Olivia's parents had raised
her to be strong like they were. They were both Type-A personalities and their
daughter was their project. She would be stern and strong-willed and determined
to get ahead – like they were.
It didn't turn out that
way. Nothing Olivia ever did satisfied her parents. Even perfection was, at
best, greeted with grudging acceptance. Failure was harshly punished. Olivia
quickly came to understand that the only way to even temporarily please her
parents was doing exactly – precisely – what they told her to do. Nothing more,
Anything else was virtually
certain to draw a harsh response, and so Olivia actually grew up with very
little self-confidence, and dreading the thought of having to make a decision – which would inevitably draw a scathing
response from her parents when it proved unsatisfying to them.
Timid, uncertain and
lacking confidence, her high school years were somewhat disastrous. Others
sensed her weakness and she was bullied mercilessly. Experiments with boys were
even worse. Her parents wanted her to date only perfect masculine specimens,
handsome, well-built, intelligent, and from 'good families.'
Unfortunately, teenage boys
who met their requirements tended to be the opposite of Olivia. They were
brash, self-confident to the point of arrogance, and had little concern for
anyone's feelings but their own.
Her deflowerment was, to
her, a bewildering and painful event, reinforced by the humiliation caused by
the boy who did it bragging to all and sundry at school forever after. In one
day she went from being a timid mousy girl to a slut, as far as everyone else
was concerned. Other boys eagerly sought her out for dates, aggressively
demanding the same submission.
If she refused to accept
dates her parents criticized her. Of course, they did that anyway, and so by
then Olivia had learned to tune them out to some extent. She was, she knew by
then, worthless, and an embarrassment to them (which they told her constantly)
and would never amount to anything.
When they died in a plane
crash it was almost a relief. They had gone south for the March break to enjoy
the sunshine of Bermuda – leaving her behind alone. Thus at sixteen she was
given into the hands of her aunt – who was cut from the same cloth as her
mother. She, however, had less time or interest in being critical of Olivia.
That wasn't to say she
cared overmuch about her or displayed much warmth or affection. Truth to tell
she considered Olivia's presence an inconvenience and annoyance and largely
ignored her. That was fine with Olivia.
She buried herself in her
studies, stayed well away from social media where she knew her schoolmates
would be gleefully deriding her, mocking her, insulting her, and calling her
Olivia had determined that
she would become a veterinarian. She wanted to work with animals – not people.
Animals were much nicer than people and never mocked or insulted her. She also
envied their easy, simple life. They never had to make decisions, were never
expected to do much of anything, and were simply fed, patted and loved.
Aside from her studies she
played simple video games, and exercised. Her exercise regime had been designed
by a trainer her father had employed – when she was six. She had been put on
her training schedule then so that she would not grow up pudgy or out of
condition. And her regime had been periodically changed by various trainers
over the years since.
By seventeen it had become
a habit, and something of an outlet for her frustration. The result was that
Olivia was lithe, athletic, and had a well-sculpted body any other girl would
have envied had they ever seen it.
That is, had she not worn
heavy, shapeless clothes, which she had been doing for years to try and
dissuade people from thinking she was a slut.
Although, in fact, she
considered herself a slut. She had had sex with a number of boys, not being the
kind of girl who could really summon up the necessary courage to say no with
any degree of certainty so as to get boys to stop what they were intent on
And after a while she
didn't really care much anyway. Her parents insisted she date, so she dated,
and knew the boys would be all over her the moment they were alone. She also
knew she would not have the self-confidence to refuse whatever they wanted.
They wanted her breasts a
lot. For the one area of excess fat on her slender young body were her breasts,
which her mother despaired of. They weren't enormous, though her mother, who
was somewhat flat-chested, always refereed to them that way.
To her mother, large
breasts were a sign of low intellect, the sign of a bimbo. It made no sense to
Olivia, who had tried to find some scientific support for her mother's views,
But she was a thirty-six D
cup, which looked even more over-sized on her slender frame. They were the
subject of jokes all through her high school years, and part of the reason why
she wore shapeless, baggy clothes.
