(Simone) To make a masterpiece

Arriving into her own private work-space in the bowels of the rickety old building, Simone could already smell the heady, potent mix of her near-alchemical medium. Daisy had been getting better and better at perfecting the consistency of this inspired new concoction. Originally, Simone had been resistant to the Dean's insistence that she be granted an assistant so early into her scholastic career… But it was hard to argue with the passionate enthusiasm this girl one year her senior threw into realising every errant idea she came up with. The former ice queen had suddenly found herself under the eye of an awful lot of intrigued and powerful people within their own circles of expertise. To have an ally who was happy to quite literally jump into a pit of swords in order to aid her, was a considerable relief.

In fact, Daisy was clearly still in the process of unloading her latest collection for the cause. Standing over a plain steel bucket with her long, white work-shirt hooked up around her armpits. Simone stepped in to help her, offering the usual deep tongue-kiss of thanks while using her fingers to further spread the girl's labia, far below. The ever-impressive stream of deposited semen dribbled out, puddling in it's makeshift receptacle far below. And that was just the excess after Ditsy-Diddles (as she for some reason liked to be known) had emptied all the other jam-jars and containers she had managed to fill over the weekend. Simone had no idea how her curvy compatriot managed to collect so much man-juice at such a reliable rate. Scraping it from the chins and breasts of her dorm-sisters or crossing her legs all the way home from whichever fad 'sensual exercise' class she had signed up to this month.

Yet, gather it by the gallon she did… and every drop went in to the suitably cauldron-like still that they worked their magic within. Here, it was mixed with several types of glue and various strengthening agents that they had come up with through trial and error. Gently heated and mixed thoroughly, this created a sort of 'super-cum': A translucent, manipulable substance that, once cooled, made an extremely durable, gooey-looking solid. This could then be layered over a fine mesh, say, in the shape of a dress and… voila! Clothing made of cum! A half-baked idea Simone had toyed with one particularly sticky afternoon, now made a reality that the college was bringing more and more genuine, entrepreneurial investors in to see. Helped in no small part by the incredibly intricate patterns she was dreaming up to utilise it. From the afore-mentioned full-length dresses that made a wearer look like she was simply dripping with glistening man-cream; to thongs, tiara’s and tops which swirled in mesmerising spirals. Dragging your attention in toward whichever parts of the body they wished to accentuate… or surreptitiously hide. There was no doubt among any of the faculty that it was the stern girl’s keen eye for fastidious detail that really sold the idea, making each new prototype an erotic masterpiece of wearable artwork. That was why she had already been given her own assistant and all the space and resources she might need. None could look upon one of her as-yet imperfect creations and not see that the young woman was going places.

Daisy sighed as the last drips fell out of her… the effort of squeezing it all out clearly more draining than you might expect. Simone thanked her by laying the girl back upon one of their workbenches and continuing to slide those long, skilled fingers in and out until she orgasmed. Sparkling eyes looked up at her as this subsided. There was something of her old friend Marcy in the eager depths of this twenty year old spunk magnet. She clearly loved to be bowled over and taken advantage of, and was in a constant state of wide eyed awe at Simone’s sharp-angled mind and beauty. Yet the young woman was always professional enough when it came to their work. She clearly wanted this endeavor to succeed just as much as her fearless leader did. Simone could honestly say she would be lost without the girl, stepping back to undress and try on their latest piece off the cooling tray.

A cunningly hidden series of loops and hooks up the side allowed one to get in, or out of the thing fairly easily, with little fear of tearing. The material itself was surprisingly comfortable: squidgy but not clammy, revealing but not cold or restrictive. It really was amazing that such a delicate-looking, beauteous garment could be made from the grunting expulsions of twenty or so unnameable men. It gave the inventor just a little hint of that shiver she used to know so well: At the thought of walking down the street, drawing a thousand eyes upon her… any of which could actually have donated the spunk her outfit was made of. To her mind, that was what she was looking to sell really: That dirty, little inner excitement. The openly-visible secret you could feel prickling against your skin. She watched the hunger in Daisy’s gaze as the girl, in turn, watched her. That was how she knew a piece was finished. When all the sex that went into making these garments… seemed to leak back out unquenchably.