Robyn’s luggage took longer to emerge on the carousel than almost anyone else’s on the plane, which she was pretty sure was just one of the laws of the universe.

She was impatient to grab her gear and get out for several reasons; the most important of those was that her friend Josie was picking her up from the airport and had probably already been waiting some time, with the second most important being that she wanted to get home and sleep and the third most important being little tidbits of gossip her mom had dripfed her over the past semester.

June was halfway over already; it had taken her a little time to wrap up her day job shifts and get home, and she intended to make as much out of her summer break was was possible living in what had never seemed like a small town until she moved away for her freshman year at college.

Now, though, Withervale might as well had been called Dumpster for all the appeal it still held. The college town she’d spent a semester in was roughly four times the size. Campus itself would be a bigger town than Withervale although, Robyn was prepared to admit, probably less cliquey; the various associations in Withervale, from the Catholic church through on down to individual HOAs, always seemed to be at war, and only their members understood the tier system by which someone would divide their loyalties, almost every adult being a member of more than one.

It made the sorority system seem honestly straightforward, but that might just be because Robyn’s mother was deeply caught up in a number of the feuds, having moved to town as a newlywed nearly forty years ago and immediately making herself a belligerent factor in local society in a way that betrayed her Boston roots.

As her youngest, Robyn had heard enough stories from her older siblings to be glad that Elizabeth Brown had discovered an entire network of friendships and feuds to throw her energy into; it had left her daughter to get on with her life, receiving only the typical maternal attention rather than being the focus of one constant project after another. In the last year before college, with her mother retired, she’d had to deal with those projects as well, as her mom had found herself with time to spare.

From all the gossip Robyn had been hearing, that energy had found a new focus in tracking the gossip throughout Withervale, and that clearly needed encouraging.

Plus it sounded like a lot of the other women around her mom’s age were suddenly getting frisky, and to Robyn’s young ears that promised a lot of hilarity, especially if her dad ever found out about it.

*

Josie did indeed turn out to be waiting; the two hugged, Josie’s dark skin a sharp contrast against Robyn’s barely-tanned pale, before heading outside to the car, with almost an hour’s drive ahead of them to get back home.

“Two hours was bad enough,” Josie told her, but she did so with a smile. “We both know you owe me, right?”

“Dinner somewhere?”

Josie’s smile became a grin. “Not in town.”

Withervale had three places you could go to eat; a White Castle, Culkin’s Bar, and Chase Hall, which marketed itself as fine dining but couldn’t keep a chef capable of delivering on the menu. Out of the three, Culkin’s would be the best option if it wasn’t for the men who made up most of its clientele.

“Sure. I’m probably gonna w3ant to get out and away from my parents before too long anyway.”

Josie glanced sideways, giving Robyn an odd look. Robyn raised her eyebrows in inquiry, but Josie turned her attention back to the road and, when she spoke, it seemed to Robyn that she was changing the topic. “You and your mom talk a lot, right?”

“We had a couple of calls a week,” Robyn said, not sure what would count as a lot to her friend.

“Any of those calls seem weird lately?”

“Weird how?”

Josie didn’t answer for a while, and Robyn wasn’t sure how to break the silence. When Josie finally spoke, the words came slowly as if she were picking her way through a verbal minefield.

“That’s kind of it. I don’t really know how to describe it. Mom’s been acting weird since before I got home, and from what I’ve seen of her I think Elizabeth’s the same way.”

“I know Mom’s been following more of the local drama,” Robyn said, mostly as a way to fish for clues from her friend’s reactions. “I keep telling her to take her thoughts and put them on YouTube, she’d go viral in nothing flat.”

Josie laughed. “I could see that making her some money, maybe.”

They drove in comparative quiet for another couple of miles before Josie spoke again. “I don’t know if that’s it, though. Mom’s like…” Robyn watched a herd of cattle in the field they were passing go by before Josie found the word. “Immature. Kind of.”

“How do you mean?”

