Flight 5

By: Alyssa Hyatt

Skye Blue got the private time she desired with Mr Hanson much quicker
than she had expected, because after the stimulation of Miss Blue's lewd
lapdance,  Mr Tarasov decided he needed to rest his ticker with a quick
nap. Originally he had wanted to hang on to Skye's services while he
slept, pointing out quite rightly that her bazongas would make excellent
pillows, but after some tough negotiations between the two businessmen
Tarasov finally agreed to hand her over to Mr Hanson for the next few
hours in exchange for a small thatched cottage in the French Riviera.
All of which leads us to the night time portion of the flight.

Although the lights were out and the window shutters drawn, the plane
was not a quiet place to be as it flew over a sleeping Greenland.
Granted, Vlad was as quiet as a mouse - a 6"7, fuming mouse - but
further up the cabin, there were several noises that could be heard even
over the roar of the plane's engines. One was Tarasov's thunderous
snoring. The other was the sound of Skye and Mr Hanson giggling like a
pair of lovestruck teenagers as they greedily caressed and groped each
other in a specially-designed luxury seat situated at the front of the
cabin. A ceiling-mounted camera tracked the playmates' movements
closely.

The trolley dolly's conflicted behaviour made the couple's heavy petting
session a terrific spectator's sport. Certainly, the pilots thought so;
Skye's estranged wife spent more time watching her hubbie's humiliation
on a specially erected screen in the cockpit than she did concentrating
on the sky ahead.

For the majority of the pair's 'courtship' routine, Skye assumed the
role of damsel in distress; frantically trying to bat away her suitor's
busy hands as they explored every inch of her feminine charms. "Oh, Sir,
I just want to cuddle and talk!," the lusty ladyboy would whine,
pulling
the skirt of her dress back down over her plump rump to preserve what
little modesty she could possibly have in her outrageous fantasy
uniform. Her words did no good. All boobs and ass, it was impossible to
take Skye's protestations seriously. Even as she pouted and wagged her
finger as a warning, she looked more like a Carry On girl secretly
gagging for it than a chaste woman deserving of gentlemanly respect. No
wonder male attention and harassment followed the surgically
reconstructed shemale wherever she minced.

But occasionally, Mr Hanson's hands or lips would hit the right buttons,
and Skye's new body would betray her old mind. Although she hadn't
quite
accepted it in her head yet, the oestrogen coursing round her ruined
body had made her totally boy crazy, so all it took was a well-timed
fondle from Mr Hanson's strong, authoritative hands to plunge her into a
deep, insatiable heat. And so inevitably, what Skye had originally
intended to be a candid sit-down chat quickly spiralled out of her
control, escalating into something quite different. Something that began
with a snog and culminated in her bringing off her former partner-in-
crime with an wanton tittyfuck.

It was a wonder that the plane didn't dive into a talespin while Miss
Blue performed the dirty deed. Back in the pilot's bay, Michelle was
masturbating furiously as she watched her spouse's homosexual
debasement, climaxing just as the esteemed Mr Hanson splurged his
virile, powerful manseed down the shocked hostesses' heaving cleavage.
Michelle's orgasmic scream woke a slumbering couple in Godthab.

After the heat of the moment had died, Skye was forced to face up to the
perverse act she'd performed on her pal during the throes of passion. A
single tear slide down her cheek as she felt the trail of hot, salty
cum
trickle through her red raw funbags and slowly dribble towards her belly
button. Looking Richard in the eye and telling him the truth would now
be that tiny bit harder when they touched down in Vegas. Skye (and by
extension, Ace) wasn't just a cocksucker in Mr Hanson's eyes any more;
she was a source of free tittyfucks, too. And worse might be yet to come
if she wasn't able to pique Richard's curiosity now and convince him to
'save' her derrière for a later date.   She couldn't, wouldn't let that
happen.



The good news for Skye: her aching boobs' sacrifice seemed to have paid
off. Now he'd relieved himself of his load, Mr Hanson seemed relaxed and
far more open to talking, so Skye sensed it was time to strike. The
dutiful attendant did her best to ignore the sticky, spunky mess
congealing inside  her satin bra and offered to oil the wheels of
conversation further with a sensual body massage. Mr Hanson was
predictably keen. As she unbuttoned his shirt and tie and leaned over
him to rub his chest, she caught a look of herself in the reflection of
his wine glass. Ugh! If there was an inch of her neck and tits that
weren't covered in love bites, she couldn't see it. It made her all the
more determined to get this discussion right - this was her ticket out
of this depravity!

