The next morning, Thomas finds a distraught Pamela

Thomas stretched and yawned as he greeted the new day. He felt fresh and revitalized, a sense of pride welling in him as he remembered the events of the day before.

He didn't know how it why it happened, but Bianca had finally succumbed to the urges he's instilled within her, coming to his room and begging to see his dick. What had followed was the possibly the greatest fuck-o-thon of his life. He'd used her as his plaything, using the girl's incredible flexibility to twist and bend her countless way as he fucked her. And judging by the way she'd moaned for him, Bianca had loved every second of it.

He rose slowly, recognizing that he'd slept in and most likely missed his housemates before they'd left to complete their own Monday schedules. The problem, or blessing in some cases, with working small contract work like Thomas did was that some days he could either have a late morning, his tasks not starting until the afternoon, or he could have the day of entirely. Today, like Friday had been, was off the latter variety.

He quickly used the washroom, getting a kick in knowing that the girls no longer used the room themselves, and headed downstairs to whip himself a quick breakfast. Once his meal made, he settled down on the living room couch after moving Pamela's school supplies and took out his phone, eager to catch up on the daily news while he ate. With how substantial his change yesterday had been, he wanted to be caught up with the latest happenings so that he could fool his housemates in believing that the world had always been like this.

He was two bites in when he noticed what was off.

Pamela's school supplies - those shouldn't still be laying there.

He slowly put his plate down, his gaze locked on the girl's stuff. Why hadn't she taken them with her? A quick glance at the entryway showed that her shoes were still present as well. Could she have decided to not go to school today?

Curious, he made his way back upstairs towards Pamela's room, knocking softly at the Latina girl's door. When he got no reply, he judged it safe to enter, and walked in.

The sight inside made him drop his toast.

The room was a mess, with everything ranging from her desk supplies to what little clothing the girl now owned being scattered across the carpet lining the floor. The carpet itself seemed wet, although that seemed to be confined to near her bed; although he could tell that it also was soaked. He soon caught the culprit, the girl herself. Best he could tell, she hadn't milked herself yet, and he spotted a slight trickle of the white substance slowly leaking out of her nipples.

That itself was his first indication that something was wrong - he knew it took well over twenty-four hours for a girl's tits to overflow, something that never happened if a girl milked herself consistently every day. And while he hadn't known Pamela for more than a few months, not once had his roommate gone a day without milking. The fact that she'd reached this point proved that she hadn't gone to that weird milking shed in the backyard since at least Saturday.

The girl herself was completely passed out, dried tears lining her cheeks. And as he walked up to her, shacking her gently in an attempt to wake her up, the only thing he succeeded in doing was spraying milk everywhere.

Not knowing what to do, Thomas rushed back downstairs and took one of the bigger glasses he could find. If he wasn't able to wake the girl up, the least he could do was try and clean her. He pressed the glass against her tits, mashing the two awkwardly, and fumbled as he squeezed, missing his mark and only managing to catch half the milk he'd extracted.

"Good God, how do girls do this?" he grumbled as he tried again.

It took three glasses but he'd eventually milked Pamela to the point where there wasn't a continuous stream pouring from her tits. He had no way of knowing how close to being empty she was, but he figured stopping her from adding to the mess was a good place to start. He then got a bit of water and fed it to the **** girl, doing his best to wake her up.

Best he could tell, the girl hadn't left her room since before yesterday evening, seeing as she hadn't joined Kyle, and him for dinner last night. Something had caused her to remain in her room, evidently in a deeply troubled state, and had collapsed out of either exhaustion or hunger. Probably both. Realizing she probably hadn't eaten since lunch, he placed his discarded breakfast for her to eat on her nightstand and started the long, arduous task of picking up her room.

Despite last week's drama, the meticulous planning, and the perverted changes he'd done with the World Processor, Thomas didn't hate his roommates. In fact, they were some of the few, if not only friends he had. Even though he felt that Kyle was plotting against him, and he was slowly turning the girls into his very own playthings, he still cared for them. Especially Pamela. He couldn't deny he'd discovered a newfound attraction to the girl; one that had grown with how close they'd become these past few days.

Seeing Pamela in the state she was in had shocked a bit of humanity back into him. Despite what he was turning them into, these girls were going to be his girls. And **** master or not, he didn't deserve them if he couldn't ensure their well being.

He judged the mess was half cleaned when he turned back towards the sleeping girl, shocked to find that she was now awake. And had been for some time, considering how much of his breakfast she'd eaten. He smiled at her, genuinely happy to see what was well.

"Hey!"

"Hey." She wheezed back, looking about the room confused. "What happened?"

"I should be asking you that." He said as he approached the bed, sitting down on the foot of it.

"I, um..." she paused, still glancing around, "Seems like I had an episode last night."

He chuckled at the understatement. "I'll say."

He gave her time to gather her thoughts, not wanting to rush Pamela into saying something she didn't want to say. Whatever was going wrong, it must have been pretty serious to set her off like this.

"I've ruined everything." She eventually said, looking back at him. He looked back at the naked girl, unsure as to whether he should inquire for her to elaborate or if he should let her speak at her leisure. He'd never been in this kind of situation before, and didn't know what was the best way to handle it.

"Of course you don't understand," she sighed, bringing her knees up so she could rest her head on them as she sat up. "You don't remember what it was like before. Well, you do - obviously. At least when it comes to what you did yourself. But you can't even begin to know how I've changed things. My body. Bianca. You and the guys. Everyone." She was crying now, dried tears being replaced with fresh ones. "All I have left are memories of how things used to be. Memories of how I tried to fix things, only to make them worst, leaving with changes that I don't want, and the guilt of knowing that I caused them."

Thomas wanted to ask her to elaborate about the things she was listing but seeing the girl reduced to tears once more, he couldn't find the heart to do it. He simply stared at the girl, heartbroken that she'd been reduced to this, struggling to find a way to help.