At eighteen she was happy
to leave her aunt's house for university, where she again hoped to immerse
herself in her studies. Now, at last, nobody would know her. Nobody would call
her a slut. There would be no pressure from her parents or aunt to date and be
Everyone would leave her
In order to become a vet
she had to first get a bachelor of science degree and take courses focusing on
biology, physical sciences, chemistry, genetics, microbiology and physiology.
She was hopeful that such
courses would have a high proportion of quiet, nerdy people in them and less of
the aggressive A-type personalities or jocks who mocked and jeered at her and
pressured her to do things she didn't want.
She was elated when she
learned she would not have a roommate in her dorm room. Most people had
roommates, but apparently, no personality match had been found for her (she
wasn't surprised) and the university had a few extra rooms available.
For her first weeks at
university life was peaceful, quiet, tranquil, and had very little stress. She
adapted to her life of anonymous studies perfectly. She paid little to no
attention to her classmates and they returned the favor.
And then, one day, she was
served notice that she would be getting a roommate after all. There had been
friction between two other girls and the university had decided to separate
them. She was crestfallen but, of course, did not complain. How could she? She
had known she was to have a roommate from the start. Only a quirk had gotten
her a month or so of peace.
Her peace was at an end.
One day she returned from
classes and found the other desk had a laptop on it, along with pens and papers
and books. The upper bunk of her bunk bed had been made, and there were other
signs of habitation, such as knickknacks and a new TV.
Her new roommate had not
exactly put much effort into making her bed, she thought with disapproval. Her
parents had had exacting standards, and Olivia's bed was made with meticulous
care every morning. This one was quite sloppy. There were also clothes draped
across the chair and desk which her parents would never have tolerated.
She felt almost like she
was intruding, but she did cross the room to examine the books on the desk.
They appeared to be mainly psychology and sociology courses. A liberal arts
student, then, she thought in disapproval. Her parents had mocked the so-called
'soft sciences' constantly. They had intended her to become a lawyer.
She saw a bra half hanging
down from the upper bunk, a lacy yellow bra, and stared at it for a long
moment. Her mother hadn't thought much of such sexy, lacy underthings, nor of
women who 'dressed like prostitutes' in order to please men.
Olivia's own underthings
were sensible cotton in subdued colors. She had never seen anything like this
bright yellow piece of lace. Though she could tell from the size of the cup its
owner was not flat-chested like her mother. In fact, it was, she discovered on
closer inspection, a D-cup, but a thirty-four.
There was also a new
picture on the wall, over the new girl's desk. It was large, a dark green,
portrait mode print that showed a seabed, and then, far, far above, the signs
of a surf, of the surface, in other words. There were no fish to be seen.
Instead, the only living thing to be seen was a woman.
A naked woman.
She was upright, her head
tilted to the surface, but her eyes seemed to be closed. Her shoulders and arms
were drawn back, and it seemed to Olivia she was using her legs to propel her
upward. It was an odd picture, yet it also seemed oddly peaceful.
It must be quiet down
there, she thought, though it was a long way to the surface for the woman.
Olivia hoped she could hold her breath well, for she had no breathing
apparatus, nor indeed, anything else on her.
If she could breathe
underwater, Olivia thought, it would be lovely to be that woman, alone in that
soft quiet sea, with no sound and no one around to bother her.
“It's a Waterhouse.”
She yelped and twisted
around so fast she almost fell down.
“Sorry to startle you!” the
girl said with a laugh.
“Wha – where – !?”
“I just came in. My name is
Amy. I'm your new roommate.”
“Oh, uh, yes,” Olivia said,
getting control of herself. “Yes, the university sent me notice.”
Amy had bright blue eyes,
and masses of bright, wavy red hair that spilled down well past her shoulders.
She was wearing a tight t-shirt which amply demonstrated the size of her chest,
and which ended a hand-span above her tight, low-slung jeans.
