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The Dirty Camry by Blankage and Bobby

This car is not actually that dirty, Nicole thought. Her mom made it sound like she’d been off-roading or something, but there were just a few bugs splattered across the windshield of the shiny, silver Camry. Nicole gripped the hose tightly and frowned at the glimmering paint, blindingly bright in the midday sun. She was supposed to be studying for the trig test tomorrow. The mildly dirty car could’ve waited.

She circled the car as quickly as she could while the water from the hose roared against the steel. She held the nozzle far away from her body to avoid getting any excess spray on her jeans or her immaculately pressed Old Navy t-shirt. She hummed the first movement of Mozart’s second horn concerto to herself as she leaned forward to shoot water into the wheel wells of the car.

When she straightened, her next-door neighbor, James, was shuffling across the street with his gangly arms jammed wrist-deep into the pockets of his shorts. Not cool. His eyes shifted shyly between Nicole and the sopping Camry. He smiled. Nicole gave him a half-smile back that she hoped said, I’m happy to see you, but please don’t come over here right now. He kept walking towards her. She sighed.“Hi James,” she said as brightly as she could manage.

“Hey Nicole.”

“Hey, I’m kind of busy right now…”

“It will just take a minute. I was wondering…” James started. He looked at the ground, scratching at one of his bushy, red eyebrows as if trying to rub it away.

Oh no, Nicole thought. Not again. Nicole had lost track of how many times James had asked her out over the years. She always said no thanks, she was too busy to go on dates, what with her classwork, piano recitals, church group, etc., but he still kept asking.

There was moment of silence, just the harsh rasp of water spraying against the car. Finally, James said something. “What did you get for that last math problem?”

Nicole breathed a sigh of relief. This she could handle. “The clock one?” she said. She bent down and fished the wet sponge out of the bucket. Warm suds coated her hands and slid down her wrists.

“Yeah,” James said. “I get how to figure out the arc, but the clock part makes no sense to me.”

“It’s pretty easy actually,” Nicole said. “You just have to figure out how many degrees each minute is.” She began to soap up the car. The second her sponge touched the hood of the car, her small, tight breasts bobbed slightly. She rubbed the sponge across the slippery silver paint, leaving behind a drippy trail of bubbles. Her breasts bobbed again and slowly, glacially, they began to slide further into her beige, A-cup bra. The warm flesh made muffled squishing sounds as it pushed outward. Her dark, petite nipples pressed tighter and tighter against the cotton. The wrinkled fabric of the cups grew taut and smooth.

“I got the degrees part,” James said. “I just don’t know what to do after that.”

Nicole tugged at her bra. She noticed it felt uncomfortable, but she had no idea why. Fortunately, the fabric of her bra began to stretch, and her breasts shifted in the loosening fabric. As her chest grew meatier, the cups of her bra widened like gaping mouths. She kept her sponge swishing along the hood, unaware that her breasts were starting to sway more and more heavily with each swipe of her arm.

“Nicole?” James said.

Nicole shook her head. Her hair fell across her light gray tank top and sank between the developing bumps on her chest. “Sorry,” she said. “Sorry. What were you saying?”

“What do I do after the degrees part?” James said. He grew a couple inches taller as his freckled legs lengthened and pushed him higher and higher above Nicole.

“You know how many minutes are in between, right?” There was a sticky streak of clear gunk at the top of the hood and Nicole stabbed at it as if the sponge was a weapon. Her breasts rolled out a bit farther, flopping into her tank top.

“So,” she said. “You just have to figure out the number of degrees. I think. And convert them to radians?” She wrinkled her nose.There was another piece of gunk on the hood – maybe bee guts? – barely out of her reach. Without really thinking about it, she reached across the car instead of going around to the other side. She had to lean low, and her softening breasts nodded against the wet, slippery hood.

