Showbizz Foundation HQ

The Showbizz Foundation HQ is a surprisingly small-scale building: one floor of shabby, yellowing concrete walls and roof. A red door swings inward at the left of the front, with a mat at its feet. The mat reads "WELCOME: THE BIG TIME STARTS HERE!" Some of the employees have joked that the "big time" Showbizz refers to is prison rather than show business. Judging by the conditions of their work stations, it doesn't seem like such a stretch.

The only real indication that the building belongs to Showbizz is the tremendous, spinning yellow star decoration at the top of the establishment. No television equipment (or investments of any kind, really) adorn the building or landscape. The building does not even appear to be air conditioned. The door is unlocked for people to walk right in. Alternatively, an old fashioned door bell sits to the right of the door for people to announce themselves, but it would not be at all surprising if it didn't work.
...Hmm. This was Showbizz's base of operations? She struck her as more of a 'spare no expense' kind of Navi. Oh well, she wasn't here to check out how awful the place was, she was here on business. Not wanting to waste any time, SplashLady walked right in, to start looking for her mission requestor. "Hello! PhotoMan? Where are you?"
"Hello, SplashLady," a voice greeted her, almost immediately after she entered. It turns out, it would have been hard not to see PhotoMan, even right from the entrance; he and the three other workers scurrying about the office were just barely seperated from each other by the cubicles, which occupied nearly the entirety of the floor space in a cramped way. " It would be best if we were to go outside to talk."

Clad in his grayish-black, photography-lens covered armor, he stood out amongst the dated technology of the building (although perhaps cameras were outdated themselves, but that didn't mean he wasn't shiny). SplashLady had little time to make out anything else about the office, though, as he immediately herded her outside with one arm, then closed the door behind him. He walked over to the side of the building in a steady march, crossing both hands behind his back as he moved. In one hand, SplashLady saw a beige folder containing some documents, labeled "SENSITIVE DOCUMENTS."

"It is honestly a pleasure to see you again. Our last encounter was a bright light in the dim existence of my uninspiring career," he continued, his expression blank despite the gravity of his words. "With the success of the Beach Blowout, Showbizz decided not to terminate my employment. I was, however, demoted to this station; the HQ is the 'dead end' of Showbizz's workforce, where low value employees work. As such, I believe it will soon be time for me to pursue a different course of business."

PhotoMan did not seem especially somber, merely stoic, as usual. "It's been an eye-opening experience for me, this threat to my job security. I've realized that I invested so much in my job that I never got the chance to explore my true passion: gravure photography. The ass-to-fish transformation last time resulted in an inspiring photo, the like of which I've never seen throughout my professional career. I want to be inspired again and to inspire others by my photography. Thus, I would like you to help me as an assistant to gather some gravure photos, which I believe will act as a springboard towards my career in-"

Pausing, he coughed into his fist. "Understandably, you may have a few questions. Let me digress on my personal issues and explain a few things. Gravure photography originated in Electopia and involves taking photographs of famous women in provocative settings, clothing, and poses. I've collected a potential portfolio of pictures that I would like to take. Unfortunately, I do not believe the girls on this list will be willing to pose by my say-so. I would like to have you there for reassurance, testimony, and... if necessary, possibly protection." He started to hand her the folder, then paused and snatched one out, putting it behind his back suspiciously.

"Take a look as you consider my offer. I can most likely get you the chips you are wishing to procure using my employer's severance package." he assured her, staring blankly at the folder in her hands. "We will cover objectives one at a time, as few or as many as you choose. We must satisfy the ideal to be successful, but I can offer you a bonus if we also satisfy optimum conditions."

Name: FireYaku
Position: Mafioso (Bloodhounds)
Homepage Coordinates: Known, Accessible but not without suspicion
Ideal: When one thinks of FireYaku, they think of her fiery, spirited drumming. A photograph in which she is spanked, emulating the drums, would be inspiring.
Optimum conditions: Outside with her line of drums, wearing her distinctive fundoshi.
Reward: HeatCross

Name: Strum
Position: Guitarist in Lit Fusion
Homepage Coordinates: Unknown, but she will be easy to track regardless
Ideal: Strum's guitar is just as much valued by her fans as her glamorous look. If I were to take a photo with her, carrying her guitar and not much else, it would be inspiring.
Optimum conditions: On a stage in front of a crowd.
Reward: Timpani

