Your mind has been made up- you'll wait for Caroline to finish her exercises. After all, what's the worst that could happen?

Besides, this gives you more time to watch the brunette beauty in action.

Caroline is a moving column of lean muscle, thin rivulets of sweat traveling down her body as if they were rivers on the landscape of a woman before you. You find yourself staring at the sexy titaness before you, gladly putting off your own return to normal for the opportunity to watch this workout.

All the while, you keep hearing a slight, nearly inaudible noise, synchronized with Caroline's movements- chff. You don't recognize it at first, but it becomes clearer over time.

"18!" Chff. Caroline looks even bigger to you

"19!" Chff. At first, you think you might be shrinking even more.

"20!" Chff. And, to be honest, that doesn't seem too bad.

"21!" Chff. After all, if you're small enough, you might be able to sneak onto her body without her noticing.

It becomes clear that the sound is the exercise mat sliding on the carpet, and that Caroline, slowly but surely, is moving toward you- maybe she'll notice you before her exercises are done! Yeah, she might be a little mad (after all, she's probably smart enough to know you find her good-looking, and she might think you did this to peep on her), but it'll be better than having to wait several hours for her to finish.

Then, the unexpected happens.

"Urgh!" she grunts angrily. "Why does this stupid thing keep moving?"

With those words, she shifts her leg to get herself back into position, first slamming one foot on the floor not too far away from you . . . then the other- directly on top of you.

The pain is absurd, and your cry is quickly cut off due to a deficiency of air in your lungs. That single stomp didn't snuff you out, and so you're conscious for her adjusting herself- an action which comprises of her pushing herself backwards using her feet. Caroline, for what it's worth, apparently only vaguely recognizes that her foot is now wetter than it should be.

"Damnit, Cass . . . probably came into my room again and spilled her drink," Caroline complains, drowning out your initial scream while she tamps your lungs shut beneath her foot.

Your consciousness drifts away, lulled into its eternal rest by Caroline's steady count.

"22! . . . 23! . . . 24! . . . 25! . . . 26!"

By the end of the night, when Caroline attempts to sneak out of her room and let out some of her pent-up sexual frustrations on you, all she finds is her sisters with the exact same idea. The three of them spend about an hour accusing each other of having taken you, knowing you wouldn't be dumb enough to leave. By this point, you're nothing but a vague, sticky splotch on Caroline's sole, which she blames Cassandra's love of fruity drinks for. Despite the redhead's protests, Caroline gives her a swift punch for it.

The worst part, however, is that it is Caroline who calls in your replacement not a week later. The brunette forgot your existence after a few more days, sadly enough.

BAD END

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