“Shit!” she said jumping up and pulling her hands away from the car to cup her boobs. There were two wet spots on her shirt where her breasts had made contact with the hood of the car. She hadn’t meant to swear. It just popped out.

James shifted from one foot to the other. She looked over at him and realized his pale skin was turning red. “How do you convert degrees into radians again?” he said. “I don’t think we’ve done that before.”

“Sorry!” Nicole said. “Sorry, sorry, sorry.” She laughed musically. The soapy hood of the car gleamed in the sunlight. It was so pretty. “Radians into degrees. Um. I think it’s…”

The style of her B-cup bra began to change. The cotton hardened and solidified into a stiffer synthetic mesh as the cups molded across her chest meat, buoying it up, lifting it higher so that the bottom of her shirt began to levitate up over her pants. She swished her hair over her shoulder as wires ran through the bottom of her bra cups, squishing her tits together. A tiny, shallow divot of cleavage formed, a barely visible indentation that just peaked over the neckline of her tank top.

“I can just look up the formula in the textbook,” James said.

“No, no. I got it. It’s um…” Nicole bent forward and stroked the sponge across the headlights, making little, circular wiping movements. Her nipples began to perk, the pointy pinpricks spreading wider as they thickened into solid cylinders. They dug into the wet fabric of her shirt; faint protrusions that slowly grew bolder.

Nicole bit her lip and tried to concentrate on the math problem. “God, I’m having a brain fart,” she said. “What’s that symbol that looks like an ‘n?’ She tried to draw it in the air with one hand while her other hand continued to swish along the headlight. Unseen, her areola began to spread across the tips of her breasts, exploding outward from her nipples.

“Pi?” James said. He looked halfway between being concerned and bursting out laughing.

“Yeah! Oh my god, pi. How could I forget that? I think it’s pi over 180 or something.”

“That sounds maybe right,” James said. “You feeling okay?

“Something strange…” Nicole said breathily. She pulled up on the neckline of her pink tank top. It slowly, meticulously dropped lower, millimeter after millimeter of golden breast gradually becoming visible. She suddenly felt the urge to go change her top. “I think I’m just tired. I should be napping instead of washing my mom’s damn car.” She couldn’t stop swearing. What the fuck?

“Parents.” James shook his head.

“I know right? It’s like, hello, how do you expect me to keep my 4.5 GPA and get into UC Berkley when you make me do all these stupid chores?”

“You have a 4.5 GPA? Really?” James looked like someone had told him that the world wasn’t actually round or flat for that matter but triangular.

“I think so. You know. It’s really high. Maybe 4.0. Or 3.8 something. Who can keep track of these things?” She laughed giddily.

James squinted as if he could keep track of these things, but he didn’t say anything.

Nicole started soaping up the top of the car. The suds ran down the windows in bubbly streaks. She tugged at her left earlobe. Tiny, silver studs were growing out of her unpierced ears. They curled through the skin like thorns.

“You know,” James said. “The soap’s going to dry on there if you don’t wash it soon.”

“Yeah, I know. You’re distracting me.” She scrubbed the top of the car forcefully, stretching to reach as far as she could. Her arms inched longer, extending her range of motion.

“You really should be rinsing each section of the car before you…”

“Damn, shut up!” Nicole said. Her eyelashes were curling out, dark and thick with eyeliner. “Why did you really come over here? You could’ve just googled that dumb math problem.”

“Well, what I really wanted to know was…”

Shit, shit, shit, Nicole thought.

“…would you maybe want to come see a movie with me some time? I’m here for the rest of the week so…”

There it was. “You know, I’m busy?” she said. “And…wait what do you mean you’re here for the rest of the week?”

“I have to go back to school? Caltech?”

“You got into Caltech?” Nicole was so dumbfounded that she almost dropped the sponge. Her mouth hung open and light pink, sparkly lipstick mashed across her parted lips. Her raised eyebrows narrowed as if the short, black hairs were submerging beneath the surface of her skin.