“You know how in high school, sometimes Ms Gooley would look at us and tell us we should act our age?” Robyn laughed. “And you know how we were always acting the exact same way when she told us that?”

“I maintain we did nothing wrong.”

“Right, but I don’t think Mom is either. But… well, it’s weird seeing her goof off, and it’s really weird seeing her feeling frisky.”

A worried itch formed at the back of Robyn’s head. That matched her own observations. And that made everything seem more serious somehow. Now it affected her. “Your mom’s…” She wasn’t sure how to ask. Josie’s dad was nowhere to be seen these days.

“That’s the main reason I don’t want to go to Culkin’s Bar,” Josie said. “Mom’s there three or four nights a week.”

The silence that settled over the pair then lasted much longer, as both of them oscillated between picturing what might be happening there and wishing they hadn’t. It was, though Robyn thought it would be rude to say it, hard to imagine Josie’s mom having much success with even the drunkest Culkin’s regular.

“There’s something else,” Josie said finally. “It’s…” She sighed. “This sounds crazy.”

“The rest of it sounds pretty weird, Jos.”

“Not like this.” Josie swallowed. “She’s… actually, they’re both… well, they don’t just act younger.”

“What does that mean?”

Josie shrugged. “You don’t believe me yet. You’ll have to see for yourself.”

*

“Call me when you know what I mean,” Josie said, and she drove off, leaving Robyn to heft her backpack onto her shoulder and start wheeling her suitcase up toward the verandah.

“Hello?” she called as she let herself in.

“Robyn!” Her mom’s call was loud and enthusiastic, echoing down the stairs. “Get yourself sat down and I’ll be with you in a moment!”

Smiling, she moved the suitcase out of the way and checked the fridge for soda. She’d just taken out a can when her mom bustled into the kitchen.

Robyn gaped.

Elizabeth Brown was wearing a lavender blouse so tight it almost seemed to have been sprayed on, buttoned very low, and her chest was almost spilling out of it. The thin fabric made it clear there was no bra involved, but her mother’s bosom seemed not only bigger than hers but also sat higher without need of support, not just more prominent but on display.

Her hair wasn’t the bottle red she’d adopted over the past five years but the vibrant, natural, real thing, a fiery read that would turn heads from across the street; it would have hung down below her shoulders had she not gathered it up into two bunches tied back with red and white ribbons.

The belly that Robyn’s mom had been developing over the years was mostly gone, just a little bit of pudge there, and it was as Robyn was taking stock of how broad her mom’s hips looked and how thick her thighs had become that it occurred to her that her mother’s chest didn’t just seem larger than her own; it seemed larger than she remembered her mom’s as being, to a degree that surely couldn’t just be the tight blouse.

Those thighs were shown off not by her mom’s typical jeans but by how short her blue pleated skirt was; white socks reached up to just below her knees, leaving creamy-soft skin on display between.

“…Mom?” Robyn managed, just as her mother exclaimed “Robyn Violet Brown, it’s so good to see you again!” and - there was no other word for it - bounced toward her, arms spread wide for a hug.

“Mom, what’s gotten into you?”

“It turns out being an empty-nester agrees with me,” her mom said, and giggled. Her mom never giggled. “I’m having so much fun. I hope you’re having fun at college?” Her mom nudged her from inside their embrace, somehow, and the way her eyebrows had moved as she spoke made what could have been a perfectly reasonable question sound practically obscene. Robyn felt her cheeks colouring.

“There’s more to this than that, Mom…”

“Oh, perhaps, perhaps. Now then!” She helped herself to a soda of her own - something Robyn had never seen her weight-gain-conscious mom do - and leaned against the countertop beside her daughter. “I know we’ve been keeping up to date but it’s just not the same over a call. I want to hear everything.”

By this time the whole unexpected situation had Robyn so off balance that while she didn’t tell her mom everything, she told her a lot more than she usually would have.

She wasn’t scolded for any of it.

*

Up in her room she booted up her laptop, opened Discord, and DMed Josie: what the unholy fuck

Josie’s reply came through just seconds later: you free?

mm-hmm

Josie started a video call immediately. “So you get what I mean now, right?”

