happening was invisible.

I just gasped and reveled in the feeling of Heather's tongue torturing my dick's head. A hand massaged my balls, out of sight beneath her hair. A few strokes of her tongue around and down my length, and she got down to it. Her mouth pressed me inside, her tongue welcoming me happily within, and she was bobbing unmistakably on me. I began to moan now, myself.

But she was being a bit mean, I realized. She was delivering all this pleasure, but not at a pace where I would be experiencing my own silly orgasm, or any orgasm, for that matter!

Suddenly, my optimism increased as she started suckling on me almost desperately. But when I felt myself tense in response to the new level of stimulation, she pulled off me entirely!

I admit, I looked at her a little reproachfully, but she just grinned back, um, lustily. "All ready?" she giggled. Then she spun away from me on her knees and yanked her top off, along with a very supportive sports bra. She turned back just long enough to give me a good look at how much better her breasts looked without the constricting garment, before she went down onto her hands and knees, facing directly away from me. She looked back over her shoulder. "Gonna let me finish thanking you, Dan?"

Oh my!

I was up and behind her in a flash, my cock lining up easily with her entrance. I suspected one of those tiny slips in the timeflow, just to keep my more than eager member from waving around visibly.

I. Did. Not. Care.

I clasped Heather's round, heart-shaped backside and began to sink into her pussy's warm depths. Her body pulsed and tremored as I pressed into her, and we both gargled sillily at how good it felt for each of us. I had to stop and let my eyes roll up into my head as I bottomed out against that fabulously cushioned ass.

Then I bent and began to thrust. She was silky, and warm, and drenched in her bodily fluids as I stroked into her. It was amazing. My rod pulsed happily as it explored, and I could tell Heather shared its enjoyment.

I found myself leaning to one side, and discovered that that gave me a nice view of her swaying breast, moving in time with our coupling as it hung beneath her. I bent further and reached out to grasp its magnificence.

Yep. Heather's body was just the same in all the wonderful ways that mattered as my beach girls' in Bikini Detailing, 1 and 2. Her breasts were the same size, shape, and firmness that could only have come from the best plastic surgery on Earth, but in my grip, I could tell they were somehow magically natural anyway. Damn, that boob felt amazing to hold.

I realized that while we must have looked hot, having sex like this, the way we both were twisted to facilitate my desperate clutching at that breast must have looked silly as well.

I'm doing all this for you, Candy.

I did not hear it, but I felt the snort from Beyond.

I kept slamming into Heather and began to pinch the nipple I held. It was erect as could be, and she moaned happily at my new attention. And she began slamming her ass back against my thrusts.

I groaned along with her and threw my head back happily.

"Oh, you are welcome," she gasped. "You're welcome! You're welcome! You are sooooo welcommmmme!" She crowed as I felt her internal pressure rise toward the baking point.

She was the one supposedly thanking me, so I was the one who should have been screaming, 'you're welcome', but it was so funny, and I was getting so near myself, I in no way wanted to argue. I just slammed into her as hard as I could, refusing to let go of that pendulous tit. I heard the other one, the one I could not reach from this position, slapping as it swayed against my thrusts. Heather kept slamming her hips back against my thrusts, and the slapping increased in pace.

Her words melded into desperate gasps, and I felt and heard her coming around my shaft. I just answered with a wordless cry of my own as I came before she could even finish, dumping a river of jizz into her depths. It had to have been the most ridiculous-looking simultaneous orgasm ever, and I guessed that was why I was able to actually experience it, not just remember it.

Noted. Get loud and ridiculous when things come to a head, and I would get to partake in the sensation in real time...

"Never have I been glad to feel like I had been stabbed in the leg!" Heather gasped, collapsing to the floor beneath me. I curled up automatically beside her, hiding my junk without even realizing I'd done it.

"Holy cow, Danny," she went on, still panting. "Part of me wants to demand you start offering massage services to the club. But a bigger part is afraid I'd never be able to book a slot!" She reached up and stroked my chin. "But please be available Saturday night! I think I already want a massage after I win this thing!"

Awesome. I actually had a date. Sort of. More accurately, I had an appointment to fondle Heather and screw her seriously, so... kind of a win, really. I just hoped that there would be something going on with Erica at that time, maybe a hot date with her own guy that would distract the world's viewpoint and let me and Heather drill each other to our hearts' content...

On Saturday, Heather did indeed win the racquetball for us. And she did indeed very much want a massage after. And yes, the parts she wanted massaged did not much include her legs, back, or arms. And yes, Erica did have a date Saturday night, and I heard later that it went well.

But no, alas. Great recreational sex that was not part of the plot got ruthlessly timeslipped. I experienced none of it. I did not even remember most of it, alas. But from what I did remember, the content filters biffed off to who knows where. I did retain the very vivid memory of coming like a firehose between Heather's supernatural tits, an activity that was never conceivably softcore in nature. I was going to treasure that weird, after the fact, sort of memory.

But I also saw no real signs that the whole massage thing would happen often...

And we got massacred in table tennis.

*

Wednesday, I was working in the gym itself, adjusting the cables on one of the core machines, when I heard a quiet, "Hi, Danny," behind me. I turned, surprised to hear my name, only to see it was just Sue. Sue was one of the most quiet and meek of our members. She was also unquestionably one of the plainest. I mean, she was pretty, in a sweet, plain way, but...

Look, I should not be one to talk, but her glasses might have been worse than mine. They had almost no prescription, but her frames were these ridiculous cat-eye things, in a strange green. They were not sexy, Sophia Loren cat-eye frames, but those dopy, 50s housewife frames that would be worn with a headscarf back in my grandparents' day.

And unlike most of the Pinkfit clients, Sue was shy, retiring, and never wanted to show off what little she had. Her form was slight, but given the long baggy sweats she always wore, I just knew she was fighting and losing an eternal battle against thunder thighs. This was further evidenced by the way she never used any equipment except the treadmills and stair machines.

I waved back and started to say hello in reply, but she just turned and scuttled over toward the stair machine.

I shook my head, and wondered why the narrative machine let me spend so much time considering her. Most women just registered in my brain, then vanished from my thoughts as soon as it was clear they were unimportant.

Hmmm...

I was suddenly struck with the question of how much the story responded to my thoughts and actions. Like, could I have originally been slated to actually be the comic sidekick? If so, then maybe Sue had been placed here in the world to be the sweet, plain girlfriend to the hapless nerd?

But accidents, or my actions, had switched me over to being the sex sidekick instead?

I snorted. Sue would have made a nice, bland, box-checking girlfriend for a sidekick. She was nice, always knew my name, and was one of the few members who I could remember actually saying funny things. And not just situationally funny things, but actual jokes. Good ones.

If things had gone differently... Sue might have made a nice girlfriend.

I shuddered.

That would have meant missing out on crazy, weirdly handled sex with supreme babes of various kinds. And to be honest, after the pain of having Kristi dissolve into nothingness after Bikini Detailing 2, I was kind of gun-shy around that kind of temptation.

*

I will freely admit, I spent the entire day watching Beach Volleyball that weekend. Not just Ginger and Felicity's matches, but every game I could, no matter the players or their clubs.

Look, when I was alive, watching real-world beach volleyball during the Olympics always held my attention fairly well. And that was all just on TV. But watching beach volleyball being played in person? By what seemed to be nothing but hot supermodels, no matter what club they represented? My attention had been lashed to a post. Possibly the post in my pants.

Seriously, the women in the stories of this isekai I was in were almost all hot, or at least cute or pretty in the few cases where hot did not apply for whatever reason. But the daylong Beach Volleyball Montage? Best of the best. Chef's kiss. Five Stars, would watch again. So many spectacular, minimally clad backsides. And numerous individual players had more boobflesh on them than the entire US National team combined, back in the real world.

Best of all, the final match came down to Ginger and Felicity versus the duo from Wanda's outfit. Those two had been a problem for me all day. I had been torn between wanting them to lose every match like whipped dogs, and wanting them to win, so I could watch them even longer.

But against them in the finals, my loyalties were clear. We were going to smash those bitches, and make them want to change their names. I cheered on Felicity and Ginger, and with no help from me, they won, though they did not crush. It was a close match.

When the last ball impacted the sand, Ginger and Felicity cheered, waved at all of us, their adoring fans, and embraced. I had noticed since early in the day that they were the sort of team that liked to pat each other's pert backsides after a win or even a good point. You see it at the Olympics a lot, and I've always wondered if it was a highlight reel-baiting maneuver.

But after the final win, the two of them full-on embraced and both were outright grabbing the other's butt! And it was not for show. They were enjoying it.

We all crowded over by our team, though I, of course, was shunted to the rear and ignored as the celebration commenced. But hey, there had been a fair amount of bikini wearing among the spectators in solidarity, which gave me some wonderfully enjoyable views.

Listen, now that I was actually getting my rocks off occasionally, I was starting to be able to enjoy all the naked and nearly-naked flesh that was always being thrown in my face. Things were looking up.

As the crowd around them thinned, I managed to get closer, hoping for at least a quick hello and well done. Someone brought them each a glass and a single-serve champagne bottle. They both grinned, handed back the glasses, and drank right from the necks of their bottles. Both outright burped as they drained them, and giggled.

"We must celebrate tonight!" Felicity said to Ginger. "Shall we hit the club?"

Ginger seemed to consider that, but then her gaze met mine. Her eyes narrowed in a smile meant for me, and they twinkled.

"I think I might have a better idea," she crooned to Felicity. Then she leaned in and whispered in her ear.

Felicity outright laughed. Then she giggled some more as Ginger kept whispering, and scoffed, "What the hell?"

"I'm serious," Ginger said, holding her gaze. Then she leaned in and whispered some more in Felicity's ear.

When she was done, Felicity pulled back again, staring at her. Then, though I could tell she hadn't meant to, I saw her eyes swivel and look at me. Then up and down me. She looked back at Ginger, and the redhead just nodded emphatically. Felicity shrugged. I have never been so enthused at seeing an idle shrug before.

"Hey, Danny," Ginger said to me, "can you help us with some things so we can get out of here?" The two waved at their remaining fellow members and turned to head off, clearly expecting me to follow.

Sound expectation.

As they walked off, hands once more clasping each other's rumps, Ginger put some real sway in her backside, just for me. Felicity noticed, shot a quick look over her shoulder at me, then back at Ginger, raising an eyebrow.

"Seriously," I heard Ginger reply to her unvoiced question. Then she kissed Felicity, quickly, but right on the lips!

Oh, heck yes! Assuming Felicity ended up even a fraction as into me as Ginger had demonstrated, this was going to be my best threesome ever. My only threesome ever, but still.

Felicity shrugged, and suddenly she was swinging her hips in time with Ginger's.

