Getting dressed for church

I was like a machine, I had to be. Concentrated and purpose built, focusing only on the task at hand, on doing it efficiently and not paying attention to anything else. To. Any. Thing. Else.

Towel off. Walk briskly upstairs. Dry my hair. Straighten it. Touch up the eyelashes. Choose a panty – lacy black, felt energized. Choose socks – purple, those felt right. Choose stockings – no stockings. They felt too... don’t think about it! Choose bra – not that one, not that one either, too small – shit, do it later. Apply foundation, mascara. What else? Subtle wings. Lipstick – blood red. Apply parfume – lavender, lavender is good. Never used it. Choose bra again – fuck how is that small?!? Settle on one of mom’s old bras I inherited – C cup, leopard print. Nothing else fit, this one barely did. Is my cycle off? Did I hit a growth spurt? Check makeup, apply a bit more, cheeks already rosy. Nails pink? Did I paimt them? Toenails too. Good, at least they look se- cute. Stop thinking! Look for dress. Stop. Panties too tight. My butt feels bigger – did I put on weight? Did I... get fat? Tummy seems lean, good. Look for dress again. White? Too tight. Turtleneck? Doesn’t feel good. Flowery green with some cleavage? Almost. Red, deep cleavage, showing off my back and right thigh, God even the priest won’t be able to res- WHAT THE FUCK??!!!

Flowery green, flowery green, FLOWERY GREEN!! Reaches almost to my knees, almost modest, cleavage is... were these bras C-cup? Did they shrink? Maybe they were Bs. Put on a good hairband. Hoop earrings. Rings? No... NO! FUCK!

Okay, okay. Ready to go, ready for church, should work.

Aaaand... if I want to get there early I should get going in... 45 minutes?? How fast did I get ready? How did this happen?

I stood there, staring at the clock. I would have time to do a lot of things. I could take another bath... a bath... is that... thing still on the floor? I should throw it out. It should be thrown out, yes...

I walked downstairs and opened the door to the bathroom as quietly as I could. As if the dildo could hear me. It lay there on the ground, mundane and threatening.

Time to end this. I am not so weak as to let it make me afraid. In my church-ready attire I strode in, confident and strong, paying no attention to the thrumming in my hips. I reached down and picked it up – and all the feelings and impulses came back screaming. As soon as I picked the toy up it turned on, vibrating more vigourously than ever before. I was standing there, looking at my hands, my perfectly manicured pink fingers, my shaking bones.

MY whole body vibrated to it’s rythm, an overwhelming tempation started to spread over me. 45 minutes is... it would be enough. My spine shook, my not-so-small-anymore tits sang, my buttocks danced with vigour, slowly stretching the thong I changed into instead of my lacey panties. My eyeballs felt like a drummer in the band. I glanced at the mirror for a moment, just a moment and my eyes appeared pink in colour.