> 1
Lately…

The last year or so has been a pretty mixed bag for you.
On the down side, your parents' divorce is now finalised and they're living on opposite sides of the town. As might be expected, you ended up living with your mum and her new boyfriend (called Lance of all things), and your brother, who's halfway on his way to prison but doesn't know it yet, is living with your father who's quietly drinking himself to death. Though you've never really been that close to most of your family, you can't help but feel sad by everything that's happened recently.
On the plus side, you've been having the best lesbian sex of your life with the delightful Miss Susan Harris.

...press a key...

You head over to Susan's house a couple of times a week, generally on the pretence (told to your mother) of studying, but along with the maths and English books in your bag are often a can of whipped cream, a vibrator, some hardcore lesbian films and, if either of you are in the mood, a pair of handcuffs. Susan's always sympathetic to your home problems and sometimes you just talk. Sometimes. But not often. Something about the sight of her cream-smeared breasts makes speech just seem irrelevant.
What the future holds for you you don't know. You don't think about it much. Even with your final exams looming and the rest of your life about to start once school is behind you, you find it hard to concentrate. Having sex with your teacher is just so much more fun.

...press a key...



Another utterly tedious day at school grinds, finally, to an end. It's made somewhat bearable by pleasant daydreams of Miss Harris (you always think of her as Miss Harris during school) running naked through a field, but you're distracted and irritable. You keep picturing Miss Harris in your mind and, when you're doing that, your lessons just don't have the same kind of appeal. A good fuck tonight and you ought to be back to your old self once more.
When you arrive at Susan's house that evening, your schoolbag loaded down with cans of whipped cream and your mind loaded with more perverse ideas than you can shake a stick at, she seems quiet. She usually greets you with a full on kiss on the lips - lots of tongue activity as well - but this time she just smiles at you and leads you to her bedroom.

(1) Ask her what's wrong.
(2) Fuck first, ask questions later.

> 1

"I…" Susan frowns. She sinks down onto her bed and pats it with her hand. You sit where she indicates. "I'm leaving, Melissa."
You open your mouth to say something but no sound comes out. Finally, you manage to croak "… leaving …"
Susan nods. "My mother called. We haven't spoken in years, not since I did those bondage films. My father's not well…" She sighs. "He's dying."
You're not sure what to say so you say nothing.
"My parents live in Australia now and I've promised to go visit them. Melissa… I might not be coming back."
The words hit you like a hammer.

(1) Beg her to stay.
(2) Offer to go with her.
(3) Say you'll wait for her, no matter how long it is.
(4) Just fuck her.

> 2
"You can't come with me. You've got your whole future to think about-"
"Fuck my future!" you say heatedly.
Susan smiles. "Now, my girl, you know what I've told you about swearing in class," she says in her best school teacher voice. She taps you on the chin. "Chin up, Melissa. You'll survive without me."
Whether you will or not isn't something you feel as confident about as Susan but it looks like you're just going to have to manage.
Without further ado, she pulls off her t-shirt and tosses it to one side. You take a good long look at her more than ample breasts. It might be the last time you ever see them.
"Let's make it a good one," Susan says.
You heartily agree.

...press a key...

After the crushing news of the evening, you didn't think you'd ever feel good again. But, funnily enough, a two hour sex session with Susan certainly perks you up a bit. You both come at the same time, your face in her pussy, hers in yours, and as you drink up her juices, you reflect that you'll miss her but that you'll be fine. It's sad things have had to end this way. Heartbreakingly sad.

Afterwards, you lie together in the darkened bedroom and talk. Susan agrees to send you postcards regularly and you propose a plan to hijack the school computer to allow you to send naked snaps of yourself to her via e-mail. Susan's laughter is the last thing you remember that night.

...press a key...



Susan's departure is pretty anti-climactic. You accompany her to the airport, she gets on a plane, and goes. You entertained a fantasy beforehand about either sneaking on the plane with her and stowing aboard to live with her in Australia, or having one last quick torrid fuck on the runway. But neither of those happens. You stand and watch the plane as it takes off, grows steadily smaller and smaller, and then… disappears.

...press a key...

The next few months are a blur. Without Susan, you feel yourself somewhat adrift. You miss her so badly it hurts and when you're not actively thinking of her, you're just wandering through life in a daze. Your mum sees this and suspects you might be on drugs. Then again, she thinks you're on drugs every time you have a headache so her opinion probably isn't worth much. Even the arrival in the house next door of a young couple, one a stunning brunette who might well be a model, doesn't perk you up.
A couple of times a week you wander by Susan's house and stare resentfully at the people who have moved in. They look nice but you can't help but feel that they're somehow desecrating her house. You'd have bought it yourself as a shrine to her, only buying a house is a bit beyond your price range at the moment.
Life goes on without you having to make any choices and you find yourself strangely content to let it carry you along.

...press a key...

And then, abruptly, a choice is thrust upon you.
You don't see your brother much these days. You've never been close and even as kids you used to spend more time fighting than anything else. As you got older, you drifted further apart and it's rare for the two of you to speak to each other without having an argument. So when he stops by your mother and Lance's house one day, while both are conveniently out, you know it must be something serious. He looks worried. That's unusual in itself because your brother is one of those boys who thinks he's the hardest man in the world and showing any kind of weakness is proof positive that you're gay - which, as far as your brother and his assortment of friends are concerned, is a fate worse than death.

...press a key...

"I'm in the shit, sis," he says. He's recently started shaving his scalp and you can't help but think that when he bends over, it looks like he's got a huge pink egg on top of his head. "I need some advice."
He's coming to you for advice? If you weren't in shock at the very idea of him even speaking to you without insulting you, you'd probably fall on the floor in disbelief.

(1) Ask him what's wrong.
(2) Tell him it's his problem, not yours.

> 1

"Some friends of mine…" He rubs his scalp. You guess it probably itches. "They're into some seriously heavy shit."
"Like what?"
"Like… murder."
You almost laugh. Your brother's friends are called Nigel, Duncan and Tony. They parade around town in their biker jackets and have this idea that they're harder than the Mafia, yet they're really about a match for a ballerina. A small one. With a bad leg.
But your brother seems serious.
"Murder?" you say with a raised eyebrow.

...press a key...

Your brother nods. "Yeah. Duncan's swiped his uncle's hunting rifle and he says he's gonna use it to kill Mr Cawber." The school headmaster. "I thought he was joking but he's serious. He's actually fucking serious. Shit, what do I do?"

(1) Tell him to go to the police.
(2) Tell him to warn Mr Cawber.
(3) Tell him Duncan's just a lying, cowardly sack of shit who wouldn't have the balls to spit at someone, yet alone try and shoot them.
(4) Tell him it's his problem and you don't want to get involved.

> 1
"I can't do that! Shit, he's my friend."
"And he's planning to kill someone," you point out. "Tell the cops. You know it's the best thing to do."
"Yeah. Sure," says your brother, but he sounds a long way from convinced. "I'll do that."
You try to impress on him the need to tell the police and he says he will but you get the feeling he's just telling you that. When he leaves, you're just about 100% convinced that he's actually going to do nothing and if anything needs to be done, it'll be you that ends up doing it.

...press a key...



The day of your final exams arrives and, perhaps not surprisingly, you're shitting yourself. You've spent the last few days revising frantically, trying to cram as much knowledge and information into your head as possible, as if a few days study is going to make a difference after months of doing nothing but moping about Susan leaving you. You feel like your head is close to exploding. Maths puzzles occupy your every waking moment and you even feel yourself having psychological discussions with your shadow. Your shadow, bastard that it is, doesn't participate much to the discussion. If your mother is aware of the torment you're going through, she doesn't show it. She and Lance seem to be spending more and more time staring lovey-dovey into each other's eyes and the very thought of trying to discuss your problems with her just makes you want to groan.

...press a key...

You're in the toilets. Not shitting yourself in the physical sense but in the other sense. You're convinced that you're going to fail your exams and your whole future is going to be fucked up royally as a result. The idea of never being able to see Susan again because you can't afford the plane fare to Australian starts seeming like a real possibility. And then, like a bolt out of the blue, you see the girl standing before you. You're not sure what her name is but she's one of the girls you usually try and avoid because she's always getting into fights and is reputed to be a drug dealer.
"You look like shit," she says with preamble. She holds out a little white packet. "This might help."
You stare at the package and…

(1) Take it.
(2) Don't take it.

> 2
The girl looks at you then shrugs and flicks some fag ash in your face. "Suit yourself, dyke," she says and goes to see if there's anyone else here she can offload the drugs on.

...press a key...

The exam is pretty much a nightmare. You spend an hour scratching your head in frustration, staring at complicated sums and questions that don't make a whole lot of sense… and, of course, thinking about Susan. You've done nothing but think about Susan for weeks now - her wonderful breasts, her smooth thighs, her tender lips - and it's been difficult to keep your attention focused on anything-
No. Hard as it is, you've got to put Susan Harris out of your mind for a while and just concentrate on the exam. This is your future at stake here and if you mess things up, you might well not have a future.
So you knuckle down and do your best and, an hour later, you finish the exam. A minute later, the deadline for completing the paper runs out. How you did now is pretty much in the hands of the Gods.

...press a key...



Your mother dumps some pretty disheartening news on you at the weekend: she and Lance have decided to get married! You struggle to keep the dismay off your face and wish them all the best but mother knows you too well and later that night, when Lance is out drinking with some friends, she comes to your friend. Her face is like thunder.
"You don't like Lance, do you?" she says.
You don't like the way he stares at you when she's not there. You don't like the way you can't have a shower or a bath with him in the house and not have him intrude at the worst possible moment. You don't like the fact that he keeps lots of porn hidden on top of the wardrobe that your mother doesn't know about. No. You don't like him.

(1) Say that it doesn't matter what you think. It's her that matters.
(2) Tell her you think Lance is a pervert.
(3) Just say you don't like him and leave it at that.

> 1
Your mother gives you a look that you can't really interpret.
"The wedding's going to be just before Christmas," she says. "Your brother's invited. You can bring a friend if you like."
You almost ask if she's going to invite your father but that would just be cruel.

...press a key...



You're lounging around the house the following day, nothing much to do, wanting to watch some lesbian porn videos but not until the house is empty, when you get a message on your mobile. It turns out to be from Michelle, Susan's equally gorgeous sister, who you haven't seen for quite some time. She got a job out of town several months before Susan left and so the threesomes you used to have were downgraded to twosomes. You haven't heard from her since Susan left and didn't even know that she had your mobile number.
The message says that she wants you to meet her in a small pub on the outskirts of town called The Oaktree that evening. And to come alone. She doesn't say anything else.

(1) Go to The Oaktree.
(2) Don't go.

> 1

That evening you sort through your wardrobe for something suitable to wear. Or unsuitable perhaps (ha!) You're not sure what Michelle wants so maybe the incredibly short skirt and the low cut top isn't a good idea. But then again, you've had sex with her before so it's not like the possibility of it happening tonight is that unlikely. Maybe she just wants to talk.
You can't decide.

(1) Wear the short skirt, the low cut top and no bra.
(2) Wear the sensible skirt, the unrevealing top and a proper bra.

> 2

You look a bit like a good girl on her way to school. But considering that when you get to The Oaktree and find Michelle sitting there with her fiancée at her side, you breathe a big sigh of relief that you haven't got your short skirt on instead.
"This is Mike," she says, indicating the tall, strapping fellow with the shining good looks of a boy band member. If you weren't gay, he's the sort of man you'd be swooning over. "Mike, this is Melissa. The friend I was telling you about."
"Pleased to meet you," Mike says. "Michelle's been telling me a lot about you but I can't remember if she told me how you two met."
Michelle suddenly has a worried look in her eyes.

(1) Tell Mike the truth.
(2) Make up something.

> 2
Mike finds the story you relay about rescuing Michelle and Susan from the international gang of beauty abductees quite amusing.
"I think Michelle was going to be their prize exhibit," you say, eyes twinkling, "but I managed to get her out instead. So here she is. She was very grateful."
Fortunately, Mike misses the emphasis there.