Best. Ever.

As we approached the locker rooms, we saw the FitDames team trudging out the door. Those bitches refused to look at Ginger and Felicity, and damned sure did not congratulate them.

None of the three of us cared, except in knowing that those two were the last to vacate the locker room for the day...

I closed the rest of the distance as we got to the door, and Felicity actually shot an optimistically speculative look over her shoulder.

Best. Freaking. TIMESLIP. Ever! And by best, I mean worst. The next thing I remembered it was Monday afternoon, and I was back at work! I had retained no memories, actual or the weird but wonderful second-hand seeming, kind. Not one second of anything!

That was just cruel, Candy! To dangle that and let it just get washed away like that!

To be fair, I did not dangle that. Those girls came up with it all on their own.

Pull the other one, oh great and glorious boss! I thought they were just motes of soul dust, not autonomous beings.

That is all they are, but the soul dust makes them autonomous. And I don't control all the details of a story, ever. That is between you and those I inspire. I just set things up and give them power.

Still, did you have to take the memories?!?

Sorry. I mean that. Sorry. But between the content filters and the fact that it went on for four freaking hours, the editor mechanism just deleted the whole thing.

Four hours, I thought in anguish. Wait, how do you know that?

I watched, of course. For the record, you did really well. You even got that big ol' lesbian Felicity to suck your dick twice, in one way or another!

AAAAAAH! Where was another semi to walk in front of when I needed one?

I just heard laughter as Candy left me to my pain.

But I don't care what Candy said about not having any influence on the course of events, she worked overtime to make things up to me.

I was still working through my anguish over not remembering a threesome with a bisexual and a lesbian, when I heard a yell from the bathrooms. I heard spraying water as I entered.

What?

Oh, no! Had that faucet I'd been meaning to swap out failed before I got around to it?

It had. Spectacularly. The center sink along the wall was the center of a scene out of The Sorcerer's Apprentice, with water all over the floor and spraying everywhere. The cold water (thank goodness) knob had sheared right off at the base and was pummeling everything in a deluge.

The faucet had broken in Xaviera's hand, and she was soaked head to toe. That would have been good enough, as she seldom wore bras, and the tee I had seen her in a half hour ago would have been transparent. But she was a trooper and a team player, and she had yanked off the tee and was trying to staunch the flow of high-pressure water with it.

Unsuccessfully.

I was in moments as soaked to the skin as she was.

I yelped and ran over to her, putting out my hands in an instinctual effort to slow the flow further. That was idiotic, and I stopped. The water shut-off under the sink was the kind that does not have a knob, to keep civilians from messing with it. That had meant Xaviera had no way to cut the water off herself. I begged her to keep holding the shirt in place, and bent down. Fortunately, I had a needle-nose pliers in my tool belt. It was not the right tool, but it was the sufficient tool to cut off the water at last.

As the flow spluttered to a halt, I rose and stared at my clothes plastered to my body. I hoped that I had replaced the extra set of clothes I kept at work...

Xaviera wrung her hair out, then stopped. She was looking at me, I thought. My glasses were so covered in drops of water, I could not really see.

"Wow," she breathed softly. "Seeing you wet again reminds me that when you went into the pool that time, you looked a little stronger than I'd have expected," she said. I shook my head to clear some more water from my vision. "But I was wrong," she mused.

"Wrong?" I could not help but ask.

"Yeah, now that you are just as wet again, and holding still, I can see you aren't just a little stronger than you would think. You are freaking ripped, Danny!"

Again? I was not complaining.

She shook her head as if just intellectually amused, though. I started to think words like drat and almost. Then she started moving her head, as if furiously trying to come up with some plan of some kind. "I don't think I ever apologized for my bikini tripping you up like that, did I?" she asked.

I did not answer. She already knew the answer.

"Well, I am sorry about everything," she said, sounding genuinely contrite about her unintentional rudeness. Then she stopped and looked at my eyes through my slowly clearing glasses.

She smirked good-naturedly. "You don't seem heartbroken at the moment, are you, Danny?" she teased warmly. "In fact, now that I think of it, I'm guessing you never feel too bad at how so many of us just walk around naked in front of you, do you?"

"Ho- ho- honestly?" I said before I could stop myself. "It can be a bit of a cross to bear at t- t- times."

Really? The stutter was back now?

"Sure," she snorted, then paused. "Wow, um, yeah. I guess having to deal with rooms full of naked chicks all the time might be hard. Again, I'm so sorry," she pelted on. "We should be more... I'll tell everybody to be more careful when you are around!" she said earnestly.

"No!" I yelped before I could stop myself.

Dumbass.

She laughed at how I had slipped up, then she smirked at me again. "Oh ho! So you think you can keep holding up under the pressure, can you?"

I sighed. "I- I'm resilient. And I never want to keep anyone from enjoying the club to its fullest." I got my stutter quickly back under control.

She laughed lasciviously. Then her sympathy returned, for a moment. "Still, it must be hard... In fact, it seems very hard for you right now, Danny!"

My glasses were clear enough to see that she was obviously looking below my belt. Given how wet my pants were, the full dimensions of my hardon must have been quite evident. "If you don't want me to make all the girls behave, how, oh how, am I going to make things up to you?" she mused.

She looked up at my face at last, and I could not help myself. I gave her a confident grin.

Apparently, I passed another Game stat check, because she never even bothered to kiss me, not at first. She just bent down and had my shaft out of my sodden pants in but a moment. Then she slid it into her mouth, which did nothing to dry it off.

A grunge-type pop tune began to play somewhere.

Really? A Montage?

It was better than a timeslip.

Much better, as Xaviera worked my rod like some kind of wind instrument, and I felt every nerve ending exploding in real time. But whether it was the montage effect, or her general horniness, she truncated the fellatio a bit early for my tastes. But, as the first verse ended, she hopped up to sit on the edge of the sink I was in there to repair, and pulled me between her legs.

My soaked pants still around my ankles, I found myself sinking into her in the best apology I had ever received. She fit me beautifully. She was not terribly tight, but the softness and small size of her interior caressed my thrusting dick beautifully. Again, not sure if it was the montage effect, or if she was just that horny a woman, but she had needed zero stimulation to be ready for my member's entrance.

Physically ready. She took some time to adjust mentally to my size. Again, I was no porn star, but I was obviously still more than she had had before.

But swiftly, we were both into it. Her hands were digging into my butt with each stroke, and my oh my, did she have some lovely mams to massage and grope as I went.

The montage effect really was a trade-off. Things went much quicker than should have satisfied either of us. But on the other hand, there was no timeslip when she came, nor one when I did, less than 30 seconds later. And I could remember every glorious detail.

We embraced in the afterglow, and then we parted..

But the music kept playing...

Next thing I knew, the sun was coming through the windows from the morning angle, and I was standing in the free-weight room with... um... Now I was the one who didn't know someone's name. I recognized her, of course. It would be hard to forget either her lush curves or the thick, curly mane of dye-enhanced red hair. Even though I was in the montage with her, whatever we were talking about is still a mystery to me, as is how we transitioned from that to me eating her out while she lifted weights.

I remember the eating part... Not the most delicious of women, but the way she responded was a turn-on and a half. Even better was the way we smoothly transitioned into her on her hands and knees on the bench, and me thrusting inside of her while standing straight up.

Now, this girl was tight. Gloriously so. But alas, we also finished quickly. As I unloaded into her frantically rocking form, I realized I was only in the second verse of the montage song! I know I have much longer memories with those two women than half of a single pop tune, but editing... or whatever.

Then it was yet again the next day. I was just sitting down at the reception desk to hold the fort, so to speak. The girl who worked there full-time, and whose entire description in my mind remains 'nice', had just left for an hour's lunch. Erica usually took over, but she and her new boyfriend were taking the afternoon off for some kind of romantic date... It must be good to be the hero of the story; you can take off half a day to go canoodle.

E--... Y... whatever the heck her name was, usually took her lunch during the slowest part of the day, and I had brought some small tasks to work on while I sat around doing nothing and talking to no one.

But almost the second I sat down, Karen entered the building. Most of the members changed into their workout clothes here at the gym, but she was already ready to go, and she had one helluva outfit on. I don't normally think of bikinis as workout clothes, but this was somehow both. The bottom was boyshorts, but cut for a very small boy, if you get my drift. And the top could not decide if it was an athletic top, a bikini top, or a sports bra. I appreciated its confusion deeply. It was white, and its outline was like a bikini, but it was made of strong, supportive fabric. Now, the fabric had all sorts of cool panels that were sheer, instead of sturdy, white. While those panels let you see through to lots of lovely skin, they were sadly positioned nowhere, um, strategic. Covering the outfit, all she had on was a filmy drape, completely open in the front.

And instead of just wandering on in, like people always did, she beelined over to the desk where I sat! I had no idea what to do with this crazy situation. Members just waved their passes as they sailed by the desk, and then only if they were new...

"Hey, Danny," Karen chirped, leaning over the desk toward me. Yeah. That top produced some bounteous cleavage when she did that. And taking a posture like she was now was the sort of subtle display women make when they want to rivet a guy's attention. I was treated to such displays with vanishing frequency back when I was alive, and this world Danny had certainly never experienced one in his life...

I found myself sweating a little bit. "He- he- hey, K-Karen," I gulped. "Wu- wu- wu- what can I d- do for y- y- you?"

"Well, I hope quite a bit," Karen smiled slyly, twitching the long black hair off her right shoulder, but still holding my gaze with that cleavage.

What the heck was she on about?

And this situation was confusing as hell. I was used to being constantly surrounded by all sorts of displays, from tight clothes to outright nudity, of course. But the women of the club just didn't do that when they were actually talking to me, giving me their attention. Not that I ever got anyone's attention much anyway.

"S- s- sure, K- K- Karen," I said, completely at a loss with controlling my stutter. I gulped and clamped down. "Whatever you need. How can I help?" I almost stuttered on the help, but I got through with only a fractional hesitation.

"I've been talking to a little bird," Karen said, and damned if she didn't idly let her fingers trace down the inside of her cleavage, as if it was nothing.

"Bird?" I gulped, completely at a loss.

"You know Xaviera and I work together, right?" she said smoothly.

Wait. Uh-oh.

"Well, she has been in a crazy good mood the last couple of days. That always means she got laid. And she always tells me when that happens, but not this time," she went on relentlessly. This world Danny and I were often feeling like the same guy by this point, but not at this moment. Right now, I knew where this was going, but his slightly sweating body did not.

"I got a couple of drinks into her last night, though," Karen went on, her drape sliding off her shoulder. How did that somehow make her look more naked? "And lo and behold, Xav swears me to secrecy and then fesses up about how she 'apologized' to you for how we all parade around in front of you."

