28… 29… 30.

I shook my head, and the world came back into focus. I looked around, finding myself in the same empty alleyway as before. That four-eyes I was talking to was gone, though I couldn’t remember when she left. All I remembered was waiting for her, then she said something and… and…

I suddenly became painfully aware of something cold and obstructive at my rear. I quickly turned my head and saw my pistol was hastily jammed down my asscrack with the magazine shoved down next to it, the cold metal chilling my plump skin. I carefully pulled the firearm out and racked the slide to find no bullets were chambered. Thankfully.

Well, it’s better that it finally showed back up than never, I guess? I… I can’t believe I lost it while I was waiting for that four-eyes to show up. I must’ve found it after we talked or something.

I reached for the magazine with my other hand, when I noticed I was holding something. The same hand covered in red ink - which I still had no idea why it was covered in those sloppily written instructions - now held a folded piece of paper. Something deep down told me that I needed to read whatever it said, so I slid the gun and magazine into my jacket’s inner pocket before I unfurled the piece of paper. Inside was a set of instructions, with similar handwriting (though cleaner) to what was written on my hand. 

As I finished reading, I felt an overwhelming desire to see the instructions be carried out. I started walking out of the alleyway and down the street, my legs propelling me along with a mind of their own. I walked through several city blocks with determination, even as my mind started to wander. I kept thinking about that mousy little four-eyes, my gun disappearing and reappearing, and the lingering feeling that I’d forgotten something. But my mind seemingly returned no answers, no matter how hard I thought about it, as my legs carried me unconsciously to my destination.

I arrived at an apartment community, a quaint little set of homes surrounded by stone walls and a few gates. There was a gate that connected to the sidewalk, and using the code on the paper I easily made my way inside. Not exactly the kind of place I thought I’d end up robbing today, I mused, but there’s bound to be good stuff to poach if I’m being told to go here. I scaled the stairs of the closest building to the third floor, and following the paper’s instructions, found a key tucked away inside a potted plant. I unlocked the door to apartment 312 and stepped inside.

The inside was about what I expected from a middle-class apartment like this: white painted walls, relatively small interior, a large TV on a cabinet in the corner, and a single bedroom and bathroom. There were dishes in the sink yet to be cleaned, what looked like a roast inside a crock pot that smelled positively heavenly, and a fridge chock-full of food and leftovers. The main table looked like a tornado had swept past it, with tons of papers and documents strewn across it haphazardly alongside a mug of coffee that had long since lost its warmth. A peek inside the bedroom showed similar levels of dishevelment, with the bed unmade and lots of shirts, socks, bras, panties, and more strewn across the floor. The PC hummed quietly on standby in the corner, the two monitors showing a default 3D pipes screensaver stretched across them.

I couldn’t help but scoff at the utterly wild living state of this apartment’s inhabitant, even if my own run-down apartment wasn’t much better. My discerning eye was already scanning everything inside, evaluating its value versus its risk. I wish I could make it out with that TV, but there’s absolutely no way I could sneak that out without one of the tenants noticing. That PC though… I could probably fetch a pretty penny for that, given all the lights and stickers on it. I’ll have to keep an eye out for anything else I could shove in my pockets, since this place is practically free for the taking.

But first, I… I have to complete the instructions.

I walked over to the table, grabbed the mug, and carried it over to the sink. I then began gathering up the papers, trying to sort them as best as I could based on what they said. Within a minute or two, I had turned the battlefield of documents into a neatly organized stack of white sheets. I then turned my attention to the bedroom, picking up the lazily discarded clothing and placing it into a nearby hamper. As I picked up a lacy black bra from the computer desk, my hand accidentally bumped the fluorescent gaming mouse and caused both monitors to awaken with bright white light. I squinted and shielded my eyes from the sudden bright assault on them, and when I looked back there appeared to be some sort of console or programming application open on both monitors. There was also a small window on one that had a still image of what looked like some kind of kaleidoscope, the vibrant colors giving me the strangest sense of déjà vu. I closed my eyes and shook my head to snap out of my reverie, returning to my important duties as I picked up the remaining clothes. I then straightened out the bed, tucking the corner of the sheets back under where the apartment’s resident had managed to pull them up, and neatly arranged the pillows after fluffing them up.

