Lacy awoke the day after the accident dreading what was coming next. It's not that she had been so satisfied with her life before the accident, but she had made it work and gotten comfortable with it. After a.....vivid puberty, she had slowly grown into an extremely beautiful woman, full-breasted, thin-waisted, with silky dark hair and full lips that made just about any color lipstick look halfway between vulgar and devastating. When dressed up for a date or special event she was a scintillating presence - men craved her, women wanted to be her. But at the same time her intelligence had grown, her ability to focus and her maturity as well, and she just hadn't had good luck with men, or even with women during an experimental bisexual relationship or two she couldn't quite convince herself was a college phase. She wanted a good conversation, and all they wanted to do was bed her.
Even in bed possessing this body - which until today she had thought of as almost flawless - wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Her sexual appetites were voracious, demanding, and her body gave her the strength and stamina to put those appetites into aggressive, skilled lovemaking. But her partners simply couldn't keep up. Lacy embraced being a monster in bed during marathon self-worship sessions - and probably, guiltily, had made things a bit worse by becoming more and more lost in hours-long fantasies. But she wished there was someone who could deliver that with the intimacy that a relationship could provide.
And until yesterday she had finally achieved some level of respect at her work, though her lab director was a pervert and her underling was useless she had gotten the lab to see the value of it and let her pursue it out to its most recent successes. Now, though? All that was at risk. Just because of a stupid chemical spill.
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