“I think my mom got horny.”

“And?”

“…and she’s looking amazing. Like yoga actually did what everyone says it’s meant to.”

“Babe, whatever else yoga does it doesn’t make your boobs bigger.” Josie said it with the air of someone absolutely certain they had a discussion winning point, the kind of comment that finishes a debate. Except there wasn’t a debate, and this certainly wasn’t finished.

But Robyn did twitch slightly. “I was telling myself that was just her outfit.”

“You can take it from me that it’s not,” Josie said, and there was something about her tone…

“Wait, this has happened with your mom too?” It was, though Robyn felt it would be rude to say it, impossible for her to imagine a conventionally attractive version of Ruby Coleman.

“Yeah. She’s…” Josie was clearly grasping for words. “It’s like all the excess Mom redistributed itself round her body and now she’s the exact right size for her.”

“And it’s all… I don’t know… Upstanding?”

“Oh it’s perky.” Josie had a way of saying things when she felt passionate that always made Robyn want to laugh. Some kind of accidental sassiness. “In places it’s downright jiggly.”

“And she’s acting like the world’s horniest prom queen?”

“Yep.”

They sat quietly for a while, Josie looking for an explanation to a mystery she’d been grappling with for a week, and Robyn just trying to accept the facts in front of her, let alone understand them.

In the end, as was so often the case, Robyn found a way to sum up both of their trains of thought at once.

“What the fuck.”

“I know.”

“What the actual -”

“I know.”

“I mean I guess this isn’t a bad thi-”

“I know!”

“But it feels like it should be.”

Josie nodded.

“Okay. Something’s weird with-”

“I think there’s a couple others of Mom’s friends like this.”

Robyn blinked rapidly several times as she tried to keep up with everything she was being told. Balling up her hands she let out a quiet but frustrated half-yell, and Josie, on the screen, nodded sympathetically.

“Okay. Okay. We’re not going to work out a solution in one night or you already would. So I guess I’m gonna sleep on this and we’ll figure out what we’re doing later, huh?”

“Right.” Josie nodded. “Goodnight, then. See you tomorrow?”

“I think we should. Night.” Robyn cut the call and sat there for a while.

Her dad wouldn’t be back home until gone midnight, and as tired as she was she didn’t think she could stay up to talk to him. She set her alarm to make sure she’d be up before he left for work in the morning.

He had to have opinions on this. Unless he was acting weird too.

*

“Morning, Dad.”

“Mornin’.”

Robyn was relieved when she stepped into the kitchen around dawn the following morning and saw her father at the table, staring out of the window with a large mug of coffee in his equally overlarge hand.

The stubble was the same, the furrows thought had scored into his brow were the same, the shoulders and the arms were the same. When she stepped around him to take down a bowl from the cupboard, she stole a glimpse out of the corner of her eye and saw that the small bald spot he was so sensitive about was still there.

It seemed to Robyn safe to conclude that he was unaffected by…

…well, by whatever had affected her mother.

She kissed the top of his head on her way past (making sure to kiss a part that still had hair) and went to take down a box of cornflakes, finding instead Berry Berry Kix.

“I didn’t even think they still made this,” she said. Her dad mumbled something, then cleared his throat and tried again.

“You have to order it off the internet.”

“…Mom’s been buying this stuff off the internet?”

Her dad nodded, draining the last of his coffee and setting the remains of his toast aside. “Yup,” he said as he stood up.

“Dad,” she began, “does Mom seem weird to you?”

“Yup,” he said. He tossed the toast scrap, put the plate and the mug on the counter. “No, I don’t know what’s happened.”

“Are you going to do something?”

“I tried to talk her out of it the other night,” he said. He was making for the kitchen door at speed. “She distracted me.”

“But-”

“Kitten, your mom’s happy. She hasn’t always been happy.” He stopped at the doorway and looked back at Robyn. “I guess you know that, even if we tried to keep it from you.”