After ten minutes or so, when she was finally convinced that her
'audience' had gone back to focusing on flying the god damn plane, Skye
decided to put her cunning plan into motion. She curled up in a pacified
Mr Hanson's lap and, with her hand still tucked inside his shirt, began
the small talk.

"So tell me, handsome," she cooed, rubbing his abs softly with her
delicate hands. "How long are you in Vegas?"

The massage had been so effective that Mr Hanson could barely muster the
strength to answer at first. "About three or four days, honey," he
finally replied. "I've got a conference to present".

"Ooooh, that sounds very important," lisped Skye, running her hand
lightly over Mr Hanson's pecs. This was home field advantage for Skye
now. As his former confidant, she knew exactly what Richard liked in a
woman. Step one: flattery. "You must be a very successful man!"

"Only the most successful man in the entire aviation industry,
sweetheart" replied Mr Hanson boastfully, opening his legs subtly as if
to emphasis the size of his cock as he spoke. Skye unconsciously gawped
at the throbbing package for a few seconds, but regained her bearings in
time to let him finish his sentence. "It's a shame that you won't be
able to stay for it..."

"Oh, I don't know about that, Sir," Skye responded, looking up at him
and batting her eyelashes with misplaced innocence. "I'm actually
staying in Vegas for a few days myself"

This was true. The return flight wasn't until Thursday, because Michelle
wanted to spend a few days  living it up in Las Vegas with Randy, who
was now apparently her best friend. This meant Skye was forced to stay
over too, because heaven forbid she get a day or two's respite from her
wickedly cruel wife. The only difference was that while the pilots lived
the high life in Ceasar's Palace, Miss Blue would have to make do with
a
bed in a dirt-cheap hostel, where only the sleaziest of punters would
dare stay.

"Just one of the perks of the job I guess," he flippantly replied, the
growing bulge in his expensive suit indicating that his mind was
thinking of the possibilities that could arise from the conversation.
"So what are your plans in Vegas, girl? Going to take in some sights?
Some shows? Some shopping?"

Skye squeaked out a girlish giggle that irritated both parties equally.
"Oh no Sir, my meagre hostess wages mean that I can't afford to do fancy
things like that! I'll probably just stay in my hostel. But I guess..."
She paused for effect and then clung to his Adonis-like body tightly.
"...I guess it would be nice to have some male company though. I get so
scared when I'm on my own!"

Step two: appear vulnerable. Mr Hanson took the bait hook, line, sinker.
"Doll," he began, wrapping his arm around her shoulder in such a way
that his hand landed on her erect nipple, "if you'd fancy a taste of the
good life, perhaps you'd like to be my date for the afterparty at the
Ghost Bar."

"Oh darling, I'd be honoured," simpered Skye theatrically, cradling Mr
Hanson's rugged chin with her hand and planting a kiss on his cheek,
adding yet another lipstick mark to his face's ample collection.
"But....oh, but I don't have anything posh to wear...this uniform is the
only thing I'm allowed to pack when I'm away on business!". Another
truth, and one that threatened to make the shemale's stay in the hostel
very, well, hostile.

"Silly girl," Mr Hanson chided, "I'd be happy to take you shopping and
help you pick out a stunning little number for you to squeeze that
figure into. Maybe as repayment, you could model it for me in my hotel
room later. That is...unless you already have a boyfriend?"

The amount of time it took Skye to answer such a seemingly
straightforward question caused her to blush a brilliant red. "Shit,"
thought Skye, remembering her earlier experience in the waiting lounge.
"Is Randy really my boyfriend now? I have a boyfriend?? Oh, god!"

Mr Hanson read the girlyboy's embarrassment and laughed it off."Don't
worry, sweetcheeks - what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas! I can tell
from the way your tits are stiffening that you're dying for me to do
that sweet little ass of yours!"

That wasn't quite the case, but Skye decided to run with it anyway. "Oh
yes, Sir, I'd like nothing more than for you to cram that delicious cock
of yours up my backside," she swooned. "It would be an honour to
pleasure such an important, dashing businessman as yourself in any way I
can". Step three: be really fucking horny. "But...it would be such an
honour that I wonder if here, on this noisy old plane, would be the
right place to do it". Her blue eyes flashed with devious intent.
"Wouldn't you...rather save me for later?"

