This is an experimental stream-of-consciousness story based on an old fantasy; I'm just going to make it up as I go along, then hit "Submit" as soon as I finish the last sentence. Never done a story like this before, so...hope you enjoy!
One More Couldn't Hurt
...But it's actually an even shorter route from the bar back to her house, shorter than she said it would be, or maybe he's - she's - they're both just a little too tipsy to be making the right calculations. Over the bridge on the way there he grabs her hips and samples her lips again. Her lip-balm tastes of strawberries and she makes a cute little cooing sound at the sudden attention.
Hers is as typical a little student house as you can imagine, and full of ambient amber light. No-one's home, she whispers, pulling off her silly Hipsterish straw Oxford-boating hat, and I got you all to myself. He ruffles her little blonde cockatiel curl of hair as she says that, to which she responds by playfully spanking his butt through his loose white pants. This is what he likes about her, she's tiny - a head smaller than him - but full of energy.
She goes to fix a cup of herbal tea (there's Hippies in the family), he goes to powder his nose in the bathroom. Plenty of time before the main event. Yesss...there's that handsome devil in the mirror. Long black curly hair down to his shoulders and perpetual twelve-o-clock shadow over his chiselled jawline. In-bred smug smirk like he knows more than he lets on. Black button-up shirt emphasising his wiry Cumberbatch frame. He makes sure he's properly deodorised and smooths a wet hand through his hair; tonight, he's in his element.
She hums and shakes in the kitchen as the kettle boils, letting the familiar rhythm of Bowie's "Dancin' In The Street" elevate her curvy little body. It's no wonder her friends nickname her "Monkey" and sometimes "Fidget" with all the little movements she exhibits; she's secretly kept her yellow hair short ever since her Mother cut it that way at age 10 to stop it being caught in wall-hangings when she bounced around the house. Her big baggy white t-shirt and red tartan skirt shimmy as she pours the tea into the cups on the tray, and puts out...something else.
Her bedroom is your typical second-year art student's living space, plastered with half-finished pencil sketches and featuring an epically untidy desk. She's catered to all the best stereotypes; coffee mugs and brushes lie here and there, and the blankets and matress sprawl in a pile on the floor with her laptop stowed in the corner nearest the wall socket. Christmas lights illuminate the wall next to it, creating a pleasantly ludicrous effect in this hot June and catching the figure of her catch for this evening. He's sprawled on the mattress, boots kicked off next to it and arms behind his back to show off his lovely chest.
Chamomile tea, she half-whispers, and a little nibble.
Love me some Chamomile, he replies, putting her more at ease as he sits up to grab the tea off the tray, and notices the little plate with it. Biscuits? he asks. How very kind of you, Madam. He comically lifts his little finger and purses his lips as he sips the tea.
She giggles, sitting beside him, and they share a Tea Kiss - one of the best of all kinds of kiss. Not just *any* biscuits, she says, and giggles like all the best of devils. *Special*. They're from a pal of mine in New York.
Special as in - he asks, kissing her neck as she sips from her own cup.
As in don't eat 'em all at once. They've got A-Dust in them.
He pulls back to look at her. Bugger Me, he thinks. He's only recently heard of Alice Dust - a curious drug developed in the states out of over-the-counter medicine in different concoctions. So-called because of the near supernatural side-effects. If you take A-Dust Midge, you shrink down to a dwarfish or fairyish size depending on the dose, permanently. If you take A-Dust Flex, your limbs become rubbery and flexible for an hour. And if you take A-Dust Bloom...you blow up. For who knows how long, each time.
It's Bloom, she states, anticipating his inevitable question. I've never tried it before, but my friend says it got her *crazy* high when she sampled it.
That's the best part: no matter what you take, it gives you the craziest high as it takes effect. Some say that addicts of Midge end up burying themselves alive in a packet of the stuff, getting so small they consume it by hand, grain-by-grain, until they get too small even to breathe. But Bloom...he's never heard too much about Bloom.
She looks very vulnerable as he contemplates the little pile of golden, innocent-looking digestive biscuits she's so artfully arranged for them. There can only be four or five. They must be very potent. We don't have to if you don't want to... she's beginning to mutter. I've just never met a guy like you before, so...like me...