"O- o- oh." How do you stutter just saying, 'Oh'?

"At first, I didn't believe some of the things Xaviera said about her 'apology'. I'm still not sure I believe all of them fully." She leaned even further over the desk. She must have gotten up on her tiptoes to push her cleavage that close to my face.

Holy cow! I had been leaning farther and farther forward as this psycho conversation had gone on. I had progressed so far that my face was practically in that cleavage!

"But," she said in that same sultry voice, only turned up to eleven, "I'm convinced that you deserve some more effort to make up for all the membership has done to you, Danny. And I'm hoping I can get you to let me do my part to help you with that."

"Here?" I gulped, looking around the lobby.

"Sounds fun," Karen shrugged, and was around on my side of the front desk in an instant. In another, she had disappeared out of view of the lobby and of the world camera. But in yet another instant, my dick was fully in her view. "I will not doubt Xaviera again," an impressed voice came from under the desk.

Her mouth slipped around my rod, and she was instantly sending jolts of pleasure through it and into my body. Down there under the desk, where the content filters were not much in play, she was giving me a seriously athletic blowjob. She drooled. She stroked my length with her hands. She sucked on my balls!

Thank you, Candy, for this big reception desk! And thank you, montage, for giving this verse all the time it deserved...

Even if I had not known of the importance of making the most ridiculous faces to keep the attention of the story, I would have made them anyway. Karen knew what she was doing, and there was nothing supernatural stopping her from doing it to the fullest right now.

This was awesome! I could still hear, somehow, the music going in the back of my head, so I relaxed a bit about a timeslip, but I still did not want to get caught by a montage edit. My time with... what was her name? My time with her over the prior verse had definitely been truncated.

And then someone actually entered the lobby! At this time of day? The postman. He was gone quickly, though I had to 'suffer' through his presence as Karen amped up her sucking while I was trying to talk to him. Worse, I then had to endure a little mini sub-montage of a stream of other people, members, vendors, and a little girl selling freaking Girl Scout Cookies, all wanting to talk to me, all while I was being tortured by Karen below the desk.

When the freaking Jehovah's Witness door-to-door evangelist had finally shut up about me going to hell for working in this Den of Delilah's and left, I somehow knew we were done with visitors. Honestly, the rules of this isekai world were nuts. Sometimes they were frustrating. In this case, it was great to relax.

Suddenly, my shaft was not being sucked anymore, just cradled in a gentle grasp. Karen popped up from under the desk a little and said, "Danny, can we maybe go back into the office for a few? I, um, Xaviera says that under those ugly clothes, you have the best pecs she's ever seen, much less touched."

I stared at her, frozen. Please, Candy, don't let this sensation be what it feels like to fail a Game stat check... Please!

Apparently not, because Karen went on, still holding my dick where it stuck out of my pants, and below the level of the front counter. "I want to see all of you naked, is what I'm saying,"

I banished any stutter by sheer act of will. We both stood, my dick magically put out of sight, and I turned us toward the back office. "I hope you will return the favor," I said, in a reasonable facsimile of smooth.

"You see me naked all the time," Karen giggled. "That's the point of this, right?"

"Karen, I want to see you naked some more," I kept on, still not breaking my voice.

She squeezed my ass as we entered the office. "Oh, Danny," she said in a husky voice. "We are going to do a lot more than just see each other naked," she added as the door closed with a click.

No!

The world's view was still outside! The montage music was ending!

The next thing I knew, Karen and I were dressed again and back in the lobby, sharing a furtive kiss before she headed in for a workout, already pre-sweated up.

I had not a single clear memory of what we had exactly done in the office. I mean, I had some vivid impressions. Karen is definitely the queen of tan lines at Pinkfit, and I swear I remember that her skin somehow tasted different where she was tanned, as opposed to where UV did not get to touch. The pale skin absolutely tasted better. This had been no skin off Karen's nose, I was fairly certain, because it meant my lips and tongue had spent most of their time on her nipples and between her legs.

I am certain that we had also screwed, probably twice, but I cannot even recall what position or positions!

That montage was cruel, but I would not have traded it for the world!

Once it ended, I made it my first order of business to find out the name of the redhead. It had eaten at me over the rest of the montage to have screwed a girl whose name I did not know. It did not eat at me enough to stop doing what I was doing at the time, mind you, but I wanted to correct the situation ASAP.

Lynda. Her name was Lynda. Nice girl. I think she was a bank teller.

Next thing I knew, it was the next day again!

I was back at the reception desk when the front door of the club banged open, and Erica burst through, followed by a small group of her best friends among the membership.

She was crying! Big, blubbery tears! Her makeup, which was always perfection, was running down her cheeks!

"Erica!" I gasped and leapt over to the group. "What is the problem?" I asked Tiffani, one of Erica's besties. Tiffani is a serious hottie, and it was a measure of my concern for Erica that I was not disappointed to see that Tiffani was wearing very plain work attire, as if she had not been planning on coming to the club at all.

"Tyler," Sue spat, answering for Tiffani, who was hugging Erica's shoulders.

Wait. Tyler was Erica's ooey gooey love interest.

"But..." I started, confused.

"He cheated on me!" Erica screamed at me. At the top of her lungs. I'd never heard the woman be loud before, much less furious. "I knew he was going to be at Del Giorno's at lunch today, and I showed up to surprise him. I surprised him alright!" she said, her fury devolving into somehow more scary iciness. "He was standing there with her, her arms around him, and her tongue in his mouth!"

"Wow! Wait, who?" I asked. It is a character flaw of real-world Danny that he hates missing pronoun references.

"Wanda!" Erica and every one of her posse told me in absolute unison.

"That bitch," I said, almost to myself. I was getting hot under the collar too. "What did you say to Tyler?" I asked, still processing.

Erica sneered. "I did not say a word. He babbled, though! 'Oh, wait!' 'It's not what it looks like!' All the usual bullcrap."

"What will you say to him when you see him next?" Tiffani asked.

"Tyler is dead to me," Erica said icily. Then her eyes got really hard. "But Wanda is going to pay. Pranks have been fun, but now I want to do something to really screw with her." She thought furiously. "It's not fair that she has five locations. How can I possibly make some mayhem at all of them at once?"

"Maybe we send in a few hundred new member inquiries?" Tiffani asked. "She and her staff will take forever to process them and figure out they are all fake!"

There were a few chuckles at that, but then Sue added in, "Better idea. We don't email FitDames a hundred times, we email a hundred random dudes, offering them discounts on new memberships!"

"I love that idea," Erica exclaimed. Then she grimaced. "But I'm worried that we might actually get into some legal trouble over doing that. It would be just like Wanda to sic some lawyers on me once she finds out the emails came from us!"

"Uh," I said, holding up my hand timidly. "What if we could send the emails from FitDames' own computers?"

Erica looked at me, and I got a nervous flutter at how happy she looked.

Don't tease me again, Candy...

Then Erica composed herself, which I knew was fake as all get out. "That is a marvelous idea, Danny. Too bad it is, of course, quite impossible," she said smoothly, holding my gaze. "I guess we will have to forget the idea entirely..."

Most of the women around her seemed to not quite register that the potted plant had spoken, and even contributed to the conversation. Sue gave me a small smile. Tiffani seemed borderline amazed that I had spoken. She looked at me hard and long. "I hate to give up the idea," she said slowly.

"Can't be helped," Erica said breezily. "Thanks for all your support, girls. Let's try to get on with our day. I have work to do," she said to her friends, and she headed off alone to her office.

She was going in there to cry some more, and all those women knew it. I knew it. But they gave her her space. Suddenly, I was left there, alone in the lobby.

I went immediately to my laptop and took about two minutes to get back into the FitDame's email server. I took one of her regular promotional emails and modified it to offer a one-day-only huge discount on new memberships.

Now I just needed a list of men's emails...

My eye drifted across the front desk, trying to come up with such a list. Wow, no one had thrown out the literature from the Jehovah's Witnesses that the guy had tried to get me to read while I was getting a blowjob. I had set it down and forgotten about it.

I grinned, seeing the website address.

Another minute, and I had hacked into the computers of every Kingdom Hall in the city. A quick sort, and I had Wanda's own computers sending membership invitations to all 7,000 male Jehovah's Witnesses in the city, scheduled to go out at midnight.

I sat back with a beatific smile on my face, and sent Erica a quick note: "Sorry that things are so hard right now. I just know that something will happen tomorrow to lift your spirits."

About the time I was about to go back to my regular work, Erica came out of her office. "Already?" she asked me quietly.

"Taken care of, Boss," I just said.

"You are a prince, Danny," she said, actually hugging me a little. "I wish all my problems were ones you could fix," she added, still not in a better mood.

Yeah, I realized, this time finally, I was not going to get upgraded to replacement boyfriend. She had the perfect opportunity there to express the slightest interest, and did not. And it would have completely upended the dynamic of this story at a late date. Not plausible, and not ridiculous in any good way.

No, Erica was still hung up on cheating douchebag Tyler. My heart hurt for her a little.

It was a measure of Erica's pain that she only spent half the next day cackling evilly with all the members over reports from FitDames locations around town.

My plan had exceeded expectations. I had assumed that these guys would show up, angry as hell at being tempted by these workout Jezebels, denouncing everyone who tried to enter the gym, and handing out literature on the streets.

I was wrong. Only half the Jehovah's Witnesses in the city did that.

The other half were serious as a heart attack about wanting to sign up...

*

Our early lead over FitDames faded, as we had sort of expected. Basketball had been a wipeout, and indoor volleyball a disappointment. But Erica's gang of mouth-watering jocks held strong, and going into the last weekend, things looked very good.

Good enough that people started focusing mainly on the swimsuit competition coming up Friday night of the final weekend.

Friday morning, I found myself doing maintenance around the pool as our five competitors, Xaviera, Ginger, Heather (of course), and two others, were going over suit choices. It was not a montage, but there was a lot of trying on of the women's different suits, their own and each other's. And a lot of nudity in the process. I'd have bailed, but the filter really needed cleaning.

The subtext of the conversation was that no one was super happy with their available suit choices. I could not fathom their dismay. Hot as these five women were, any one of them should have been able to win wearing a 1950's Miss America one-piece.

Except that Wanda had so many hotties at her gyms, too...

Sue suddenly ran in, out of breath. "I've got bad news," she announced.

Heather was standing there, topless, holding two different bikini tops disdainfully. "What bad news? It's not about the contest, is it?"

Sue gulped and nodded.

"Wanda just got a sponsorship for her gym in the event. Freaky Ferret Swimwear is outfitting all her contestants in their newest, unreleased bikinis!"