“You knew that,” James said. “I…I’m pretty sure I told you.”

“Nooooo, you didn’t. I’d remember that. I’d totally remember that.” Nikki’s thoughts whirled. He’d gotten into Caltech, but she hadn’t gotten into Berkeley. Fuck! She wanted to slap the smug expression off his face.

She furiously sloshed her sponge across the top of the car. A splotch of bright yellow paint shot out from beneath the sponge, jagged edges spreading every which way. As she scrubbed the car her slight cleavage quavered like the thin line of an oscilloscope, and she pulled her top up again. As soon as she let go of her neckline, it fluffed back down again to nestle between her breasts.

“So,” James said. “About that movie…”

“Umm, so I have a boyfriend?”

“Oh. I didn’t know that. I didn’t see anything on Facebook…”

“Oh yeah, I didn’t post anything ‘cuz some people are so judgy and everything.” She looked pointedly at James to hint at which judgy people she might be referring to. He didn’t seem to notice.

“Okay…” James scratched the beginnings of sideburns that crawled up his cheeks. “Is this your boyfriend’s GT-R?” The brilliant, yellow paint had spread all the way across the top of the car and was starting to drip down the sleekly curved side pillars. The front headlights curled up over the hood, tapering like upside down commas.

“What? This?” Nikki stood back from the car.

“Yeah, it’s his,” Nikki said. “It’s a Honda I think? I don’t know much about cars. He’s trying to teach me about body styles and shit but it makes, like, zero sense. Like, less than zero. Like, negative sense.” She dipped her sponge in the bucket and then bent over to soap up the insides of the wheel wells. Brown grease and mud and who knew what else dripped down onto the concrete. The back heel of her flip-flops puffed off the ground slightly as if she’d stepped on a rubbery piece of gum.

James grinned widely and let out a stifled chuckle. “It’s a Nissan. The GT-R is made by Nissan.”

“Okay. Whatever, nerd.” Nikki was still a little mad, but a spontaneous giggle escaped out of her mouth anyway. Her flip-flops were turning black. The backs of them tickled her skin as they crept up her ankles. Shiny straps slid around her calves, sprouting like creeping vines that soon completely encircled her legs.

She tottered slightly as she strode around to the trunk. Her heels grew another inch and her calves bulged as she struggled to keep her balance. She leaned heavily on the trunk. The threads of her underwear relaxed, softer and thinner. The silky fabric fell loosely away from her skin even as the fat beneath her rump began to pull and stretch like taffy.

As she began to arc her sponge over the trunk, her jean-clad bottom wiggled almost imperceptibly. Her back stayed straight, but her rear end began to protrude as if she were bending over and sticking it out. The gentle swells of her hips were thickening into mature, jutting s-curves. As her buttocks slowly filled with fat, the cleft between them became deeper and deeper.

“Hey,” James said. “Maybe we can just go get some coffee or something? Not like a date or anything. It’s been a while and…”

“Has it? Seems like yesterday we were in high-school.” The lines of her panties had become visible even beneath her stretched jeans. She picked at them furtively. Her jeans were growing shiny, reflecting long globs of sunlight onto the car and the concrete below.

“Yeah, time flies,” James said. “So about that coffee…”

Nikki’s pantlegs rustled like a slick tablecloth in the gentle breeze, caressing her ankles and flowing up her smooth bronzed calves. As they rose, the fabric turned from a dark blue to a greyish navy, gradually approaching a shiny black. The metallic rivets sunk into the surface of the fabric.

“I’d love to, but, you know, my boyfriend and stuff.” She grimaced and lowered her voice like she was telling a secret. “He gets super jelly. Last time he caught me going out to a restaurant with some other guy, he put him in the hospital.” There was a muted whistling like a rush of wind ruffling curtains and Nikki’s bare thighs slapped together. The tiny scrap of fabric that had nestled between her legs fluttered away in the breeze, and she was left with a skirt flapping thinly around her knees.

