As I came to, I heard the distant sound of running water. The drawer was open, so I could see up into some of  Jennifer's room.

I sighed. "She still showers every morning. I keep telling her that she doesn't need to keep it up, but always with the showering."

"What was that?" Jennifer said, drying her hair and looking in on me with a grin. "In case you hadn't noticed, you are gonna have to be in close contact with me <i>a lot</i>. You just might want me to keep up my routine. Unless you have a secret thing for body odor you never told me about?"

"Eurgh," I shuddered. "God, no. Proceed," I added with a arm wave.

She grinned wider. "Thought not." Her grin reversed itself into a small frown. "Alright, this is gonna be a little awkward. I'm, uh, going to the gym, and the landlord still hasn't fixed my lock. So I'm gonna have to ake you with me."

"So?" I questioned. "You put me in your purse, what's so awkward about that?"

"Um . . ." she trailed off, blushing. "Well . . ."

"Ugh," I grunted in annoyance, "spit it out, Jenny!"

"I can't leave you in my purse, because my gym makes it so you have to leave stuff like that in litle lockers, and I don't wanna leave you alone in the dark, especially because someone's been breaking into the rent-a-lockers and stealing people's stuff, and I don't want you to get stolen. So you're going in my clothes, but I can't leave you in my shoe, that's not safe, my workout clothes don't have any pockets . . ." She talked a mile a minute, and I could barely keep up with all of it.

"Then where am I going?" I asked, exasperated.

"I was thinking my bra?" she asked, wincing, trying desperately to not sound like she liked the idea (which I knew she did).

"Jennifer," I spoke slowly, "I'm a Construct, okay? I'm your property. You don't need to ask my permission. I'd like a bit of warning, but I know you're going to be gentle with me, and I know you'd never intentionally put me in a situation I wouldn't be okay with. I trust you."

Take the fact that I had accepted this so easily how you will.

"O-okay," she stammered, still a little hesitant. She reached past me to grab herself some underwear, and slipped them on below my line of sight. Then she grabbed a sports bra from behind me, and put it over her chest without clasping it. "Here I go."

She held out her hand for me to climb into- none of the drunken (or, considering the utter lack of a hangover, mildly buzzed) confidence left, not even to just grab me. I stpped into her palm, running my feet over the light calluses. Rough, but not abrasive. I gave her a thumbs-up.

She raised her hand to her chest, and slowly tilted her hand so I could step off and grab her breasts, slipping between them just enough that I'd pretty much stay put. She quickly did the clasp, pressing me between the mammary mounds I had to fight to remind myself were supposed to be <i>smaller than mine</i>.

"Hmm . . ." she murmured mischievously- a bit of a bad sign. Normally, this was where she'd do something that called her sexuality into question (or, in hindsight, put it closer to the surface). However, considering how small I was in comparison to her, the vast majority of things that this little sound could mean would wind up being compromising at the very least.

Before I could question it, she used a single finger to trap me in her cleavage, with only my head sticking up. "Sorry," she said in a tone that blatantly told me she was not sorry in the slightest, "but I can't have people questioning you sticking up."

She coninued to get dressed and otherwise ready, her tanktop giving me very little in the way of a view on the world. She hummed a merry tune, and quickly got into her car.

I sat there, miffed, for the entire car ride. The fact that she was singing along to "Under My Thumb" didn't help in the slightest.

Once we got to her favorite Olympian gym, however, I got a sneaky sort of idea on how to get her back for leaving me stuck like this. She left her purse and change of clothes inside a locker, and spoke to one of the trainers to get access to the members-only second floor.

"Hey, Jennifer! You're in a little late this week!" the woman admonished jokingly, wagging a finger at my new owner as if scolding a child.

Jennifer mock gasped. "I can't even arrive three minutes off of my usual schedule without getting noticed?"

"Nuh-uh," the trainer said, shaking her head. "And so, to make up for it, you'll have to do an extra ten minutes on the treadmill, high speed."

"W-wait," Jennifer stuttered, taken aback, "can't I get a little leniency here? My birthday was yesterday and-"

"Well, that changes everything," the other woman chuckled, enjoying having tricked Jennifer. "As a birthday present to you, I reserved one of the clean mats. No smelling someone else's sweat while you do your situps."

"Thanks, Lauren! One of these days, I'm going to find out when your birthday is, to pay you back big for all these favors you've done me," Jennifer said, going in for a quick hug.

I made my move, stuggling and squirming in the sensitive flesh, trying to get Jennifer to have to backpedal. She's just so funny when she tries to explain something.

Sure as sure is, Jennifer let out a gasp. However, apparently I had not taken a specific thing into account.

"There," Lauren said, grinning like an idiot. "That covers some of it, I think."

I craned my neck to look up at Jennifer's face. "D-d-did you just-" she stammered, blushing furiously.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Lauren nod. "Uh, yeah. I grabbed your ass. The very glutes I've been helping you keep toned. Seriously, take a fuckin' hint once in a while."

Jennifer became completely crimson. "I-I-I-I . . ." She sounded like a broken record.

"Now," Lauren said, grabbing Jennifer by the shoulder and walking her to the second floor elevator like none of this ever happened, "how about you do those tradmill excercises anyway?"

In my place between Jennifer's boobs, I couldn't help but grow angry at and jealous of this physical trainer.

That should be me, I thought.