Female, fast food worker Wendy Deckard.

Wendy opened her eyes as her head pounded, last night was horrendous. It was nearly Halloween and her work had been extremely stressful as costumed sluts paraded themselves around college guys who could hardly put together an ingenious costume either. And it was Halloween tonight, Wendy was **** to work the night shift at the local Burger Palace during the holiday. She had spent the last few weekends spending night after night in exhaustion and overworked, as countless customers made her life a living hell. But rent was due soon, so she had to put up with it. After a particular night at work and listening to Alanah try to boss her around at work, which threw her into a rage as soon as she had reached her bedroom. Grabbing the nearest bottle she could find in her crammed apartment, it wasn't too difficult since booze had become her friend lately.

Wendy drank herself to sleep that night and woke in a laborious stupor which she contributed to her hangover, as she swung her smooth legs out of bed, and placed her dainty toes upon the cold hard wood of her bedroom floors, sending chills up her spine as she stood up and entered her adjoining bathroom.

She looked at herself in the mirror, her tousled hair cascaded around her face in a prodigious mane down to her ribs, and slightly hid her large DD breasts which stretch the material of her rumbled Burger Palace uniform Polo shirt. But her long smooth legs were bare having shredded her tight black denim jeans the moment she had gotten into the safety of her room, leaving her in just a pair of pink cotton cheekie cut panties which framed her tight ass beautifully anyway.

She knew she was an attractive girl, but her looks had always held her back in life. Men tended to want to have sex with you more than giving you a chance as a intellectual equal. Which had bothered you enough to hide your looks except on special occasions, during intimate times with a few lucky boys. But boys tended to be more of a struggle than they were worth, and usually ended up as a mess, so she avoided romantic attachments for the most part and only owned a few really curve wrapping pairs of lingerie for the special few who were worthy of her requirements.

She quite adequately filled her figure out, not merely with sizable DD's but also an ass which belonged on the dance floor. Meaty enough to bounce, but tight enough to stay round, her coworkers had often snuck glances at the redhead from time to time. But not as much as her bitchy coworker Alanah.

Alanah on the other hand loved the male attention, and even some of the female attention. But refused any advances since she claimed she was in a happy relationship already. None the less the blonde bombshell dressed to impress the guys, always with her makeup on point and her tightest of work uniforms she could get her slender curves into. The girl was a tease, who was trying to sex her way up to a promotion, Much to your frustration.

it wasn't fair that a girl like that was getting not only guys to fall over her, but also using her seductive charm over you. By flirting her way up to a promotion she tried to boss you around for the last time last night and you snapped.

As the water cascaded down your firm breasts and a crossed your youthful body, you let your hand wander to your mons. As you imagine Alanah getting what she really deserved. Your head started to get a headache slowly as you contemplated your life's nuisances. She didn't deserve getting everything her way. For once you wanted her to understand the frustration you have been put through. And how you would love to see her humiliated at work, **** to do whatever she is told, usually the most degrading of acts since it was your fantasy. But by that point your mind started to explode as a fierce headache took over, forcing you to your news for a moment as it blasts through your skull. Embodying an image of Alanah on her knees faintly before fading away altogether along with all the pain from before.

After a minute to recover, you steadily climb out of the shower and begin to towel yourself off in the mirror, casually looking yourself over once more checking for any obvious marks against your health. Lifting your breasts and checking for cancer, and pulling your fingers through your long and luscious hair to check your scalp for a possible concussion. But your breasts were perfect and soft, and your hair fine and smooth as ever.

So you began to get dressed once again in a more casual wear, stumbling out the door in another pair of tight jeans, and a few layers underneath your purple sweater as you make your way out during the day, first on the agenda meeting your best friend Katie at the Jumping Beans Cafe, downtown for breakfast. Unless your more worried about your health and might swing by the local clinic real quick and check up on things?