You want your old figure and a lesbian romance

"Time to train and regain my old figure," you say, looking down at your big tits, stretched nipples and the affter-effects of your pregnancy.

"Whatever training cannot fix," says Miss Swift, "we will use certain procdedures."

She thrusts her chest forward, the towel nearly slipping from her impressive bosom, reminding you that no surgery was required to enhance her physique, just arcane techniques employed by the laboratory of Paisley.

"Good," you say. "I also want something from you."

"Name it."

You feel a stirring in your loins at the thought of your passionate embrace with her in the shower. You have hardly had time to explore your sapphic leanings. You would like a comfortable bed with a warm body next to you, someone to give you that chance to discover the boundaries of your lust.

"I want to leave the enclosure after tonight." Before she can agree, you add, "I want to stay with you."

"With me?" she seems taken aback.

"That's right," you say, taking her hand and reaching up to caress her cheek. "While I am training I want to spend my nights with you."

She actually blushes a bit. But her answer comes quickly.

"Of course," she says.

You embrace her and give her a long kiss. Your urges are strong to throw her back on the bench of the locker room and have at her cunt, but you must bring word to your mate first. Your tongue slips from her mouth and you wipe the moisture from your lips.

Reluctantly, you dress and are returned to the enclosure with a tray of Maul's favorite meats. Your pups greet you, but your mate is despondent.

"I have good news for you, my love," you say to him. "You and the pups will be returning to the Island. You can find the pack and take charge once more."

His change in demeanor is immediate. He stands, seeming to grow in size and stature. His eyes burn fiercely once again, as you remembered.

"I will tear out the throat of any cur that opposes me," he snarls. "You will be my queen."

"I cannot go," you say, stroking his broad shoulders. "At least not immediately. It is how I have won your return to the Island."

He begins to object, but you hug him, burying your face in his fur, his warmth and his familiar smell. You know he will care for your pups. He does not beg for you to stay, he knows you have sacrificed, but you can see the sadness in his eyes. With a last kiss on the top of his head you depart. Orderlies are waiting to deliver you to Miss Swift's room.

It is more of an apartment. The voluptuous teacher is waiting for you in a corset fringed with lavender lace, her breasts piled to the top, her mound covered by the sheer V-shape of her panties. Silk stockings and garters complete her lingerie set.

"Welcome home," she says, wrapping you in her arms and giving you a long, wet kiss.