Name: Cuffs
Position: NetPolice (Prosecutions)
Homepage Coordinates: Known, Accessible but not without suspicion; she also has regular office hours, but it'd be harder to do a shoot there
Ideal: Cuffs is known as the dominatrix of the NetPolice. I feel like I and others would like to see another side of her. If we can take a photo of her wearing only white lingerie, it would be inspiring.
Optimum conditions: Reclining, setting doesn't matter so much. Most ideally, in a submissive looking pose.
Reward: Dynawave

Name: Armor
Position: Curator of a well-known armor collection
Homepage coordinates: Known, Accessible, but often crowded
Ideal: Armor's collection is vast, containing many pieces worn by various fighters across the net. Some of these pieces are rather revealing. I'd like to photograph her wearing one of those pieces.
Optimum conditions: With others around, posing like she herself is part of the display.
Reward: SlowGauge

"As you can see, I've taken the liberty of picking chips from the list that you said you'd be looking for. I hope that you'll be willing to help me on this vital move towards freelance photography."
And almost immediately, SplashLady found herself outside again, without so much as a 'Hi, PhotoMan'. This either meant that the mission was extremely important and involved something inside the company, or her posterior was going to be centerfold material again. She suspected the latter. Instead, she listened as she learned of PhotoMan's demotion here. "Wha-?! How dare she do that! You did good work! Granted, you kinda...uh...didn't have a whole lot of variety in your shots, but I could feel your raw emotion in every picture!" ...She wasn't going to say what that emotion was.

Taking a back seat to the conversation, she listened as her requester continued, mentioning something about 'gravure photography', whatever that meant. Luckily, he knew enough to answer, though in the process he left a blank that she really didn't want to try and fill in. it turned out, it was something else she would've been fine not knowing. But alas, now she did. Now, to read the contents of the probably couldn't hurt to look, at least.

...Wow. It was pretty clear that PhotoMan put some serious thought into these. It was a little embarrassing just reading them. "Um...Sabrina? What do you think about all this?" ...No response. "Sabrina!"

"...Keep it down, I'm trying to relax..."

So, she was on her own. Super. Well, now was the moment of truth. Should she? As a self-respecting woman, her default reaction was to scream and run away. But...she did know PhotoMan before this, and she had a feeling that if he got someone else to help, it'd end up in least this way, no one would get overly hurt. Or scandalized. "...All right, I'll do it." Wait, an idea struck! "...On two conditions! First off, you'll be taking photos of these Navis, and NOT me. And second off, I want to see that one you took out oh-so-suspiciously. Agree to that, and I'm your gal! Oh, and I promise that I won't change my mind from that extra page, no matter what it is. That'd just be cold!"
"You are kind to speak in my defense, but what I did was wrong. Showbizz had just suppressed my... inspiration... and artistic instinct... for so long, that I found myself overtaken. I should not try to justify it. My actions were my own," PhotoMan continued unblinkingly. "And er..."

A mechanical whirring came from inside PhotoMan's head, not like the clicks when he took photos, but more like a machine struggling to perform an operation. "I will try to refrain from photographing you against your will, but as for your second request... that is, the two requests may ultimately be incompatible..."

That one that was hidden behind his back
Name: SplashLady
Position: Friend
Homepage coordinates: Unknown
Ideal: SplashLady has much potential, although she may be little known across the net. She would be the ideal target to practice my gravure photography on. If she were to wear nothing but the shell bikini .GMO I've crafted and recline on a public beach, I feel as if it would be inspiring.
Optimum conditions: SplashLady is seemingly interacting intimately with me another actor, including generous skin contact.
Reward: Wave

"You see... I feel like... that is, I've already come to know of qualities that make you a prime candidate for gravure shoots... So I was considering asking if you'd want to pose again... But then I thought that it might be overstepping certain professional boundaries, so I was trying to amend the documents when I heard that you'd accepted my mission..." he continued, his voice and the whirring inside his head clearly betraying his guilty conscience. While he kept his monotone and constant frown, he was indeed having a hard time speaking.
...Somehow, the identity of the mystery target didn't surprise her at all. Not. At. All. Still, it was kind of flattering that he thought so highly of her. Deeply, deeply disturbing, but flattering. "Umm...all right, I'll throw you a bone." ...Possibly bad, BAD terminology there. "We'll work on some of the others first. If you can control yourself and focus on the mission, I'll let you take some photos of me. But mess up once, and no way, Jose! Understood?"

