Sister Mary Margaret had never seen such massive breasts in all her 72 years of life. Each of Lisa Lovey’s tatas was like a huge watermelon, ripe and full to bursting, bouncing together like two water-filled balloons. Sister Mary Margeret crossed herself and crossed herself and crossed herself again. She thought, for the millionth time, of the orphanage and the children she would be saving, of all the food and clothing she’d be able to buy them, the education she would be able to pay for so these poor abandoned souls could have a chance at life. She watched Lisa Lovey pull on a pair of lacy crotchless panties and she crossed herself again. What was the point, Sister Mary Margaret thought, of putting on underwear with no crotch?  She jolted at her own use of the word ‘crotch’ and crossed herself yet again. At this rate she would wear a path into her habit.

“What now, Sister M?” asked a deep, male voice. Sister Mary Margaret closed her eyes and took a deep and steadying breath. She didn’t want to look at him at again. She didn’t want to see the massive, throbbing unit that stood to attention like a soldier ready for war. Which, she supposed, it kind of was, going into a wet and marshy unknown place. She didn’t want to see because it was so big, so veiny, and it…kind…of…excited…Sister Mary Margaret crossed herself again, her neck and face a hot and flaming red. Dear Jesus save me from impure thoughts, she muttered under her breath.

She cleared her throat and adjusted her big brown-tinted glasses. Without opening her eyes, she asked, in a very quiet voice “Is…is the lady…fluffed?”

“Working on it!” came a jaunty but muffled reply. Sister Mary Margaret opened one eye to see a skinny young man with his head between Lisa Lovey’s very widely spread legs. He sounded like he was eating quickly melting ice cream on a hot day. Lisa Love was filing her nails. Sister Mary Margaret clapped her eyes shut and crossed herself again. She thought, once again, of the children. She was doing the Lord’s work, of that she was sure: sacrificing herself – her integrity, her very morals – for the greater good. They’d needed someone at the very last minute, after a nasty case of food poisoning had leveled some of their group. Sister Mary Margaret had previous experience, from her life before she joined the convent. They were willing to pay an exorbitant amount of money – a life changing sum for the little ones in her care. She steeled herself for the task at hand.

Her eyes whipped open again and she said, “Then let us begin with a prayer.” Everyone closed their eyes reverently. “Dear Lord, please keep this man…turgid…and this woman…fluffed…forthegoodofthechildrenamen.”

“Amen” said Lisa Lovey, her costar, the cameramen, the boom operator and the fluffer, in unison.

Sister Mary Margaret clapped her hands together twice, sharply. “Places please!” she said, sitting back in her director’s chair.

“And…ACTION!” she yelled, crossing herself one last time.

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