“Wow, okay,” James said. He glanced apprehensively at the house he was standing in front of. The posts of the veranda bulged. Ivy curled around them as they thickened into pillars. White mortar cut the dull grey siding into a thousand towering, red bricks. Freshly manicured, airy green bushes puffed out of the ground.

“So, um, how are classes?” she said just to interrupt the silence.

James cleared his throat. “Not bad, not bad. It’s just…you know. Lots of coding. How are yours?”

“Boring. Accounting is the fucking worst.”

“Why are you taking it then?”

Nikki dumped the bucket of dirty suds into the grass. “I really don’t know anymore. When I started I was like, this is the easiest degree where you can actually make money, but yeah. Not so sure anymore.”

“About the easy part or the money part?”

Nikki bent over, shooting fresh water from the nozzle attachment into the bucket. The stream roared and pounded in her ears. The top of her shirt fell open and mist from the hose stream drifted lazily around her pendulous breasts. The sun glinted off the sequins of her black bra.

“You know what?” she said. “School’s boring. Let’s talk about something else.”

“Like what?”

“Ummm…” Nikki squeezed as much soap out of the sponge as she could. Foam ran across the tops of her breasts and down into her cleavage. “Oopsie,” she said with a giggle. She dunked her sponge into the bucket and began to rinse down the front of the car. The more she dabbed at the milky bubbles, the more her rising cleavage rippled and shook.

“You get a girlfriend yet?” she said with another giggle. It was as if all of her periods, commas and question marks had been replaced with high, flirty titters.

“Nope.” James shook his head and pressed his lips together.

“I thought you were dating that…what’s her face?”

“That didn’t work out.” James jammed his hands into his pockets so deep that his shoulders hunched forward. It reminded Nikki of something.

“Hey,” she said. Remember that time you came over, and I was washing my mom’s car, and you asked me to Homecoming?

“Yeah…”

“And I was like, no way, ask Carrie, and you did, and she puked up a whole bunch of salad dressing onto you because she had the stomach flu?”

“That’s not a great memory for me,” James said.

“I was such a fucking dork back then. I guess you were too, no offense. I don’t know why we didn’t get along better.”

“Ehhh,” James said in a whiny sort of voice. “We got along alright. We used to play Splatoon, remember?” Little droplets of water clung to the tan skin around Nikki’s belly button. The bottom of her light pink shirt was wet and stained purple as if it had been dunked into grape juice instead of water.

“Splatoon? Oh Jesus. Was that the one where you had to spray paint everywhere? I think we did that like once though. Video games are not my thing.” She giggled and leaned forward. She didn’t even have to bend over very far before her long breasts flopped against the hood like a mop. More warm water soaked into her shirt and bra, the soap suds tickling against her skin.

“So your boyfriend isn’t home?” James said. “I wanted to meet him.”

“Naw, he’s gone like all the time at car shows and shit. I, like, barely ever see him. It’s totally redonk.” Nikki’s breasts knocked against each other, soft boulders beneath her stretched, purple-streaked tank top. Her heavy chest rolled outwards over the slick surface of the car, straining against her bra until the elastic straps stretched longer and let her breasts swing more freely.

“Well, at least he leaves you a nice car,” James said. He took a step forward and stared at the custom rims. “I’m stuck driving my old Subaru until I can find a job.”

“Damn, that blows. You’re gonna find something, though. You’re basically the smartest guy I know.” Without thinking about it, Nikki put a dripping hand on James’s shoulder. “Oh shit, sorry,” she said, cackling wildly. “I forgot I’m wet.”

James chuckled and stabbed at the damp stain on his green polo shirt. “No worries. And you’re right, I’ll find something. It’s competitive as hell out in California, but I’ll find something.”

Nikki moved on to rinse the drying suds off the top of the car. Her lipstick slowly shifted from a sparkly pink towards a darker red.