He puts his hand on her thigh, smiling reassuringly. He felt it too, back on the dance floor in that beautiful New-Wave bar they met in only a few hours ago. He's genuinely interested in where this girl could take him, and in no hurry to go anywhere else. The tea's sobered him up, and he knows it's not the drink talking any more. Feck, he murmurs, We only live once. Let's get Blown, love.
She squeals, and pulls him into a passionate sloppy embrace, falling on his lap and pawing at his long hair. As he responds in kind, letting her feel his harndess underneath her, she wraps her arms around his neck and asks, casually, How much do you weigh? In pounds?
Huh? Erm...'bout 160...I s'pose...why?
I Let's do this properly. Pick me up, and we can go and weigh how much we are together.
He lifts her into his arms, savouring the sensation. It's not going to be repeatable for much longer. Taking a quick stroll back into the bathroom, he steps on her tacky old scales and finds that combined, they're 303 pounds. Making her around 140...just what he'd expect from her curvy 5'7" frame. He kisses her again and hoists her back to the bedroom with ease.
He relaxes back onto the mattress, lying fully on top of it. She spreads herself out over him and, after another kiss...longer and very much enjoyable...he asks her Can we take it slow? I want to ease into this.
Sure babe, she replies, already beginning to breathe a little more heavily. Still looking at him, focusing her gaze, she grabs at the first of the biscuits and snaps it in half. 50 for you...50 for me, she says, democratically.
Like an obedient baby bird, he snaps his jaw open and she lays the first half over his tongue as if placing a communion wafer. He chews it slowly and thoughtfully, picking every morsel from between his teeth even as she wolfs hers noisily down, licking the crumbs from the palm of her hand.
He braces himself up against the wall. She sits back, satisfied, against the other end of the mattress, legs crossed. They stare at each other, like tigers staring at lambs, predatory gaze desperate for a sudden change. After a minute...two minutes...three minutes...living up to her nickname, she's fidgeting from her seated position, uncrossing her legs so that they spread like a child's doll.
Are you sure your friend - he begins, but feels suddenly aware of a pleasant itching. Then, for no reason, a little taste of something sweet and orangey on his tongue. Then...little yellow lights explode in the back of his brain. His muscles are on fire, his hair standing on end and grabbing at the air! He can hear her gasp in front of him but as if his ears were plugged with honey, he paws at the mattress as this beautiful crackling amber sensation climbs throughout him
*FLOOMP*
This is the sound that, as ridiculously cartoonish as it may be, completes the symphony of pleasure that the Bloom has brought out. As he settles into a haze of pure warmth and comfort, he becomes aware of her moaning settling down and opens his eyes to see
*FLOOMP*
It's like something out of a cartoon. In the blink of an eye - in the moment that the sound took - her entire form just inflated, just like that. Her shirt, that little bit less loose, suddenly showing the tell-tale signs of chubbiness. Her little round face, much rounder, with a bit of a double chin and two peachy cheeks. Her tartans skirt just barely holding in her sausagey legs, those ankle-socks of hers even cuter stuffed around her big feet. Her breasts, still relatively small, but he's not disappointed - boobs are boobs, and always fun to play with. She's definitely centred around the tummy - and what a cute round boulder of a tummy it is, sticking out through her shirt, as if trying to take her somewhere fun.
As with half-closed eyes she examines her Bloomed form, he begins to laugh, a little - mostly out of the strangeness of the situation - and she glances at him, and returns fire. He's comically portly, his shirt no longer a sexy container for a lithe player. An obvious gut now swells the buttons, and the sleeves have reached a tightness so that his arms stick out an angle from his pudgy new body. As he chuckles a little more, his hairy tummy plops out from under his shirt and over his tortured white trousers, finding a comfy seat between his newly thickened thighs. His shirt creaking with the movement, he lifts his chubby fingers to paw delightedly at his newly sleek face.
As he's too tightly-bound in his own clothes to move, she takes the initiative to crawl forward and lie her new heaviness directly on top of him, kissing even harder to let their tongues fully explore their newly softer lips. Hmmm, she moans, I didn't count on using A-Dust to make you my prisoner. She pats his face, grinning wickedly at his helplessness.