The five women just stared at Sue. "We are so screwed," said one of them. Mandy, I think. Mandy at least had a top on, but she was naked otherwise, holding two bottoms in her hands and making similar unhappy comparisons as Heather. "Those suits will be new, and they will be hot."

"Freaky Ferret," Ginger moaned. "This suit," she said, indicating the one she had just chosen, "is not going to stand up to that!"

"I... um..." Sue said quietly. They all looked at her. "You guys know that I am in fashion school, right? I, um, I've been working on finding a way to start a swimwear line of my own. When I heard about this, I brought over my best for you to try," she said quickly. I knew the sensation; she was trying not to babble or stutter. "I know these aren't Freaky Ferret," she added quickly, "but they are originals, and, um... Well, I like them," she finished timidly.

The five girls looked at each other and fell on the large bag that Sue had in her hands like a pack of lionesses on a gazelle.

Suddenly, I heard a song that sounded like a bad knock-off of the Foo Fighters in the background. No way this production was going to clear DOA or any other song of theirs...

It was Bikini Haul Try-On Montage time! And what a quality montage... Every darned bikini in that bag was tried on. Everybody was naked half the time. And everybody looked great in everything. The suits were, honestly, amazing. Sue had real talent. A few were elegant. A few were almost raunchy. One or two were downright kinky, especially the one in black with all the straps and buckles. But every single one looked great on whoever was going to wear them.

The montage song ended, and the five girls stood there with Sue in her sweats, each a vision of swimwear perfection. The fifth girl, Vivica, had even chosen the black, strappy, bondage bikini. She looked great, but honestly, her skin was pretty pale for entering a bikini contest...

Then I heard a slide whistle in my head. Uh oh.

Vivica grabbed her mouth, her eyes wide, and she bolted across the concrete beside the pool toward the restrooms. We could all hear the barfing from where we stood.

So. Much. Barfing. Not enough splashing sounds indicating it was all making it into a toilet...

It was so over the top, it was sort of hilarious. Not to me, though. I was the guy who was going to have to clean that mess up! And it wasn't funny to the other girls either.

"I guess she should not have eaten those oysters last night," Mandy observed grimly.

"I'll be alright!" we heard Vivica call from inside the restroom. "I feel better already!" This was followed by another bout of ludicrous-sounding barfing.

"She is not going to be alright," Xaviera spoke the obvious.

"So, who will be our fifth?" Heather asked.

Looking at her, in that white, asymmetric bikini with gold metallic accents, I did not expect that we had anything to worry about with only four contestants.

"Monica was up for it, but she took herself out of the running, since she can't come tonight," Ginger put in.

A circular discussion ensued. All the best lookers were either not available or were not really interested in doing the parade of skin.

"Sue!" Heather exclaimed. "You should do it! These are your suits. You must have a favorite for yourself."

Sue looked at them like they had suggested that she sleep in a room filled with hungry tigers. "I! I... yeah... I... I like my suits, but I'm not... not in your league, guys! I don't have a bikini contest bod!"

Honestly, I agreed with her. She was cute, sure. Or maybe sweetly pretty. But she was as dorky as I. And since she was one of only about five members of the gym community, aside from Erica herself, that I had never once seen either naked or even in her underwear, she was obviously shy about those thunderthighs I had postulated. Trying to get her to do it was almost mean, but I held my tongue. This was not my fight.

The four girls grouped around her and laid it on thick.

"Come on, Sue. You are so cute!"

"We need a girl next door type entrant!"

"You should get up there on the stage so people will hear it is you who made these awesome suits!"

That last one got to Sue. "You really think they are that good?"

This time, they were not laying it on thick. They were completely sincere about how awesome these suits were.

"You can do it, Sue!" A wavering voice came from the bathroom, followed by another silly bout of retching.

"I'll think about it," Sue said, under the badgering. "I promise I'll bring my favorite suit, and if I can get up the courage, I'll try. Just... I'll try."

"I can't believe this crap," Erica said, grumpily coming into the pool area. She stopped. "Wow, great suits," she said in an aside, then got back on whatever was bothering her. "The bitch is at it again!" We knew who The Bitch was. "She has found a way to enter a man into the guys' side of the swimsuit contest!"

"How?"

"He's the guy who does HR for her chain. He's her only male employee. And it kills me to admit it, he's kind of a dish." She seethed for a moment. "Bring it tonight, girls. If Wanda somehow wins both contests, I will kill myself."

"So, employees are eligible?" Ginger asked softly.

"Apparently," Erica said, throwing up her hands.

"Danny needs to enter," Ginger said firmly.

Xaviera and Heather both instantly agreed.

Erica looked, um, astounded. So did Mandy. Sue sort of shrugged timidly.

"M- m- m- m- m- m- m- m- m- m- m- m- m- m- m- m- m-," I stuttered. "M- m- m- m- m- me?"

"Come on! Relax, Danny," Erica said kindly. "No one is going to make you put on a bathing suit in public," she went on, clearly intent on sparing me pointless embarrassment.

Okay, my ego could have done with a little less support of that exact nature, but it was still nice.

"Danny is entering this contest," Ginger, Xaviera, and Heather all said firmly, in freaky unison.

Erica was taken aback, but her eyes narrowed at them. "I guess he is entering," she shrugged.

I was somehow not consulted.

Having bought in, Erica looked me over critically. "At least you are tall," she mused. "We can't do anything about the glasses, not on this short notice, but..." She turned to Mandy. "Go get Hillary. I think I saw her in the weight room." Mandy bolted.

Erica turned to the three instigators. "Are you sure you are not going to get Danny embarrassed?" she asked protectively.

All three women just looked back at her. "The only people getting embarrassed will be the other guys competing against him," Xaviera said firmly.

Erica's eyebrows shot up instantly. Then her eyes narrowed. "Is this more stuff I don't want to know about?"

The three girls were mostly just eyeballing each other at the moment. Each seemed to be realizing that all three seemed to have the same opinion of the potted plant... No catfight ensued, and Erica ended up giving me a speculative look after watching their stare down. Still not a desiring look, alas. But she knew some things were up.

No. I would not want a desiring look from her. Not right now. I knew she was still aching over Trevor. Screw that douche.

Mandy returned with a curious Hillary. "Do you have your stuff, Hill?" Erica asked immediately. Hillary was a hairdresser.

Wait.

"Sure, why?"

The next thing I knew, I was in a chair, and Hillary was cutting my hair! The women were all standing by.

"Honestly, Danny. You have a nice head of hair here," Hillary told me, clipping away with assurance. "But the way you wear it, it looks like your mom still cuts it," she fussed.

"I wish we could do something with the glasses," Erica groused again.

"Don't worry," Hillary said dismissively. "I'm working them into the hairstyle."

What the hell did that mean?

Finally, I was standing up in front of a mirror, peering at a very good, but very straight-edge hairstyle on my head!

"See!" Hillary said with a flourish. Then she shrugged. "I made him Clark Kent!"

Really?

"Really?" asked Erica and Mandy dubiously.

"Really. It's perfect." The three agents of this new torture replied.

"Do you have a swimsuit, Danny? A decent one?" Ginger asked.

"No," I said, in relief.

"I have a few," Sue piped up. Oh yeah, she was still here.

From her bag, she produced three suits. One was a really baggy boardshort. One was a slightly less baggy boardshort.

And the last one made a Speedo look like boardshorts...

I hastily grabbed for the biggest shorts.

"Nope," Heather said firmly.

"The banana hammock," they all three said together, yanking the board shorts away, leaving Sue holding the tiny suit like she was apologizing.

"Really, guys?" Erica growled disapprovingly.

"Trust us," Ginger said in a husky voice.

"Unless you want us to have Danny try it on here and now," Xaviera added brightly.

"Enough!" Erica said. "Danny. You do not have to do this. But I know we want you there this evening anyway. So if you agree to enter, it would be nice to add any chance we can."

Not a huge vote of confidence. But she was heart-warmingly considerate. "Thank you," I said, taking the suit from Sue like it was an empty baggie.

Aaaaaand this was going to be the price I paid for getting to be the sex sidekick. The comic relief will come for you eventually, no matter how hard you are getting laid..

I showed up at the swimsuit contest with the... sigh... banana hammock already on under my clothes. If Wanda's HR dude was a dud, maybe I could beg off even entering.

But he was pretty studly.

Really? The only dude working in HR in the whole country, and he works for Wanda? And he's damned handsome?

Ginger, Heather, and Xaviera descended on me. I was instantly, uncomfortably aware that the three of them had discussed me further over the afternoon. As I was being herded toward the stage, we bumped into Lynda, who was avidly watching the guys who were already up there. "What's up?" she asked Ginger.

"We are making sure Danny enters the contest," the redhead replied.

"Oh, that is genius!" Lynda enthused, giving me a very appreciative eye. Why, I don't know. I was wearing my usual work clothes... because that was all I found in my closet.

All three of my guard dogs gave Lynda a suspicious look. She flinched, then gave all of them a suspicious look in return. Then she wordlessly joined in ensuring that I did not escape. I desperately played a delaying game. An ultimately doomed one. "Final contestants for the men!" was called out over the loudspeakers, and the four women relentlessly pushed me backstage.

In moments, I had four gorgeous women peeling me out of my clothes. "The haircut is a nice touch," Lynda observed.

"Do I really need to do this?" I asked apprehensively.

The next-to-last round was on stage now. The crowd was, of course, majority men, but there were plenty of gym hardbodied women out there as well, and they were whooping it up for each contestant.

"Knock 'em dead," was all Heather said, encouragingly.

Still praying for a reprieve from the Governor, or more accurately, from Candy, I delayed until I was the last contestant to go out. One of the women slapped my ass as I entered the stage.

I stepped into the spotlight, and there was a brief, terrible moment of total silence from the crowd. I knew this was a bad idea!

Then a single female voice out in the crowd said, "Well! Hello there." And mayhem broke out. Apparently, I am that buff. And apparently, even I could gain some confidence with enough positive feedback. I smiled.

But I realized that I had no routine. A bunch of real contenders earlier had done a little schtick or something to make them memorable beyond their muscled bodies. All I had going on was, um, one of the smallest, most overfull swimsuits in the contest.

I sighed and turned around to put my back... side to the crowd. This was greeted with significant additional applause.

Did I mention that the banana hammock was also pretty much a thong?

But other than pretty much baring my ass, that was all I had. I thought furiously, competitive instincts I did not know I had, flowing. My mind flailed, but the body Candy had assigned me came through, and I was named a finalist pretty much by acclaim. Of course, it put me in the finals. If it wasn't, my embarrassment would have ended...

But then, it was time for the women's preliminaries.

Honestly? There were an alarming number of utter foxes from many clubs in this contest. The throngs of guys who had shown up for the contest were getting their money's worth. In spades.