...press a key...

While Mike is at the bar getting another round of drinks, Michelle leans over the table to you and says, "thanks for that. It freaked me out when he asked you how we met and I half thought you might let slip how we really met."
"We'll have to get together sometime and work on our stories," you say, making it clear what you're really saying.
Michelle's smile freezes a little. "I'm not too sure about that. I'm getting married, and sleeping with a school girl on the side isn't how I want to remember my sacred marriage vows. But we'll definitely get together sometimes. Count on it. Now, you're coming to my wedding and you're going to be a bridesmaid and I'm not going to take no for an answer."

...press a key...



You're nervous as hell when you turn up for the job interview in your best skirt, best blouse and best confident smile plastered to your face. You hang around outside the office of the solicitor you're hoping to work for and check your makeup in a shop window. You look pretty good, even though you say so yourself. If it's a man interviewing you, and he's not gay, you should be fine. If it's a woman, unless she's gay, probably not. You'll just have to hope for the best.

...press a key...

The interview starts pleasantly enough. The interviewer - a man, but big and beefy and hardly your type - leers at you quite a bit as he asks you some basic questions. You feel a bit like a whore sitting there, knowing he's looking at you but quite willing to let him provided it means you get the job. You know your qualifications are nothing special and there are probably other people he's interviewing more qualified for the job than you, but you're hoping that you're prettier than them and that fact will swing it for you. You really don't want to work as a waitress or some other shitty, dead-end job.
Finally, he finishes with the basic questions and asks you another: "what kind of salary are you after?"
The crucial question.

(1) Say something reasonable so as not to price yourself out of the market.
(2) Go for the best salary you can get.

> 1
The man smiles. "That's pretty much what we were planning to pay anyway. Thanks for coming in, Miss Shelton, we'll be in touch."
You shake his hand - his palms are wet and slippery - and leave.
A few days later, you get an official letter from the firm. It seems you've got the job after all.

...press a key...



There's some shocking news in the local paper the next day: Mr Cawber, your former school headmaster, has been killed in his home. Apparently he disturbed a burglar who shot him in the head and then ransacked the place. Police enquiries are underway and they expect to have suspects soon.
You remember what your brother told you that day he came to visit - about about about his friend Duncan who was planning to kill Mr Cawber - and wonder if there was more to this than a simple burglary gone wrong. You haven't seen your brother since and don't know for certain if he had anything to do this, but you know you can't just sit back and do nothing.

(1) Confront your brother.
(2) Confront Duncan.
(3) Go to the police.

> 2

Duncan lives in a small, horrid little house on the outskirts of town with the ever present smell from the sewer works further down the street constantly adding an unpleasant smell to the proceedings. The house looks shabby and the windows don't look to have been cleaned in a long, long time. Several tiles have fallen off the roof and lie smashed in the front garden. While you hardly live in a palace yourself, you can't help but pity the poor schmuck who's forced to live here. Then you remember he's killed a man so you steel your heart and march up to the front door and ring the bell.
Imagine your surprise when it's not answered by Duncan or his parents but a stunning woman in her early twenties wearing a t-shirt, a pair of cut-off jeans and not much else.

...press a key...

Duncan's sister! (You think her name is Sarina). Your brother always said she was beautiful (actually he said she was a piece of ass he wouldn't mind fucking but that's just your brother). You pull your eyes away from her breasts as she says, "yes, can I help?"

(1) Say you're here to see Duncan but don't give her any details.
(2) Tell her exactly why you're here.
(3) Forget Duncan for the time being and see how far you can get with this hottie.

> 1

"He's not here," she says, sounding like she's quite pleased about this. "Try the sex shop or maybe that alley nearby the druggies use."
And with that charming indictment of her brother, she shuts the door in your face. Hmmm… she might be hot, but she's not very nice.

(1) Go to the sex shop.
(2) Try and find the alley all the druggies use.
(3) Go and see your brother.
(4) Call it quits.

> 1

You've never been to the sex shop before. Mainly because it's right on the high street (what fucking idiot thought it was a good idea to put it there?) and people might see you going in or coming out of it. And your brother and father spend so much time there they've practically got their own seat. But today you put on a dark overcoat, a hat and some sunglasses and, convinced you don't look anything like your normal self, creep inside.
It's surprising cheerful inside and the owner is reading a book on psychology behind the counter. The customers seem a bit more upmarket than you expected: yuppies and businessmen mainly, with hardly an overcoat-clad perv in sight. (Aside from you, of course.)
But you don't see any sign of Duncan.

(1) Wait a while and hope he shows up.
(2) Call it quits.

> 1

You browse some of the products while you wait. A couple look promising and if you had enough money on you, you might even make a few purchases. But when you come across a video showing Susan on the front wearing a dog collar and carrying a riding crop, you quickly lose all interest.
Just as you're about to decide coming here was a waste of time, you turn around and see, of all people, your dad shambling into the sex shop. The owner greets him by name. He then proceeds over to the Big Tits Shelf and peruses the products.
Jeez! Your dad! Hopefully he won't see you-
Shit! He's coming over to where you are!
You're on the verge of putting your head down and running when a cute brunette wearing a "FUK U!" t-shirt saunters over, kisses you on the side of the face and announces in a loud voice: "Rachel, sorry I'm late. You ready?"
She just kissed you in front of your father!

(1) Tell her you've no idea who she is and get the hell out before your father realises who are you.
(2) Kiss her back.

> 2

You give her a full on kiss on the lips, tongue action as well, knowing that doing so keeps your face obscured from your father's.
"We need to get going or we'll never make the concert," the girl says when you come up for air.
Keeping your face turned away from your father - who is looking now (but, you hope, at the prospect of seeing a couple of girls kiss each other again and not, you desperately hope, at his daughter) - and hurry out of the shop.
Outside, you turn to the girl and gasp your thanks.
"Don't mention it," she says. "I saw the look on your face when the other guy walked in and you looked like you needed a friend. I'm Rebecca."
"Melissa," you say. "Thanks for helping me out there. If I can ever repay you-"
"You sure can." She makes a point of looking at your breasts. "I've got a place close by."

...press a key...

This must be your lucky day. Not only has this seriously sexy girl just saved you from your father discovering you in a sex shop, but she's now offering to have sex with you. There's only one fly in the ointment: you need to speak to Duncan and you're not going to do that back at her apartment.

(1) To hell with Duncan. Go with her.
(2) Tell her no and wait for Duncan.

> 2

The girl gives you a hard look completely different from before, says, "fuck you then, you cunt!" and storms off.
A little surprised by this, you push it out of your mind and wait for Duncan.

You're relieved when you dad exits the sex shop, a bag in one hand, and wanders off down the street. Barely a minute has gone by before Duncan shows up.
You call out to him and he blinks as if he's half asleep then saunters over.
"You Gareth's sister, ain't you?" he mutters, staring at you. (Actually he's staring at your breasts. He seems to do this every time you meet him.) "What's up?"
"I want to ask you about Mr Cawber," you say.
The effect it has on him isn't what you expected. He just shrugs. "What about him? The cunt's dead."
"Did you kill him?"
"No. But I fucking wish I had."
Strangely enough, you believe him. Not because you think he's honest or anything like that, but because he's just too dumb to lie convincingly.

(1) Decide he's lying and threaten to report him to the police.
(2) Ask who killed Mr Cawber.

> 2
"Fucked if I know," says Duncan. "Can't say I care less either."
"He might have been a teacher, but he was still a human being," you say.
"Nah." He picks his nose. "He was a wanker. Deserved everything he got. Pity someone didn't do the fucker in years ago."
"Duncan!"
"Fuck it. Only teacher I ever gave a shit about was that Harris bird. Whew! You see the rack on that bitch? She was stacked!"
You manage to get Duncan back on the subject in hand but it seems he genuinely doesn't know who killed Mr Cawber. Another dead end.

On the way home, you think over what your brother said when he came to see you that day. He also mentioned his two other friends, Nigel and Tony. Did one of them kill Mr Cawber instead? It's certainly something to think about.

...press a key...

You weren't really looking to your first day of work after the man who interviewed you spent most of the interview looking at your legs, but everything goes pretty well. Better than pretty well in fact. Your boss isn't some grumpy old man with years of legal experience behind him. In fact, your boss is only mid-twenties. And it's not a he, it's a her. And, the best part, she looks just like she's stepped out of the pages of some glossy top shelf magazine.
"I hope we're going to enjoy working together," says Alison as she goes over the daily work schedule.
Tearing your eyes away from her breasts, prominent and appealing even under the drab formal shirt she wears, you give a hearty nod. "I hope so, too."
You go home and spend the rest imagining her naked and pleasuring herself with the machine she dictates her letters on.

...press a key...



You get home from work one day to find a police officer waiting with your mother and Lance for 'a little talk with you'. A bit worried over this, you ask what it's all about and are informed that the officer has reason to believe that either you, or someone of a very similar build and description, was seen buying drugs from a known trafficker a few days ago. He wants to know what you have to say about it.

(1) Deny it was you.

> 1
The officer clearly doesn't believe you but then you get the impression he questions people day in and day out who are guilty and so this has probably made him suspicious of everyone. But in the end, he finishes his questioning and leaves.
You just have to face your mother now and all of her questions.

...press a key...



One afternoon, a few of the girls from the office announce they're planning to head into town after work and wonder if you might want to come. There are four of them. Two pretty, one plain, one average. Given the choice, you'd quite happily shag them all.

(1) Go.
(2) Decide against it.

> 1

You agree to go. It'll be nice to see the girls outside of work and, who knows, with enough alcohol in their systems they might decide to do a few things they otherwise wouldn't.
You check your wardrobe and wonder what you're going to wear. Something skimpy and revealing? Or something sensible? You don't want to turn up dressed like a tart if the others have got sensible clothes on, but at the same time you don't wan to turn up dressed like nun if everyone else looks like a stripper.

(1) Dress like a stripper.
(2) Dress like a nun.

> 1

Like a stripper it is. You put on your best push-up bra - it lifts your breasts up so much you have to moderate your breathing to stop them popping out and you can even lick them by simply bending your head down a little - a short skirt, your best tights, and knickers that are so skimpy that 90% of your backside will be revealed if you happen to bend over. You look like either a whore or a stripper but as that was the look you were going for, you've succeeded pretty well.

...press a key...

You meet the girls at a disco you've been to a few times before. And you're pleasantly surprised that they've all dressed pretty similarly to you: Joanne is wearing a dress that's so low cut you can practically see her knees; Carmen (the prettiest of the four) has an up-lift bra second only to your own; Stephanie is wearing a t-shirt and no bra underneath and her breasts bob around very pleasantly as she moves; Carla has on a skirt so short her backside is visible even without her bending over.
"Nice one, Melissa," says Stephanie, nodding to your attire. "I think we're going to see some hot action tonight."
You sure hope so.

...press a key...

Unfortunately, the girls' idea of 'hot action' seems to be different than your own. They dance around the disco, pointing out boys who take their fancy. You do the same so you don't stand out as a major league dyke but you're beginning to wish you'd never come out tonight. The last thing you want is some drunken lout pawing you in the backseat of his car while he tries to coax his alcohol-fuelled penis into action.

(1) You could make your excuses and leave.
(2) Or stay and hope things pick up.

> 2

You decide to stay. Inhibitions tend to lower when there's beer around and provided you stay sober, and the others don't, you're in with a good chance.
So you throw yourself into the spirit of the moment. You dance on the dance floor, you eye up several boys (who spend such a lot of time gawping like goldfish at your breasts that you doubt they're even aware what you look like above the chest region), you laugh and joke. You make a point of tipping away your drinks whenever you get the opportunity so by the time the others are pleasantly tipsy, you're still only mildly inebriated.
Time, you think, to make your move.

...press a key...

But just as you're thinking that, a hunky boy a couple of years older than you, sidles up to you and gives a whistle.
"Hot!" he says. "And that's with a capital H. You fancy a walk outside to look at some heavenly bodies, darling?"
It's probably the lamest chat up line you've ever heard, and isn't helped much by the fact that he's pissed out of his skull, but Joanne and Carmen are looking so you can't be too obvious about blowing him off.