She was also extremely
tall. Olivia was five feet three, and quite petite, and she doubted Amy was
much under six feet. She was also very athletic.
She was loud, intrusive,
bubbly, enthusiastic, good-natured, high-spirited and far too friendly for
Olivia's peace of mind. And Olivia's first introduction to that came as Amy
held out her hand and Olivia reluctantly took it to shake.
Amy shook it quite rapidly
and enthusiastically, and then gave her a quick hug, which, given the disparity
in heights, had Olivia's cheek pressing against her breasts.
“I'm sure we'll get along
great together!” she said enthusiastically.
Olivia flushed, not nearly
so sure. She felt like an old, set-in-her ways house cat which had suddenly
found an eager, energetic kitten (a tall one) added to her small apartment
world. Or perhaps a puppy. A loud and messy puppy.
Amy was an extremely
high-energy girl, and irrepressible. She would not be daunted or dissuaded by
Olivia's continuing insistence on peace, quiet and studying. Nor could she be
prevailed upon to pick up after herself, leaving her clothes strewn about with
total lack of concern for the disapproval of others.
In fact, it quickly became
evident to Olivia that no one else's disapproval mattered even slightly to the
It was very... stressful!
Amy insisted on dragging
her out of their dorm room to restaurants and coffee shops and inevitable
meetings with her friends, both male and female.
Yet as much as she
disapproved of her, Olivia couldn't help envying her, as well. She wistfully
considered what life would be like with such self-confidence. Certainly she
seemed to have a lot of friends.
Olivia had not had any
friends in years, and, in fact, was made quite uncomfortable whenever Amy
hugged her, which she did with distressing frequency. Of course, Amy hugged a
lot of people, including almost everyone they met when they went out somewhere,
it seemed to Olivia. She was an exuberant and affectionate girl.
Worse, it quickly became
apparent that like her parents, Amy found fault in how Olivia behaved and
dressed and socialized.
“Why on earth do you wear
these baggy clothes?” she demanded one evening.
“Uhm – .”
“I mean, you have a nice
body, from what I've seen. You're not religious are you?”
“Well, uhm, no – .”
“You are way too shy. You
need to get out more. Have you even dated since you got here?”
“Uhm – .”
“I know some guys...”
“No, no! That's all right!”
Olivia said hastily.
“Why do you wear such long
skirts? You have great legs! And you need to show off the twins more.”
Olivia was confounded by
that statement until she realized Amy meant her breasts, then blushed.
“You can't catch fish
without bait, you know.”
“I'm not looking for fish
at this time,” Olivia said. “It's hard to get into Veterinary school. You need
really high marks. Besides, showing off your... breasts... just attracts the
wrong kind of boy.”
“What wrong kind? You mean
heterosexuals? That's not the wrong kind.”
“Boys who are only
interested in your body – .”
“We're in university now.
We're looking for men, not boys. And all men are interested in your body. That
doesn't mean they can't be interested in more besides.”
“Honestly, Amy, I'm fine.”
But Amy would not be
dissuaded, and she had far more determination than Olivia, eventually dragging
her off to a used clothing store and browbeating her into buying jeans and a
few modestly form-fitting tops (which she had no intention of wearing).
Although they were kind of
The jeans were far too
tight, though! And far too low on her hips!
“This is absurd!” she
protested as Amy waited outside the changing room.
She gasped as Amy poked her
head in, but she was, after all, fully dressed, sort of.
She blushed hotly
regardless, for her underwear were visible above the jeans.
“These are so low my
“Well, that's because you
wear granny panties. You need lingerie, Olivia. You're what, nineteen? You dress
like someone who's fifty.”
“I do not!”
She browbeat Olivia into
going to a hair stylist and getting her hair styled. She had been cutting it
herself with scissors.
“God, it's not like you're
poor! Your parents left you lots!”
Her parents did not leave her
'lots', as far as Olivia, who was a very careful girl, was concerned. They had
left her enough to get through university, and perhaps make a down payment on a
small house or a condo afterward.