Mr Hanson seemed unsure.

She licked her lips suggestively. "I'll let you do anything to me.
Anything."

If Mr Hanson's trouser luggage had swelled any larger, he would have had
to put it in the hold. "I think we have a deal, Miss Blue. Nice doing
business with you."

Sky's eyes watered with tears of relief. "Oh, I can't wait for our
rendez-vous, Sir!"

"Nor I, baby, nor I. Now, why don't you see how my breakfast is coming
along? And for god's sake, clean yourself up before doing so, lady. You
stink of spunk."

The crimson-cheeked cutie could only reply with her signature salute and
the words: "Yes, Sir, right away, Sir!

-------------------------

Miss Skye Blue had a spring in her step as she made her way to the
toilet cubicle, and for once it wasn't caused by her anal implant. Her
plan was working perfectly!

By this time next week, there would be no more  cocksucking, no more
'Yes, Sir," no more painful anal sex, no more skimpy, borderline illegal
'uniforms', no more crappy little flat decorated like a plane cabin,
and
best of all, no more Michelle. Skye painted a very exotic picture of the
rest of her summer - tits removed, blonde hair shorn and recoloured,
tattoo lasered off, and best of all, penis uncaged and ready to once
again wreck havoc on the good young women of London. Before all that
though, the drudgery of removing the cum stains from her bra. She pulled
off a length of toilet roll and began dabbing at her colossal baps. Why
did Michelle's boyfriend have to make them so big? This was going to
take ages! Thank god they'll be gone by Friday!

Skye was still lost in her silly masculine fantasy world when she heard
a knock on the cubicle door. "Just a moment, Sir!," she shrilled, secure
in the knowledge that the door was tightly locked. Then she heard an
almighty thud which nearly knocked her off her teetering heels.

What she saw next was easily the most frightening thing she had ever
seen, and you have to remember that the past few months of her life had
not passed without incident. The door had been kicked off its hinges,
and standing on the other side, cradling the biggest erection Skye had
ever seen, was Vlad. And he looked pissed. Very pissed, in fact.

"S-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-sir!!!!" spluttered the tamed t-girl, her
heart beating so hard it nearly burst out of her busty chest. "H-h-h-h-
h-h-ow may I be of servi-"

Her ineffectual platitudes were cut off by Vlad's huge right hand, which
clocked her round her bimbo-blonde head with a slap so forceful it
caused the plane to yaw. Now shivering on the floor, she looked up as he
dropped his tracksuit bottoms to the floor, revealing the terror which
lied underneath. Forget 'budgie-smugglers' - Vlad's briefs were packing
an full-grown ostrich! The sheer size and girth caused Skye to cover her
o-shaped mouth with her hand in an unmistakably feminine gesture.

Vlad reached down and pulled the stewardess up to her feet by the collar
of her dress. "I finish what you started" grunted Vlad in his basic
English vocabulary. Nonetheless, the message was well understood. He
tightened his grip on the dress and literally yanked it off her body
with a powerful tug, causing dislodged popper buttons to scatter around
the cubicle. Now clad only in her bra and panties, the stunned hostess
found herself fanning her hands up and down her body in a vain attempt
to cover her acres of exposed lady flesh from the gaze of Vlad's hungry
eyes.

Vlad tossed off his shirt and grabbed the howling hostess by her hair.
"You remove pants now" he bellowed, before thrusting her face into his
crotch with such force that his pulsating member nearly took her eye
out. Professional stewardess/call girl that she was, Skye soon figured
out what her customer was asking of her, and clamped one leg of his
foul-smelling briefs between her teeth and began tugging.

The ordeal took several minutes, but eventually she completed the
humiliating task and successfully undressed her man. Skye looked up with
some trepidation at the now-exposed throbbing member in front of her,
and turned quite pale! It was even bigger - and wider - in the flesh!
Surely there was no way that thing was ever going to fit inside her!

Vlad begged to differ. He pinned Skye to the wall with one hand and used
the other to unlatch what, Skye supposed, would on a normal flight be a
nappy-changing station. On Layover Airways however it was served quite
a
different purpose, as indicated by the silhouette sign depicting a
gentleman and a lady doing it doggy style.