He grins back, not willing to play the weak sub for long. I know a way to get myself out, though, he smiles. He nods towards the plate on his left, licking his lips. She's way ahead of him, quickly grabbing for more. A Bloom bisuit in her fingers, her hand darts down towards his mouth even as he suddenly gasps, No, wait, I didn't mean a whole WUNMPHLL
Ah Well, he thinks, chewing it delicately as one can without the use of one's hands, Can't Hurt Me TOO BadlyyyyyyOHGOD
The effects come on three times more strongly with the second and larger dose, and he can hear the slight thud as she falls next to him on the mattress, writhing as he does in orgasmic pleasure. He feels as if he were rolling down a snowstorm of pure sugar; she feels like a lump of nougat in a chocolate bar ad, when the caramel and chocolate layers are poured tantalisingly over it and solidify straight on.
He comes up with pleasure in his every thought and that orangey taste printed on his tongue. He hears her next to him and sighs passionately...causing every single button on his shirt to come popping off as
*FLOOMP*
He feels a pure 100 pounds of fat fling themselves to life in and around his body. His trousers truly give up the ghost, reducing like a Chippendale dancer's to two halves as his mighty legs burst out of them. He groans with delight as his upper arms relieve themselves of his shirt sleeves and a thick second chin wobbles out over his neck, joining the fresh hairy man-boobs that stand in pride of place to mourn the once mighty fortress of his pecs. A nigh-on oceanic belly swells downwards over his crotch, propped up by the desperate hard-on beneath. He cradles it in sausageistic fingers, sweating a little with the sheer giddiness of all that's happening to him.
She shrieks and jumps up as
*FLOOMP*
Another 100 pounds - within her - lands squarely on top of him. Her smiling face is illuminated in the Christmas-tree light as her smile widens and her eyes become that bit tinier with the swelling of her face around them. Her cute little button nose seems even the cuter, and he *boops* it with a playful grin as she giggles. His other hand goes around to her booty as it gives way through her skirt, and soon moves upward to caress her boobs as her gorgeous bod grows ever more gorgeously chubby on top of him. She kneels up, wobbling and jiggling epically, displaying her adorable peek-a-boo tummy underneath her now skintight shirt. She wrestles it off, and there she is in her glory; belly-to-belly with him, two titans of orgasmic, hopped-up largesse.
The rest is instinct.
Lifting a belly that she seems to handle with instinctual ease, she eases her heaving form onto him even as his hands reach up to massage her thick nipples with his big, fattened paws. He huffs, puffs like a wolf as he begins to thrust with her weight on him, using all of the muscle mass he's accumulated over the years to counter the wobbling jello mattress that's been thrust upon 'im in the past twenty minutes.
God, he's gasping, God this is hot, and rubs her nips between each thumb and forefinger, eliciting another moan from her. You like that, you...big...heifer? He shouts, between every thrust. He pinches harder, Moo for me. C'mon, moo for me, you fat cow!
Laughing as she moans, she moos a little, resting her own hands on his gigantic belly, slapping a little at one of his own freshly-grown titties as it wobbles around. Her massive form is wonderfully beautiful to him...her beauty expanded and built upon in every way. Even her newly-tiny blonde cockatoo coiffure seems to fit, like the whipped cream on a lemon pie. He moves his hands down to grasp her exquisitiely heavy booty as their bellies slap together.
She pulls out, and kisses him passionately; then adjusts so that she's down on her hands and knees, letting him enter her doggy-style...or, as he reflects, hoggy-style. He tells her this and she laughs, snorting comically like a fattened pig. Piggies and sausages don't usually go so well together, she teases, lifting his belly and tapping at his swollen manhood with a finger.
He picks up her hand, kisses it slowly, and then lifts up his belly. Resting it over her butt, he grabs her shoulders and begins to enter her again. Every thrust seems to send him deeper inside her...deeper and deeper...and then she's coming...coming so hard she splashes all over him and the bed.
He 310, she 290. They collapse with a mighty thud on the mattress, each gingerly hoping that the floorboards beneath them haven't suddenly cracked. He smooths a hand through his long hair again, letting out a little "whoo" of satisfaction - that was the best he's had in a long time, maybe the best there ever was. He can tell from her soft moans, and the way she's nibbling his ear, that it wasn't so bad for her either.
After a little experimentation in the new wonder of fat spooning, they come to realise that both of them are still more than a little wired. Sooooo... she says, What do you wanna do now? Go clothes shopping? Watch a movie? Run away to Dakota...or...
They both look up at the plate sitting innocently on the tray. Four biscuits still sitting there, plain as can be in the light.