I finally drug myself back over to the sink, filling one side with water and some nearby dish soap. I usually hated doing dishes - hence why I almost always ate from paper plates, if that - but I knew they needed to be done. One by one, the plastic cups and ceramic plates were scrubbed clean and placed into the rack to dry, with the utensils coming last. With the last of those chores done, there was simply one last task to do; I walked over to the small little closet near the front door, grabbed a duster off of the shelf, and began sweeping up all the particulates left on every surface. One by one, from the kitchen table to the coffee table, from the computer desk to the dresser, all of them were given a much needed cleaning. By the time I placed the duster back in the closet, its red cloth surface was almost entirely grey.

I wiped a few beads of sweat from my brow, a sign of just how taxing even simple cleaning could be. See, this is why I hate doing chores, I thought as I took my jacket off and folded it up. Like, seriously, it’s so much work! And for what, just so it can get dirty again? I lifted my tank top over my head, shaking it out and folding it in half. It’s such a pain in the ass. I mean… sure, this place looks nice now. But for how long? I undid my belt buckle and slipped my tattered jeans off my legs, folding them twice and adding them to the small pile beside me. I mean, did you SEE how much of a pigsty this place was when I got here? I unclipped my black bra and tossed it casually on top, allowing my ample breasts to spill out freely. I give this person, like, a day, tops. No way this place is staying clean any longer than that. I hooked my thumbs under the black fabric of my cotton panties, smoothly sliding down my waist so they could join the rest of my clothes. 

Anyways, enough musing about the sucker that owns the place. I just have one last thing to do before I can rob the place blind and get out of here. I got down on my knees, the linoleum tile of the kitchen feeling incredibly cold against my bare skin. I turned my body to face the front door, took a deep breath, fluffed up my hair, and began waiting.

And waiting.

One minute passed.

Then five.

I got up and poured myself a glass of water, as the instructions allowed.

Then I sank back down onto the tile and began waiting once more.

Ten, twenty, thirty minutes had passed.

I’d already picked at the dead skin of my fingers until no more loose skin to pull off.

All I could do was wait, the air conditioning sending chills down my spine as cold air brushed past my naked body.

An hour had passed.

I got up, used the restroom as was allowed, and then returned to my spot.

I reached over and grabbed the paper from my jacket’s pocket, double-checked the instructions written on it, then placed it back into the pocket. Exactly like I had done the last five times out of sheer boredom.

I waited. Two hours had passed.

The aroma from the crock pot was a perpetual assault on my senses, and my stomach growled incessantly.

Time seemed to stretch infinitely, the sheer lack of stimulation absolutely agonizing as I followed my instructions dutifully.

Finally, at 6:05 in the afternoon, I heard footsteps approaching the apartment door. A pair of feet stopped in front of the door, their shadow just barely visible past the underside of the doorframe. The anticipation was palpable, and I made sure to straighten my back in preparation. I heard the jangling of a keychain, followed by the sound of the tumblers shifting within the lock.

Then the door opened, and that same four-eyes from before stood before me. Her chestnut brown hair formed a nice bob cut, perfectly framing her face alongside her semicircular glasses. Her lab coat was slightly dirty in places and hung loosely from her lithe figure, and her name badge hung above her small chest by a lanyard. The sunset behind her made her glow with an almost otherworldly radiance.

But I didn’t have time to dwell on her appearance, because I had to follow my instructions.

As soon as she noticed me I closed my eyes and bent forward in a deep bow, my nipples stiffening up as my bare breasts pressed against the cold tile floor. “Hello ma’am,” I stated with pride, “I have completed your instructions as ordered, and I now await your commands.” With my instructions finally completed, I let out a relieved sigh as I thought about how I… I…

Wait, what the actual fuck have I been doing? Why the fuck did I-

“Remember the colors.” The four-eyes in front of me said, her voice just as confident as the last time.

And just like that, nothing mattered any more.

Nothing mattered except the pretty, shifting, kaleidoscopic colors filling my vision.

I let out a contented sigh as the colors sent me right back into that warm, relaxing space once again.