She squirmed as the hair
stylist looked at her hair with disapproval, as she'd known she would.
“What on earth have you
been doing to it?” she demanded.
“Cut it like this,” Amy
ordered, showing her a picture.
“Uhm, yes, I can do that.”
“A nice, simple,
“Well, her hair feels solid
and strong. It doesn't look like she's been hurting it with dyes or anything
else. In fact, it's excellent hair.”
Olivia felt relief at the
evident approval, and sat through the cut without speaking. She was left with
her hair a little longer than her shoulders, straight, clean, smooth, soft and
parted on the right. It looked not terribly different than it was before, she
thought in annoyance.
Well, it was certainly much
less ragged and uneven. There were smooth, clean lines to it, she thought with
grudging approval. And it certainly felt soft!
But that was far from the
end of Amy's efforts at changing her, at badgering her to do things she didn't
want to do, or go places she didn't want to go.
“Hey, two for one sale!”
Amy said one afternoon, tossing something onto her bed.
Olivia was laying there
studying, and glanced at the little plastic bag doubtfully, then picked it up,
flushing as she realized it was a lacy black bra. She stared at it with wide
eyes, her jaw dropping, then realized it had an attached pair of matching
“I... but... uhm... this
won't fit me!” she gulped.
“Sure it will. It's your
size. Try it on.”
Olivia had become
accustomed to the redhead seeing her in various stages of undress. The girl was
unpredictable in her arrival, waking and sleeping times. She had even seen her
nearly naked on more than one occasion! Though Olivia had quickly covered up,
blushing hotly each time.
Still, the thought of
changing into underwear while the girl looked at her was horribly embarrassing!
“I'll try it on later,” she
“I want to see how it fits
compared to mine.”
Even as she spoke she was
undressing, and Olivia looked away uncomfortably. She realized – intellectually
– that Amy's attitude towards nudity was far healthier than her own. The girl
had little care about whether Olivia was around or what she was doing when she
got dressed or undressed. She was far, far less self-conscious and shy.
Again, Olivia envied her.
Amy had, she admitted, a
great body. There was really no reason she should be shy around Olivia, and
given they shared a bedroom, it would have been difficult to be terribly
modest. Olivia knew this too well! Being as modest and self-conscious as she
was around a roommate WAS difficult!
She felt silly getting
undressed in the dark or hiding behind a closet door to change. It was...
embarrassing because it revealed how shy and prudish she was.
Not prudish, exactly, she
thought. After all, didn't people call her a slut through much of high school?
No, she was just... well... self-conscious.
Amy definitely wasn't. She
stripped naked right in front of her as Olivia tried to politely avert her
eyes. Then the redhead pulled on a thong and a lacy bra. A thong!? She felt her
chest tightening. Had the girl bought her a thong? She had never worn a thong!
Her mother considered them to be an example of the exploitation of women and of
turning women into sex objects.
She had to admit, though,
as she furtively looked at the girl posing before her mirror, that it looked
awfully good on Amy. She had a very sexy body, and her breasts were quite...
She dropped her eyes as Amy
turned to her.
“Come on! I want to check
out the sizing!”
“But – !”
“I can bring it back if you
do it quickly!”
“But – !”
Amy snorted and then simply
grabbed Olivia's loose sweater and pulled. The startled girl gasped as the
sweater was peeled upside down up her body, yanking her arms up and forward.
She belatedly tried to hang onto it but too late.
She clamped her arms over
her chest and Amy laughed in amusement.
“I've already seen your
Olivia flushed hotly, for
of course, that was true. However much she'd tried to be modest it was
inevitable the girl would see her breasts. Her behavior was, she knew, silly,
even ridiculous. Which made her feel even more embarrassed.
“Come on and put this on!”
the girl demanded, opening the plastic and tossing her the bra.
There didn't seem to be
anything Olivia could do but obey! She reluctantly got up and went to her own
closet, feeling even more embarrassed as Amy snorted in amusement.