Vlad manhandled Skye onto the ledge until she was lying flat on her
back, almost as if she too was about to have her nappy changed. Vlad
stopped for a second to chuckle at the crude 'Arrivals' motif stitched
on the back of Skye's provocative panties (some jokes break the language
barrier, apparently), before setting to work, aggressively tugging off
Skye's underwear as if she was a rag doll.  Once he was done, Skye was
left to lay there alone for a second, naked but for her high heels and
the pillbox hat still tied to her head,  her legs still sticking
straight up in the air.

She heard rustling sounds in the background, and eventually her
curiosity got the best of her. Peeking a look through her giant boobs,
she caught sight of Vlad stuffing her bra and knickers down the toilet
bowl. No! One flush later and they disappeared, fluttering down to earth
where they'd make an Inuit farmer very happy in the morning. "Oh....oh,
poo!" whined Skye aloud. That was her only pair! As if things weren't
bad enough before, now she'd have to spend the next few days in Vegas
with no underwear, with only an obscene latex microdress with heaven
knows how many poppers missing to cover herself with!

But Skye had more pressing matters to deal with, such as Vlad lifting
her up against the wall and pressing his inhuman cock between her ass
cheeks. Now, Miss Blue's poor bum had taken more than its share of male
organs in recent weeks, but nothing like this. The scream as Vlad
impaled her, unlubed, on his member was blood-curdling. It was a good
job this area of the plane was soundproofed.

Vlad didn't care much for the noise his cumdump was making however, so
he rooted around on the floor until he found his soiled boxers, and
ceremoniously crammed them into the stewardesses' moaning mouth. The
taste was predictably foul but that was the least of her worries. At
least she now something to bite on and he pounded her hard, her
unfettered breasts wobbling furiously between them as he fucked the
living daylights out of her.

As much as he was enjoying his revenge, Vlad's main priority was to
shoot his load and leave, so it didn't take long for him to grow
dissatisfied with his level of penetration. As an industrious Eastern
European type, Vlad decided to do something about it. He walked the
skewered stewardess over to the changing station and slammed her down on
the ledge with such velocity that her head bounced off of it. Now he
had
her where he wanted her, Vlad took it upon himself to grab Miss Skye's
shapely legs and wrench them so far back that her feet were practically
behind her dazed head. The change of position was a complete success -
with this new angle of entry, Vlad was able to go balls deep into Skye's
abused back passage. The flight attendant was beyond being hysterical
as
he lanced in and out of her without mercy - it felt as though if he was
in any deeper, the head of his cock would pop out of her mouth.

Vlad was much happier with this new arrangement, but he didn't
appreciate the amount of froth the drooling girlyboy was getting over
his best pair of pants. So he pulled them out, nearly taking a couple of
teeth with them as he did so, and looked around for something else to
gag her with. There was nothing else immediately to hand, though. Except
for one thing. One tiny, insignificant little thing.

After thinking over his options, Vlad reached between Skye's legs and in
a single motion crushed her metal chastity device in his first, freeing
her long-suffering cockette. To her shame, it immediately seized the
opportunity to sprout a miniature erection. Thanks to the unnatural
angle Skye's tortured body was bent at, Vlad was able to guide Skye's
little penis into her mouth, where she sucked on it like a pacifier for
the rest of the ordeal. Moments later, Vlad erupted like a volcano deep
inside her anal cavity, biting down hard on Skye's right breast as he
came. The pair just lay there for a few moments afterwards, panting and
sweating (and in the lady's case, whimpering, as Skye felt the unwanted
spunk deposit swirl around inside her bowels).

Vlad didn't say goodbye to his conquest before he left, but he did offer
a parting shot, slapping her round the face with his semi-erect cock.
It
was, if anything, even harder than the slap he delivered with his hand.
The impact caused Skye to pass out for an unspecified amount of time. By
the time she came around, Vlad has long since departed.

---------------------------------------------

Skye had no idea how long she had been lying face down on the cold
toilet cubicle floor, but the fact that one of her customers was
impatiently buzzing for attention via her anal vibrator suggested that
it had been minutes rather than seconds. "Ooooh...ooooh, pooooooo," she
moaned, blearily. She was in big trouble.