Robyn nodded.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into her but I don’t believe she’s found a fancy man and I don’t believe I’ve got the right to tell her not to do something that makes her happy if it’s not bothering anyone.” Was that an embarrassed flush on his cheek?

Robyn suddenly realised that her Dad liked her mom just the way she was becoming. She stayed quiet, unsure what to say, and her dad waved and headed off to work.

Robyn sat down and forlornly ate her Berry Berry Kix, the milk staining pink from the cereal.

*

“Oh,” her mother said, midway through the morning, “I hope you haven’t planned anything for tonight.”

That was a phrase that had always sounded warning klaxons in Robyn’s mind. “…Why?”

“Now you’re back, I’m taking the opportunity to parade you in front of my friends.”

The first thing that went through Robyn’s mind was, I should have gotten the nose stud. I bet she’d be less keen to show me off then. Then she remembered how her mother had behaved when Robyn accidentally confessed to some embarrassing drunken hijinks and wasn’t sure that this new-attitude mom would be put off at all.

She might be more likely to get one for herself.

She knew from long experience that there was no getting away from this, for all she was legally an independent adult now. “Which friends?” she asked. Don’t be the book club, she thought. “The PTA?”

“All of them.”

Robyn put her phone down and turned on the sofa to stare at her mom. “Pardon?”

“All of them.”

“Mom, your friends all hate each other.” Which was only a slight exaggeration. Aside from Josie’s mom there was maybe one other woman in town who was a member of the exact same set of groups and societies. Every other friend she had was feuding with some other part of her friendship circle.

Elizabeth Brown giggled, and Robyn was reminded of her dad saying Kitten, your mom’s happy. Was this what a happy mom was like? Had she just never seen how happiness affected her before? “Well, we’ve got a neutral ground these days.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re coming with me to bingo night at the Institute.”

Robyn laughed. “No, seriously,” she said. The Witherdale Institute had been a joke since before the family had moved here; it had only barely survived the years, and probably wouldn’t have done if the richest farmer in town, a century ago, hadn’t established a trust fund for it when he willed it to the town.

And as for bingo…

“Bingo night at the Institute,” her mom repeated. “They added a diner last month as part of the rebuild. Donovan’s wife runs it. I thought we’d get dinner there; the burgers are supposed to be insane. And they do old-fashioned milkshakes!”

She was beaming. Robyn started at her in silence for a long time, trying to work out if happiness had messed with her mom’s smarts somehow.

She definitely seemed… slower. More carefree, too. More casual. It was like seeing her mom hybridised with one of the cheerleaders from college.

Except her mom was showing off more of her body than the cheerleaders did outside of games.

And honestly, the cheerleaders often seemed more stressed. They had unspoken standards they had to measure up to, after all.

“Who’s Donovan?”

“New bingo caller,” came the prompt answer. “Well, he’s the new Institute Director. Donovan Goodfellow. He and his wife moved in about a week before you left? They didn’t start properly working on the Institute until you were off to college, though. Lovely man. If I didn’t have your father…” She trailed off into space, but the half-grin, half-lip chew left Robyn in absolutely no doubt of the rest of the sentence.

This was pretty much the first time Robyn had had to properly confront the idea that her parents were sexually active, and it wasn’t a minor confirmation; it screamed out that things were happening regularly, and had been at least since her mom’s change of mind.

She wasn’t taking it well.

She messaged Josie, who confirmed she was also being taken along to bingo by her own mom.

At least they’d both have someone they could lean on when the world around them was too freaky.

*

Elizabeth and Robyn ended up giving Josie and her mom a ride in to the Institute; this whole thing apparently being Elizabeth’s idea. Robyn and Josie, sat in the back of the old pickup (which Elizabeth and Ruby agreed was “soooo not cute enough” and then giggled, their laughter almost seeming to synchronise) messaged each other furiously on their phones as they tried to put this together.