(1) Go with him but ditch him the moment you're away from the girls.
(2) Go ahead and let him see the 'heavenly bodies'.
(3) Tell him he's not your type.

> 2

Once outside the club, you slip your breasts out of your dress and show them to the boy.
"What do you think?" you say. "See anything you like?"
The boy, seeming more pissed by the second, just makes a drunken grab for one, stumbles, and falls over. When he doesn't get up, you bend over and check him. Yep, he's out cold.
"Oh, brother," you say.
"Oh, brother," someone else says.
You look up to see a girl standing there, about the same as you, pretty with short blonde hair. You quickly cover yourself up as she comes over and kneels by the side of the unconscious boy.
"Jeez, Mark, you're a dumb shit sometimes," she mutters. She looks up at you. "You his girlfriend?"
You just give a shrug which could mean anything.
"Do me a favour and help me get him to my car, okay? He's a pain in the arse but mum'd freak if I left him like this."

(1) Help her.
(2) Tell her it's her problem.

> 1

You grab hold of one arm and the girl grabs hold of the other and, between you, you manage to drag the unconscious boy to her car and dump him in the back.
"Whew!" the girl says when she's checked he's okay. "He's sure put on weight recently. Say, thanks for that. Most people would have walked off and left me with the idiot."
You just shrug again. That's what you wish you'd done.
"You want to get a drink?" she says. "My treat."

(1) Yes.
(2) No.

> 1
"Great," she says. "I don't fancy going back in the club for a drink so what say you come back to my place and I'll see what I can fix us up, okay?"

An hour later, you're sucking on her left nipple, teasing the flesh between your teeth. She's got both hands between your legs and is pressing first one finger and then another, sometimes both at the same time, into your vagina and anus in a way that's thrilling to say the least.
"Sorry I didn't have any drinks left," she says.
"No problem." You take her whole breast into your mouth and dig your teeth in. What you say next is somewhat muffled due to the amount of flesh between your teeth, but roughly translated it comes to "fine with me."

...press a key...



One evening while your mother is working late, Lance comes into your room and sits on the edge of your bed. You're in shorts and a bra at the time, sitting at your desk, so you feel a little self conscious.
"We need to talk," he says, but from the way his eyes seem to be focused on your breasts you wonder if that's really what he's here for.
"Talk about what?" you ask. You cross your arms across your chest, effectively covering your breasts.
"About you." Lance looks at your face. It makes a nice change. "The way you are, the way you dress, the things you do."
"I'm not sure I follow you."
Lance sighs. "Melissa, you're seventeen and you're very pretty. You parade around the house in your underwear half the time and the other half in tops so low cut I can just about see your ti- er, your, um, breasts. It makes me uncomfortable."

(1) Tell him that's his problem.
(2) Ask what he expects you to do about it.
(3) Ask him what he really came here for.

> 2
"Just dress a little more conservatively," Lance says. "No more low cut tops. No skirts so short I can see your, um, you know…"
You almost feel sorry for him and you suppose, at the end of the day, this isn't exactly easy for him.
"Fair enough," you say. "No skimpy tops. No short skirts." You almost say you'll stop masturbating and wiping yourself clean with his underpants but he might think you're serious. "Deal?"
Lance gives a relieved smile. "Deal."

...press a key...



One evening while surfing the internet on your recently acquired computer (work has a few advantages after all) for lesbian porn, you happen across a site that gives you a bit of a shock. Not for the content as such - explicit as it is - but because one of the featured models is Susan Harris. And the date of the photos is recent, too. Just last month. Of course, the photos could have been taken years ago and just uploaded recently but you can't get the feeling out of your mind that Susan has started doing porn again. She hasn't said anything in the letters she's written to you but then you know she was always ashamed of her past and is likely to want it kept quiet.
You stare at the photos and wonder.

(1) Join the site.
(2) Decide against it.

> 1

It takes all of two minutes to join the site and receive your password and username. And then you're logged into Bondage Bitches and wincing at some of the content. Susan isn't the only model here but she seems the one featured most of all. And it's hardly simple modelling she's involved in either. You see literally hundreds of photos of her being whipped, spanked and forced to abuse herself in all manner of disgusting ways. You even download a few mini-videos which are even more extreme. Is this really new stuff or porn she shot years ago? It's hard to imagine the fact that she'd go back to this sort of thing considering how much she hated it.
And then you see an interesting link to a part of the site which offers custom-videos for each of the models. It seems you can have a video of Leila (the name Susan is going under) custom-made for your own viewing pleasure. You're tempted, you really are. If you get the video and it's not some kind of internet scam, it'll prove that Susan is back in the modelling business again.

(1) Order a custom-made video.
(2) Don't.

> 1

You get access to a part of the site where you have to fill in a short form stating what you'd like to see in the video. You aren't too sure what to put in. Something genuinely hardcore or maybe some a nice little softcore video.

(1) Hardcore
(2) Softcore.

> 1

Hardcore it is. You put in a few phrases along the lines of "hard caning", "piercings" and "a mouthful of wax". Then you wonder if you should include some special phrase so you can verify this is a genuine custom video and not one of her old ones. After all, it's a fair bet someone could send you a video pretending to be the custom one and you wouldn't know one way or the other if it was the genuine article or not. You just need to decide on what the phrase should be. Of course, your name can't feature in the phrase otherwise it would alert Susan to who is really ordering the video, assuming this is the real deal and not some scam.

(1) "I love fucking school girls."
(2) "A mouthful of cum is what I like bet."

> 1
You put in the phrase and then send off your order. All you can do now is wait.

...press a key...



You seem to be getting into your new job fairly well and several times a day you get called into Alison's office for dictation. This gives you the opportunity to spend some quality time eyeing her up as she has a tendency to close her eyes when she's dictating so she can concentrate better. The sight of her full breasts and long, sexy legs doesn't do much for your concentration, however, but this is one of those things that you're perfectly willing to put up with.
Today, though, is different. Alison is pacing back and forth across her office when you come in and she waves you to a seat without saying a word.
"I know you haven't been here long, Melissa," she says, "but I need a really big favour off you."
You nod. You'd crawl over hot coals for her but it isn't a good idea to say so. "What is it?"
"My boss - the bastard - has just dumped a huge amount of work on me that I need to get done by tomorrow. Tomorrow! It's about two days' worth and it's a real cunt. Just like him."

...press a key...

You're quite surprised to hear her talk like this. She's normally polite as anything.
"I can get the dictation side of things done," Alison goes on, "but I'm going to need someone to stay here practically all evening to get things typed up. I know it's a bastard to spring on you like this but I'm desperate."
And you have never been one to say no to desperate women. Especially ones as sexy as Alison. But tonight you're supposed to be having dinner with your cousin, Alexis, who's just split up with her boyfriend and who you haven't seen in years. Work is work but family is family and you'd hate to let Alexis down. Aside from anything else, she's really, really pretty.

(1) Stay and help Alison.
(2) Have dinner with Alexis.

> 1
You're not sure what you really expected was going to happen tonight. Did you think Alison was going to strip down to her bra and knickers the moment everyone else was out of the office? Did you imagine a night of sucking on her perfect breasts? Did you think she would be so grateful for you agreeing to help her out that she would fuck you? If you did, you're seriously disappointed.
The evening is one long drag. Alison dictates a series of incredibly long letters and gets very impatient with you when you're not able to type as fast as she can dictate. She points out spelling mistakes and grammatical errors and seems unwilling to overlook the fact that you've been typing for twelve hours straight and are a little stressed yourself. She acts, in fact, like a complete bitch and you're regretting more and more the fact that you turned down dinner with your sexy cousin for this.
But finally, as 11.00 pm rolls around, it's over with and you're able to grab your bag and hurry on home. You just hope Alison is a bit more grateful the next time you do her a huge favour.

...press a key...



The next day, your custom video arrives. You're a bit surprised as you kind of expected it would be some kind of internet porn scam but it seems to be genuine. You quickly retire to your bedroom, slip it into the player, and watch.
It's Susan alright, and it's every bit as extreme as you imagined it would be. You sit there and watch in sick fascination as she's whipped till her backside is red raw and forced to give one man a blowjob while another bathes her back and breasts with candle wax.
Did you really order a video of her being abused like this? No, surely not. It's probably just an old video she shot which was close enough to what you specified to make it appear to be custom made…
But then Susan turns to the camera and says, quite clearly, "I love fucking school girls," and you feel your heart sink. It really is a new video!

...press a key...

So does that mean that everything she told you about returning to Australia to be with her sick father was a lie? You find it hard to believe she really lied to you but then you have the evidence right before you.
An idea occurs to you and you check the postmark on the packet the video came in. It's marked as London, England. Of course, that doesn't mean the video was shot here in the UK but it sure hints that much.

(1) Try and contact Susan.
(2) Decide it's none of your business.

> 1

You don't have a telephone number for Susan as she said she wasn't sure where she'd be staying in Australia so a number was awkward. But you have several letters. Now you wish you'd kept the envelopes so you could check whether they were genuinely posted from Australia or back here in the UK. You never noticed when you received them but it would certainly be interesting to find out.
Unfortunately an address in Australia (from the top right hand corner of the letters) isn't much use to you. It will takes weeks for your letter to get there and weeks to get a reply. There must be a quicker way than that.

(1) Get in touch with the company you bought the video from and see what their policy is on meeting the models.
(2) Do a search on the internet for anything recent on Susan.
(3) Write to her in Australia and hope for a speedy response.

> 2
Unfortunately, Susan never modelled under the real name. You search for the Leila pseudonym she used in the video you bought but this turns up literally thousands of people called Leila. A few are porn stars but none are Susan. In desperation, you search your video collection (safely hidden away under your bed behind several fitness videos) for more of the names she used and come across several others. An internet search reveals several sites containing photos of Susan under these names but nothing recent.

...press a key...

Then you remember something she told you once, about how when she and Michelle were kids they used to switch their middle names around because they thought it was funny. So Susan Marie Harris became Susan Beverley Harris and Michelle Karen Harris became Michelle Marie Harris. On a hunch, you run an internet search for Susan Beverley Harris and find several hundred results. One of them looks promising. It refers to a stripper called Beverley Harris who works at a club in the city closest to you. Interesting indeed.
Of course, it could always be a completely different person but it certainly bears checking out if you get the time.

...press a key...



One day the following week, Alison calls you into her office and gives you a box of chocolates. This is by way of saying thank you for helping her out before and putting up with her being a complete bitch. Not, unfortunately, because she's trying to come on to you.
You eat the chocolates during dinner and wonder if you're right staying with this job for much longer. It's not a bad job all told and the pay's fair enough, but it's not the sort of profession you really want to be doing for the rest of your life. Maybe you should get out now before you get too comfortable. But the sight of Alison's breasts bouncing and jiggling as she walks around the office will be a hard sight to say goodbye to.

(1) Stay with the job.
(2) Get something else.

> 1
Quitting would be a silly move. You don't exactly love the job but it's not bad and it pays well. You might as well stick with it for the time being and if things don't work out, you can always look for something else in the future.

...press a key...



This weekend, it's Michelle's wedding. You put on your best dress ('best' as in 'classiest', not 'best' as in the one that shows off your boobs to their fullest) and entertain a brief fantasy about Susan showing up and the three of you having one last fuck before the wedding. Not very likely admittedly what with Susan appearing to have gotten into porn again. Maybe today will give you the opportunity to question Michelle about it…

...press a key...

The wedding is to take place at a church on the outskirts of town. Before then, you find yourself at Mike's parents' house, a huge, sprawling mansion which makes you wish you'd caught Mike's eye instead. The mansion is gorgeous! Okay, if you were marrying him you'd no doubt end up having to have sex with him on a regular basis but that'd be a small price to pay.
Michelle looks radiant in her wedding dress but you're a little disappointed she's chosen to go with a non-revealing one. This one is a bit on the dowdy side and doesn't show her breasts off to their best. But then you realise she's probably gone with a deliberately understated dress because she's trying to appear chaste and innocent to Mike who doesn't know anything about her past as a porn star.

