Tits out for the girls

You stumble for your bedroom, phone in hand, gaze locked on sexy pretend-hypnotized Jess, unsure at first what is sending you to the other room. You realize you've grabbed your laptop, and with fumbling urgency you quickly set it up. That makes sense. You want to play along with Jess and that will be much easier if you don’t have to worry about your phone and its camera. The call transfers automatically to the bigger screen, and you briefly wonder how that happened. You scramble to put on a pair of headphones which are much less impressive than the retro-sci-fi pair over Jess’s ears.

Jess simply watches patiently and silently through her unblinking hooded eyes, still leaning forward toward her phone’s camera. You realize your own sea-green eyes are the same. Unblinking and a little closed as if drowsy. That makes sense. You’re copying Jess’s act.

You sit on your unmade bed facing your laptop’s camera.

{{It feels good to obey. It feels good to be on display.}}

“It feels good to obey,” you tell Jess, trying to copy the way her voice sounds. “It feels good to be on display.”

{{Show your tits. You love to display your boobs. You feel no shame in showing them. You love when other women display their breasts. Your exhibitionist and voyeuristic titty-desires are lesbian.}}

There’s no further preamble. You and Jess just pull up your t-shirts simultaneously. Jess was leaning forward and the ridiculous tent-like size of the purple t-shirt she has on meant you couldn’t get a hint of anything beneath. Now you can see she’s not wearing a bra or anything else under the t-shirt. Jess boobs have always been bigger than yours. She used to be much bigger, but she’s lost a lot of weight, and now they’re just big honking D-cups. You’re not surprised to see that Jess’s nipples are hard with arousal, her areolae dark spots on her pale skin.

You are wearing a bra under your old Drowning Pool t-shirt. The black of the t-shirt is so faded it’s more of a gray now and the print has peeled in places. The bra revealed is not sexy, not a push-up or lacy or anything else. It’s just comfortable and clean. But it’s stopping you from being properly on display. Displayed like Jess is one display. You would feel much better taking it off and fully showing yourself to your laptop’s camera. Displaying yourself to Jess. Displaying yourself to… anyone else.

In comparison, you're not that impressive. Your pale C-cups sit a little too firm to jiggle very much. Your mauve-colored nipples are average sized (or, so you suspect, not really having done much comparison), your areolae practically invisible (or perhaps just that small). Unlike Jess, your nipples are taking their own sweet time hardening, but that's normal for your body, so you don't take it to mean anything in regards to your arousal. You flush briefly, realizing your relief that you'd gone ahead and plucked the overly-dark hairs you had spotted on them in the past.

Your hands go to your back. You smoothly undo the clip, peel your bra off, and toss it aside. Your own breasts bounce free. It feels so good to be on display. Your own nipples are hard too. You’re glad that Jess, no, that the camera can see how good it makes you feel to obey and be on display.

{{It feels good to obey. It feels good to be on display.}}

“It feels good to obey. It feels good to be on display,” Jess tells you in her drowsy voice. She’s crystal clear in your headphones. You repeat her words because you’re playing along. It’s very clever how you can repeat her words exactly as she’s saying them, in perfect unison. It really makes it look like you’ve been hypnotized. Totally mind-fucked.

Your eyes are locked unblinking on Jess’s breasts, rendered small but very visible on the screen. Small but still magnificent. They aren’t a mystery to you; you’ve seen them before. What is a mystery is why you didn’t appreciate them like this before?! You love the sight of her rack on display. You want to hold them, to taste them, to fondle them, to kiss them. Jess’s hypnotized act was already turning you on, staring at her boobs hanging down as she leans forward with those unblinking eyes on you is a big boost to that arousal.

But it’s nothing compared to the erotic pleasure you’re getting from showing her your own tits. Your hooded green eyes are unblinking and your breath is slow and steady. But you’re imagining one of the Illuminati watching you through your mind-fucked friend’s call, watching you on display with your tits out, that hidden master of the world stroking his cock… No, you shiver as your imaginings get more sapphic, a hidden mistress playing with her own breasts. Outwardly unblinking and breathing easily, inwardly you want to wantonly moan and writhe as you imagine obeying and displaying yourself for an unseen mind-controlling internet pervert woman.