The shoe expedition was a great success. In addition to new walking shoes, I got some loafers and comfortable casual shoes. But most of the shoes were to go with my new clothes that Mr. Morton had said would be ready on Tuesday. They were mostly strappy flats in a variety of colors and styles. My favorites were a pair of Roman sandals with straps that wrapped around my calves all the way to my knees. I thought they would be a nice balance to my breasts in my toga outfit.
A couple of pairs had really tall narrow heels. I thought they were uncomfortable and I could hardly walk in them, but Bambi said I would get used to them and that they really showed off my legs and butt. After looking in the mirror, I could not argue with that. The shoes made all the muscles in my legs and butt tighten up. They gave my ass-cheeks a great set of dimples. Most importantly to me, they made me several inches taller.
We spent a long time trying to figure out what I could wear to show them off. We finally decided on a pair of skin-tight silver shorts and a top that was a single polychrome-spandex strap covered that looped twice around my back and over my boobs, just barely covering my wide areolas. The whole thing was designed to show the maximum amount of skin without me being actually naked. Bambi said that this would be the ultimate party outfit. I told her that I had never been to a party where this sort of thing was worn, but she assured me that I would be invited to a much better class of party than I had been used to. She said that there was a big demand for girls like me to go to parties just to stand around and look pretty. I told her I thought I could handle the work, but the hours left something to be desired.
While we were looking at lingerie, I told Bambi how good I thought Yvette looked in her horse's tail.
"Now that would be something to wear with those heels." She said. "That would really show off your rear end."
"Do you know where I can get that kind of thing?"
"Oh yes. I have a few at home. They are part of some Pony-Girl costumes that Ben bought me. The costumes have lots of accessories, like bridles and harnesses."
"Bridles and harnesses?"
"And the cart that you pull with the harness. There are competitions and races and everything. I don't have a cart. I never entered a race, but I was in a competition once. I won second place. I would have had first place, but the other girl's tack included connecting her harness to rings in her pierced nipples. The judges were quite impressed with that detail."
"Well, I don't know about the rest, but I have to see what I look like with a tail."
"I'd like to see that, too. I'll dig them out for you. "
"Pierced nipples, hunh?"
"Don't even go there, honey. For any woman larger than a D-cup, piercing her nipples is like painting a mustache on the Mona Lisa. No matter how well it's done, it can't possibly be an improvement. Besides, I should think you would have had enough of things hanging on your nipples."
"You're not going to believe this, but I sort of miss it."
"Tell me you're kidding."
"No. Seriously. I miss the stimulation. I guess that's why I am interested in lactating and breast pumps and everything. I'm looking for an excuse to fool with my new boobs."
"What about the pain? Doesn't that discourage you?"
"I guess not. At first it was hard to stand, but after awhile it... It's hard to explain. It's not that it felt 'good', but it was just such a powerful feeling that after it's gone you feel... empty."
"Endorphins."
"Gesundheit."
"Ha ha. Brain chemicals. Pain causes your body to release natural narcotics into your blood. You could be getting high on your own endorphins. Be careful you don't turn into a pain slut."
"'Pain slut'? Oh, yuck. That sounds awful."
"Some girls get hooked on the endorphins. It makes you a masochist. Some take it too far and end up mutilated, or worse."
"You're scaring me."
"I hope so. People get addicted to all sorts of things, not just street drugs."
"They give us all this anti-drug information in school. But it's all about not drinking and not doing party drugs. Why don't they say anything about endorphins?"
"Probably because they don't want you to know the synthetic narcotics they are warning you about are just weak imitations of the stuff your own body produces. You, above all people, should know that there is no drug that can match what you can do inside your own head."
"You mean like making an orgasm last all day? Or being able to trance-out whenever I like? That can be fun, but the more I think about that stuff, the weirder I feel about it. It's not normal."
"Listen, 'normal' is just a mathematical abstraction, like 'average' or 'lowest common denominator'. You've learned those in Math class, right?"
"Yeah."
"Well, if you get a 100 on a test and the class average is 85, does that make you abnormal?"
"I hope not! I've been doing really good in my classes since some mean woman started making me hit the books every afternoon."
"Good! Then you're above average. That's what 'supernormal' means."
"Shoot! I was thinking of wearing a fishnet teddy with a big 'S', for Samantha, on the front."
"That sounds interesting, but you're distracting me from my point. Can everyone in your class be above average?"
"Well, if they all studied hard, they could raise their grades. I guess they could all be above average, then."
"Nope. They can't."
"Well, why not? If everyone made 100 on the tests..."
"Then the average grade would be 100. See? You are talking about measuring yourself against the average, when really, the average is a measure of you."
"So if I can do things that are supernormal..."
"Then you just raised the average for everybody."