True to Josie’s word, Ruby had changed as much if not more than Elizabeth. One semester ago, Robyn had left behind in Witherdale a woman who didn’t get enough exercise, relied on fast food and microwave ready meals, and who was in any case predisposed to gain weight. Now… well, as Josie had said, Ruby might actually not be any smaller (although Robyn wasn’t convinced of that) but everything was distributed in ways that would make talent agencies for models stop and stare for a while, along with anyone else interested in the female form.

A huge bust and an equally huge rear, with a startlingly thin waist, made Robyn finally understand why ‘coke bottle physique’ was a saying, although she’d make the case that this didn’t put across how much a body like that drew the eye back to it, over and over.

Ruby’s hair was longer than it had been, and she’d put it into dreadlocks, which she’d gathered together and tied off in the back. The resulting braids behaved like a ponytail down to her waist, bouncing when she turned her head, drawing attention all the way down the line of her body whenever they moved.

When Ruby and Josie first emerged from their house, Robyn thought Ruby was just wearing faded blue jean cut-offs. It wasn’t until she saw her get into the front passenger seat from behind that Robyn discovered her friend’s mom had continued the cut, from level with her hips on backward, to the point the material was more of a denim thong; her ass was entirely on display. (Robyn had to concede that if she had an ass that good, she’d be tempted, too. Though she’d be too embarrassed to go even half that far.)

Her top was one of the same loose, baggy T-shirts she’d always worn, except cut off halfway; now it fell just low enough to conceal her tits, showing a flat belly beneath and showcasing the way her sides swelled out to her hips. From the way her chest moved as she walked, Robyn figured that unlike her own mom, Ruby was wearing a bra, but one that was probably too small for her breasts; knowing from experience that was uncomfortable, Robyn assumed Ruby was suffering it for the effect she knew it would have on her target man of the evening.

The Institute was very much the same building Robyn had left behind, built in the twenties in an art-deco style that made its single floor look like it might be three. It no longer looked run down and near-collapse, though it didn’t look like it had been restored or repainted in any way. It just seemed somehow…

…alive?

Alive was the word that wouldn’t leave Robyn’s head as she assessed it. There was a glow and a sparkle to the white facade, but there was also a sense of happiness around the place that seemed like its own.

Robyn was, to put it mildly, unsettled by that strange aura. And then the car doors opened, and the happiness flooded into the car, and she found herself smiling warmly, all discomfort and uncertainty forgotten.

She followed her mom out of the car and into the Institute with a spring in her step.

Through the door and the four of them were met with two shining smiles; an attractive couple, the man, dark-haired, his beard set in clean, straight, sharp lines, clad in shirtsleeves and slacks, a green leaf motif on the shirt which seemed to shift and flutter in time with a breeze that wasn’t present.

His wife - Robyn was sure without being told that this must be Donovan Goodfellow and his wife - had walnut-dark skin, long straight black hair, and wore matching clothing in a much more feminine cut.

Compared to the two mothers who’d just arrived, though, these two seemed to fade into the background.

Donovan Goodfellow gave the new arrivals a puckish smile, advancing toward them with open arms. “Why, if it isn’t Ruby and Ginger,” he announced cheerfully, and Robyn was startled to see her mom take a nickname like that and giggle rather than slap the person responsible. She exchanged glances with Josie, who didn’t look any more impressed.

“And who are you?” Donovan asked, turning his attention to the younger women, but asking their parents.

“These are our daughters,” her mom said, drawing out the last word and bobbing almost a curtsey, and the Boston was completely gone from her voice, replaced by a drawl from the opposite end of the country. She watched her mom twirl a strand of hair around one finger, smiling happily at Donovan. “This is Josie, and this is Robyn?”

The Valley girl voice always made things sound like questions, but this one felt like it really was, on some level; as if they were being presented for evaluation, or as if this Donovan Goodfellow - not exactly a name to be proud of, Robyn thought - might somehow have authority over their names.

“Hi,” she said, and received a dazzling smile from both Donovan and his wife.

“You’re early for the bingo,” Donovan said, switching his attention back to their mothers.

“We thought we’d eat first.”