It took a few minutes longer for the well-fucked stewardess to scramble
her way gingerly to her feet. She could barely stand without the support
of the walls around her, and her awkward gait made it look like she'd
just been fisted by Big Foot. She was just about to reach down for her
tattered uniform, when a stirring sensation south of the border reminded
her: her cock was free of its cage!

It had been 216 hours since Skye had been allowed to cum, not that she
was counting or anything. Her anal vibrator went off once again, causing
her teeny peeny to twitch. "I'm already in trouble," reasoned Skye to
herself as a naughty thought crept into her head. "What difference does
it make if I take a few seconds for myself?"

She attempted to reach around her boobs, but they were so comically
oversized that she couldn't quite get a good enough grip on her penis,
so she instead reached between them and started tugging away. Ahh, just
like old times. For the special occasion, Skye resurrected her current
favourite fantasy - that of herself, as her former entity of Ace,
fucking the smugness clean out of his treacherous wife.


Skye pictured the scene in her head. Exterior: Ace and Michelle's
expansive marital home, in happier times. The camera pans out. A fire
engine red Ferrari California roars into the driveway at 60 mph,
stopping on a dime. It is a rugged, handsome machine, but even it pales
in comparison to the extraordinary male specimen that steps out of it.
Camera zooms in. It's none other than celebrity pilot, Ace McLaren! A
man's man, yes, but he takes care of himself, too. He stops for a second
to appreciate the summer breeze, stroking his designer stubble
thoughtfully as he does so. Catching a glimpse of himself in the car's
reflection, he takes the opportunity to flex his muscles vainly, as if
to check that his 'guns' are still measuring up to his incredibly high
standards. He's pleased to discover that they do. It is incredible to
think that they make pilot uniforms capable of containing them, really.
Enough preening, it is unbecoming of a macho man. It's time to say hi to
the wife.

Ace struts through the front door with the trademark swagger that makes
him so irresistible to women.  "Honey, I'm home!" he declares. No
response.

"Honey?" he tries again. Still nothing. Ace shrugs his broad, broad
shoulders and continues the search by entering the master bedroom.

"Ahh, there you are, Michelle..." he booms upon entering the room. Cut
to the master bed. There indeed lies Ace's beautiful raven-haired wife,
although not entirely peacefully. Each of her limbs is tied harshly to a
corresponding bedpost, leaving her spread-eagled and vulnerable. She
looks up at him through pleading, tear-sodden eyes, but the big fire-
engine red ballgag in her mouth mutes her protests, save for a few
drooly mumbles.

"...I'd almost forget where I'd left you. You evil, conniving,
treacherous BITCH."

Ace wastes no time undoing his flies and flopping out his magnificent
cock. It is as huge and mouth-watering as it once was in real-life,
before the hormones left it a shrivelled husk of its former self.
Michelle's grunts grow louder and more frantic through her gag as the
beast approachs, but there was no BING-BONG or reading light to save her
now. She was finally going to get what was coming to her.

Without wasting a single extra second more, Ace rammed his big fat cock
straight into his wife's defenceless pussy, causing her to writhe in
agony. "MMMMPPH! HRRRRFFF!," she dribbled through her gag. Music to
Ace's ears. It was impossible not to be impressed with the majesty of
this man as he glided in and out of his disgraced and defeated wife's
most private orifice freely and as he pleased. What an alpha male! What
a powerful, masculine role model for any young man!

Back in reality, the sight was considerably less impressive; a big-
jugged shemale, naked but for her air hostess cap, neckerchief and
heels, breathing heavily through a knot of curly platinum blonde hair as
she gripped her tiny, emaciated pecker between her thumb and forefinger
and attempted to delicately diddle her way to a pathetic orgasm. Skye
was determined not to let real life get in the way of her fun though.
She panted and gasped as her long-overdue splurt edged ever nearer;
"Fuck you, Michelle...fuck you, fuck you fuck you, fuck you right in
the..."

A quiet cough froze Skye Blue's painted fingers in their tracks.

Skye stood perfectly still for almost a minute, her hand still gripped
onto what she laughably called her penis. Eventually, she reached over
to her face with her one free hand, and swept her fringe out of her
eyes. She instantly wished she had never bothered.

There, drumming on  the broken cubicle door with her fingers, stood a
very agitated-looking Michelle. Her eyes narrowed as she calmly
addressed the miserable sight in front of her.