But still, come on. Heather was easily made a finalist early on. And the applause for Ginger made it pretty clear that she was likely to be named one of the additional finalists at the end. So far, so good.

But two of Wanda's members were acclaimed finalists, like Heather had been. I wasn't so sure we should be worried. I mean, I had seen Heather naked, but I did not think that was throwing off my judgment that much. She was such a classic bikini bod, we had to have this in the bag.

But two other women, from other clubs, were made finalists as well. They were... yeah. This was a problem.

I was still backstage, and I saw a flurry from our team. "Go on, Sue! Get out there! You can do it!"

Sue was looking mortified, clutching her robe around her and shaking her head in near terror.

"Sue," Xaviera said, holding her hand. "You can do this. They won't announce that you are the suit designer unless you go out there! You are so cute. It will be alright!"

She was frozen, though, and I didn't think she would go through with it. But it would be good for her for the publicity, right?

"You can do it, Sue," I said, stepping up to her, trying to sound reassuring.

I had become body-positive enough on stage that I had forgotten to put on a robe.

And I instantly recognized that Sue had not seen me out on stage.

Her knees literally buckled. Ginger and Mandy caught her. "See? Danny did it! And he made your suit look, um, amazing," Mandy said with a gulp. I thought this might be the closest up she had seen me in the suit...

Sue just looked at me up and down. "You want me to do it, Danny?" she asked timidly, but with a weird anticipation. What the hell did my opinion matter?

"I think you should do it for yourself," I said, playing my best card. Honestly, was I being mean, encouraging her to go out there with all those hardbodies?

Sue gulped, handed her glasses to Ginger, and shrugged out of her robe as she stepped out toward the stage.

This was just unfair.

And it could not be possible.

The ugly duckling who takes off her glasses and most of her clothes, and becomes an unlooked-for hottie is the oldest trope in the Raunchy Sex Comedy toolkit. But this was some serious magic.

Sue was Heather's equal. Maybe her better. She was not as tall. She was not quite as lush. But she was perfection in bare feet. And the bikini she had made...

The announcer called out. "And next, from Pinkfit Women's Fitness, in a bikini of her own design and make, is Sue... Gruguluk..." The poor guy swallowed his words as Sue came out.

I hoped that she took as much validation from the reaction as I had to the one that had greeted me.

But I was not sure she had. She just stood there, like a frightened fawn, doing nothing more than trying to smile and at least turning around twice.

That was all it took to get her to the finals. Like Heather, I kind of feel that she could have done nothing but fart loudly and still been a finalist.

The whole competition was a really well-run event, and there was plenty of time between the first round and the finals for fun and games. And by that, I mean plenty of time to sell drinks. All of us from Pinkfit in the competition huddled together for a while at the start of the intermission. That was good, because, for a while the girls protected me from a lot of very thirsty looks from other women, and I protected the girls from the thirsty looks of a lot of guys. But Ginger had not made the finals after all, and we all pretended that we did not think it was because Sue had knocked her off the bubble.

That should have felt disastrous, but with the two women we had in, most everybody felt at least optimistic, if not confident.

Our non-competitors drifted off to mingle with handsome guys in swimsuits and other appealing attire, and Heather just wandered off to think about how to break the hearts of every male present at the event.

This left Sue and me, huddling together nervously, wondering what we had gotten ourselves into.

For me, the nervousness was just routine. I knew I would have more opportunities to be embarrassed as we got to the final meat of the story this weekend. But for Sue, she had no such meta distractions. This was her life, such as it was. I felt for her, and focused on helping her, instead of on my own issues.

Yes. Yes. It was no hardship hanging out with Sue. I was still standing around in just her banana hammock design. I was brazening that out. But she had pulled her robe back on immediately after getting off stage. This wasn't as disappointing as it sounds, because as she clutched it to herself, the neckline opened up and the inner curves of her delicate, beautiful breasts were squeezed together as if framed.

But she was still nervous, and I knew only my presence was keeping her from running away from the still numerous glances her way from friends and strangers alike.

"Come on," I said. "Let's get away from everybody staring at us." I led her... anywhere really, but we eventually found a narrow, dead-end passage formed when the promoter had set up the stage, and we ducked in there, away from being ogled for the first time since we had each stepped on that stage.

In the cramped space, I saw Sue finally relax.

"There you go," I said, chucking her chin lightly. "You can relax."

"Why am I putting myself through this?" Sue cried quietly. "It is so embarrassing. Having to walk around with all those women I don't belong on stage with..."

"Most of them don't belong on stage with you," I snorted.

"Please! It's so easy for you," she snapped at me. I didn't know sweet little Sue did things like snap angrily. "You are always so handsome," she grumbled.

"Wait. What? Me?!?" I laughed incredulously. "I'm not handsome! No one suffered the delusion that I was until, well, mostly today!"

"Oh, quit trying," Sue said. "I've had a crush on you since Erica hired you."

Oh, boy. Yeah, if things had gone differently, Sue would have ended up the nerd girlfriend to me, the comic relief.

Seriously, she really was great. And I could see how I would have probably fallen harder for her than I had for Kristi. And I'd have felt even worse after it was all done and she dissolved.

I still felt myself drawn to her anyway. And not just because the breast show in the open mouth of her robe was somehow getting even better...

"Regardless," I said uncomfortably. "You absolutely belong in the finals. I won't be surprised if you win."

"Please," she scoffed. "Heather is hot as the sun."

"And I won't be surprised if she wins either," I said with complete honesty. "But," I added firmly, "I will be kind of surprised if someone other than you two wins."

"Yeah, right," Sue muttered sourly. "If I'm so great, prove it."

She was spiraling back down, and her body language reflected that. "Look," I said. "I mean it. You are sweet, and pretty, and cute, and beautiful, and have an awesome bikini, and... and you are also hot as a furnace. Just smile for the audience, and you really might just win!"

"I don't feel like smiling," she grumped.

"You should," I said, and desperate for something to get her out of this funk, I leaned down and kissed her gently on the lips. I stood back up, and she looked at me, um, adoringly? She touched her lips.

"I don't know if that proves anything," she said slowly, but with a trace of a smile.

I shook my head, but kissed her again. She had really nice lips.

Suddenly, she snapped her arms around my shoulders and kissed back hungrily. Her robe fell completely open and in an instant, she had pulled herself up on my large frame and wrapped her legs around my waist. "Prove it," she growled into my mouth.

Assertive Sue was even more hot. I kissed her harder. She kissed me harder.

But I suddenly had a problem, what with this armful of shockingly hot wallflower wrapped around me.

"Um, Sue," I said, around her hungry lips. "People do seem to like this swimsuit that I got stuck with, but, um, I'm finding a design flaw," I said desperately.

"What?" she asked, momentarily taken aback. Whatever her other insecurities, she was proud of her swimwear.

I really did not want to admit the problem, but I also needed to deal with it. "I, um, don't fit in it suddenly," I said sheepishly, letting go of our kisses.

"Huh?" she asked, then her eyes widened. She wriggled her hips against me, and I felt my tip, which had grown to escape the small swimsuit, rub briefly against her inner thigh. Her eyes widened further. "That, um, is an issue," she giggled. She looked at me, and I swear I could see what she wanted to say in her eyes. I could also see the content filter head off her words. She couldn't notice the effect, but I could.

She had wanted to say, 'Yeah, you can't go out there like that. Someone needs to help you get that situation under control.' That would have been just too explicit, I guessed.

Instead, she said, "That's, um, very gratifying, but even that doesn't do it for me. Prove it. Prove I'm worth being on that stage." She did not move an inch from where she still clasped herself around me.

What reason did I have to keep dancing away from this train? Sure, it smelt like it might become a relationship, if there were time left in the story, but right now, we were just two horny, insecure people, searching for a solution to our insecurity.

And our horniness.

I just kissed her harder. And I admitted, "The swimsuit situation is getting worse..." I was still growing, and the waistband was quite constricting over the mid-length of my shaft.

"So sorry," Sue said gruffly. "I'll fix it for you right now." I felt her wrap one arm tighter around my neck, while the other shoved down between us and shoved the suit down far enough to clear my balls.

"Better?" she almost taunted. I nodded. "Yeah? Good for you, but you still haven't proved it!"

She wanted me to prove to her how hot she was? I could do that.

I stared into her eyes. She stared back, then breathlessly nodded.

I turned to the left and pressed her against the wall.

And immediately thanked Candy for the presence of mind to turn left and not right. Had I turned right, we both would have fallen right through the curtain and onto the stage!

But I had turned left. I pressed her up against the wall.

"Prove it, Sue whispered. Good Cathy, she was sexy when she got hungry.

I slid a hand between us. The bottom of her suit was looser than it appeared, and I easily shoved it aside. My fingertips found sodden curls beneath, and I immediately shifted my hips to bring my dick to her opening. I locked eyes with Sue and told her again, "You are hot as the sun," as I slid inside her.

I knew it was coming, and I was ready for it. The timeslip tried to intrude, but I bent all my will to fighting back. Some of my will. Enough of my will to succeed. The rest was bent on burying myself in Sue's sweet, sweet body. I pushed her hard against the wall and started trying to 'prove' her to the wall.

The timeslip faded away, and I felt the world view shift somewhere else in the story.

Ordinarily, I'd have been even more excited by that. It meant that we could have gotten up to all sorts of shenanigans sexually, without the content filter deflecting, replacing, or outright stomping them. But right now, we were doing the best thing, in the best way. And I doubted we had much time to do it.

Sue buried her face in the crook of my neck and moaned into my flesh. I just grunted quietly as I thrust into her silken, receptive depth. Her legs flexed with each penetration, and her inner muscles contracted as well. Every push into her was fought deliciously by freshly clenched muscles, while each withdrawal was a shuddering thrill as I pulled back from her relaxed flesh.

"Feeling like I'm proving it?" I gruntingly teased.

"Getting... oh wow... getting, unh, there," Sue moaned as I hammered away.

It was almost all I could do to keep up this suspended coupling, but I pushed her hard against the wall, letting me free a supporting hand. With it, I looked down and tugged at one cup of her bikini top. It slid to the side, and I was treated to the sight of the most exquisite little nipple.

I usually like dark nipples. But Sue's were pale. As light as her regular skin tone everywhere else! I could not tell if she had tiny aureoles, or if they were just hard to see because they made no contrast.

Regardless, her suckle button was impossible to miss. It was hard and stood proudly a good half-inch above her sweetly curving breast.

I wanted to grab that boobie. I wanted to bend and suck on it.

But all I could do was enjoy it being there as I pressed our chests together and drove into her as hard and hungrily as I could.

We stared into each other's eyes almost grimly as we panted through the vigorous exercise. Soon, we were both biting our lips, realizing that there was just a curtain behind me between any noise we might make and the whole event!