One More Couldn't Hurt, they both think, as they leap up to get at it.
One More Couldn't Hurt
...But it's actually an even shorter route from the bar back to her house, shorter than she said it would be, or maybe he's - she's - they're both just a little too tipsy to be making the right calculations. Over the bridge on the way there he grabs her hips and samples her lips again. Her lip-balm tastes of strawberries and she makes a cute little cooing sound at the sudden attention.
Hers is as typical a little student house as you can imagine, and full of ambient amber light. No-one's home, she whispers, pulling off her silly Hipsterish straw Oxford-boating hat, and I got you all to myself. He ruffles her little blonde cockatiel curl of hair as she says that, to which she responds by playfully spanking his butt through his loose white pants. This is what he likes about her, she's tiny - a head smaller than him - but full of energy.
She goes to fix a cup of herbal tea (there's Hippies in the family), he goes to powder his nose in the bathroom. Plenty of time before the main event. Yesss...there's that handsome devil in the mirror. Long black curly hair down to his shoulders and perpetual twelve-o-clock shadow over his chiselled jawline. In-bred smug smirk like he knows more than he lets on. Black button-up shirt emphasising his wiry Cumberbatch frame. He makes sure he's properly deodorised and smooths a wet hand through his hair; tonight, he's in his element.
She hums and shakes in the kitchen as the kettle boils, letting the familiar rhythm of Bowie's "Dancin' In The Street" elevate her curvy little body. It's no wonder her friends nickname her "Monkey" and sometimes "Fidget" with all the little movements she exhibits; she's secretly kept her yellow hair short ever since her Mother cut it that way at age 10 to stop it being caught in wall-hangings when she bounced around the house. Her big baggy white t-shirt and red tartan skirt shimmy as she pours the tea into the cups on the tray, and puts out...something else.
Her bedroom is your typical second-year art student's living space, plastered with half-finished pencil sketches and featuring an epically untidy desk. She's catered to all the best stereotypes; coffee mugs and brushes lie here and there, and the blankets and matress sprawl in a pile on the floor with her laptop stowed in the corner nearest the wall socket. Christmas lights illuminate the wall next to it, creating a pleasantly ludicrous effect in this hot June and catching the figure of her catch for this evening. He's sprawled on the mattress, boots kicked off next to it and arms behind his back to show off his lovely chest.
Chamomile tea, she half-whispers, and a little nibble.
Love me some Chamomile, he replies, putting her more at ease as he sits up to grab the tea off the tray, and notices the little plate with it. Biscuits? he asks. How very kind of you, Madam. He comically lifts his little finger and purses his lips as he sips the tea.
She giggles, sitting beside him, and they share a Tea Kiss - one of the best of all kinds of kiss. Not just *any* biscuits, she says, and giggles like all the best of devils. *Special*. They're from a pal of mine in New York.
Special as in - he asks, kissing her neck as she sips from her own cup.
As in don't eat 'em all at once. They've got A-Dust in them.
He pulls back to look at her. Bugger Me, he thinks. He's only recently heard of Alice Dust - a curious drug developed in the states out of over-the-counter medicine in different concoctions. So-called because of the near supernatural side-effects. If you take A-Dust Midge, you shrink down to a dwarfish or fairyish size depending on the dose, permanently. If you take A-Dust Flex, your limbs become rubbery and flexible for an hour. And if you take A-Dust Bloom...you blow up. For who knows how long, each time.
It's Bloom, she states, anticipating his inevitable question. I've never tried it before, but my friend says it got her *crazy* high when she sampled it.
That's the best part: no matter what you take, it gives you the craziest high as it takes effect. Some say that addicts of Midge end up burying themselves alive in a packet of the stuff, getting so small they consume it by hand, grain-by-grain, until they get too small even to breathe. But Bloom...he's never heard too much about Bloom.
She looks very vulnerable as he contemplates the little pile of golden, innocent-looking digestive biscuits she's so artfully arranged for them. There can only be four or five. They must be very potent. We don't have to if you don't want to... she's beginning to mutter. I've just never met a guy like you before, so...like me...
He puts his hand on her thigh, smiling reassuringly. He felt it too, back on the dance floor in that beautiful New-Wave bar they met in only a few hours ago. He's genuinely interested in where this girl could take him, and in no hurry to go anywhere else. The tea's sobered him up, and he knows it's not the drink talking any more. Feck, he murmurs, We only live once. Let's get Blown, love.
