“Okay, sure.” He says “Hop in.” He fumbles a bit for his keys, partially because of the double load of books he’s carrying and partially because he’s still distracted by your mammoth breasts. You wonder if he’s noticed that slight bulge in you belly that used to be your boyfriend (what was his name again? Michael? Mitchell? Oh well, doesn’t really matter now. He’s been dead for at least an hour now and he’s almost entirely digested… you should be able to get rid of him once you get home.)
The tall boy gets into the truck and sets down the book and waits looking at you awkwardly for a moment as you stand outside the passenger’s side door with your arms folded, angrily tapping your foot on the ground. Eventually he takes the hint and gets out of the car to open your door for you. You’re not sure about this one, he doesn’t seem bright enough to make an adequate slave out of. If nothing else, he’ll do for today, and he’ll make a nice dinner.
You look at him on the drive home and realize that you don’t think he fully understands his situation yet. He seems to think that you’re just coming on to him, not that you’ve decided that you’re making him your new slave. Even if he did understand that, you don’t think he’s taken the hint (from your giant boobs or your pudgy gut) that your slaves don’t exactly have a very long life expectancy.
You make it home fairly quickly. You could easily walk to and from school, but you’re always able to sucker some guy in to giving you a ride. He’s learned quickly enough that this time he gets out of the car to open your door for you. You invite him to follow you in as he grabs your books.
Inside the house you lead him to your bedroom where…