...press a key...

You've been at the mansion for perhaps twenty minutes, chatting with some of the guests and keeping an eye out for eligible females, when Lucy, a friend of Michelle's from years back, comes over and says Michelle wants to see you upstairs. As you climb the stairs, your heart beating in anticipation, you wonder if Michelle is going to have one last fling before her wedding after all…

(1) Head up the stairs with that thought foremost in your most mind.
(2) Decide she just wants a girly chat and leave things at that.

> 2

You head into the room Michelle is in, all thoughts of sex pushed firmly to the back of your mind. She's sitting on the edge of the bed, checking her makeup in a small mirror. She looks gorgeous, even in the dowdy dress. As you enter, she looks up. You can't tell from her body language if she's called you here for sex or chat, but you guess there's only one way to find out.

(1) Go over and kiss her.
(2) Sit on the bed beside her and talk.
(3) Ask her about Susan.

> 3

Michelle looks like she's about to bolt but as you're standing by the only door in the room, that's not an option for her. In the end, she sighs, sinks down onto the bed and puts her head in her hands.
"How much do you know?" she asks.
"I know she's back in the country and working at some strip club in the city," you say. You don't actually know all this for certain but you figure it's worth a gamble. "I know she's been lying to me."
Michelle shakes her head. "Not about everything, she hasn't. Our father was ill and she went to Australia to be by his side. That's true at least."

(1) "Why didn't you go?"
(2) "Tell me what's been going on."

> 1

"I've never been close to my parents. Susan was always their favourite and when I got into porn, and she followed… well, they blamed me. Just because I'm a year older, they figure that I'm the one always at fault if anything goes wrong." Michelle says this with more than a touch of bitterness in her tone. "I was going to go to Australia at some point, but then our dad got better so I didn't. And then Susan got into trouble."

(1) "What happened to her?"

> 1

"Susan's always been naïve. Fuck, she got into porn and thought it'd be a squeal. Well, she sure squealed a lot…" Michelle looks out of the window and clenches her hands into fists. "Anyway, to cut a long story short, Morgan, that complete cunt, used to take money off us. On top of everything else he did, the bastard was a lousy little thief. Whatever we earned, he used to take a share of it. He said it was his 'agent's fee' and if we complained, he beat us. I managed to get my shit together when I met Mike, but Susan… She sold her house when she went to Australia and used that to pay off some of her debts. But when she got back, she was broke again. She thought about trying to get a teaching job, but she was desperate and needed the money quick. So you can imagine what happened…" She shakes her head again. "The silly bitch. I could have helped her out if she'd let me. But she didn't even tell me."
"She didn't tell me either," you say.

...press a key...

"No. She didn't. But I'm her sister, Melissa. Her fucking sister. We used to tell each other everything when we were kids, every personal little detail, every secret. We didn't keep anything back. But when she landed herself in the shit again, she didn't even tell me. You know how I found out again what she was doing?"
You shake your head.
"I got a call from someone I used to model for. An agent. One of the nice ones. Well, nicer than that bastard Morgan anyway. He said he'd seen Susan stripping in some sleazy club and wondered if I was back in the 'game' as well and, if so, could he book me for a photo shoot? I got the whole sordid truth out of her when I confronted her at the club. Fuck, she's so stupid."
You feel you ought to say something in Susan's defence but you really can't think of anything. What she did was stupid. And you're also hurt that she didn't even tell you about it.

(1) "What do we do now?"

> 1

"Do? Damned if I know. I'm half tempted to do nothing. The silly bitch got herself into this mess, she can get herself out of it."
You say nothing.
Michelle scowls. "Oh, I don't mean that. You know I don't. It's just…" She clutches her head in her hands. "I've spent the last year since Morgan died trying to forget that part of my life. When I met Mike, everything seemed to be going fine. But now Susan's mixed up in this kind of thing again and… I don't know. I'm beginning to think she enjoys it."
You almost mention to her the video you saw but this probably isn't a good idea. It's bad enough that her sister is into porn again without her having to know all the gruesome details.

(1) "Maybe we should go and see her."

> 1

"Maybe." Michelle shrugs. She pats the bed at the side of her and you go and sit there. "You've been a good friend to the pair of us, Melissa, and never asked for anything in return."
You keep a carefully neutral face. Part of you realises that you have been a good friend to them. You risked your life to help them deal with Morgan. But you haven't exactly got nothing in return. You remember all the days you've fucked Susan, the threesomes you've had with her and Michelle. No. You've certainly got something back for your efforts.
"I'll see you right after this," Michelle says, taking your hand. "You've got my promise on that."
Sitting this close to her, holding her hand, makes your breathing speed up a little. And is Michelle leaning a little towards you? As if expecting you to kiss her…?
Or, as usual, are you reading sexual overtones into a scene which doesn't really have any?

(1) Kiss her.
(2) Don't.

> 1

Without stopping to think is what you're doing is right or wrong, you turn Michelle's head, lower your mouth onto herss, and kiss her. At first you feel her tensing and starting to push you away, but then her arms lock onto your back and she pushes you down onto the bed. Then she hesitates…
"I shouldn't do this," she says, breathing heavily. "I really shouldn't. It's my wedding day…."

(1) Stop it.
(2) Carry on.

> 2
Not giving Michelle the chance to say anything else, you pull her down on top of yourself. She struggles again, but only very slight struggles, the kind of struggles that people put out when part of them wants something and part of them doesn't. In the end, thankfully, the part of her that wants it wins out.
She fumbles behind her and unfastens her wedding dress. Her breasts, as perfect as you remember them, spill free. You take her left one and bite the nipple, rolling the soft flesh around in the mouth, digging into it with your teeth. At the same time, Michelle eases out of her dress. She pulls up your dress and her fingers probe your vagina. One slides inside, followed by another. Followed by a third. You give a gasp of pleasure as she slips her fingers in and out of your vagina. At the same time, you reach down and feel her own vagina. It is already moist when you slide your fingers inside.
"Fuck," gasps Michelle, breathing heavily as she kisses you on the lips. "I've missed this."

...press a key...

When you come, she comes a moment later and the two of you lie, partially naked, arms wrapped around each other on the bed. You lazily lick her breast, coating the area around the nipple with saliva.
"We ought to do this more often," you say.
"No," says Michelle. "I'm getting married. I need to- oh, that feels good." She grabs your hand and pulls it away from her vagina. "But I can't. I have to get ready."
With a sigh, you pull your head away from her breasts. "This doesn't have to be the last time."
"It does." She starts putting her dress back on, covering up her breasts. "I get married in two hours. I can't cheat on my husband." She gives a soft laugh. "Much as I'd like to. God, I haven't fucked another woman since-"
"Since me and Susan."
She nods, smiling. "Since you and Susan. I used to be quite religious when I was a teenager. I hate to think what my old priest would think if he knew I've had sex with my sister and a school girl. Or the other stuff I've done…"

...press a key...

Michelle agrees to call you shortly about Susan and then the two of you will head to the city and see her. Hopefully you can talk some sense into her.
"If not," Michelle says, "I'll sit in the front row of whatever club she's stripping at and heckle her into quitting."

...press a key...

The wedding is a sensation and you blubber somewhat horribly as the bride and bridegroom kiss. If Michelle looks a little flushed during the ceremony, you figure people will put it down to nerves. (Secretly you're hoping that when she and Mike constitute their marriage vows later tonight that she manages to keep the light off. You'd hate for him to see the bite marks you left on her breasts.) At the reception afterwards, you get pleasantly tipsy and even end up heading out the back with one of Mike's cousins, a strapping fellow a couple of years older than yourself who stutters in an endearing way. Normally you'd be going for one of his female cousins, but with everything you've had to drink today, and the pleasant high you're still experiencing since your great sex session with Michelle, your inhibitions against straight sex are lowered and you find yourself enjoying his frantic thrusts and groans. You try to imagine he's really Michelle and just hope he doesn't notice you cry out "oh, Michelle!" when he comes.

...press a key...



There's some pretty shocking news waiting you during the following week: your brother has been arrested for murder. Mr Cawber's murder!
Your mother tells you when you come down for breakfast one morning. Apparently, the police arrested him sometime in the early hours of the morning and he's down at the police station now with your father answering questions. She's going down there as well. You offer to go with her but you're secretly relieved when she says no.
After she's gone, you sit and wonder if your brother really is guilty, or if there's someone else it could be.

(1) Speak to some of his friends.
(2) Just wait and hope for the best.

> 1

You know from past events that Duncan is unlikely to be guilty. So it looks like being either Nigel or Tony. Neither of whom you would have guessed were capable of killing someone in cold blood, even a teacher. In fact, make that especially a teacher. From what you remember of Nigel and Tony, they were terrified of Mr Cawber and would have probably run a mile if they'd seen him outside of school. So who does that leave then?
Your brother.
Now, you'd be the first person to admit that your brother isn't the nicest person in the world. He's mean. Worse, he's a complete bastard. You remember when you were a kid and he used to twist your nipples round and make you cry. Or the times he used to pull your hair. Or the many, many occasions when he just used to slap you if you got in his way.
But even knowing what he's like, you just can't imagine him as a killer. You just can't.
So Nigel or Tony then. But which one?

(1) Nigel.
(2) Tony.

> 1

It's pretty easy to find out where Nigel lives. You ask around some old friends from school and they point you in the direction of his house.
It's a rundown place in a rundown part of town. Nigel is in when you ring the door and he invites you inside, eyeing you up and down and obviously not recognising you as his friend's sister. But the moment he realises what you're here for, he orders you out.
"I want to know what happened to Mr Cawber," you say, standing your ground.
Nigel clenches his fists as if to thump you but you don't feel threatened by him. For a start, you're several inches taller. You're probably quite a bit stronger as well. If he punches you, you'll kick him in the balls so hard he'll be pissing blood for the next month.
In the end, he unclenches his fists and sinks down.
"What happened to Cawber?" he says. "Simple. Your brother killed him."

(1) Accuse him of lying.
(2) Ask him if he's covering for Tony.
(3) Try and beat a confession out of him.
(4) Or try an alternate route: offer him sex if he'll tell you who killed Mr Cawber.

> 3
"Nigel," you say.
"What?" he snaps.
You punch him in the face!
He looks so surprised for a second that he just stands there and looks at you. Then one side of his nose begins to bleed and with a roar he throws himself at you. He's tougher than he looks and the weight of him forces you to the floor. Unfortunately, he's not counted on the fact that, as a girl, you fight dirty. And while the first kick to the groin doesn't stop him trying to punch your lights out, the second does. The third is just for spite but it sure feels good.
As does the fourth.
After that, he's curled up into a ball and kicking him in the groin again is awkward but you land a couple of solid punches to his face.
"Alright, alright!" he cries, spitting blood. "I'll tell you!"

...press a key...

Nigel dabs at his split lip and clutches his bruised groin as he says, "it was Tony."
"Tell me about Tony."
"The guy's a bastard." He swallows, as if unsure he should be speaking about Tony like this even when he's not present. "He was going to just break into Cawber's house and smash it up. Only something went wrong."
"What went wrong?"
"Cawber was in. We didn't think he was. We'd heard he was out of town at some teacher's conference or some shit. So when Tony went inside, he found Cawber waiting for him. And…" He swallows painfully. "I'm not sure I should be telling you this."
You clench your fists. "You want to lose some more teeth, you little shit?" you say. "I can keep on punching all day if I have to."
"Okay, okay!" he says, genuinely terrified now. "Jeez, you're worse than your brother."
That's a bad insult and no mistake but you decide to let it pass for now.
"Go on," you say.

...press a key...