She squeals, and pulls him into a passionate sloppy embrace, falling on his lap and pawing at his long hair. As he responds in kind, letting her feel his harndess underneath her, she wraps her arms around his neck and asks, casually, How much do you weigh? In pounds?
Huh? Erm...'bout 160...I s'pose...why?
I Let's do this properly. Pick me up, and we can go and weigh how much we are together.
He lifts her into his arms, savouring the sensation. It's not going to be repeatable for much longer. Taking a quick stroll back into the bathroom, he steps on her tacky old scales and finds that combined, they're 303 pounds. Making her around 140...just what he'd expect from her curvy 5'7" frame. He kisses her again and hoists her back to the bedroom with ease.
He relaxes back onto the mattress, lying fully on top of it. She spreads herself out over him and, after another kiss...longer and very much enjoyable...he asks her Can we take it slow? I want to ease into this.
Sure babe, she replies, already beginning to breathe a little more heavily. Still looking at him, focusing her gaze, she grabs at the first of the biscuits and snaps it in half. 50 for you...50 for me, she says, democratically.
Like an obedient baby bird, he snaps his jaw open and she lays the first half over his tongue as if placing a communion wafer. He chews it slowly and thoughtfully, picking every morsel from between his teeth even as she wolfs hers noisily down, licking the crumbs from the palm of her hand.
He braces himself up against the wall. She sits back, satisfied, against the other end of the mattress, legs crossed. They stare at each other, like tigers staring at lambs, predatory gaze desperate for a sudden change. After a minute...two minutes...three minutes...living up to her nickname, she's fidgeting from her seated position, uncrossing her legs so that they spread like a child's doll.
Are you sure your friend - he begins, but feels suddenly aware of a pleasant itching. Then, for no reason, a little taste of something sweet and orangey on his tongue. Then...little yellow lights explode in the back of his brain. His muscles are on fire, his hair standing on end and grabbing at the air! He can hear her gasp in front of him but as if his ears were plugged with honey, he paws at the mattress as this beautiful crackling amber sensation climbs throughout him
*FLOOMP*
This is the sound that, as ridiculously cartoonish as it may be, completes the symphony of pleasure that the Bloom has brought out. As he settles into a haze of pure warmth and comfort, he becomes aware of her moaning settling down and opens his eyes to see
*FLOOMP*
It's like something out of a cartoon. In the blink of an eye - in the moment that the sound took - her entire form just inflated, just like that. Her shirt, that little bit less loose, suddenly showing the tell-tale signs of chubbiness. Her little round face, much rounder, with a bit of a double chin and two peachy cheeks. Her tartans skirt just barely holding in her sausagey legs, those ankle-socks of hers even cuter stuffed around her big feet. Her breasts, still relatively small, but he's not disappointed - boobs are boobs, and always fun to play with. She's definitely centred around the tummy - and what a cute round boulder of a tummy it is, sticking out through her shirt, as if trying to take her somewhere fun.
As with half-closed eyes she examines her Bloomed form, he begins to laugh, a little - mostly out of the strangeness of the situation - and she glances at him, and returns fire. He's comically portly, his shirt no longer a sexy container for a lithe player. An obvious gut now swells the buttons, and the sleeves have reached a tightness so that his arms stick out an angle from his pudgy new body. As he chuckles a little more, his hairy tummy plops out from under his shirt and over his tortured white trousers, finding a comfy seat between his newly thickened thighs. His shirt creaking with the movement, he lifts his chubby fingers to paw delightedly at his newly sleek face.
As he's too tightly-bound in his own clothes to move, she takes the initiative to crawl forward and lie her new heaviness directly on top of him, kissing even harder to let their tongues fully explore their newly softer lips. Hmmm, she moans, I didn't count on using A-Dust to make you my prisoner. She pats his face, grinning wickedly at his helplessness.