We held on and stroked, mashing our bodies together. We were both fueled by the insecurities we each felt from the competition we had just endured, and the fact that there was more to come. We were fueled by our own desires for one another. And we were blazingly fueled by the validation we had both tried to deny as we were on stage earlier.

When we came, we both exploded silently. I may have drawn some blood inside my lower lip.

I lost track of things for several moments, not due to timeslip, but due to having just banged my own brains out.

I leaned against the wall, and let Sue's legs slip from my grasp. She slid to her feet, and I leaned back, but only a little. I grinned at her.

"Okay," she gasped. "You proved it." She grinned. "Now let's both go win!"

I tucked myself back into my banana hammock, and fortunately, I once again fit.

"Let's go," I said, taking her hand.

"No, you go. You guys are first," Sue said. "I've got another suit I want to change into for the final."

A quick kiss, and I slipped away.

I do admit being a little uncertain about her words. That suit she had on in the prelims was an utter banger.

But I had to face the music first. I doubted that I would actually win. I still had no routine, and I sensed that that was more important for the guys than the girls.

There were eight finalists, and we would all have to go on stage together. Each would step forward, in the order we were selected, do our things, and garner applause for the sound meter.

The next thing I knew, we were all out there on stage. Mine was not the only banana hammock. And no dude wore more than the briefest, tightest trunks. Every one of them had some schtick, whether it was posing like the bodybuilders they likely were, or something else. One dude, who was clearly not the best looking, even went for laughs. It got him a huge, loud, enthusiastic response.

I had nothing to answer that.

And then it was my turn. I strode forward confidently, or in a facsimile thereof. I let my current, post-nut happiness show in my face as I smiled. That garnered some enthusiastic voices, but I could tell I was not setting myself apart. I was popular, but I wasn't breaking out of the pack.

I faced the crowd. I could see many of the female faces out there now. There were a lot of intriguing offers in many eyes...

Think!

Clark Kent...

I took off my glasses, tweaking a lock of hair down over my forehead as I did, and then threw out my chest and braced my fists on my hips while flexing every muscle I had. That was more work than I expected. I really had a lot of muscles. I turned and looked nobly off to the side. I imagined I had a cape...

"Oh, for crying out loud," I heard one of the other guys on stage with me mutter.

There was general mayhem.

They held the final results, though. I guess I'd find out at the same time as the ladies...

I was mobbed by Pinkfit members when I got off stage. Those I'd gotten to know well already all had plans forming in their eyes. But plenty of other members were clearly never going to see me a a potted plant ever again either. Things were going to be much different around work next week...

Or maybe not. From a lot of the looks I was getting, the only change likely was that all the casual nudity might just stop being casual.

Erica was ecstatic, hugging me happily, but still, alas, not hungrily. I reflected that she should have entered the contest herself. I suspected that she might have been able to beat both Sue and Heather. But alas, her character was the sort whose actress might not even have a bikini clause in her contract, let alone a nudity or intimacy clause. Destined to torment the audience like an obviously placed gun in a scene, one that never gets fired... Regardless, my win would help, but I knew she really wanted one of her members to win the ladies' event, to get the notoriety out of it she wanted.

And now it was time for the marquee attraction. Sexual equality was all very well and good, but everyone knew the real main event was the women's bikini final.

The ladies' final was definitely more... eventful. The contestants came out alone this time for their turns. They deserved the solo spotlights. Every one of the finalists was a dream.

Wanda's two finalists were out for blood, in a way that was going to benefit every red-blooded male, and likely quite a few female spectators as well. The first, and in my view hotter, of her two finalists had adjusted her bikini from the first round. What little fabric there was to the crazy hot Freaky Ferret suit had been shifted around to cover even less of her than before.

And she had gotten herself wet.

Freaky Ferret suits do not seem to ever have linings...

Oh wow, she was going to be a danger after all... The crowd was losing its mind over her, and she was only second.

Heather was fourth up. She knew how to dance, and she demonstrated that knowledge. How a girl in a bikini up on stage by herself could somehow make every guy in the audience feel like he just got a private lap dance, I did not know. But Heather was a magical bikini isekai creature. She had no requirement to comply with the laws of reality.

But right after her was Wanda's second entrant. I might have to rescind my remarks about her not being as hot as her teammate in the transparent Freaky Ferret bikini. This girl was tall, with an incredibly lush mane of jet black, flowing hair. And an hourglass figure that was displayed to perfection in the bikini. She had a look of sexy determination in her eyes.

And she cheated.

She had a major wardrobe malfunction and was none too subtle about engineering it. Those mouthwatering tits flailed around for almost ten seconds before the MC and head judge jumped out and threw a blanket around her.

"Oh, wow! Hey now," the MC gasped. "We, um, that's against the rules... isn't it?" He was instantly and lustily booed. "No, I mean, it's not allowed," the MC went on uncertainly. He looked toward the sponsor, Mr. Grandbux. But the big guy just shrugged with a grin. Then the MC looked at a couple of the off-duty cops doing security. They just looked at each other and shrugged.

This could have gotten amazing, but the MC had integrity.

"No, I'm sorry, but we can't allow a rule change like this. It would not be fair to the earlier contestants who have already gone," he said, feeling on suddenly firm ground.

There were more boos, but fewer than I expected. It really would not be fair, especially to Heather and FitDame's first contestant. Both of them had garnered some real partisans who selflessly made themselves argue loudly against additional nudity.

I hope I'm not expected to explain the plausibility of that, Candy.

Snort.

The judge escorted the contestant, scientific name: Raven-Haired Boobie Flasher, off the stage, but alarmingly, did not disqualify her. She just strutted off, the blanket wrapped around her obviously still topless bod, giving come-hither looks to the entire audience.

Erica, I, and several members all traded uneasy looks. The applause as the cheater left the stage was really loud...

No one else felt like a contender until it was Sue's turn. "She told me she was going to change to a different bikini," I muttered. "I worry that was a mistake." The dubious looks of the girls told me they probably agreed.

There was another announcement that Sue was in a suit of her creation before the curtain burst aside, and Sue strutted out like she owned the stage. None of us had ever seen her so confident or smiling so broadly. She was utterly radiant in that moment.

The suit was much less racy than her first. It was still a little racy, but it covered a lot more. It was the opposite strategy from everybody else. And it just made her look so elegant, so poised. Sue looked like she belonged in the sexiest perfume ad of the year. She moved elegantly across the stage from one end to the other, smiling at everyone and subtly making sure that no one missed the fact that this suit, while it covered more skin, still wonderfully showcased the incredible body within!

Her sudden strut, summoned from who knew what depths, was totally different from any other entrant. She was lovely. But while she moved, the crowd was more transfixed than noisy.

Uh-oh.

But they made up for their silence as Sue exited the stage...

We all excitedly talked about our hopes for the results and our worries about Wanda's exhibitionist's chances.

"Well, I figure that we won at least one category," Jayne said confidently.

"Yeah," I agreed. I hadn't stuttered in an hour. I refused to check my stat sheet, though, in case Candy had just forgotten about the little cross to bear... "It is impossible to imagine anyone could beat both Heather and Sue," I added confidently.

A bunch of the women looked at each other. "Yeah, Danny," Jayne said sweetly. "That's exactly what we mean."

But then the MC got up and told everyone, "Our sponsor has been talking to the Department of Parks and Recreation, and we are reminded that this contest is an unofficial but important part of the city's fundraiser for athletic access for underprivileged kids. So to help make the final gala better for everyone, we will be announcing the winners at tomorrow's athletic club championship trophy ceremony!"

Really? No one looked happy, except for the city government workers...

The next morning was the last real event: Pickleball. We had a great duo, and all they needed to do was come in second. If they did, the championship would be out of FitDame's reach, even if those bitches won it. And even if the worst result happened, we would still hold a narrow lead.

The only other source of points was fencing anyway, and there was still not a single entrant for that event.

We excitedly gathered to watch the early rounds.

The worst result happened. Jess and Merida dropped two matches early and did not even make the semis. Worse, FitDames won the event.

But we were still ahead. The tournament officials gathered, and some geezer on the board looked distraught that no one had signed up for fencing. "Well, ladies and gentlemen, here we are," the director said to the assembled crowd. "There are only two ladies' clubs left in mathematical contention, with Pinkfit in the lead. But since the last event, fencing, has no entrants signed up, I guess that we call the tournament for..."

"Stop!" called out a voice. We all turned, and Wanda was holding up her hand dramatically. "The fencing event is still available. I would like to enter! And before anyone accuses me of trying to take it by default, I clearly have all my gear right here," she added, holding up a huge lumpy equipment bag. She glared triumphantly in our direction.

Oh, crap. If she won by default, FitDames would take the championship.

The organizers talked amongst themselves and shrugged. "Well then, I guess since entries are accepted up until the contest begins, we must award..."

"Stop!" another voice called out.

"Really?" the director asked peevishly.

"Really?" the old geezer who loved fencing asked eagerly.

It was Erica.

"I, too, wish to enter the fencing," she crowed. "I was on to you, Wanda," her voice held venom in that name, "I brought my gear as well!" she added, displaying her own lumpy equipment bag with a flourish.

"Well then," the old geezer said, stepping up. "Since these two fencers represent the only two clubs that can still win, as fencing director, I am deciding that the contest will be reduced to a best two out of three to fifteen touches. No breaks in between. Let's get ready to rumble!" he added in a reedy imitation of the boxing ring announcer guy.

The organizers all looked relieved that they could still get the ceremony and party started on time, so they could get everybody liquored up and feeling like writing checks.

Wanda and Erica circled each other, looking like they were about to duel to the death with two-handed axes.

"Let's go, ladies," the old geezer said, clapping his hands. "Get suited up and be back here in five minutes." The two women traded final catty glares and stalked off toward dressing rooms in opposite directions.

The girls at Pinkfit all gathered around, whispering urgently.

"Can you believe this?"

"I didn't even know Erica knew how to fence."

"We still don't know if she does."

"We also don't know if Wanda does, either!"

And so on.

I had nothing to contribute and sauntered off to give my nervous feet something to do. I was back in my work clothes, so as I approached the FitDames area, I was roundly ignored, as par usual.

Wanda was standing with her crew, stretching.

I snorted.

Look, I actually took a whole semester of fencing in college, back when I had been alive. I had sucked, but I knew enough to know that Wanda knew nothing about fencing. Her weapon was neither an epée nor a foil. It was some sort of hybrid, with a bare metal tip, and it looked far too flexible.

Moreover, fencers wear a heavy duck canvas tunic, and tough, tight, pants with high socks.

Wanda wore a skintight white bodysuit, the only virtue of which was that it clung so tightly to her, admittedly outrageous, body that there would be no touches on loose clothing.