"I don't think Tony meant to kill him. I'm sure he didn't. But Cawber attacked him and Tony had Duncan's shotgun-"
"Why did he have a shotgun if he wasn't intending to use it?" you ask.
Nigel shrugs. "Dunno. He thought it made him look tough and he was always threatening to shoot people with it. He took it with him saying if he found Cawber there, he was going to stick the barrel up his arse and fuck him with it before he pulled the trigger. But he was just mouthing off. He wouldn't have done it."
Except he did, you think.
"I think he probably panicked when he saw Cawber there," Nigel goes on. "Or maybe Cawber attacked him and they wrestled. Anyway, you can figure out the rest."
You can indeed. Tony breaks into Cawber's house intending to smash it up, finds Cawber there, they struggle - and Cawber is shot dead.

...press a key...

"Where were you when all this was going down?" you ask.
"Outside with your brother. We were drinking in a park on the other side of the street. Tony had been there at first but then he went over and broke in. We heard the gunshot and Tony came running out. We all just ran."
It's certainly an interesting tale. Is it true though? Nigel might be lying to protect himself. But you get the feeling he's telling the truth. After seeing what you've been doing to yourself, you doubt he'd have told you a lie if his life depended on it.
"Where does Tony live?" you ask.
He tells you and you get up to go.
Nigel coughs. "You're not going to tell anyone about this, are you?"
You smile inside but manage to keep it from your face. Boys who get beaten up by girls are generally considered the weakest of the weak.
"I might," you say. "You'll just have to wait and see."
Massaging your aching knuckles, you make your way to Tony's house.

...press a key...



You arrive at Tony's house and find it dark. The lights are off, the curtains are drawn and the doors and windows locked. But remembering what Nigel told you, you hunt around the back garden for the funny-shaped rock ("it looks a bit like a willy," he said) and underneath it you find the key to the back door. You let yourself in and make your way through the seemingly deserted house to the attic.
That's where you find Tony hiding.
"You're that cunt's sister," he says. "Did he tell you I was here?"
Tony is different than you remember him. Bigger. Not taller. But he looks like he's been working out lately. The muscles in his arms fairly bulge and he's got the kind of six pack chest that girls of your age, non-lesbian girls that is, swoon over.
"No one told me you were here," you say, not really wanting to drop Nigel in it. "You're hiding in the attic of your own house. You didn't think people would look for you here?"

...press a key...

Tony looks at you and you can practically hear the gears rumbling in his brain. He might have worked out recently but it hasn't done him favours in the intellect department.
"Don't matter," he says. "As soon as they convict your asshole of a brother, they won't even be looking for me."
"And you're assuming I'm not going to go to the cops with what I know?"
Tony laughs. "You're going nowhere, you bitch." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a knife. "I killed one cunt. You wanna be number two?"
And, as he says that, you wonder just who the idiot here is. You're in the attic of a man who has killed his school headmaster, he's carrying a knife, been working out lately, and you don't even have a weapon. On top of that, you haven't even told anyone you're here except Nigel and you really can't see him helping you out.
Sometimes, you reflect, you can be every bit as dumb as Tony.

(1) Try and reason with him.
(2) Attack him.
(3) Offer to be his sex slave if he promises not to hurt you.
(4) Run for it.

> 3

"Huh?" Tony blinks. "You'll what?"
"Be your sex slave," you say. You try to put a lusty note in your tone but find it difficult to be lusty when confronted with a knife-wielding lunatic. "I'll do whatever you want." You lick your lips. "Whatever."
Tony shakes his head as if he can't quite believe you, but at the same time you sense he wants to believe you. After all, what teenage boy wouldn't want to have his very own sex slave.
"Prove it," he says.
"Of course. What shall I do?"
He looks around, looking for something he can use as proof that you're serious. His eyes finally alight on…
"Stick it up your cunt," he says.
You stare at the rolling pin he's holding out. It's easily three inches wide and over a foot long. "What…?"
He smiles nastily. "You heard. Do it."
"But Tony-"
"You say you'd do whatever I wanted. Well, I want that."
You stare at the rolling pin. You might be able to get it all the way inside you but it'd sure come keen. Then again, with Tony standing there with a knife threatening to stab you, you're not really sure you have much choice in the matter.

(1) Do it.
(2) Attack him.
(3) Run for it.

> 1

"No problem," you say. "How far do you want it pushed in?"
"All the way," says Tony.
You had a sinking feeling he might say that.
But you smile pleasantly - reflecting that in a minute's time smiling will be the last thing you feel like doing - and slip out of your dress. You think about doing a little striptease but get the feeling Tony isn't going to care much for it. So you just drop your dress onto the floor then slide your knickers down.
Tony hands you the rolling pin.

(1) Attack him with it.
(2) Do what he wants.

> 2

You kneel on the floor and spread your legs as wide as they will go. Then you massage your vagina with your fingers, moistening it up.
"Stop wasting time," says Tony. "Get on with it."
"Anything you say," you mutter. You almost ask him for some cream but know he won't get you any and if you keep delaying, he might just decide to hit you with the rolling pin to speed things up a bit. So you grit your teeth, place the head of the rolling pin against your vagina - and push.
It sinks in to an inch's depth without too much trouble but then becomes stuck. You take a deep breath and push it further. It grates against the sides of your vagina and you gasp at the pain.
"Hurts?" says Tony.
"Yes," you reply through clenched teeth.
He chortles. "Good."

...press a key...

Two inches down, about eleven to go, you think, knowing that you'll never get the entire thing inside you. It's just too big. And you're too small. But if you can get it far enough inside, you might appease Tony into thinking you're really his sex slave and then he'll let you go. Worth a try anyway.
"Hurry up," he mutters. "I haven't got all fucking day."
"Gimme a second," you say. You adjust your position, forcing your legs wider still. "Stings a bit." Then you give the rolling pin another shove. The pain shoots up another notch. As yet, it's unpleasant but not unbearably so. A few times when you were having sex with either Susan or Michelle, you used to experiment with fisting each other and, so far, what you're doing is only a bit more extreme than that. But when it gets even further inside you…
Maybe it's time you made a move.

(1) Attack Tony.
(2) Carry on.

> 2

Six inches and you feel like you've run a marathon, you're so exhausted. Your entire vagina burns like it's on fire. The edges are chafed raw and you think you might even be bleeding inside.
"Just a bit more," says Tony.
"I'm not… sure I… can," you say, each word a gasp of pain.
"Sure you can." He waves the knife in front of your face. "Every time you feel you can't, just think how much it'll hurt if I start cutting you." He taps the end of the rolling pin, causing it to bounce about. You cry despite yourself. "Get on with it."
One good thrust ought to do it, you tell yourself, taking hold of the rolling pin. Just one good thrust…
As it happens, it takes another four before the rolling pin is far enough inside you to satisfy Tony. Nine or ten inches, you guess, and it feels like it's splitting you in two.

...press a key...

"That'll do," he says. "Man, I never thought I'd see that sort of thing outside those sick videos your brother brought over that time. Fuck." He whistles. "Now, I haven't decided whether to just cut you a few times anyway or fuck you. What do you think?"
"Fuck me," you say hastily. Did he really expect you to say anything else? "But I'll have… to take… the rolling… pin out… first."
"Yeah, lemme give you a hand there."
And before you can stop him, not that you could have stopped him anyway, he grabs hold of the rolling pin and yanks it out!
For a few seconds, all you see is red and then everything comes rushing back and you're crouched on the floor, clutching yourself between the legs and wincing at how much it hurts down there. It's also a little bloody but there's not as much blood as you thought there might be.
"Let's fuck," says Tony, pulling at your shirt.
"Not now…" You can barely think over the pain.
"Yes now. After all, you're my sex slave, aren't you? And when I say we fuck, we fuck."

...press a key...

As he pushes you down onto the floor, you gasp at the pressure between your legs and know that it's going to get a lot, lot worse if you don't do something soon.

(1) Attack him.
(2) Wait for a better opportunity.

> 1
Tony isn't expecting any further trouble from you. You can tell that from the look on his face, and the sheer disbelief that registers as he sees the rolling pin which you've snatched up come smashing into his face. It takes more than one hit to knock him unconscious but you hit him and hit him and hit him and…
In the end, it takes a very real effort to stop hitting him and you're half tempted to just keep on doing it till you kill him. After what he made you do…

...press a key...

When he comes to, Tony is tied to a chair and the shotgun he used to kill Mr Cawber lying on the floor before him. He tries to chew through the handkerchief you've forced into his mouth and taped in place, but he can't manage it.
"You're awake," you say. "Good. I found the shotgun hidden under your bed. Real stupid hiding place, Tony. First place anyone would look."
He snarls something. Probably a swear word or something else insulting but with the gag in place you don't hear it. Just as well.
"The police are on their way here and I've even taken the liberty of leaving them a little note telling them exactly what you did," you go on. "Got anything to say?"
He clearly has a lot to say but the gag stops him.
"And any smart ideas about telling anyone what you did to me, I'll tell my brother what you did. You think he won't care? Oh, but he will. Particularly after I've saved him from a prison sentence. He realises you abused his sister, he'll wait till you get out of prison then cave your head in."

...press a key...

Tony struggles with the ropes but he can't get free. You entertain the thought of bashing him a few more times with the rolling pin but decide to content yourself with the knowledge that he's going away for a long, long time.
Wincing in pain, you walk slowly down the stairs and let yourself out. You're not sure how much damage you did to yourself with the rolling pin, but right now you just feel like a good, long bath.

...press a key...

Your mother comes bursting into your room - almost catching you watching some lesbian porn but you manage to quickly change the channel in time - with the good news. Your brother has been released! Apparently it was his friend, Tony, who had killed Mr Cawber and your brother was completely innocent. He's now having a celebratory drink with a few friends and, if you know your brother, seriously considering inflicting a world of hurt on Tony when he gets out of prison.
You act really surprised and relieved at the news and manage to hold off rubbing your still aching vagina until your mother has left the room.

...press a key...



There's some worrying news at work the next day: the senior partner has decided to make some cutbacks. Of the thirty people employed at the firm, it's expected that at least a third are going to lose their jobs, starting with the ones who have been with the firm the least time. You're the most recent member of staff.
You're sitting at your desk, trying to work, but more worried over the possibility of being made redundant. It seems unfair considering that you've done pretty good at your job. You haven't made mistakes, you get on with everyone and you work damn hard. There are several other people, however, who you feel really don't pull their wait. And you wonder…

(1) See if you can get someone else fired instead of yourself.
(2) Just hope for the best.

> 1

You think on it for a while and come up with some likely candidates.

(1) Marcia. She's nice enough but she's clumsy and makes too many mistakes. People have been covering for her for ages.
(2) Stephanie. She's a bitch through and through. Pretty, though, and you enjoy the sight of her boobs bouncing as she walks around the office. Still, if you get fired yourself you won't be looking at her boobs anyway.
(3) Kim. You don't know a lot about her but have heard she once slept with one of the partners. Information like that could be devastating if the partner in question is married. Getting her fired would be easier than the other two.

> 1
Two days later, Marcia is fired.
You're quite surprised by how easy it was. A casual conversation in the kitchen with Mr Harlow, one of the partners, about how many mistakes Marcia makes and how she's always behind with her work. You even made him promise not to tell a soul that you'd said anything and did a fairly good impression of someone wishing she'd never said anything. Then you just sat back and watched Marcia's career go down the toilet.
Yes, you feel bad but it's a dog eat dog world and, sometimes, you just have to be a complete bitch to stay on top.

...press a key...

Unfortunately it's not plain sailing for you either as even though Marcia is fired, the firm is still cutting a third of its staff. Marcia is the first to go. Guess who's second?

Two days later, you're fired.
You knew it was on the cards but it still comes as a bit of a shock when it happens. You go to say goodbye to Alison, hoping for a last peek at her perfect breasts. She closes the door behind you and leans against it.
"I'm sorry this has happened, Melissa," she says. "I really am. I told those bastards you were the best damn secretary we had but they didn't listen. All they think about is profit margins and shit like that. They don't think about the actual people who work here." She sighs. "I want to ask you a question and I'd appreciate an honest answer."
You nod. "Sure."
Alison looks at you. "Are you gay?"
Of all the questions you expected, this definitely wasn't one of them.

(1) "Yes."
(2) "No."
(3) "None of your business."