He grins back, not willing to play the weak sub for long. I know a way to get myself out, though, he smiles. He nods towards the plate on his left, licking his lips. She's way ahead of him, quickly grabbing for more. A Bloom bisuit in her fingers, her hand darts down towards his mouth even as he suddenly gasps, No, wait, I didn't mean a whole WUNMPHLL
Ah Well, he thinks, chewing it delicately as one can without the use of one's hands, Can't Hurt Me TOO BadlyyyyyyOHGOD
The effects come on three times more strongly with the second and larger dose, and he can hear the slight thud as she falls next to him on the mattress, writhing as he does in orgasmic pleasure. He feels as if he were rolling down a snowstorm of pure sugar; she feels like a lump of nougat in a chocolate bar ad, when the caramel and chocolate layers are poured tantalisingly over it and solidify straight on.
He comes up with pleasure in his every thought and that orangey taste printed on his tongue. He hears her next to him and sighs passionately...causing every single button on his shirt to come popping off as
*FLOOMP*
He feels a pure 100 pounds of fat fling themselves to life in and around his body. His trousers truly give up the ghost, reducing like a Chippendale dancer's to two halves as his mighty legs burst out of them. He groans with delight as his upper arms relieve themselves of his shirt sleeves and a thick second chin wobbles out over his neck, joining the fresh hairy man-boobs that stand in pride of place to mourn the once mighty fortress of his pecs. A nigh-on oceanic belly swells downwards over his crotch, propped up by the desperate hard-on beneath. He cradles it in sausageistic fingers, sweating a little with the sheer giddiness of all that's happening to him.
She shrieks and jumps up as
*FLOOMP*
Another 100 pounds - within her - lands squarely on top of him. Her smiling face is illuminated in the Christmas-tree light as her smile widens and her eyes become that bit tinier with the swelling of her face around them. Her cute little button nose seems even the cuter, and he *boops* it with a playful grin as she giggles. His other hand goes around to her booty as it gives way through her skirt, and soon moves upward to caress her boobs as her gorgeous bod grows ever more gorgeously chubby on top of him. She kneels up, wobbling and jiggling epically, displaying her adorable peek-a-boo tummy underneath her now skintight shirt. She wrestles it off, and there she is in her glory; belly-to-belly with him, two titans of orgasmic, hopped-up largesse.
The rest is instinct.
Lifting a belly that she seems to handle with instinctual ease, she eases her heaving form onto him even as his hands reach up to massage her thick nipples with his big, fattened paws. He huffs, puffs like a wolf as he begins to thrust with her weight on him, using all of the muscle mass he's accumulated over the years to counter the wobbling jello mattress that's been thrust upon 'im in the past twenty minutes.
God, he's gasping, God this is hot, and rubs her nips between each thumb and forefinger, eliciting another moan from her. You like that, you...big...heifer? He shouts, between every thrust. He pinches harder, Moo for me. C'mon, moo for me, you fat cow!
Laughing as she moans, she moos a little, resting her own hands on his gigantic belly, slapping a little at one of his own freshly-grown titties as it wobbles around. Her massive form is wonderfully beautiful to him...her beauty expanded and built upon in every way. Even her newly-tiny blonde cockatoo coiffure seems to fit, like the whipped cream on a lemon pie. He moves his hands down to grasp her exquisitiely heavy booty as their bellies slap together.
She pulls out, and kisses him passionately; then adjusts so that she's down on her hands and knees, letting him enter her doggy-style...or, as he reflects, hoggy-style. He tells her this and she laughs, snorting comically like a fattened pig. Piggies and sausages don't usually go so well together, she teases, lifting his belly and tapping at his swollen manhood with a finger.
He picks up her hand, kisses it slowly, and then lifts up his belly. Resting it over her butt, he grabs her shoulders and begins to enter her again. Every thrust seems to send him deeper inside her...deeper and deeper...and then she's coming...coming so hard she splashes all over him and the bed.
He 310, she 290. They collapse with a mighty thud on the mattress, each gingerly hoping that the floorboards beneath them haven't suddenly cracked. He smooths a hand through his long hair again, letting out a little "whoo" of satisfaction - that was the best he's had in a long time, maybe the best there ever was. He can tell from her soft moans, and the way she's nibbling his ear, that it wasn't so bad for her either.
After a little experimentation in the new wonder of fat spooning, they come to realise that both of them are still more than a little wired. Sooooo... she says, What do you wanna do now? Go clothes shopping? Watch a movie? Run away to Dakota...or...
They both look up at the plate sitting innocently on the tray. Four biscuits still sitting there, plain as can be in the light.
One More Couldn't Hurt, they both think, as they leap up to get at it.