And believe me, every female fencer wears a breastplate under their tunic. Boobies do not like being poked with pointy metal sticks. Wanda was going to be a mess after Erica was through with her.

I looked back over toward our group, and there was Erica, wearing an identical outfit, with an identical weapon!

This was how people fenced in this universe?

Come on, this was just not plausible, right?

Forget it, Jake. It's isekai. The disembodied, inaudible voice in my mind did a credible imitation of Lawrence Walsh

I thought you said this wasn't an isekai?

Shut up.

I now had no idea what fencing was going to look like with equipment like this.

My gaze fell to one of Wanda's weapons, and I stepped closer in curiosity. No one saw me, of course. The tip looked slightly altered. It was as if a small spur had been gouged out of the flat metal tip.

Huh...

I walked back over to Erica, who seemed both experienced at fencing and unconcerned about her bodysuit's less than protective qualities. I looked at her blades. Neither was damaged like Wanda's had been. Smooth tips. Erica grabbed one, swirled it in a flourish, and stepped toward the narrow pitch for the match. She and Wanda saluted each other with total contempt and swept their helmets up over their heads.

At least there was that much safety equipment...

Honestly, both women looked more predatory, once the helmets were on, as if they were different...

Duh. Stunt doubles.

With a call of "Allez!" the geezer started the bout.

Yep, I saw now. In the grandest Hollywood tradition, this bout was created by a production team that thought Errol Flynn movies were instructional tapes. In moments, there were several flurries of slashing blows, wild overhead strikes, and lots of dramatic circling. You can't really do any of that in fencing.

But it was entertaining.

Erica landed a solid point on Wanda's breast. It would be hard to miss those beauties if you did score a touch on Wanda. I winced in grudging sympathy. I expected her to crumple to her knees from the pain, but no. The director just called the touch, and the women reset.

But then... Wanda got a hit on Erica. It was just on her upper arm, but apparently that was on target in this variation. The director awarded the point.

And there was suddenly a long tear in Erica's bodysuit! No blood was drawn, but the light fabric had parted like it was cut.

That spur!

Stunt doubles, hell. They were body doubles! Of course, the bigger stars of the sort that Erica or Wanda would be played by would not agree to actually get their outfits cut off their bodies. How far would Wanda's dissection of Erica's outfit go? Would that score extra points, or just embarrass her into forfeiting?

I dashed over toward Erica's backup weapon. I had some tools in my backpack and looked at the tip. The metal was soft... A quick pass with a craft knife, and there was now a spur on the tip of this weapon, an exact duplicate of the one on Wanda's blade.

I worked my way back toward the bout, through the crowd.

I was already close enough to hear them as they leapt and slashed and did all the stuff you aren't allowed to do. There were definitely no safety rules in this world...

"Been lonely lately?" Wanda asked after dodging an genuinely impressive stroke from Erica.

"Shut it, bitch," Erica hissed. "He's dead to me now."

"Aww," Wanda said. "I'll admit that it took a lot of work to set things up so I could kiss him right when you arrived..."

"What?" Erica asked, shocked. Wanda lashed out into her surprise. But Erica turned sideways, went up on tiptoe, and bent herself backward about 90 degrees, like she was in the Matrix. It was a brilliant dodge. But another slash appeared in the fabric of the bodysuit, half the length of her shapely thigh.

Point Wanda.

I looked around nervously as I worked my way further forward, but then I saw Trevor! He was in the crowd, looking anguished. I actually heard him growling, "Come on, Erica, smoke the wench!"

Ah.

Trevor had been set up.

I looked at the weapon in my hand. If I gave it to Erica, she would be really grateful. Maybe extremely grateful.

But she was not to be mine. She and Trevor were meant to be.

I stepped sideways and magically got to Trevor's side in moments.

"Dude," I said, holding out the weapon, point up. I tapped the tip. "The tip on this weapon matches the one on Wanda's. Give this one to Erica!"

Trevor might be gorgeous, but he wasn't stupid. He looked over at the two unusual tears in Erica's suit. He got a grim look on his face. "Thanks," he said, and lifted his fist for a bump. Then he was off, weaving through the crowd dramatically. I even heard urgent music.

Erica had gotten two touches in the interim, but of course, neither had done a damn thing to Wanda's bodysuit. Just as Trevor grew near, Wanda's blade flicked upward, and a long rent opened in the front of Erica's bodysuit! It was just an inch off center, but the stretchy material opened wide to display a lot of extraordinarily tasty-looking, but embarrassing flesh.

Erica stepped back, calling time. She whipped off her helmet and darned if it wasn't her under the mask!

Of course, this was 'real life' within the story. There would be no body doubles. The story was just reflecting some of the conventions of the media by making the two women seem slightly different with the masks on.

I was ashamed to find myself staring at the half-acre of impromptu cleavage Erica suddenly was sporting.

But I didn't look away.

Come on! This woman was gorgeous enough to be the star, even when standing right next to women like... everybody else.

Trevor got to her before the timeout was up. Erica glared at him. He said something quickly to her, and I guess Wanda's earlier words had given her enough to think about that Erica did not immediately deck Trevor. Then he held up the backup weapon. Erica stared at it for a moment, then down at her rent chest. Then over at Wanda, who was busy preening for her fans.

Erica swapped weapons swiftly and returned to the field.

Trevor faded back, his narrative part done for now. Erica smiled grimly and put her mask back on.

The first round resumed. Erica might be the better fencer, but the embarrassment about the tears in her suit had put her off her game, and she was only a point from losing.

She looked ready to bring fire on Wanda, but instead she did an Obi Wan Kenobi and pretty much let Wanda score an easy touch to win the first round. And she did so at the cost of another rent in her sleeve. Her bodysuit was getting tattered around the shoulder.

But Wanda now did not know that something had changed, and she would not until the second round.

Clever girl, Erica...

She picked nervously at her ragged attire between rounds, and Wanda strutted out to start the second round, knowing she had Erica right where she wanted her.

So did Erica. Wanda slipped, and Erica tore an incredibly long rip across Wanda's chest, right above her boobs! It was so wide, in fact, that the fabric stretched so tightly over those immense, lovely knockers to begin with started immediately to tear a little extra.

The two women stared at each other. Body language told everyone watching that Wanda suddenly knew the match had changed. Grimly, she pressed the attack, but Erica parried and took advantage of Wanda's sudden, anger-driven aggression. A tear appeared up the bitch's leg.

But Wanda settled in, knowing that she was still ahead by a round, and the bout evened out in skill. Erica had that slight edge from Wanda's shaky start and won the second round by two touches.

More importantly, for narrative and prurient purposes, both women were looking pretty bedraggled. Erica's tattered sleeve had fallen completely off, and her chest had two more, smaller tears. A nipple was close but not quite visible. How an eighth of an inch of rosy aureole being exposed could be sexier than half the naked women I'd seen lately, I cannot say.

But it was.

Eva's right suit leg was scored into ribbons.

On the other hand, that first big cut across Wanda's chest was sagging even wider. And both shoulders were a shambles. After the second round, the Rec Center guy asked, "Um, should we pause for them to, um, refresh their outfits?"

The old geezer running the match was in full-on megalomaniac mode now. "No!" he shouted, waving a finger in circles in the air. "I declared a no-breaks match! It is illegal to change rules during a bout!"

The Rec guy still looked at the two beauties in their torn outfits. Both women looked at each other grimly and slid on their helmets. This was not a contest anymore. It was a fight to the... skin.

Three touches into the third and deciding round, and Wanda lost her right sleeve. It sagged down her arm after a hit from Erica, and our enemy shook it off and tossed it aside.

Next came a flurry of blows that went so fast, I suspected a tiny timeslip. As the two broke to catch their breath, the entire left leg of Erica's bodysuit, from the waist down, was gone, the crotch of the bodysuit barely holding in place. Wanda had huge rents now on either side of her waist, and her left shoulder was also in tatters.

The next point brought disaster, as another big tear opened up in Erica's torso. Depending on how she twisted and lunged, an unbelievably nice nipple could poke fully into view through the tears. And she knew it. I worried that her modesty would hurt her game.

But Erica wanted the title more than she wanted to stay dressed. And she wanted to beat Wanda more than anything.

She paused visibly, then flung her weapon out against Wanda's skilled attack.

Oh, no! The whole right half of Erica's body suit, down to the waist, slumped free!

"Ha!" screamed Wanda.

"Touch, Pinkfit!" the Geezer said loudly.

"What?" screamed Wanda. "I obviously got her!"

"Attack, retreat, attack, parry, riposte, counter riposte, counter counter..." the guy called out, waving his hands around in the air. "Pinkfit had the right of way at the simultaneous touch. Touch, Pinkfit!"

Wow! He actually got the sequence right. I had been looking. It was the first moment of legitimate fencing in the bout!

Don't get your hopes up for more...

Erica was standing there, her chest heaving. This was rather arresting, considering that her right breast was just hanging there in the open, looking more fabulous than if Liberace and Elton John had a baby. But her sacrifice had gotten her the touch. And she now led by three in the final round.

Wanda hung in. But after tying it back up, she tried for the psychological advantage and focused too much on trying to hit Erica's other, still-clothed shoulder. Erica saw this and took advantage. A lightning touch, and the front of Wanda's bodysuit opened wide. It slumped off her torso, and she angrily shrugged out of the remaining sleeve before the director could call for the next point.

So here we were. Wanda was completely naked to the waist. Erica had a naked left leg and a naked right breast.

I know I have been crapping on this goat rodeo of a sporting match, but if someone figured out how to make this work in the real world, I'm pretty sure women's fencing might start outdrawing the NFL...

Each round was to 15 touches, by two. Erica held the lead at 13-12.

Then they were tied at 13. Wanda's last touch did no damage to Erica's clothes because there were no clothes in the vicinity to damage.

Erica scored right back with a touch that just nicked the waistband of Wanda's suit. Another nick there and...

14-13, Erica.

They were both cautious now. We were down to cases. I think that at least a quarter of the spectators were riveted to the score and how the bout would finish. The rest of the people were, of course, riveted to the three naked breasts and a fourth that kept promising to make an appearance. Erica's left shoulder was hanging by a literal thread. As was the waist of Wanda's suit.

The two stared each other down. I heard dramatic music in my head.

A flurry of blows. All the noise. And they both sprang back. Erica's left half of her jumpsuit sagged off her shoulder. Both women were totally topless.

No!

But I saw Wanda's shoulders sag, despite having managed to further expose Erica.

"Point Pinkfit," the geezer shouted! "Round, Bout, and match to Pinkfit!"

Our side burst into spontaneous applause.

Wanda threw her mask to the ground and stomped away, covering herself with her arms.