> 1

"Good. I was hoping you'd say that." Alison takes out a key and locks the door. Then she walks towards you. "Strictly speaking, you're not employed by the firm any longer so I don't have any authority over you, but I'd like to give you one last order."
You swallow and nod.
"Fuck me."
And that's a difficult order to say no to.
Alison unbuttons her shirt and pulls it open. Beneath it she's wearing just a bra which she takes off and drops to the floor. You take her breasts in your hands. They're every bit as perfect as you imagined them being, and even bigger. Bigger than Susan's in fact.
"I've been looking forward to this for a long, long time," says Alison, kissing you on the cheek. "I was going to fuck you before, that time you helped me out, but I wasn't sure. Anyway, having sex with employees is against company policy."
"No need to worry about that now," you say, pinching her nipples between your fingers.
Alison laughs.

...press a key...

You suck on her nipples. The taste of her makes you tingle between the legs. At the same time, Alison slips a finger into your vagina and wiggles it around. She pushes you down onto her desk, scattering pens and papers everywhere. Her head disappears between your legs and you feel her tongue lapping away at your vagina, poking in and out, trailing around your lower lips. You manoeuvre yourself around until you can lick her vagina as well and plunge your mouth into her, licking at her juices. You insert a finger into her anus. Alison gives a shudder. You push your finger in and out, move it around.
Alison gives a scream at one point which causes someone to knock on the door and ask if she's alright.
"Fine!" she calls. "Just, uh-" you bite her clitoris "-dropped… something."
"You sure about that?" calls the voice.
You bite her clitoris some more and Alison struggles to answer. "F-ine!"

...press a key...

But, finally, it's over. You give Alison's breasts one last kiss, pat her between the legs, put your clothes on, straighten yourself up, and leave. You doubt you'll see her again but you'll keep the memory of her for a long, long time.

...press a key...

You're walking home, enlivened by the bout of sex with Alison but overall feeling like your life has just come to a standstill. You feel like either getting drunk or punching someone. As there's a pub right across from you, and you're not a violent person at heart, it's the drink you go for.
As you're on your fifth drink, and getting pleasantly pissed, you happen to catch sight of a poster on the wall opposite you. A poster advertising a vacancy for several strippers at a club called the Moonshine in the city. The more you read the poster, the more you wonder…

(1) Try for the stripper job.
(2) Don't.

> 1
You jot down the telephone number from the bottom of the poster and once you're outside, call it on your mobile. A friendly voice answers, asks you a few questions, and promises to send you an application form. You're a bit surprised at the application form part because you wouldn't have thought a job which basically involves taking your clothes off on a stage would require any forms to fill in. But maybe everything needs that sort of thing now.

...press a key...



The next day you get an application form in the post. It's for the stripper job you applied for. You read it in your room and experience a sick feeling in your stomach. Has it come to this then? Your future is spent taking off your clothes in sleazy nightclubs for lager louts to gawp at? It's certainly not the future you envisioned for yourself when you were younger but then you guess the future never turns out as expected.
The form seems simple enough. Just a few quick questions. There's only one thing you're not too sure about: it requires that you send in a topless photo of yourself. You guess it's reasonable. After all, it is a stripping job, but you're not sure about the idea of it.

(1) Send in a topless photo.
(2) Just fill in the form and hope for the best.
(3) Change your mind and bin the form.

> 1
While your mother and Lance are out of the house, you draw the curtains in your bedroom and position the cheap camera you've bought on the far side of the room. Then you take a few dozen shots.
You're not really happy with how any of them have turned out. The light seems a bit wrong and you look pale in most of them. But you sort out the best ones. Hmmm… the one of you licking your boobs is probably a bit too explicit. And the one where you're pretending to masturbate? Definitely too explicit. In the end, you select a nice, tasteful photo which you think is the best of the bunch and enclose it with your application form.

...press a key...



A few days later, you get a letter in the post. It's from the strip club you applied for the job at and it looks like pretty good news. It says the manager has seen your photo and liked what he saw (hmmm, you have visions of some fat, middle-aged fellow jerking over while gawping at your tits) and would like you to come to the club for a discussion.
As it happens, this coincides with your planned trip to the city with Michelle to try and find Susan. Considering what her sister is now up to, you doubt Michelle is going to be impressed with the fact that you're involved in the same murky line of work so you call her and rearrange your trip, claiming a family bereavement, and then buy yourself a bus ticket and away to the city you go. Hopefully, you'll be able to question your up and coming boss and see if he knows of anyone called Susan Harris.

...press a key...

The Moonshine strip club isn't the most glamorous one you have ever seen but nor is it a complete dump either (something you're thankful for, although you're not quite sure why. Is showing your body in a sleazy club worse than showing it in a classy club?) You tell the bouncers you're here to see the boss and they eye you up and down in a way you dislike immediately. But you tell yourself that you're going to be getting a lot of that soon, and with no clothes on besides, so you just force a smile and head into the club.
A few minutes later you're sitting in the manager's office, awaiting his arrival. He has photos of several strippers on the wall but none, alas, are Susan. When he arrives, you're relieved to see he's not the fat, middle-aged fellow you imagined, but instead a handsome, thirty-something Italian guy who clearly spends a lot of time at the gym. He thanks you for coming to see him then asks you something you're pretty sure isn't above board.
"Can I see the goods?"

...press a key...

You blink. "The… goods?"
"Yes. Your bosoms." He gestures to them as if you might be unaware of what he's talking about. "If you are going to be working here, I need to ensure that the goods are of sufficient quality to satisfy my clientele."
Which is certainly a different way of saying "show us your tits!"

(1) Show him.
(2) Say it's hardly appropriate and refuse.

> 1

Feeling more self conscious than you've ever felt about your body before, you nervously take off your t-shirt then unfasten your bra. It's not cold in the office, but your nipples are goose-pimpled and you're sure your face is flashing bright red.
"They look good," says the manager. "Have you considered surgery to make them bigger?"
You swallow nervously. "Um, not recently." Not since you were about twelve, in fact, when you were convinced you were the most flat-chested girl in the world and used to tug on your nipples to try and make your breasts grow a bit.
"You might want to," the manager says, either oblivious to your unease or just not caring. "But I think I will have an opening for you. One of my girls is pregnant and soon to give up the business for a few short months. I will let you have her place. If you do well, I will perhaps keep you on when she returns. Deal?"
You nod, not really trusting yourself to speak.
The manager smiles. You think for a second he might kiss you for fortunately he doesn't. "That is all. You may cover yourself and go. First day of work is two weeks on Monday. I will see you then."

(1) Ask if he knows anything about Susan Harris.
(2) Just leave.

> 1

"Susan… Harris." The manager frowns then clicks his fingers. "Ah, yes. I know the name. She moves in… circles I am not interested in. And, if you are to work for me, I hope you are not interested either."
"What kind of circles?"
"Unpleasant ones. Whips, hitting, slapping. The nastier side of things. Here: everything is nice and clean and my girls are looked after. There: unpleasant stuff."
"Where is there?"
"The Emporium."
You know the place: a strip club a few miles east of here in the rough part of the city.

(1) Head to the Emporium.
(2) Decide you've learnt enough for now and head on home.

> 2

Michelle welcomes you inside her house and you tell her everything that happened the other day in the city.
"I've heard of the Emporium," she says, face grim. "Back in my modelling days, I was once asked to work there but when I heard some of the things they did to the strippers there, I just refused. Then again," she adds, "considering some of the things Morgan did to me, I might not have been any worse off and at least I'd be getting paid. Christ, Melissa, if Susan's working at the Emporium…" She shakes her head. "I hate to say this but I'm not sure I can really her."
Your mouth goes dry. "Why not?"
"I'm pregnant. I found out this morning." She pats her belly absent-mindedly. "I've been having sickness for a while now and wondered about it and then this morning I found out the truth. Susan, I'm afraid, is on her own."

...press a key...

You open your mouth to say something to that but realise there's nothing to say. Michelle can hardly put the life of her unborn baby at risk to save her sister, a grown woman who's in her current situation because of her own foolishness.
"The Emporium is supposedly run by organised crime," she goes on, looking paler all the time. "There was even a rumour once that they did snuff movies in a back room, with people actually bidding for what way the strippers were killed. Of course, that was only a rumour and might not even be true, but I'd hate to see Susan messed up in that sort of thing. I'd hate for you to get messed up in it as well."
"You want me to walk away?"
Michelle nods. "I do. If even half of what I've heard about the Emporium is true, you don't want to mess with the people running it. Go your own way, Melissa. Don't throw your life away."

(1) Walk away.
(2) Vow to do everything you can to save Susan.

> 2
"Then you're on your own, Melissa," says Michelle. "I'm sorry. But I've got a new life now. A job. A husband. And-" She pats her belly. "I'm pregnant. I can't get messed up in this sort of thing."
Until the announcement that she was pregnant, you were just about to yell some abuse at her for abandoning Susan in her hour of need, but you realise that what she's saying makes sense. She can hardly risk a helpless baby for her grown sister.
"I'll ask you again to drop this," says Michelle.
"I can't," you say stubbornly.
"Then I'll wish you luck and I just hope you don't end up in a situation worse than my sister."

...press a key...



Life at home goes on pretty much the same as usual. Your mother and Lance talk a few more times about marriage but if they really are getting married, they sure aren't in any rush about it. A couple of times, you catch your mother on the phone to your father and they don't even seem to be shouting the way they used to. Surely a reconciliation can't be on the cards, can it?
But, right now, you have other things to worry about: tonight is your first night as a stripper.
Needless to say, you haven't told anyone about it. As far as they know, you're going to spend the night in the city with an old friend from school. If mother is suspicious of this - considering you've never done this sort of thing before or even mentioned you had a friend in the city - she doesn't show it.

...press a key...

In the privacy of your bedroom, you've been trying to work on your act. It's not going well. No matter what you wear, you can't help but think that you look like a schoolgirl trying to be sexy instead of someone who actually is sexy. You've started to feel self conscious about the size of your breasts and while they're a fairly reasonable size, you can't help but wish they were several sizes bigger. And a bit fuller. And maybe…
But deep down you realise it's all nerves. Tonight you're going to take your clothes off in front of a room full of men and much as you try to make yourself believe it's going to be okay, secretly you're terrified.

...press a key...

You arrive at the Moonshine a couple of hours before you're due on stage and have a drink beforehand. You watch a couple of strippers perform on stage and dread more and more what you've gotten yourself into. One stripper starts penetrating herself with a vibrator. Another one sucks her nipples as several youths (surely too young to be in a club like this) bay at her like a pack of dogs. Another…
You're making a mistake, you realise. A big mistake.

(1) Back out.
(2) Go ahead and try it. Who knows, maybe you'll enjoy it.

> 2

An hour later, your standing in a small room behind the stage, shivering. It's not cold, but you're nervous as hell. When the last stripper leaves the stage, that's your cue to go on. All you have to do now is decide just how far you're going to take things.

(1) Keep it clean. Just whip your top off and leave things at that.
(2) Go completely nude and indulge in a little fondling to excite the crowd.
(3) Go the whole way.

> 2
You get the feeling the crowd are a little disappointed by your performance but you go as far as you feel comfortable. Actually, you go quite a bit further than that but when one of the youths in the front row reaches forward and tries to grab hold of your breast, you quickly scoot back out of reach.
The manager calls you to his office afterwards and congratulates you on a job well.
"But next time," he says, "you go further, yes?"
You just give a non-committal nod of the head and hope he doesn't press you for confirmation.
Feeling relieved beyond belief, you leave the club and make your way over to the Emporium. Hopefully there's still a good chance to find Susan.

...press a key...



A visit to the Emporium fills you with a kind of dread. You've heard rumours about the place and none of them are nice, but it's the best bet you have of finding out what has happened to Susan. So you grit your teeth, hope there's nothing too shocking going on today, and make your way there. The bouncers eye you up and mutter about "dykes" and "lesbos" as you make your way inside.
You find yourself a table in the darkest corner of the main area of the club. Then you order a drink and sip it while you wait. You make a point of ensuring no one comes to sit at your table and after rebuffing the advances of several horny teenagers who no doubt think you're an odd duty stripper, you focus on the stage… and wait.