Olivia wasn't sure, then,
what was more embarrassing, Amy seeing her topless or in a bra, or Amy seeing
her act like such a prudish, silly girl! She determined to stop acting stupid,
and pulled her bra off, doing little to shield her breasts as she pulled the
lacy black bra cups up against her breasts.
It became harder to act
casual as Amy came closer, and then reached up to help do the clips behind
“Now turn around and let me
She turned Olivia bodily
and examined her bra as Olivia blushed.
“I think it fits pretty
well,” She said.
She tugged on the bra cups,
then made small adjustments, entirely casually. However that involved touching
Olivia's breasts, which made her face burn hotly.
“Now try the bottoms.”
“Uh – .”
There was no way around it!
Olivia turned her back to Amy, stripped off her own skirt and panties, and then
stepped into the black thong. As she tugged it up she realized Amy could see
her front and back since she was standing before a mirror, and her face heated
“Huh, wouldn't have thought
you'd be all shaved,” Amy observed.
Olivia felt her face flame!
She'd done it because boys,
during dates, made unflattering comments until she did! And she'd kept it up
out of force of habit!
“Looks good on you.”
Amy moved up beside her and
put her arm around her and looked at the two of them in the mirror.
“Don't those look like a
couple of hot, sexy girls?” she exclaimed.
“Uhm... well, I guess,”
She was somewhat startled,
to be truthful, at how she looked in the sexy lingerie. She turned hesitantly,
blushing again, but pleased at how her bottom looked in the thong. It felt
weird, though, to have the thing pulling up between her buttocks!
Amy then began to … dance,
to the music which had been playing on the radio. Her body undulated as she
rolled her hips and slid her hands slowly up her body and through her hair.
Olivia watched her and
looked at her in the mirror, a bit uncomfortably, but her discomfort grew when
Amy tried to dance with her.
She did NOT dance!
“I uhm... I don't dance,”
“What?! Don't be
ridiculous! All girls dance!”
“But – !”
But there was nothing for
it. Amy insisted and when Olivia continued to be reluctant she slapped her bare
“Dance!” Amy exclaimed!
“You really are a brat!”
“Want another spank!?”
Gulping, Olivia began to
roll her hips, feeling ridiculous, and knowing she must dance like a cow.
“Do as I do.”
Amy faced the mirror, and
Olivia, still blushing uneasily, turned as well, trying to get her body to move
in the same way as Amy.
It wasn't as... bad as
she'd thought. Looking at herself in the mirror, she began to think she really
did look kind of sexy as she rolled her hips and made her body arch and move.
That was an exciting idea, and she began to feel less self-conscious and
embarrassed, even starting to feel a degree of enthusiasm for what she was
Amy turned her to face each
other and laughed as she danced harder. Heart pounding, Olivia tried to imitate
her, feeling very strangely excited in a weird, indefinable way. She'd never
really thought of herself as sexy before, not really, but if she looked
anything like Amy – and she sort of did – then maybe she was wrong!
From then on she took to
wearing lacy, sexy lingerie under her still modest, but not quite so modest as
they used to be clothes.
And every time she put on a
thong and lacy bra she stared at herself with a degree of wonderment and rolled
her hips (if she was alone) and posed for the mirror. She also felt sexier
during the day, just from wearing them.
She began to dress even
less modest – though of course, still not like Amy – and became much less self-conscious of her
body being seen by Amy. In fact, it made her feel slightly breathless to pose
in each new bit of lingerie for the redhead's assessment.
It felt weird being seen
nearly naked by someone who wasn't being critical of her or was panting with
drunken lust. Especially since the latter only saw her in darkened cars and
basements, not in brightly lit rooms.
Three weeks later Amy came
home late from some party and woke her up by falling over a stool. Olivia
hurriedly got out of bed and helped the cursing girl up.
“What the fuck!?” Amy
“Sorry. I should have put
“You're damn right! Bad
Olivia jumped back at a
sharp slap to her bottom.