To the cafeteria! You're starving!

You enter the cafeteria and the smell of fried stuff hits you in the face. There's no particularly good food for sale here, but there's plenty of variety, and tons of freshmen. You look around wondering whether you'll have chicken nuggets first, or stir fry? Smoothies could be good, but better than soft-serve? You've never been so excited to buy overpriced campus food. 'Buy' is the wrong word, too. How far can you go with this anyway, like, if you can splash a slushee into an outfit, can you require a dump of hot coffee onto one too?

Sarah sees your gaze darting back and forth from Delibird's to MacDodo's, from the freckled redhead under the sign with vegan soups to the lanky Indian chick dishing out curry. Sensing your dilemma, she offers "why don't we start with some samples?"

Right beside you, standing in front of MacDodo's, is that cutie from your dorm, Tisha. She's a light-skinned black girl with a slender build and super-kinky hair. She's wearing an awful MacDodo's polo, apron, visor, etc. and holding a tray of MacDodobird Riblet samples in little paper cups. The folks working in these jobs aren't technically employees of the college, so your earlier rules about swimsuits and cheer uniforms don't apply here. Still, you could set another mass rule for employees of the various cafeteria shops, or everyone in the cafeteria for that matter!

You'd probably just cause a mass exodus, though. Why not start off with sampling the wares, like Sarah suggested.

You walk right up to Tisha, who starts to offer you a MacDodobird Riblet when she recognizes you. "Would you li...oh hey, John, right?" but you don't even answer. You don't need to. You're the clothing controller. You walk up behind the little sophomore and start rubbing against her ass. Sure, your dick is hard and rubbing against her, but mostly you're curious if this power will let you spill her samples. It seems it totally will. A few cups of MacDodobird Riblet spill off the tray and lose their contents on the floor. You reach around and grope her tits. Perky little B cups under all this awful clothing. You stop grinding.

"Hey Tisha, how you doin? Just doing my job! Listen, ditch this uniform, all of it. When on duty, MacDodobird employees will now wear panties and an apron at most." You nod, affirming your decree, and take a MacDodobird Riblet. "It's not too good, you say out loud." Tisha frowns. "Oh! No, not you, you're doing great. I meant the MacRibble or whatever." You are about to place your half-eaten meat chunk back on her tray when you remember, nothing you've done so far would really be considered rude to Tisha. Why spoil that now? You think about how you might make a MacRimbo palatable as Tisha's pulling off her socks. "You can keep your socks and shoes too actually." You don't want anyone hurting themselves. Do you?

Behind the counter, her coworkers are watching the scene. The one, a young man, is serving up some fries for a customer, while the other, another female student employee, is putting her apron back on over her now otherwise exposed tits, following your newest rule.

Sauce! That's what the MacRubles is missing! Among other things. Right there in front of you on the counter is a yellow tube of mustard and a red tube of ketchup. You don't even take a ramekin, just grab both the squeeze bottles. "Got any mayo?" you holler at the chick behind the counter. She tosses you a white squeeze bottle. Her tits threaten to pop out the sides of her apron at any minute, but never quite do. As your way of say thanks, you squirt a bunch of mayo all over her, face, hair, everything. She just stands there waiting. For no particular reason you add "wear it until you get home, but put it back on for your next shift!"

At the smoothie store, you order six smoothies in succession, dumping some commemorative whiskey into the first one for yourself, some more into the second one for Sarah, and then hand-delivering the next four right back to the increasingly exasperated cashier who's serving them to you, each time demanding "remove one item of clothing, and then add this smoothie to your outfit, pouring it on the top of your head." She started with her apron, and the wildberry medley her coworker had just whipped up, and finished a few smoothies later, covered in sticky dripping fruit, with a coconut-based drink, running thinly through the thick fruit drinks that came before it, uncovering little rivulets of her pale, pretty flesh. She charges you for the first two smoothies. You feel like that's fair.

"Just in case it's not known," you announce to the room at large, or no one at all, or maybe to this smoothie wench, "unless otherwise stated, all clothing edits made by the controller will last through the end of the current semester." The smoothie girl waits patiently. "Yours will last until the end of your shift, my dear. Four smoothies every day. After that, you can follow this new rule for everyone at the smoothie shop: Aprons, shoes and socks at most!" Her still dry coworker is stripping down to her apron. You watch her reveal her heavy C cup boobs, her pert little ass, and her neatly trimmed bush, before she covers them up partially with her white, smoothie-splashed apron. "Juices and condiments permitted too of course," you add to the rule, squirting the heretofore dry girl all over with your mustard tube.