Erica just raised her arms in the air in triumph, which awarded a wonderful prize to all who were watching, as her arms tugged her breasts upward in an even more wonderful stretch. She cheered in triumph and relief.

Then Trevor appeared at her side with a blanket. Erica looked at it blankly for a moment, then her eyes widened, and she grabbed it to cover herself.

There were actual boos. I was not one of the boo-ers, but I thought one in my head.

"Ladies and Gentlemen!" the Rec Department chair called out. "Please don't leave! The victory party in honor of Platinum Men's Sporting Club and Pinkfit Women's Fitness will begin immediately! We will gather the swimsuit competition finalists and announce the winners of our ancillary championship a little later! You won't want to miss that!"

Yeah, that didn't surprise me. Heather walked by me. "Get your suit back on and meet up behind the stage," she said. "They want to give out the prizes soon."

I had to put on that suit again? In public? Again?

I mentally shook a tiny fist at Candy.

Idly, as I went to change again, I checked my character sheet.

Name: Danny

Age: 25

Intelligence: 17

Height: 6' 2"

Build: Ripped

Cash: Good

Game: Ridiculous

Hair: Comicbook movie good

Debuffs: slight occasional stutter, heavy glasses

Buffs: Believed in, lusted after

Virginity: Null

Well now...

As I started to go backstage, I saw Erica and Trevor talking happily.

Noice.

We guys stood around, staring at each other. Geez, did that one guy over there oil himself up for this?

The contest was announced, and we guys were paraded out.

We were catcalled massively. I could see how women probably hated it most of the time, but dumb oxes like us guys just sort of drank it in.

"Third place goes to..." the MC called. I had a chance at this, I tried to convince myself. That would be pretty good; a nice cash prize, and another top mention for Pinkfit. Erica would be glad.

But it went to a guy from some boxing gym across town. Cripes. He was third?

"Second place..." Could I dream of this?

No.

The HR boy from FitDames took it. I wanted to stomp off in disgust. First place was obviously going to the oiled-up hunk. I only hung in because I sensed it was narratively necessary for me to feel some pain.

"And the grand prize winner in the Men's Swimsuit Competition is... Danny! From Pinkfit!"

What the?

All my friends went nuts. I sort of tottered out to the center of the stage, out of touch with reality.

Like this is reality, I heard a snort. That got me back on kilter.

A silly gold medal the size of a dinner plate was hung around my neck, and the cheers were amazing.

Then we were all hustled offstage, because what everybody really cared about was next.

My fellow competitors and I all watched from the wings. We all thought the women's competition was more important, too.

The women all entered. Sue still had on her finals bikini. A few other women had changed up what they wore, showing even more skin.

Third place went to Wanda's slut who popped out her tits in the competition. I sagged in relief. The best we could have hoped for was limiting those tits, I mean, that woman to third. We still had to worry about Wanda's other finalist, though. She was looking radiant and confident, but a little nasty.

I thought furiously about how, if she won, to at least make it so she got the HenchMILF treatment at the end. But I had no idea how to make that happen, and that trope seemed like it didn't fit with this time around.

That sucks, Candy. Naked henchMILFs should be an eternal trope...

Yeah? Noted, a voice in my head replied, not sounding reassuring on that front.

"Second place goes to... Heather of Pinkfit!" came the announcement. I sagged in disappointment. I heard a groan from our fellow Pinkfitters in the crowd.

Heather, surprisingly, glowed. The rest of us were bummed that we hadn't won, but she just smiled happily. Even confidently. It was a great finish.

Still, sweeping all three competitions would have been epic.

The henchMILF was bouncing on her toes in anticipation.

She was hardly a MILF anyway. She had to be way less than thirty. HenchWench? I still had no idea how to get her exposed when she won. I was becoming invested in seeing those tits, dammit!

"The winner is Sue of Pinkfit, in multiple swimsuits of her own design! In fact, all the competitors from Pinkfit were dressed exclusively in her product!" the MC added unexpectedly. "That means that Pinkfit Women's Fitness has swept all the competitions!" he added in surprised realization, and our gang went nuts. Across the room, I saw the FitDames crowd stomp out of the room.

Sue was over the moon, more about the announcement about her suits than about winning.

Heather, Sue, and I all found our way over to where Erica and the rest of the Pinkfit members were celebrating with champagne. Glasses were handed to us and we raised them in the air. We might have sung We Are The Champions, but Candy must not have cleared the rights, because I cannot remember for sure.

I've had worse moments than celebrating with so many gorgeous women while wearing nothing much more than a bag for my junk. Not only were Sue and Heather still in their competition bikinis, but our other contestants had suited back up in solidarity. Even better, a lot of other Pinkfit members had apparently gone through Sue's designs and were wearing them as well.

Many worse moments.

"Well now, lil' lady," a big, booming Texas voice called out. Mr. Grandbux, the sponsor of the bikini contest and Mexican resort owner, had approached us, his arm around a platinum blonde. "Congratulations on yer win there, Miss Sue, but bigger congratulations on them bikini designs! I need to buy some fer mah lil' lady here!"

I looked at the little lady. Huge teased platinum hair, Texas-sized rack, curvy, plush hips and legs, and a waist so narrow you worry a top-heavy girl like her might snap off at the belt. She would look awesome in several of Sue's designs.

Sue blushed at his praise, but sagged a little too. "I'm sure I could make her some, but these are just my samples. I don't have a company." Her spine straightened, and she suddenly showed some of that new self-confidence. "But I will eventually."

"Eventually?" Grandbux scoffed heartily. "Why not now? Startin' companies is what ah do, lil' missy. Let's make this happen. You just keep making up those amazing designs, and I'll fund the advertising, warehousing, and shipping, and the manufacturing, of course. Let's avoid China for that," he added sotto voce. "We'll make us a mess o' money, and I'll get a sight better scenery round the pool back home," he added, squeezing his armful.

The new Sue was not one to let an opportunity like this go by, and they made a deal on the spot.

But then Mr. Grandbux turned to Erica. "That was fun just now," he said, exchanging another glance with Sue, "but I primarily came over heah to talk to you," he said to the Boss. "I've watched most o' this tourney here this month, and ah'm mighty impressed with your operation. You and your members done created a mighty community. Have y'all thought about expansion?"

Erica's eyes lit. This was why she had been so invested in this competition to begin with: Attention and maybe funding. "I actually have plans, if I can secure the funding. I'm hoping to add one more..."

"Sound thinkin'!" Granbux boomed. "We'll start off small, say six more gyms around the state. We'll shake out all the kinks and then go nationwide next year! Ah'd plumb like to do business with you, lil' lady. What do you say?"

Erica went into full little girl mode and squealed with joy. She hugged Trevor, which Mrs. Grandbux thought was sweet. Then she hugged Mr. Grandbux, which Mrs. Grandbux seemed less enthused by, but she also seemed used to that sort of thing happening. Then Erica hugged me, which was not bad at all.

And Mrs. Grandbux didn't give a crap about that.

Then everybody was hugging everybody. Since everybody included me, I was definitely all in on the denouement of this story.

This was the denouement, right?

I found myself momentarily in the middle of our group, and Sue was in my arms as we hugged in celebration of Erica's great news, Sue's great news, and our mutual wins in the swimsuit contest.

"We both won! Hey!" she added in sudden realization. "We both won trips to Mexico, Danny!" Sue said excitedly as we finally let go and stepped back from each other. She paused, and took a deep breath.

Then she blew it out and shrank back

But then she took another deep breath and stepped a full stride toward me. "I hope that we can both go at the same time," she said, and she tentatively ran a fingertip down my still bare arm. "I want a chance for more fun like earlier?"

My eyes widened. Then they widened some more, less happily. Literally everyone around us had quieted and were looking at us... and listening to Sue.

"Oh ho!" Ginger giggled. "If that's the criteria to go on this trip, I hope I can come, too!" she said, slinking up to my side.

Sue was going to freak.

But then Jayne stepped up. "Well, I'd certainly like to get a chance to revisit things on a beach in Mexico. I hear the resort's beach is topless..."

And immediately, Heather moved in to grab the arm Ginger was not currently holding. She looked around at the women hanging off of me. "Well, now. Look at all this. I hope little old second place is worthy of coming along for an encore of her own?"

This was snowballing. I couldn't even look at Sue. It wasn't that I 'owed' her anything, but she was so sweet, and this was probably already killing her.

Felicity entered the scrum. Xaviera was right behind her with a sweet little bid.

Prudence stepped up and said, "Oh, I definitely want another chance!"

Wait! Prudence? Who the heck is Prudence? I did not even remember knowing that this woman existed before right now. What the hell?

She got left on the cutting room floor. But look at her. Are you bitching now?

I looked at Prudence. Yes, I could damn well could bitch about not getting to remember whatever deleted scene we had had.

Maybe taking her along to Mexico might jog my memories of deleted scenes...

Lynda somehow dislodged Ginger, also incidentally letting the world know we had hooked up as well. Karen, who was one of the girls who had donned an extra of Sue's bikinis, was the last to invite herself along. The suit she was borrowing had a very different design from her usual suit. I could tell because her tan lines were exposed all over the place. If she took my advice, Karen would swap out her old suit for this one of Sue's...

This was truly exquisite agony. Sue was going to be crushed. We were just having a bit of a moment, then eight other women just up and announced that they have jumped my bones and wish to continue doing so.

To make matters worse, I only got to bring four guests of my own. Even if Sue didn't crumble, how was I going to survive making that kind of decision?

I had to look at Sue. Didn't want to, but I had to.

She was standing there, a cute little furrow tragically creasing her brow. She was silently pointing at each of the other women around me. "Six, seven... eight! Four and four. All right then. That works," she said, nodding her head firmly. She speared all the girls around me with her gaze, somehow all at once. "Ladies, we are going to need a schedule."

"Damn, boy!" I heard Grandbux rumble. I looked his way, and he'd been watching the whole thing play out. Mrs. Grandbux was now eyeing me with an alarmingly speculative look on her face. "Ah think the trips ah offered fer this here contest were fer seven days, right? I guess ah better make 'em ten days instead!" He looked at me seriously. "Boy, you gonna need a day or two off here n' there to go snorklin' or sumpin."

In an instant, Sue and the other women were starting to make plans. I was not included in this planning, but since I was quite certain I would be involved in the result, I was happy to live with that.

I was a tiny bit hurt that Sue wasn't hurt, but only a tiny bit. I wasn't supposed to get The Girl this time around. I was just a sex sidekick, right?

Now you get it.

FADE TO WHITE

But the fade stopped.

I could not see Candy, but I could hear her whisper.

And keep pushing the content filter. I know you enjoy doing it anyway, but it also makes things more... competitive...