(1) Watch the show and hope to see Susan.
(2) Try and find the manager's office and search it for personnel files.

> 2

Getting into the manager's office is simplicity itself. You just wander around the club looking for a door marked "manager's office" and, after a minute, find one. It's not even locked either.
Unfortunately, there's nothing in there of any use. You go through the filing cabinet (which isn't locked either) from A to Z, but if Susan is here she's listed under a false name. Then again, considering the shit she's going through out there, you doubt very much the manager is putting her down on his books.

(1) Decide enough is enough and walk away.
(2) Wait for Susan outside the club. At least if you can talk to her, you might be able to find out why she's doing this.

> 2

You wait outside for Susan. And wait, and wait, and…
After a while, you head across the street to a café and have a drink there, sitting by the door so you can see the entrance to the club. Hours pass by without Susan emerging. Does she live in the club? Or, more likely, has she gone out via the back door?

(1) Wait some more.
(2) See about finding the back door.

> 2

The club backs onto a seedy alley but the only exit you can find from it is blocked due to a wire fence. You consider climbing over it, but notice the barb wire at the top and realise that wouldn't be a good idea. Just as you are debating whether to try and sneak back into the club, the door opens and out walks, or, rather, staggers, Susan Harris.
She's wearing a long white coat which covers her from neck to ankle, and black high heeled shoes. She walks from the club and leans against the back of a sports car. Her face is streaked with tears.
"You stay right there, cunt," a voice from inside the club calls, "and don't get any funny ideas."
"Yes, master," says Susan, and you're disgusted to hear her say that.
The door closes. Susan lets out a sigh and clutches the coat around her.

(1) Call out to her.
(2) Wait and see what happens.

> 1

Susan's head whips up at your voice and an expression of disbelief crosses her face.
"Melissa…?" she says. "Is that…"
"It's me, Miss Harris," you say, not realising what you've called her until it's already been said. You look again at the barb wire. If Susan were to throw her coat over it…
"What are you doing here, Melissa?" she says. She looks fearfully back towards the club. "You shouldn't have come."
"I saw what they're doing to do, Mis- Susan," you say.
Susan winces. "I thought you might have. I even thought I saw you in there, sitting near the back, but I wasn't sure and Bert keeps me pumped so full of drugs most of the time…" She shrugs. "I might have been imagining you."

(1) Ask her why she is at the Emporium.
(2) Tell her to throw her coat over the barb wire and climb over the fence.

> 1

"It's a long story and now isn't the time. Go away, Melissa. You shouldn't be here."
"Neither should you," you say heatedly. "I saw what they were doing to you in there." Susan winces. "I thought you hated that sort of thing."
"I do," says Susan. She stares down at the ground. "I really do. But it's complicated. You need to go, before either Bert or one of his cronies comes out here. I'm not allowed to speak to people."
"Not allowed to…" You shake your head. "You make it sound like you're his slave."
"I am. To all intents and purposes." She lifts her coat slightly to reveal a metal band around her ankle. "That's a tracking device. Bert knows where I am at all times. If I go too far away from him, he beats me. If I try to take it off - and believe me, I've tried - he beats me even worse." She lowers the coat. "Now do what I said, Melissa, and go. It's bad enough I'm messed up in this sort of thing without you becoming involved as well."

(1) Ask where she lives.
(2) Tell her to throw her coat over the barb wire and climb over the fence.

> 1
"I live wherever Bert wants me to live. If you can call it living. I-" She hears something from the direction of the club and immediately goes quiet.
You draw back from the fence.
A moment later, the door opens and several heavy set men emerge. One of them gets in the driver's seat of the car, the others bundle Susan into the back. You don't see what happens after that because the windows are of tinted glass but it doesn't take much imagination to guess the things going on within.
Disgusted, you leave the alley and make your way home.

...press a key...



You claim you're going to spend a few days with friends in the city but really you're thinking of moving here as a prelude to rescuing Susan. It also takes some of the pressure off you for inventing excuses to head into the city to do your stripping. No, you still haven't told anyone about this but you realise it's only a matter of time before you're found out.
The stuff Susan said to you behind the Emporium has made you wonder just how deep into things she is. The tracking device, the fact that she isn't really working for Bert but acting more like this slave. It's worrying to say the least. You killed Morgan to save her life once, now you might have to kill someone else. The idea fills you with dread.

...press a key...

When you arrive at the club you're performing at, you stop and wonder if maybe you shouldn't just quit stripping here. You've never really spoken to Susan about her early career as a porn star but you get the impression that she started just the same way that you have: stripping in clubs. Then one day, someone offered her a large amount of money to star in a hardcore bondage and discipline video. And she accepted. Is the same going to happen to you? And, as the only job you now have in life is that of a stripper, are you likely to say no if it does happen? You need the money after all.
More than anything, you wonder if you ought to be devoting every waking moment to figuring out a way to rescue Susan from the Emporium, not dancing around a stage in the nude. You hate the thought of what she might be going through while you're wasting time here.

(1) Go and find Susan.
(2) Get your show out of the way first then worry about Susan.

> 2

A few minutes before you're due on stage, the manager calls you into his office. With him are a couple of hulking blonde men who look Scandinavian.
"This is Hans and Ebert," he says. "They will be performing with you tonight for your special evening."
"Special evening?" You hadn't heard anything about this before. "What's special about it?"
From the looks on Hans and Ebert's faces - the way they're eyeing you in a manner you'd find distasteful if you weren't in a strip club about to take your clothes off - it's all too obvious what's going on.
"You expect me to fuck these two?" you say.
The manager shrugs. "No, of course not. That is against the law. Sex on stage. Not good for business." Then he smiles. "But off record…"
Off record indeed.

(1) Go ahead with it.
(2) Back out.

> 1

Ten minutes later, you're bent double over a chair on the stage, giving Hans a blowjob while Ebert, who must have the world's largest knob, ass fucks you. Every time he slams himself into you, and he certainly puts enough effort into his thrusts, it feels like someone is driving a yard long spike up your backside. Painful? That just doesn't describe it.
But if Ebert is aware of how unpleasant this is for you, he sure isn't showing it. And the crowd seem to be going wild despite the fact that you feel you'll probably never sit down again afterwards.
"And now," says Hans, in atrociously-accented broken English, "for the finale! I call this: the two in one!"
You're a bit distracted by the hell Ebert is exacting on your rear quarters to follow what Hans is saying, but when he walks around you and you feel Ebert moving over to give him room, you quickly realise just what 'the two in one' entails.

(1) Back out.
(2) Grit your teeth and hope for the best.

> 2
Ebert's thrusts slow for a few seconds while Hans penetrates you alongside him. This almost splits you in two and you give a gasp of pain which the crowd seem to interpret as excitement because they start chanting "in out in out in out!" as the two horny Scandinavians begin to simultaneously ass fuck you. First Ebert slips in, then out he comes and in goes Hans. A moment after Hans has withdrawn, Ebert goes in. Sometimes, they're both in at the same time and it's all you can do to bite your lip and hold on to the chair for dear life.
They both come in your open mouth afterwards but you're so pained after what has happened before that you just swallow it all up without a second thought.

...press a key...

"That was quite something," the manager says when you enter his office (limping) afterwards. "The two in one! Always a crowd pleaser."
"It… hurt," you say. It hurts even to talk about it.
The manager waves that away. "Yes, yes, I am sure. But it is worth it, no?" He hands you a cheque which is for more than double your usual balance. "Maybe next time we try 'the three in one'."
You've already decided there isn't going to be a next time, but you just thank him for the cheque and limp out of there.
Time to see what's happening with Susan.

...press a key...



When you arrive outside the Emporium, it looks like there is some kind of special performance on tonight judging by the signs on the walls. You scour them for any mention of Susan but if she's on there, she's under a false name.
Once inside, you buy a drink, get a table in the corner, and wait. You avoid eye contact with everyone who comes near to you. In your bag, you've got a knife and a can of mace but you're really hoping it's not going to come to that. Part of you just hopes you can find Susan after the show and free her and then the two of you can be out of here before anyone is the wiser. The knife you're planning to use to cut through the tracking device around her ankle. You're just hoping you don't have to use it anything - or anyone - else.

...press a key...

The first show of the evening is a straight forward caning scene in which a girl of perhaps eighteen years dressed in a school uniform and sucking a lollypop is bent over a stool while a man dressed as a headmaster makes a bloody mess of her buttocks. You just drink your drink, look anywhere but the stage, and hope it hurries up and ends.
Just as you're thinking that, an idea occurs to you.

(1) Try and find Susan now before her performance. At least you'll save her another beating if you can find her now.
(2) Stick with the original plan and rescue her after the performance.

> 1

Ignoring the spectacle on stage, you make your way to the toilets. Then quickly bypass them, hurry down a side corridor and find yourself outside the manager's office. And find the door locked.
With all the noise coming from the main area of the club, you could probably break it down without anyone hearing but do you really want to take risk right now?

(1) Break the door down.
(2) Head back to the main area and wait.

> 1

A couple of kicks and the door flies open, spilling you into the room beyond. You're quite surprised by how easily it broke and figure the manager of the club must be a real tight wad at heart and doesn't like spending money on decent locks. The one attached to the door is the flimsiest you have ever seen and probably wouldn't stop a cat from pushing its way in.
The office itself is fairly empty although you notice a flight of steps leading down beyond an open door in the far wall. Voices can be heard from the bottom of the steps and then you hear someone cry, followed by the sound of flesh on flesh (no doubt the person who cried out has just been slapped).
"I heard something," one voice says. "Check it out."
You hear footsteps climbing the steps.

(1) Hide.
(2) Wait for whoever is approaching and attack them.
(3) Duck out of the room, close the door as best you can, and hope whoever it is doesn't come looking for you.

> 2

You crouch behind the door. You raise the knife you brought and prepare to stab it into the first man through there. You know that what you're doing is murder - cold-blooded murder at that - but you can't afford to take chances here. You're Susan's last hope and if you get caught, she dies.
So when a hulking man steps into the room, it's an easy thing to stab your knife down into his neck. He sees you at the last moment but by then it is too late for him to do anything about it. Your knife buries itself in his throat and he staggers back, crashes into the wall with an almighty thud then drops lifelessly to the floor.
Shivering, you tug the knife out of his flesh and wipe it clean on the man's shirt. You're feeling a little numb over everything that has happened and realise that you'll be going to prison for a long, long time if the police ever find out about this. You killed a man in cold blood.

...press a key...

But then you remember Susan's predicament. She's still down the steps and you shudder to think what is happening to her.
Plucking up your courage, you hurry down the steps, the knife extended before you. If you see anyone who isn't a beautiful female teacher you've had sex with countless times before, you're planning to stab first and ask questions later.
There is a fair-sized cellar beneath the club. Several rooms open on either side, but these are empty of everything but cleaning supplies and other odds and ends. You stop and listen, straining your ears. Sure enough, you hear a faint cry from around the curve in the corridor. Around the curve, you find several more doors and, also, a dirt-encrusted window in one wall. Peering through the stained glass, you behold a sickening spectacle.
In the room below is Susan Harris. She is naked, tied to a chair and gagged. Her eyes are wet with tears. A hulking brute of a man is standing over her, dripping wax from a large, thick candle over her breasts which are swollen and bleeding. Another man, this one with a video camera, stands to one side, filming the entire event.

...press a key...

Is that what this is all about then? Hardcore S & M videos? But performed on someone who you're sure isn't a willing participant.
You size up the two men. Both are far bigger and stronger than you and the one torturing Susan has a knife set on a table to one side of him. Susan is clearly not going to be of any use during a fight so if you're going to rescue her, it's going to be you against both of them. You really don't fancy those odds.

(1) Attack them now and hope for the best.
(2) Try and cause a distraction to split the men up.
(3) Bide your time and wait for a better opportunity. Much as you hate to see Susan suffer like this, you won't be doing her any favours if you try anything now and get captured.