At the curry counter, you lead with "apron, shoes and socks at most!" and the lanky, dark-skinned girl complies. You smell the spices of the curry and think, this must be the best smelling food in the cafeteria. If you're gonna dribble something on tits, let it be this stuff. You unload your mustard and ketchup on a few sorority girls walking by, including a KOK sister you notice is wearing the compulsory black thong & wet t-shirt. You toss the half-empties to the ground and say, "we'll need to modify this curry before it can be worn, miss." With that, you lift the hinged countertop and step behind the counter with her. You lay one hand on her ass cheek and the other on her tit, and start dry humping her, rubbing yourself against her warm body, stroking your boner. "Hey everyone," you call out to the room "if you've got any secret ingredients you'd like to contribute to this curry, step right up! We're making it into a proper outfit!" It's absurd. This must be some kind of health code violation. It's like your rules supersede most other logical laws! Maybe the health code violation is selling the curry after you jizzed into it? Whatever the case, nothing's gonna stop you from using it in some outfits!

You whip your dick out and cream into the curry tray. Some guy walks up and hands you a paper cup full of jizz. You toss it in. The next guy's got his dick in his hands. People are glaring at him from all over. "Yo can I give that chick a squeeze too, to help out?" You're contemplating how to answer when the room does it for you. Everyone is appalled. Especially the curry counter girl, whose face had actually been pretty placid, maybe a little embarrassed until this new affront. "Fuck you creep!" Several women nearby splash the man with their drinks before he rushes off, ashamed, or confused, or something, you don't know.

A bunch more dudes hand you their cups and bottles, and you mix up the curry pretty good. "You can look, sure, I just can't let you touch." You gesture to the girl. "Hey, get your tits out, and keep em out. Rest of the year." She pushes the apron into her cleavage so her sizable tits pop out the sides. It looks uncomfortable but she just stands there. Once you're satisfied that this curry is well jizzed up, you grab a spoon and head for the customer seating areas.

A nearby table has 10 seats, filled with students, and only a couple of guys among them. It looks like none of these chicks have yet been affected by any of your rules, so you plop the curry tray on the table and open with "shirts off, bras off, every one of you!" These girls seem less embarrassed than most of your control victims. Strength in numbers maybe? Whatever, there are some great pairs of titties at this table. Once they're all out, you start sloshing cumcurry on their chests. First the skinny blonde on the corner. She has no tits, so lots of it ends up in her lap. Then the pendulum tits next to her, you think you see a jizz wad, maybe a cheese wad, stuck in her cleavage. You continue around the table, splashing each woman with a ladel-full. "Wear that stuff for the rest of the day ladies!" You leave the tray for someone else to deal with.

At the soft-serve counter, you get the employees to wear nothing but shoes, waistbelt aprons, and free samples, one dollop atop each nipple. You are bracing for a backlash when a customer asks for a sample. You figure if you're lucky maybe the server would just give him a regular sample, but no, she thrusts her vanilla-topped tit in his mouth, and he sucks it right off. You couldn't have gotten away with 'wear that guy's mouth on your tits' could you have? You kinda want to try it, but settle for this, which is working just fine. You sample strawberry soft-serve off the server's nipple and then just the nipple itself a few times, because that's your special privilege.

You approach the Delibird's counter and scan the goods. Three chicks working here. The one with samples, standing out in front in close reach, is about to be some fun, but as you lead once again with "Aprons, Shoes, and Socks" you can feel yourself getting kinda bored. You're barely hard after all that jizz-making, plus you feel like you gotta keep pushing the boundaries of this power or it gets stale. You feel up the sample girl's tits from behind, mashing your slowly hardening cock against her ass crack, which is totally exposed behind the apron. You glance up across the room to a table where Sarah sits, finishing her smoothie and fries, wearing twenty dollar bills on her tits and that pointless mini skirt. She makes a thrusting motion with her pelvis, encouraging you. "No aprons, changed my mind." All the Delibird's girls drop their aprons, and you jizz in the hair of the sample girl, bumping her ass and sending her sprawling on the floor. The samples are of course, also spilled.