James shuffled over to the back of the car and eyed the spoiler appraisingly. “What are you doing nowadays?” he said. “I know you’ve got, like, a million instagram followers, but what else?”

Nikki fluffed her hair behind her shoulders so her lengthening, silky extensions wouldn’t get wet. “There’s more stuff other than just Instagram?” she said with a loopy-sounding giggle. “News to me!”

Her purple tank top was knotting beneath her heavy breasts. They pancaked against the side window when she reached across the top of the car and then slid down like two gelatinous squeegees when she backed away. Heavy, purple mascara was building up on her eyelids.

“Really though,” James said. “What happened? You were getting your accounting degree, and then you just dropped out.”

“It’s a super long, boring story, k? You don’t want to hear it.”

“I do though. Unless you don’t want to tell me…”

Nikki sighed. “Okay so I met this guy, you know? Zeke. And he was super nice at first, and he’s still super nice some of the time. But he had all this money and he introduced me to these modeling agency people that take pictures of cars, got me all these sexy clothes…”

“Sounds nice.”

“Oh yeah! I’ll take it, but he doesn’t…I think he just likes me because I’m hot as fuck. You know, because I’ve got huge titties?” She giggled and hefted her right breast. It spilled out of her hand. Little streaks of water trickled over the sloping, bronzed skin. James scratched his thinning red hair and colored slightly. That’s cute, Nikki thought.

“It’s fine,” she said. ”Cuz, you know, everyone likes big tatas. He just don’t treat me right though.”

“So you don’t like this guy?”

“Naw. I mean, I sort of like him. There’s good things about him. He works real hard and everything. But he gets super mad sometimes.”

“He’s not violent is he?”

“Naw, nothing like that. I mean, sometimes he throws things and this one time he kicked over the TV…”

“Jesus…”

“Yeah. I probably shouldn’t be telling you this shit.”

“You deserve better than that, Nicole.”

“I go by Nikita now!” she said, scrubbing the back window. She bounced from one leg to the other, and her skirt danced like confetti around her legs. The vinyl material slowly climbed upwards over her thighs until it reached the jutting curve of her butt. She bent over to dip her sponge into the bucket of water and the bottom half of her rear end popped out.

“Whoopsie,” she giggled and pulled her skirt down. Her black panties had thinned and begun to wedge into her womanhood. She picked at the cloth, looking over her shoulder to see if James was watching.

He wasn’t, or at least he was pretending he wasn’t. He chewed his lip while he stared at his cell phone.

“I guess I better go,” James said. “Think about it.”

“Think about what?”

James looked confused. “Grabbing lunch sometime. Or catching a movie. Just hanging out. If you’re ever in SoCal.”

Nikkita let out a sharp breath, and her breasts flounced heavily. This again. She liked James, but romantically? She squinted at him. When she looked at him, she couldn’t help but see the awkwardly thin boy from across the street asking her to the dance. He hadn’t changed that much really. Sure, he had hairier arms and a degree now, but you could still easily mistake him for a high-school student.

“Okay,” she said. “Good to see you!”

She skimmed the sponge across the back window. It’s slope was becoming shallower. Her already-large butt cheeks plumped up a little more. They settled lower, and the bare skin of her rump began to roll out from beneath the fluttering hem of her skirt. Tiny dimples sprinkled across the flesh as it slowly drooped into a thickly padded teardrop shape.

The house behind her silently grew like a time-lapse construction project. An extra story sprouted from the top. The garage stretched longer. The puny pines that lined the street shot up towards the sky, branching into stately oaks even as the lot sank back from the road. The stubby pad of concrete in front of the garage unwound into a broad driveway.

Nikita strutted around to the front of the car, unmindful that her skirt was riding further and further up over her ass. The grill of the car pooched out and the roof sunk lower. The yellow paint seemed to be bleeding red. The shiny scarlet spread slowly at first, then faster, wrapping around the doors and sliding back towards the intricately molded rear of the Ferrari.