Regardless of his answer to that, she continued. "As for these guys...maybe it's better to start with a non-Electopian, if any of them are? They'd be less likely to know what we're up to, and that could give us an advantage. And we may need every bit we can get. Also, do you know if any of them know each other? Since if we do one like that, it'll be harder to do the other."

...Oh man, she was really doing this. Did she have no shame?...Eh, she could just upload her shame programming to SplashMan if it got to be that big a deal.
PhotoMan's eyes nearly sparkled as he heard SplashLady's answer, although his expression still didn't change. "You'd be willing to pose for a shoot? This is exceptional news. Thank you, SplashLady," he sighed, letting out what sounded like a long held-in breath.

"Let's talk strategy, then. We needn't be worried about their proximity or relationship to one another. I am fairly certain that none of them have any connections." Pausing, he crossed both arms across his chest, then thought carefully. "As for your worry over them knowing what we're trying to do, I feel as though I should make something clear: we cannot force them to do this in any way. If we are too succeed, we must use some amount of professionalism."

It sounded as though PhotoMan was being a little idealistic. Would all... even ANY of the girls want to pose for such photos without being made to or using some degree of trickery? "There are several options available to us. Inevitably, to maintain professionalism, we have to ask them if it's okay to take the shot; an error in methodology that I deeply regret committing during our first encounter. There are several means by which we can persuade them..."

"With any luck, they will be willing to settle for a cut of the profits made by serializing the pictures for use in my portfolio. If not, we could always cut them extra profits and side-deals. I've even currently got the backing of the Showbizz Foundation as an 'employee of unlimited trust,' meaning that I can use the organization's name to authorize whatever I want to do. I believe it's likely that Showbizz forgot to take this title away from me after our falling out. At any rate, I'm sure she'd have no problem with this sort of thing," he continued. It was hard to tell if he was being serious or not... it sure sounded like a joke.

"Debate may end up being our only recourse. The social science of psychology may be our ally here. As a group of two, we will be much better situated to convince them if they are alone. Additionally, as you are relatively unknown, you may 'act' a certain part to help our case. For instance, certain parties may be more willing to pose for someone they think is a fan or an enthusiast. There may be other options available to us as well, but this is all I've manage to come up with."

"Well, I believe that is all. Do you know where you'd like to begin? If you think non-Electopians are our best bets, that rules out FireYaku and Cuffs. Despite their dark skin, I believe both are from Electopia. That leaves Strum or Armor. They are both Netopian."
Almost as soon as PhotoMan stated his happiness at her willingness to take some pictures, SplashLady felt as though she had to remind him of the condition. "Remember, NO focusing completely on me while we do this! Otherwise I'm not doing it!"

Okay, so they had to get them to willingly do it. Also, the word 'professionalism' was used. That alone gave her a sizable amount of relief, as now she could work with a clear(er) conscience. His methods actually seemed reasonable, as well. Though she DID have to wonder about how much those cuts were, as it was probably more than even a Wave chip was worth. Then again, it WAS a Wave...she could think about that later, though. She had work to do.

"All right, I think I've got a grasp of what we're doing. So, if I want to start with a non-Electopian..." That mean Strum and Armor. A guitatist in a band that sounded vaguely familiar, and an armor collector. Hmm. "Of the remaining two, I get the feeling Armor will be the easier of the two to convince. Not quite sure why...just call it a woman's intuition! So, we'll do her first!"
"Absolutely. As you are no doubt aware, the clicking of my eyes gives off a clear, audible indicator of when I am taking pictures. Therefore, all you have to do is listen for the click. If there is no click, there is no recording of the picture," PhotoMan reassured her, pressing one fist into his palm as if steeling himself for some incredibly difficult task of willpower. "Of course, I will need to take some reference photographs of our subjects, as well as several on-set photographs to give a panoramic view of our setting, so..."

"As for your suggestion, I believe that sounds like a wise choice. From what I know of her nature, Armor is an auspicious and charitable curator. I've also heard she's somewhat bashful, but I'm sure that our mutual enthusiasm for her craft and person will drive us toward a good shoot," he continued with a firm nod, sounding blindly optimistic about their chances. "Let us make haste to her homepage, found at these coordinates."

After transferring the coordinates to SplashLady's PET, PhotoMan beamed off the net, heading from the Showbizz Foundation HQ toward their target.