> 1

It might make more sense to wait but you can't. You just can't allow Susan to be hurt any more than she has been already. Even though it might be you dying here alongside her, you have to make a move now.
You creep down to the room, heading along a winding staircase. From somewhere to your right, you hear a slapping sound followed by Susan's crying, but you don't hurry. You can't afford to. If you slip now and someone hears you… You're no use to Susan dead.
Finally, you manage to find the door to the room. You stand there, hand on the handle, knowing that once you rush in, you'll only have a split second to make your move. You have a knife and from what you could see, the guy with the camera doesn't. But he's big and strong looking.
Then again, maybe it's the other guy you should be going for. He's got a weapon close to hand and if you can disable him first, you'll have a better chance of dealing with the unarmed camera guy.

(1) Go for the camera guy.
(2) Go for the man torturing Susan.

> 2

The moment the door bursts open is forever frozen in your mind. The torturer looks up in what starts as annoyance - probably believing you are some employee of his who has stumbled in on his little torture session - and then turns in the blink of an eye to blinding anger - when he sees you there with your knife. A moment later, the expression changes again: to blinding agony as the knife you are carrying catches him in the throat and sends him reeling back. You follow him, stabbing him again just before he falls. His own knife drops from his hand.
You turn back to the guy who had the camera and see him running for the door. Is he running away? Or to get more help?

(1) Chase after him.
(2) Free Susan and get out of here.

> 2
It takes a few seconds to free Susan from the chair but she is so weak after her ordeal that you worry she won't be able to walk.
"I'll manage," she says, face pale with pain.
"Are you-"
"I'm sure. I'm certainly not going… to be here… when that bastard… gets back…"
You lead her out of the room and through the cellar, hoping for another way out that doesn't involve a trek through the club. For once, luck is with you and you force open a side door, rusted but still useable, and find yourself in a rubbish-filled alley.

...press a key...



"I suppose I owe you an explanation," says Susan.
It's two months later and you, Susan and Michelle are in the small apartment Susan has rented. Susan looks almost as gorgeous as she did when she was your teacher.
"An explanation would be nice," says Michelle, a moment before you can chime in with the same comment. "You could have come to me for help if you needed it."
"And me," you say.
Susan looks away. "I was… ashamed," she says. "When I got back from Australia, I didn't have any money left. I thought about coming to see you, Michelle, and you too, Melissa, but I didn't want to cause anyone any problems. I figured if I could get myself some money together, I could start teaching again, get my life in order. But the only work I could get quickly was… stripping.

...press a key...

"It wasn't too bad at first. I got a job at the Moonshine club and the money was reasonable. But then someone I'd known years before, through Morgan-"
Michelle winces.
"-came to see me. He said he had a proposition for me and he wasn't going to take no for an answer. He wanted me to do an S & M video for him. I said no." Susan sighs. "So he pulled some strings and got me fired from the Moonshine. I tried to get a job somewhere else but Bert, that's the bastard's name, seems to know every strip club owner in the city and everywhere I went, I just got turned down. I could have left, of course, gone somewhere else, but I didn't have enough money and… and then I just caved in. What Bert was offering me for the video was a great deal and I'd done that sort of thing before so I figured I might as well just go for it. One video and then I was out. Only it didn't work out like that."

...press a key...

"Oh, Susan," says Michelle.
"I know, I know. I was an idiot. But I was at a particularly low point in my life and as I'd resorted to stripping, I figured I might as well go the whole way."

(1) "But it wasn't just one video, was it?"

> 1

"No. I did the one. Jeez, it was horrible. It… but you can probably imagine. I cried myself to sleep that night and the next day I felt like I'd been run over. I ached all over, I had funny shooting pains in my breasts, I felt…" She shakes her head. "When I went to see Bert to tell him I was through, he gave me a folder. It contained a list of everyone I knew. You were both in there, as well as my parents, friends I'd known in school, cousins… everyone. He said it was a mailing list and if I didn't do exactly what he said, he was going to send a copy of the video to everyone on it. I thought he was bluffing but that's not the sort of person Bert is. My parents don't know a lot of the stuff I've done-"
"They know enough," says Michelle.
"But not everything. Not the bondage, not the torture. They certainly never knew I was stripping again, or doing torture videos. And after what had happened to dad, his heart attack… it would have killed him if he'd received a video like that."

(1) "So what did you do?"

> 1

"What else could I do? I went to work for Bert full time at the Emporium and he made me enact his every sick fantasy. Every night I went on that stage and got whipped, caned, slapped around. I think I got a couple of days off every month, and mostly that was only because I was so ill what with all the beatings that I wasn't capable of going on stage."

(1) "You should have run away."
(2) "Why didn't you go to the police?"

> 1

"I thought about it so many times. But every time I got tempted, Bert showed me the list and I just crumbled. I was feeling so bad about everything in my life right then that the idea that everyone I knew would find out what I was doing was too much for me to handle. I just gritted my teeth and got on with it and hoped that everything would turn out fine in the end."

(1) "What happened next?"

> 1

"After I'd been there, at the Emporium, for about six months, I tried to kill myself. I was hurting so bad I just needed a way out. I took an overdose. Bert, of all people, saved me. After that, he kept me virtually a prisoner. I lived in a horrible small room under the club and I only ever saw the outside world when Bert wanted me at his house for some… private work." Susan wipes a hand across her eyes. "He fitted me with a tracking device so he'd know where I was at any time and he said that if he ever found I was straying away from the club, he'd action the mailing list."

(1) "But surely he knew that you wouldn't put up with it forever."
(2) "I'm surprised you never tried to kill him."

> 1

"I don't know what he thought. Bert never really talked to me like a human being. To him, I was his sex slave and if he spoke to me it was to order me about or to threaten me. I get the impression from a few comments I've heard him make, though, that I wasn't the first person he'd done this to. I found this scrapbook in his office once which contained the names of several other women, all crossed out. Mine was the last on the list."

(1) "Go on."

> 1

"I didn't know Bert was into snuff movies when I first started working for him. It was only later I discovered that unpleasant little aspect to his business, when I overheard a phone call between him and an associate. A few days later, one of the strippers from the club disappeared. Bert said she'd quit which no one was really surprised at - in a place like that, where you're being hurt for a living, the turnover rate is frantic. Most of the strippers don't last a week when they see what they're expected to put up with. But a week later, this girl's body showed up on the waterfront. The papers said she'd been hideously disfigured prior to her death. Later on, I found out that Bert was selling videos of her death."
"The sick bastard," says Michelle.

(1) "Go on."

> 1

"He made me watch the video one day, while he was fucking me. I recognised the room it was shot in - the same room you found me in that day, Melissa - and knew right there and then that, sooner or later, it was going to be me in that room. And after that, Bert would be selling snuff videos of me being tortured and killed. I tried to escape after that but Bert was keeping an eye on me and I didn't get very far. Another time, I tried calling the police from a phone in the club but he got to me in time. After that, I spent my entire time in that horrible little room under the club, tied to the bed and, more often than not, doped up with so many drugs I didn't even know what day it was. The only time I got out was when I either on stage or Bert was making me work out."

(1) "He made you work out?"

> 1

Susan nods. "He was fond of telling me that if I wanted to stay alive I needed to keep in shape. Because, he said, if I started going flabby, or losing my looks, his customers wouldn't want to see me and then I was just so much dead weight. Dead weight, that's how he referred to me. So he made me work out every day. He also fed me great food as well and made sure all the injuries he inflicted on me were properly taken care of. Not because he cared less about my personal wellbeing but because, to him, I was a commodity that he could make money off. He kept me in good condition because he stood to make more money out of me that way."

(1) "What happened after that?"

> 1

"I just carried on. Day after day, week after week… I worked out, I ate well, I got tortured. Sometimes I did videos and every time I did one I wondered if it was going to turn into a snuff movie, but no matter how extreme they were, they turned out to just be simple videos. But I knew things couldn't carry on like that. Aside from the fact that I didn't want things to carry on like that, I was being held captive against my will. I needed to get out. And then, of course, there was the little fact that my looks were beginning to fail."
"You're still beautiful, Susan," you say.
"Thanks. There are days when I wish I wasn't beautiful, when I wish I was ugly. I certainly would never have ended up at the Emporium if I was ugly." Susan takes a deep breath then goes on. "But I could see the constant beatings were beginning to take their toll on my body. I was tired constantly and I often vomited up whatever I ate. I used to piss blood some days. And no matter how much I ate, I still kept loosing weight. Not to mention the fact that I looked white as a ghost most of the time. Every day I expected Bert to come and fetch me for one of his snuff videos and every day I vowed I was going to escape. But every day I was too sick to do anything so nothing got done."

(1) "But you're free now."

> 1
"Yes, free." Susan sighs deeply. "Thanks to you."
"Don't mention it," you say, not sure you can really say anything else at the moment.
"I wish I could have helped," says Michelle. "But-" She pats her belly.
"I understand," says Susan.
"If I'd known what that bastard was doing to you-"
"It's fine, Michelle. Really." Yet you sense, despite her words, a certain hesitation in her tone, and wonder if, deep down, Susan resents the fact that Michelle didn't help her. "Everything worked out for the best in the end anyway."
The three of you exchange small talk and then Michelle excuses herself. "Appointment with my doctor," she says. "Hopefully I'll find out if it's a boy or a girl this time."
You wish her all the best.
The moment the door has closed behind her, Susan takes your head in her hands and kisses you full on the mouth. A long, lingering kiss that makes your heart melt.
"Come with me," she says, and leads you into her bedroom.

...press a key...

Inside her bedroom, Susan turns you and starts to unbutton her shirt. Her breasts, in a skimpy red bra, tumble free and, despite what she's been through, are surprisingly free of any disfiguring scars.
"My nipples hurt sometimes," she says, "and there's a patch on the underside of my left boob that stings, but my surgeon reckons I've recovered just about as well as it's possible to recover, given what I've been through."
You touch her between the legs. "And here?"
She kisses you. "Here's fine. Why don't you check it out and let me know what you think?"
Smiling like a silly little girl, you kneel before Susan and lift up her skirt. Tugging down her knickers - skimpy red ones like her bra - you study her vagina.
"Looks fine to me," you say. You flick your tongue out. "Tastes fine, too."
"Check inside," Susan says. "Make sure it's fine there as well."

...press a key...

You part her lips and slip a finger inside. "Fine there as well." You put your hands on her backside and plunge your face into her vagina. Susan gives a gasp and puts her hands on the back of your head, holding you in place just in case, for whatever reason, you wanted out. But out is hardly the kind of thing that's on your mind right now.
You lick her as she gasps, your tongue flicking across her vagina as your hands move over her buttocks, caressing and pinching them. You massage her anus then, as she begins to come, slide a finger inside.
"Fuck!" cries Susan.
You'd reply with something like "I thought I was doing that" but your mouth is otherwise occupied.

...press a key...

A minute later you're both lying on Susan's bed. She prefers it on top, she says (something you never remembered from before but you're more than willing to accommodate her but you're more than willing to accommodate her but you're more than willing to accommodate her but you're more than willing to accommodate her but you're more than willing to accommodate her but you're more than willing to accommodate her but you're more than willing to accommodate her) and then proceeds to eat your pussy while you squeeze your breasts and pinch your nipples. When you come, it's one of the most explosive ones you've ever had and you're left shivering afterwards, sure you haven't got the energy to carry on any longer. But Susan, harsh task mistress that she is, isn't the sort of woman to take no for an answer and she makes you fuck her for the next two hours until, finally, the two of you are so exhausted that you can barely move.
"Any good?" she asks afterwards.
You stare up at the ceiling and reflect that, for once, your life is turning out to be every bit as good as you ever wanted it to be.
"Very good," you say.

...press a key...








If you're reading this, it means you've reached one of the good endings in the game. Why good? Because you've saved Susan Harris from her unpleasant ordeal at the Emporium in at least reasonable condition. There are four 'good endings to Decisions but only one 'best' ending. If the text preceding this little announcement hinted at the best ending, well done. If not, you might want to try again.
Either way, you did very well to reach here so give yourself a pat on the back even if you decide not to have another go.