Donovan’s wife clapped her hands. “Marvellous! Well, you call come over here,” she said. “I’ll get you sorted out.”

The burgers were big - much bigger than her mom would usually enjoy - the fries were fabulous, the milkshakes amazing. Combined with that wonderful happy aura the place projected, Robyn’s urge to ask what had happened here kept crumbling away before the words could reach her lips.

She could feel opportunity after opportunity slipping through her fingers, and every time she became more determined to speak up. And every time she would open her mouth, but no sound would come out; then Ruby or Ginger - and it was strange how quickly Donovan’s nickname for her mom had taken root in her mind - would say something and all four of them would dissolve into giggles.

Robyn didn’t know why the silliest observations were suddenly so funny now; she just knew she was joking along with the others. From time to time she would catch sight of Donovan’s wife (whose name, she’d finally discovered, was Helena) watching them, and Helena’s smile was somehow reassuring.

“Are you having fun, Robyn?” Helena asked as she came by to collect their plates, and Robyn’s scalp was tingling as she tried to think about the answer.

But thinking was slow and somehow cumbersome and difficult after that lovely pink milkshake, so she quickly gave up, and beamed, and nodded.

*

“Excuse me,” she said, a little while after dinner, while Ruby, Ginger, and Helena were chatting together. With Josie by her side, Robyn had gone to find Donovan. As relaxed and comfortable as she now felt, there was still within her a need and desire for answers, and if she strained enough against the slow, difficult nature of thought, she reached a plateau where thinking was as easy and as simple as it usually had been.

It was reassuring to know she could think easily if she wanted, but somehow it also made being unable to think clearly much more attractive.

Thinking got in the way of fun, after all.

…where had that come from?

Robyn snapped back into clarity with the realisation that Donovan had said something, and was waiting for her response. Musing on the pleasures of no longer musing had distracted her.

What had he said?

“I was just wondering if I could ask you a question or two.”

“Of course.”

Robyn was briefly lost in the comforting fog of foolishness again. It felt so good; it was so tempting, and another peal of giggles from Ginger in the next room made it feel even more comfortable. But it passed, in the end, and she asked “This is responsible, isn’t it? This place.”

Donovan set down whatever it was he’d been carrying and looked at her with a grin. “Now, I should probably ask what you think I’m responsible for,” he said. “But we three, we all know, don’t we?”

Robyn glanced at Josie, and could see in her glassy smile and slow head-tilt that Josie was feeling just as affected by all this as she was. It made her feel so deliciously dim…

“Uh,” she said, and found her intelligence again. It was easier to return to now, but the alternative was more tempting the easier it became to switch. “Right.”

“So let me ask a different question. What do you think is responsible? Be specific.”

Robyn opened her mouth to answer but the thought died on the vine.

*

“Dirty Gertie, number thirty!”

Robyn had actually had to ask her mom how somebody played bingo before the game began. She was pretty sure she knew, but didn’t think she could face the embarrassment if she got it wrong.

Three numbers in and none of hers had been called so far, and she was beginning to wonder how a game like this was supposed to be fun, which was distracting her from wondering why about a third of the game’s attendees seemed younger, sprightlier, sexier and ditzier than she remembered them as being - in most cases, a lot more so.

“Young and keen, eighteen.”

One of the women directly in front of Robyn raised her marker and blocked out the 18 square. Robyn saw her shoulders rise suddenly; her hair, a blonde shot through with silver, blossom into gold; saw her sit more erect and the skin of her bare arms smooth out.

She nudged Josie and nodded, wanting to be sure her friend had seen. Josie responded by trailing a hand over Robyn’s hip, fingernails tingling against Robyn’s skin beneath her T-shirt.

Startled, Robyn glanced across at her friend’s card and saw the number 30 marked off. Looking up at her expression, she saw Josie’s eyes shining bright, biting at her lip, looking at her friend with clear invitation in her eyes.

Dirty Gertie, Robin thought, and her own eyes widened in shock. The bingo calls! The bingo calls were affecting the players!

