The Cosmos, The Arrivals, Book 1, Chapter 5, Babs & Tiffany: Dining Room, Backyard Scratch, Bath, Day 1, Section 5, Babs & Tiffany: No Costume Trade for a Wannabe Porn Star ¶ And so it comes to pass, ironically, that BB’s lack of leverage, coupled with Tiffany’s experience, contribute to an uneasy alliance between the Roommates. Together they combine the designated Cosmos Leadership with the most experienced Cosmos. Thus far. Boss Babe understands and values this power structure. They both do, and it is by a freak of the Game that Tiffany isn’t actually prey for her Roommate, with Babs simply swapping her smallish Black Bikini for Tiffany’s shirt and slacks. Or taking one or the other. Or both. ¶ Tiffany knows. {Boss Babe has the power to do what is expedient. She may choose to collect from me, let me cut my Garments to dust, or let me twist while she figures out what suits her best. I’ll make it work.} ¶ Babs suspects Tiffany did not volunteer chastisement to earn her Double Opt Up to Pledge. {And it certainly wasn’t fucking a porn star, because she did that over and over and over again!} ¶ It is later in the day, and Babs and Tiffany relax at ease in the Kitchen. The four Dining Room Pictures remind both of them that costumes between Roommates can be shared, exchanged, traded, even fought over. ¶ Tiffany projects calm. “Thank you for letting me make out with myself in the Mirror. I was almost able to climax, but it wouldn’t let me.” ¶ Babs shrugs. “Maybe next time.” ¶ Tiffany compliments, “I like that you shared with me your tan line from where you folded your nombril down last Term. You’re very curvy. You should be proud you’re hanging hairage on the Dining Room wall. ¶ BB asserts, “I have to pay attention to keep my bikini bottoms properly suspended and tugged into their sweet spot. It’s not easy.” Babs details, “If I hike up the backside I wisp hairage or’top the front, and if I tug up the front I’m liable to crack my behind.” ¶ “Especially when you sit down.” Tiffany dares, “And, Ma’am, were you to trade for my slacks you’d be able to crack butt for sure. Just like I do. Tail trough all the time. Hairage, too.” Tiffany pesters, “Ma’am, if you trade your nombril for my slacks, you could cover your legs!” ¶ “Cover my legs?” Babs appears taken aback. “Pledge, if I want to cover my legs I’ll just take your slacks and wear them overtop my nombril. Don’t insult my legs. I like my legs.” Boss Babe statures, “And Gamers and Cams like my legs, too. Even paparazzi. You can keep your slacks.” ¶ “Ma’am, my waistline hangs lower on me than your Bikini does in your Picture,” Tiffany boasts. ¶ BB scans her eyes across Tiffany’s waistline and fingers the elastic in the waistband of her own. “Excellent. Let’s keep it that way. You just keep showing your fiery thatch and your tail trough. Standing, sitting. And you can start begging me to keep you on your hands and knees, too.” ¶ “Ma’am, thank you, Ma’am,” Tiffany retorts. “I’ll pull my pants down and show you my tail-pipe. I’ll pull my treasure chest open for any Cam. ¶ “You’ll stop begging to expose yourself,” Babs decrees, “that’s what you’ll do.” ¶ Tiffany pauses for air, ignores the aggression, pushes gently, and adds courtesy, “Ma’am.” She teases, “Does you know you can trade your Bling Bra for my vinyl croptop, and the croptop would cover {all} of your breasts?” ¶ Boss Babe gives Tiffany soft twinkle smile. “It is so kind of you to make such a generous offering. But I am not about to exchange my ‘Bling Bra’ for your shirt so I flop my bazoombas around inside a completely transparent clear vinyl.” ¶ And they both laugh. ¶ And the Roommates intermingle a line: “No matter how long the sleeves,” says one. “Or how many buttons,” adds the other. ¶ And laugh again. ¶ Babs pushes a chest full of air out of her body. “I hated it at the end of last Term when I had to go outside, run errands, and parade in this Black Bikini. And I still hate flouting my {crescents d’areolage} this Term, like walking over here, paparazzi and Cams. No matter how good I am at carrying myself. Or becoming popular with the Prefecture.” ¶ Tiffany sympathizes, “You’re laying a tan line across your areolas so deep your original color will never come back. You’re gonna bling forever.” ¶ Babs carelessly touches her tanned crescents and wonders the truth. ¶ “I’ll go out with you the next time you need to,” Tiffany offers. ¶ “Right,” BB rushes. “Your even more overexposed body will attract them like flies.” Babs wishes she hadn’t spoken the thought and considers this idea seriously. ¶ Tiffany tries a different tack. “Let’s be frank: you already have two pieces, but you still need a third piece if you wish to ensure yourself a promotion. Right?” ¶ “Well, okay,” Babs agrees warily. {Yes, an Opt Up to House Mom el Capitan does require three pieces,} if {I want to become a MomCap next Term. But mostly I want to cover my} crescents d’areolage. {Now. This Term.}