This story is based on actual events, hence the somewhat unusual introduction. Some minor things have been changed in the name of literary freedom, as have the names of the people involved to protect the guilty.
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My name is Colin and I'm 23 years old. I was never a real jock as I grew up. I was taller and more broad-shouldered than my friends, but I didn't exercise much and so didn't develop a strong physique.
Until I landed a sweet job as an engineer at a big electronics company right out of college. The campus where my office was located had a big fitness center that was free to use for employees. I started working out there with a colleague of mine, first once a week, then more often until we'd go to the gym every other day. We'd compete against each other, who could bench-press the most and who could do the fastest 500 yards on the rowing machine. Soon my chest and shoulders became more rounded, biceps and triceps bulging on my arms. I never quite got rid of the beer gut I'd acquired in college, as I focused more on strength and muscle mass in my workout, but I didn't mind much.
Needless to say my improved body also did wonders for my self esteem. I'd had one serious girlfriend so far, and had sex with about three women. One of them was nine years older than me and taught me a lot, especially about eating pussy. But that's another story.
Friends of mine had persuaded me to help as a volunteer at a big fantasy fair. I figured I'd be selling tickets or serving drinks, but what they had me do is dress up like a zombie and scare the living daylights out of the fair's visitors. It was much more fun than I anticipated. There was a degree of anonymity due to the heavy make-up I wore, complete with open festering wounds made out of latex and dripping fake blood. I especially enjoyed scaring people who were having a snack, as many would quickly lose their appetite when they saw my horrific face.
I learned quickly that a fantasy fair attracts hordes of Goths. The fair was swarmed with tall, skinny Goth boys and cute pale girls in elaborate black and purple outfits, heavy with chains and other various marks of Gothness. Instead of being scared or grossed out by my zombie-like appearance, they reacted either with cheers or even admiration.
Two Goth girls especially seemed to like my zombie make-up and outfit. One was a tall, voluptuous blond, which I found surprising as stereotypical Goths keep their hair dark, and they tend towards the thin side of the spectrum. But this girl, with bright brown eyes, seemed to be the exception to the rule. She was wearing a lovely black dress with lace highlights that accented her ample bosom quite nicely.
The other girl was more of the Goth stereotype, with long black hair and heavy make-up in tribal patterns on the sides of her face. She wasn't quite skinny either though, with shapely legs, curvy hips and nice breasts too, tightly contained in her black corset.
After my initial failed attempt to scare them, they followed me around for a while and watched me do my thing on other visitor's of the fair. Then as I sat down for a break, they joined me and we started chatting. The tall blond girl was called Regina, and her dark-haired friend Rianne. I introduced myself and we talked for a bit about the fair and my zombie dress-up. After a while I had to get back to scaring folks, so we said goodbye. I thought that that was the last I'd see of them.
A few weeks later the same friends that had brought me along to the fair now invited me to join them at a big Goth party in town. My curiosity in the Goth culture, especially their women which somehow seemed more beautiful than 'regular' people, led me to accepting the invitation. So here I was, dressed very inappropriately in jeans and a black shirt, nowhere near a convincing Goth. But it didn't seem to matter at this party, as everyone was having a great time and I wasn't the only non-Goth there.
Suddenly I spotted Regina, dressed in a stunning dark blue dress with her long blond hair in a ponytail. She was chatting with a young fellow who barely seemed old enough to shave. I went over to her and as I approached she looked over at me. At first there was no recognition, but as I came closer she looked again and suddenly she remembered me.
"Colin!" She hugged me tightly, her breasts pressing against my chest. I hadn't expected such a warm hello, but who was I to complain? The boy at her side wasn't happy, but as I was at least a head taller and twice as wide as him, he refrained from glaring at me.
The rest of the night Regina and I were inseparable. We chatted, we danced, we drank, and after a while we took a walk outside. We sat on the curb for a while, our sides touching, talking about lots of stuff in hushed tones. Turned out Regina was 19 and just about to start college. She hadn't decided on her major yet but she was looking in to studying psychology.