But if that was so, why was there only anything visible for a small portion of the players?

“Two fat titties, 66!”

Picturing the circles of the sixes as pert, heavy breasts on the slope of her chest, a pair of conflicting thoughts passed through Robyn’s mind simultaneously and without touching. One was: That’s not what the code for 66 is, surely? The other was: ooh, I have 66! I should mark that down!

She blotted out the number in neat red marker, and immediately had to catch her breath. Her chest was tight - no, she realised, her bra was just tight around those big fat titties she was so proud of, and that was restricting her breathing. She reached behind herself and unsnapped her bra, and immediately he felt better.

In fact she felt better than ever; the minute movements of her breathing was creating a gentle friction between chest and loose bra, and she couldn’t remember her fat titties ever being this sensitive before, and it was absolute heaven.

“Time for fun, 41!”

That was another Robyn had, and she felt her smile grow from a tiny secret reaction to the pleasure her fat titties gave her into a broad, lazy grin. She sat back in her chair and looked around happily.

Why had she been so worried to come here? She was having so much fun! Bingo was fun!

“Love those dicks, twenty-six!”

Robyn didn’t have that but Ginger and Josie both did. Josie crossed it off, then immediately transferred the lid end of the thick marker pen into her mouth, welcoming it between her lips with a swirl of her tongue. She held it lightly between thumb and forefinger, working two or three inches of it in and out of her mouth, sucking idly but enthusiastically.

Ginger had already transferred the neck of her beer bottle to her lips before she even finished marking it off and was sucking away happily; Robyn watched the beer inside churn to a lovely white, bubbly foam that set off so many fun ideas in her quiet, happy head.

Ruby leaned across and confided in Robyn: “Your mom’s been hoping to keep this one for weeks. Your dad will be soooo happy.” Then she giggled, and Robyn joined in. Embarrassment at the idea of another woman’s sexuality was quite beyond her in this state.

“Two and oh, total bimbo!”

That was three numbers Robyn had had in the first eight; she wouldn’t be feeling confident at all but they were at least all on the same line. She marked it off and found herself even deeper in that lovely thoughtless fog; she had a sense of her mind, her thoughts, her knowledge, all just set by, ready for her to take them up if she ever wanted to. But she didn’t want to, not here. It was time for fun, and total bimbos with fat titties were great at having fun.

She couldn’t imagine wanting to spend more time with her full brain than she absolutely had to.

“Ride me raw, sixty four.”

Robyn didn’t have that. She craned her neck down the line, looking to see who might be affected, and it seemed like Ruby was; she rose up, spinning her chair under her, and tipped it back so she could squat down with her crotch along the chairleg, where she began to hump herself along it as she listened, and she wasn’t the only one.

Robyn found herself hoping Ruby got someone good to take home that night. Someone who’d give her what she clearly craved.

Applause from elsewhere in the room made her look in that direction; a couple of people had secured a line and were clearly delighted by it. Robyn turned her attention back to her card. This was still time for fun, but bingo was serious business the way the Goodfellows ran it.

She wondered how they provided the prizes. Now that she thought about it, had there been an entrance fee?

“Thirty-seven, straight to heaven!”

This was another of Robyn’s. She marked it down, wishing it had been on the same line as her others, and immediately the thought was interrupted by the sudden flood of orgasmic pleasure that shuddered through her. She thrust the lid of her own pen into her mouth and bit down on it to stop herself being too noisy; by the sounds in the room, she wasn’t the only one feeling the effects, but she might have been the only one keeping it quiet.

“Wanting more, seventy-four.”

Robyn and Josie both had that; Robyn could tell her friend did too because her breath caught with excitement at the same time that Robyn’s own did. She squirmed in her chair.

Usually Robyn could go a day or two without needing to scratch her itch. She couldn’t imagine that right now. Right now she felt like she’d only be satisfied if she made sure she came several times a day.

Then an idea came to her. Like all bimbo ideas, it was simple, straightforward, and seemed like genius. With a sly grin on her face, she swept her gaze left then right, looking for anyone who might be offended.