*SplashLady received ArmorHPCoordinates.DAT*

((New page opening in homepages))
The Showbizz Foundation HQ, an unassuming little office seemingly unfitting of Showbizz' grand designs, sat just as always, quiet and unnoticed in Netopia Net. A small sign lit at the front, proclaiming:

Quote ()


NOW RECORDING FOR: Showbizz Aerobics Pitch and Marketing Tests #26


That seemed simple enough; the guest pass would be enough to let any guest through the first door simply by scanning the data at the card reader. The hall looked to be a pretty straight shot to the end, where another set of double doors waited.
In a pink beam of light, Martia arrived at her destination...some sort of office building, apparently. "Um...what, did I get signed up to be a paper pusher or something? Oh, hold up, there's a sign...Aerobics Pitch and Marketing Test?"

"It's all starting to make sense...kinda, in the kind of way that only Father and his Navi can truly comprehend. But, anyway, you shouldn't have any problems doing aerobics!"

"True, I'm as lithe as a martial arts master, and almost as strong!"

"And a hell of a lot easier on the eyes than any master I've ever seen, too...

If the pink Navi heard her operator, she showed no outward signs of it, and used her GuestPass to gain access to the interior. She quickly made her way down the hallway, took a deep breath in preparation for whatever she was getting herself into, and opened the doors at the end...
The inside of the office could easily make one doubt that there was anything dynamic or exciting coming out of the studio. The rooms Martia glimpsed as she hurried by container only silent workers in cubicles. Clearly this was the behind-the-scenes portion that Showbizz let her less eccentric employees deal with. The inside of the staging area, however, was far more animated.

The room was quite large, probably about half of the building in size, with high roofs, low lighting supplemented by standing stage-lamps, and Showbizz's crew scuttling all around. The left side was reserved for a miniature live studio audience. At the right, the hostess was dressed in a laughable blue unitard, spangled with yellow stars. At first it seemed like it might be for exercising, specially coupled with the white sweatband around her head, but closer inspection revealed it was just a navi suit.

"That was good, Swat! Juicy even! I wish I hadn't saved your audition for the 25th. It's just that I thought you would suck at it since you freeze up on camera!" the little hostess applauded her subordinate.

The other girl, a tall and well built woman with long, straight white hair and a cold expression, looked suddenly alarmed. "It's different when it is just a pitch! Millions of people aren't going to be watching it," she answered in a low voice. She was dressed in baggy pants with a snow camo pattern and a black tank top, sleeveless to show off her pale but strong arms.

"True, but I film everything! If it is good enough I'll find a-" Showbizz responded, then stopped short upon realizing that a new back had shown up. "You're the 26th audition, right? To be honest, I'm feeling pretty good about the last audition, so to save time I'm combining your entry with entry 27. She showed up earlier and should be here... somewhere. Anyways, does that sound alright? I wanted to see how it would work with two people."

She looked like she had been thinking of turning Martia away before she got a look at the navi's body and reconsidered.
Considering how it looked on the outside, Martia was actually pretty surprised that a large area like this could even exist inside this particular building. Let's see, who did she need to talk to...ah, that bossy sounding woman was probably a good place to start. "Excuse me, but-"

...Audition? Wait, was she supposed to have something thought up ahead of time? Because if she did, there was a certain NormalNavi she needed to punch in the face for not telling her. Well, if she had to, she could make something up on the fly, probably. And if she didn't, well, she could just focus on whatever routine she needed to do. So long as whoever she was doing it with didn't hold her back too much. "That's okay with me. I'm ready whenever everyone else is!" The fighter Navi put her arms behind her back and stretched, unwittingly pushing her breasts right in front of a spare camera. Oddly, even though she'd had them her entire life, she did have an occasional moment where she forgot she had such assets...
"Okay, good. Where'd she go off to? I'm ready to give you guys my primer on the exciting world of TV aerobics..." Showbizz grumbled, her hair-stars bobbing as she turned her head look for #27. "Ah, there she is. Why's she working with the set crew...?"

The hostess kept saying "she," but the figure she was referring to was so tall and handsome looking that they looked more like a dreamboat guy than a girl. The back was dressed in a black monk robe with huge, heavy-looking prayer beads in a ring around her neck. Her hair was covered by a black hood and her face by a silver mask with a single horn extending from the forehead. "Excuse me. I just wanted to make myself useful," she apologized.

"Alright, sure. You girls are partnered up now so introduce yourselves!" Showbizz ordered.