"Skye," she began, "do you have ANY idea how many demerits this is
worth?"


-----------------------------------------------------------------

Skye Blue had every idea how many demerits her behaviour was worth. This
explained why she was reduced to a blubbering wreck, begging for
forgiveness at Michelle's feet. If clemency was on Michelle's mind
though, she was doing a good job of hiding it.

"Can you think of ONE good reason, Skye, that I should let you keep that
dismal little nub of a penis of yours?"

In the context of this conversation at least, Skye couldn't think of
one.

"It's disgusting. Revolting. We can't have an air hostess running around
the plane tugging at herself like she's a monkey, can we? And the thing
that really gets my goat is that you have the audacity to fantasise
about ME while you're doing it. Sick! Get it into your head, missy; you
had your chance with women, and blew it spectacularly. It's men and men
only for you from now on! Have I made it clear enough for you?"

"Yes, madam," replied Skye, her lip trembling. "Thank you, madam."

"Honest to god, I knew I should have had that joke of a pecker lopped
off. My partner keeps asking me when he'll get to chop it off and
replace it with a nice fuckable pussy. If it were up to me, that little
prick would be long gone, so there would be absolutely no chance of it
ever bothering a lady ever again. But do you know why I have let you
keep it?"

Skye seriously had no idea why.

"Because Randy asked me if he could keep it. You know; your new
boyfriend!"

Michelle's words chilled Skye to the bone. Oh god, they were actually
going to carry on this charade! Michelle wanted her to become the
girlfriend of her own worst enemy and professional rival! Skye clung to
the thought that her 'date' with Mr Hanson would pre-empt any potential
romantic liaisons with Randy; in fact, he might even get the sack, after
it was proven beyond doubt that he was in cahoots with this
unacceptable
debasement of the airline industry's golden boy! A silly smile crept
onto Skye's visage as she considered this outcome. A smile that Michelle
delighted in wiping off the stewardess' face.

"So in a way, Skye, that little thing belongs to Randy really, not
yourself. In fact, we should make that clear, since you seem to be too
much of an airhead to properly grasp the concept."

Michelle stormed out of the cubicle and returned with a leather luggage
tag bearing the words 'Property of Mr R. McCloud'. She swatted the
attendant's hand away and tied the tag a little too tightly around the
base of her cock, a tiny padlock locking it in place. The key followed
Miss Blue's lingerie down the toilet bowl. Once in place, the tag hung
down from her little erection, scraping and rubbing irritably against
her useless balls.

"Now that's settled, I think it's time you said thank you to your man,
don't you, sissy?" Michelle whipped out a smartphone from her trouser
pocket and began filming the shemale. "Oh, don't look so concerned, Skye
- it's on flight safe mode! Now, why don't you show your boyfriend how
honoured and grateful you are that he allows you to have a little penis,
by wanking yourself off over thoughts of being with him!"

Skye was too horny to refuse. Ad-libbing to the camera, Skye waxed
lyrical to the camera about how wonderful her new man was while posing
in a range of sexually provocative positions.

"Oh, Randy, how I long for your touch!"

"Can't you see how hot your shemale is for you, babe?"

"I long for the day you take me in your arms and show me who really
wears the pants around here."

"I could never hope to be half the man or half the pilot you are, you
gorgeous, gorgeous man! I'm so grateful my wife realised this and turned
me into a form more pleasing for you!"

And on. And on and on. Disconcertingly, Skye found herself half-
believing her words - it seemed that the more she verbally disgraced
herself, the harder her (if it was indeed still hers) cock became. Skye
would worry about this development later, when she was a man again.
Right now, all she could concentrate on was the long-awaited climax that
was coming in 5...4...3...2...oh god, oh god oh....OOOOOOOOOOF!

A loud crack reverberated around the recycled cubicle air. Michelle had
just punted Skye, full force, in her teeny testicles with her steel-
capped shoe.

"Sorry, darling, time's up," she explained coldly. "I don't have all day
to watch you play with your little toy, do I? Now scrape yourself up
off
the floor and stop that crying. You've got three minutes to get dressed
and put your make-up back on. I'll be expecting you out here, ready to
serve your passengers then."

She took a few more steps before stopping to add, "Oh, and don't worry
about your uniform. You can easily pay for a replacement through
overtime."