Reaching down, she unbuttoned her jeans and stuffed her free hand inside her panties. Nobody here would complain if a ditzy bimbo finger-fucked herself cumhappy, surely?

“Looking so fine, forty-nine.”

Robyn marked it off, but her mind was on her fingers; more accurately, her mind was leaking out around her sodden fingers. Nor would she have registered in any case that her cheekbones stood out more clearly; that the mole on her neck had become a beauty mark on the upper slope of her left titty, or that her lips had a natural rich redness of their own and a more pleasingly defined shape than before. She might, at least, have noticed her red hair, so like her mom’s, was longer now, and that the remnants of a bad haircut had evened out.

“Thickest thighs, twenty-five!”

Robyn was vaguely confident that Donovan had read off another number between forty-nine and twenty-five, but she’d been preoccupied. All the same she was pretty sure she’d have noticed it if it was hers, and really she was just glad that 25 put four of hers on the same line. Her hand was suddenly a little more cramped, and she scooted her legs wider to accommodate herself with a bright, bubbly giggle.

She wasn’t entirely sure but she felt like she might be sitting a good inch higher than she had been. Which was odd; her thick thighs always meant she had a nice high perch on any seat.

“Bubble butt, thirty-three.”

Robyn had never been so disappointed not to win something, especially when the cooing from beside her sank in and she glanced over to see Josie, still sucking on her marker with one hand, fondling a suddenly fantastic ass with the other.

Godddd, she thought; her thick thighs really needed a perfect butt like that to top them off.

She’d have to hope she got a 61 on her card the next time she played.

“Forty-six, such a ditz.”

Another she’d missed out on; still, Ginger seemed delighted to have it. Robyn thought she might already have got this once, but the way she jiggled and giggled getting it again made her feel real good.

Robyn was happy for her fellow bimbo. She put out one hand and squeezed her mom’s shoulder in celebration, and her mom smiled back.

“Fifty-two, find a boo.”

Robyn marked off the number and blinked. Suddenly she could see, very clearly, one of her fellow students at college; a sports fan who’d seemed interested, but who she’d turned down last semester. He’d been too shallow, and the only thing that seemed to attract him to her was her body, which he stared at far too much.

That seemed a lot nicer now, so far as Robyn was concerned. She’d quite like to have a guy like that, whose cock she could ride whenever she needed to scratch an itch, and who’d be so focused on her beautiful bimbo body he’d never even look at another woman.

Yes, she decided. She’d send him a DM or two after bingo finished. Maybe a pic, even. Nothing identifying, nothing too much; a nipple, maybe. Enough to get his interest completely on her.

Oh!

That was the fifth for her line. She called out “Line!” and, amid the cheering, she felt everything she’d won become not just part of the game but part of her.

Those thick thighs, those big fat titties, the ability to put herself into a bimbo’s happy headspace whenever she wanted, her desperate, horny need… all of that was part of her, now.

It was important, in this game, to win. She looked up at Donovan, giggled, blew him a kiss.

You didn’t need to be smart, she thought, to understand that you could only keep what you won when it became a prize. A bimbo understood that you had to earn your treats.

*

She didn’t think she could possibly win her square, and she didn’t; but that still put her ahead of Josie, who didn’t get to keep her bubble butt, and Robyn thought she was faking still having her oral fixation.

She patted her friend’s thigh with the loving guileless, honest sympathy a bimbo is best placed out of everyone in this world to offer, if only because they have no need nor impulse to be selfish. “You’ll win next time,” she said softly.

Josie, half-smiling, nodded, and said “I hope so.” After a moment she added, “And I hope you win big next time.”

“Let’s both of us win big!” Robyn exclaimed.

Josie smiled, though there was a trace of uncertainty in it that Robyn couldn’t imagine feeling, and hugged her friend.

Robyn wished her friend could see how wonderful the world was the way she could, but she didn’t worry about it too much.

Josie would join her soon enough.