"My name is Escort. I am a subordinate representing the Neo-Shogun Army," the monk girl introduced herself. Her face was striking, even though she wore no make-up and her expression was very plain. Her blue eyes shines through her mask, showing more emotion than her mouth. She looked vaguely excited about something.

After giving Martia a second for introductions, Showbizz clapped her hands and started back up. "There are three key consumer groups interested in aerobics programming. The first are health nuts who want to work up a sweat. The second is the casual crowd who want to feel accomplished but take it slow. The last is horny older guys that can't find anything sexy to watch in the morning. With your big bazonkers, you're a shoe-in for that one. All three of three groups are important but pleasing them all is impossible," she explained. "Your test audience is composed of all three! Your job is to gamer higher ratings than the routines that ran before you. I've got a tailor on set that can make you workout clothes... and yes, you have to change clothes. It needs to be instantly apparent that you are running a workout program when they tune in."

"You aren't obligated to stay on and run the program if you win. We are just mostly doing some market research here to decide what people will tune into. Your routine can consist of anything you like, just remember the big picture: RATINGS! Try to do something exciting and different like the TV viewing world has never seen before! Something they'll remember! That's the key!" Showbizz urged them, pantomining exercising while she talked. Looking at her, she was just a little chubby herself... She could probably do with a little aerobics herself. "Okay, any questions? Make em snappy, then head over to wardrobe in that corner over there."
Well, her partner was...not quite what she expected. Seriously, it was sorta hard to tell that was a woman..."I'm Martia, martial arts expert! Nice to meet you!" offense, but if feminine wiles were a factor, she had at least one person beat.

And, apparently they were. Martia had to admit, Showbizz seemed to know the potential audience. She couldn't really argue about anything her temporary employer said. The last bit stuck out, though: do something they'll remember. She was certainly designed to be capable of doing that. "Um, I've got just one...since we'll be doing our thing at the same time, should we collaborate or something, or should we just do our own thing?" Once her question was answered, the fighting Navi would head off to get a wardrobe change. Granted, she was probably better dressed than most for an aerobics show, but it never hurt to visually scream 'yep, this is an aerobics program!'...
"Likewise," the tall navi responded. She seemed momentarily surprised that her partner had no reaction to being told she had 'big bazonkers' that pervy old men would be drooling over.

"Since there's two of you, you ought to consider group exercise, of course," Showbiz answered, rolling her unnatural, starry eyes. "You know, like spotting and sparring and synchronized stepping! Some other s words too, even! That sort of thing!"

"I'll do my best to support you," the other navi commented with a smile. A handsome, winning smile that looked like something our of pretty boy comics. Was she doing that on purpose?

"You're a team, remember that! You've got to beat Swat's training routine, which was sexy as hell and looked like it would tie me in knots and break my arms! It was quite frankly like an action movie combined with a workout routine!" the little hostess warned them. Her subordinate behind her waved one hand in exasperation to show that it was an exaggeration.

Escort nodded, then headed over to the tailor with Martia. The tailor was a rather attractive but exceptionally moody and bored blond girl wearing an airline stewardess uniform and blowing a large pink bubble. "More costumes? Hold still a sec," she urged them, not bothering to introduce herself. She pulled out something like a miniature metal detector, ran it briefly back and forth in front of the two, then turned he back and leaned over her desk. "Alright, I've got your measurements now... wait, are these right? That seems mind of difficult to believe."

Still, she was too lazy or otherwise unmotivated to pursue the matter further. "Okay, uuuh... you have anything in mind? Or do I just do whatever?"
As she headed for the wardrobe corner, Martia took a moment to realize that, in fact, her boobs were going to be ogled by many an old man. The realization didn't particularly affect her, though; if she could handle getting ogled at by her own operator, handing people she'd never even see shouldn't be particularly hard.

Now, to handle more serious business. "Hey, Escort? I can't say I know just how fit you are, but I want you to know that I can do pretty much whatever I need to for this. I was designed to be able to use just about every type of unarmed martial art in existence, and for that, you need both great strength and flexibility! " To prove her point, the fighter Navi flipped herself over, and began to walk on her hands, all without altering her speed one bit. Her hair was kind enough to not fall to the floor to boot, instead crumpling up behind her neck.