No harm, no foul, it's all part of being the clothing controller. As the serving girl cleans up your mess, you lock eyes with Sarah who's grinning devilishly. At least when the thrill of squeezing yet another pair of previously off-limits tits wears off for whatever brief periods, there's still the pleasure of impressing your friend Sarah. She glances at the redhead chick at the vegan counter. It's the freckly one you saw when you first came in. You have an idea.

You see one of the naked women behind the Delibird's counter preparing a tray of cold cuts to replace the one you - or the serving girl, rather - spilled a moment ago. It's perfect. You grab it and bound off towards the redhead at the vegan counter. There's a hippie chick with dreads and a nose-ring too, but you're assuming she's gross, and the redhead steals the show with her pretty green eyes and hefty breasts. "Panties, shoes, and socks at most, Vegan ladies"

"What if you don't have any panties." Dreadlocks speaks up. Figures she's going comando.

"Then you're outta luck!"

Her little B cups point straight out at the world. Her underarms are seriously unkempt, but besides that, she's actually looking pretty good.

"Wow, that's disgusting, and for sure a health code violation." The redhead, named Louise, judging from the nametag she discards on the counter while stripping, is staring at Dreadlock's hairy bush. It's nothing crazy like Carla's was, but for some reason this particular nudity has offended her job responsibility. And the cumcurry didn't?

Sarah leans on your shoulder and whispers in your ear. "It's cuz you didn't *require* her to be exposed, you allowed for items required to work her job, and she failed to wear them. It's on her. If you ordered them to be nude, I think it would all be different." Sarah's got it down, you think. You could make the adjustment, but you'd rather watch and see. Sarah stays pressed against you, her tits pushing against your back and warming your body.

"Get out! You're fired!" It seems Louise is a manager or something? Whatever, while dreadlocks picks up her clothes and leaves, you shout "no clothes, at all, for a week!" at her back as she goes.

You turn to Louise. "You a vegan?"

"Yep!" She looks up to the menu posted above her, in case you are gonna ask for a recommendation or something. You're not. You toss a slice of bologna on Louise's naked tit and it flops there and stays in place. Sarah lets out a startled laugh, and Louise just freezes and stares at it.

A slice of salami follows, landing just above the bologna. It's gonna be hard to get the ham to stay by tossing it, so you carve a little circle in the center of the slice, and place it on her nipple. Is she horrified? She's not saying anything. Sarah's loving it though, and it's making a great spectacle for the camera phones behind you.

"At least three slices of meat shall be your outfit as an employee at the vegan counter, during your shift. This will be in addition to the optional socks, shoes, and panties of course. This will hold for the entire duration of your employment at the shop, and if at any time an employee quits this employment or is fired from it, while having this knowledge, the employee shall then have that same outift be required at all times, for the next month."

It's complicated, and you're not sure who's keeping track of this stuff, but it looks like you don't have to.

"Oh yeah, and since there's really nowhere to wear your old nametags," you whip out the fattest sharpie you have, "we'll just require these to be drawn on at each shift." You press one hand against the center of her tit, pressing it up like a mammogram. It's nothing painful, though that you seem to be allowed a bit of as well, but more to keep the canvas from jiggling while you draw. You outline a rectangle on her squished up tit, and inside it, you write "MEAT".

"That way the rule can apply to everyone, just use the same name, Meat"

Louise just stands there as you lay another piece of meat on her naked body. Sarah squeezes your crotch and asks "What's next, clothing controller?"

She's right, you're done here. You had a few samples, and a delicious whiskey smoothie, and you really improved the atmosphere in the cafeteria, hopefully for a while to come!

In just half a day you've accomplished a lot. You can take this new power anywhere, though staying on campus, where the vast majority of women are subject to your whim, is still a pretty good setup. Where will you go for the rest of the afternoon?

To get some clothes to modify or use? at the laundromat? or a sex shop?

To class or somewhere with Faculty, so you can check out the Professors to whom your rules apply? Maybe Sarah can think of a Prof to visit.

To the library? You don't seem to need to take your classes seriously anymore, so why not waste your time distracting some hotties from their studies too?