She stared at her reflection in the darkly-tinted windshield and squeezed her tits together with her forearms. They mashed against each other, soft browned flesh that seemed to melt like drippy, mocha ice cream and pour over her meager, purple tube top. The fabric cut deeply into her soft, wobbling bosoms and she knew there would be red marks on her skin when she took off her top.

The windshield was spotless, but she ran her sponge over the smooth glass anyway. Her breasts jolted uncomfortably. With all the wiggling and wobbling that was going on, it was hard to see that her cleavage rose and backed up a bit higher behind her tube top. A fragment of her dark areola was escaping. She bent over the hood, letting the stream from the hose cascade through her cleavage, turning it into a white-water rapids.

This was her least favorite part. She tried not to think about whatever man might be behind the dark glass of the windshield. As she dragged her heavy chest across the hood, a thick nipple surfaced. She ran her tongue across her damp, shiny lips without thinking about what she was doing. It happened automatically.

The wet tube top clung to the wobbly curves of her tits, and she reached up her hand to pull the sopping garment away from her skin. There was the click of a car door opening and her insides tightened. She laid her hand on the hood, and her breasts stretched longer. Her bare nipple scooched up even higher above her tube top

Clients paid a lot for her services, and they generally understood the rules. Stay inside the car at all times. There were no exceptions. Roll the window down if you want to talk and don’t mind being splashed, but keep the door fucking closed.

She had put one hand on the jutting curve of her hip and had opened her mouth to speak when the man interrupted her.

“You don’t have to do that,” he said.

“Um, excuse me? Get back in the car, or I’m done. No titties for you.” She glared sternly in the general direction of the man. She didn’t much see the point in keeping up the sexy act if the client wasn’t going to hold up his side of the bargain.

“No that’s…don’t you recognize me, Nicole?”

She didn’t recognize him because she wasn’t looking at him. She didn’t look at clients. It was easier that way. She was fixating on his tie. It was red with gold crisscrossing it like a lattice fence. The voice, though, stirred something inside her. And nobody called her Nicole. She hadn’t been called that since…

“James?” she said, her voice a strained whisper. She leaned forwards and her other nipple popped out. She didn’t notice.

James glanced awkwardly down at her chest. “It’s me,” he said weakly. His head was completely shaved, but he still had the same slightly disturbing, bushy, red eyebrows. His suit looked massively expensive.

Nikita scooped herself back into her top, unembarrassed for the most part. Showing your titties for a living made nudity seem quite a bit less consequential. “Oh my god! It’s been like…years! What are you…why did you buy a sexy carwash from me?”

“Well, when you didn’t answer my texts, I figured why the hell not? This way I at least get to see you.”

All of James’s texts had gone directly to the trash bin or wherever deleted messages go on your cell phone. She didn’t have much contact with her old friends, especially the guys. Especially James. But here he stood smiling shyly at her without even a hint of judgement in his blue eyes. Her fingers played along the top of one of her dripping, wet tits.

“You let me wash your whole car?” she said, wrinkling her nose. She pictured James staring at the lips of her thong-covered pussy while his boner poked out of his silky dress pants. What a perv!

“Well, I mean, my car was pretty dirty so…”

Nikita giggled. Then she laughed louder. She doubled over, her tits dangerously close to popping out again as they jerked pendulously with her peals of mirth.

James started laughing too. “Hey. You want to go get coffee or something?” he said.

“Only if I can ride in your car.” Nikita giggled into the back of her hand.

“Nah, let’s get an Uber. I don’t want to get this bad boy all dirty again.”

Nikita stared at him blankly. His face broke into a grin. “I’m kidding. Hop in.”

Nikita laughed again and shook her head. The lanky, red-haired kid from across the street grew up to wear Armani suits and drive a Ferrari. What were the chances?

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