Upon reaching the tailor, Martia flipped back right side up, and allowed her measurements to be taken. "Um, yeah, my body shape isn't really typical..." Oddly, despite not caring about getting stared at in certain places, this fact seemed to embarrass her a little. "I guess I don't really care what you do, but...could you make it the same shade of pink that I'm wearing right now? I'd appreciate that!"
"Impressive... your energetic display reminds me of another fond friend of mine," Escort commented with an amused smile. "As for your dependability, I would never presume to doubt you. I hope that you will extend the same faith towards my capabilities."

The stewardess navi shrugged; apparently a blank check to design whatever did little to enthuse her. "Miss Martia.... If I might interject, let us remember that uniqueness is a big part of this competition. It looks from here like she's designing simple shorts and spaghetti strap tops... with those, we would fit the role of aerobics instructors but fail to leave a distinct impression. Perhaps you or your operator have a more creative idea?" she inquired. "Alternatively, I could make a suggestion. But it might be a little plain. I don't assume I know much in the way of fashion design."
Martia looked blankly at the wardrobe Navi for a moment, as she expected her to say something on the matter, but didn't. Escort did raise a good point, though. Hmm...what to do...something like Leslie's outfit, maybe? ...Eh, that wasn't much different from the norm, come to think of it...hmm. "Hey, Leslie?"


"You been listening in on this so far?"

"Yep. Need ideas for an outfit?"

"Yeah...I'm drawing blanks."

"Hmm..." The operator looked at her PET screen thoughtfully for a moment, getting an eyeful of her Navi for legitimate reasons for once. "Well, you've got an amazing figure, so whatever it is should probably be as tight as possible, while still giving you plenty of flexibility to do more athletic stuff. ...I know, how about a leotard? It's form fitting, and you'll be able to do whatever you want in one!"

"...Hey, good idea!"

[size0]"Plus, it'll show off that super cute ass of yours..."[/size]

"Did you say something, Leslie? If you did, I didn't quite catch it."

"Nope, nada."

"Ah. Must've been hearing someone that sounded like you, then!"

"Guess so."

"All righty. Well, miss, I guess that'll work. Give me a pink leotard, please! Oh, and some matching leg warmers. That'll help with the exercise vibe! What do you think, Escort? That sound good?"
"That would make sense. They're a bit... old-fashioned too," Escort agreed, though it didn't seem like the first word that had come to her mind, "so I doubt anyone else has chosen to wear one."

"There was one earlier, but hers was more like a unitard. A navi in a unitard ain't all that special. Anyways, you girls had better be careful or you're going to pop out of whatever I give you, even if I get it perfectly sized," the stewardess informed them. It sounded more like and was giving herself a non-liability clause than anything. Escort gave a brief nod in response, indicating that she had no intentions of letting something so ridiculous happen. "And what color do you want yours?"

Escort coughed into one of her black-gloves fists. "Black is fine," she responded.

"Really? Pink is sexier," the navi offered, buy Escort didn't seem willing to compromise on the color. With a shrug, the girl turned in her seat and got to work.

"We should discuss our routine. I've got a very effective technique, but it is somewhat extreme and necessitated only by my line of work. It might be difficult... not to mention the potential hazards presented by allowing a limousine to run rampant in the studio..." Martia's partner pondered. "We need something exciting that we can perform without taking breaks. Please don't worry about me, though. I have the constitution of a monster."

Her phrasing was awkward, but her face didn't make it look like she was joking.

"Costumes are done. They're .gmos, so just activate them here and let me know if you need adjustments."

((Martia receives Leotard.GMO))

Escort thanked the tailor, then accepted and activated her .gmo. The change brought about was so sudden and distinct that it felt like the .gmo must have changed her physique. The most immediately obvious change was that her breasts had swelled out to tremendous size; whatever had been holding them back was gone. Her outfit now consisted of only a single-piece leotard and leg warmers, both in black. The leotard showed off all of the definition of he body, which seemed inhuman: an unholy mix of exaggerated womanly curves and the tightest muscle (and ass) possible. Her black hair was short and gelled in a somewhat mannish way, with the back pulled into a tiny tail at the nape of her neck such that no hair was out of place.

"Ah... well, it fits," she commented, running a finger briefly underneath the line where ithe suit framed her buttocks. Her was was the type that was doomed to have a wedgie no matter what she wore. It seemed like the combination of sharp and solid muscle and unrestrainable and bouncing curves could burst the thing whenever they liked, so her statement was more than a little suspect. "Please, try yours on. And let us discuss our workout routine as well."