BW:F Chapter 17

Jen hasn’t asked what the mission plan is; she’s been too distracted by the novelty of Nat’s penis and now lavish Madripoor to ask. It’s just as well; Nat has a feeling that Jen isn’t going to like this plan. Jen is so high on fun and adventure that she just takes it at face value when Nat tells her they’re going to a casino.

“What happens in Madripoor stays in Madripoor, right?” Jen asks when they’re in a flashy boutique, trying on dresses for their night out.

In the adjoining booth, Nat has found some dresses that will be appropriately gorgeous without causing problems. She just needs some underwear that’s friendly to her tucking needs. She pulls on a pair of lacy boyshorts. Real, proper boyshorts create too many lines in the dress. Maybe this will be better. She puts it back on and the lines are still there.

Sighing, she strips again and starts looking at the thongs that she has selected. Nat has impeccable control of her body; her abilities as a ballerina, gymnast, and martial artist are unparalleled. Staying tucked in a thong will be nightmarish, but it’s one situation in which her small penis works in her favor. If anyone can do this, she can.

She scowls as she looks at her reflection, wearing only a black thong that barely contains her package.

Jen pushes her way into the dressing room.

“How do I look?” she asks breathlessly. “Oh, shit. You’re extra naked,” she says, yanking the curtain shut behind her. “Sorry.”

“Um. It’s fine,” Nat says. Her body is her weapon; she’s not self-conscious about having her boobs out. And Jen knows about the penis, although she hadn’t seen it until now. “Oh.” Jen covers her mouth, gazing down at the bulge. “Look at that little guy.”

Nat doesn’t hear that. Jen isn’t some knockout beauty, but she’s making a hell of an effort. She wears a thin, clinging, daringly short cheongsam dress with an outrageously high slit and what appear to be string panties underneath.

It works for her.

Nat’s cock pops out like a Jack in the Box and Jen hops in the air, doing a fist pump of victory.

“Yes! That’s the confidence I need!”

The hop causes an alluring jiggle with even her modest chest, and Nat’s erection twitches needily. She covers it with her hands. So much for staying tucked.

“Jen?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I, uh, change by myself?”

“Oh! God, yes. Sorry.” Jen lets herself out and Nat starts to breathe again. She puts her hands on her hips and frowns down at her erection, which hangs freely now, not even pretending to want to be inside the thong.

“OK, Bud. We need to have a talk,” she mutters grumpily.

In response, an intrusive image of Jen in that dress pops into her mind, and a fat bead of precum oozes from the tip of her penis.