Two Girls, One Canister

At first thought, you wouldn't have imagined there would be much call for inventing a gas which can make people lose their inhibitions. Where would be the value in that? That's what Wendy had thought when she first came to work on the project, mixing the right cocktail of hallucinogens, relaxants, anaesthetics and other esoteric substances, trying to get the correct mix that would provide a temporary alteration to a person's behaviour without sending them into a trance, a trip, or a coma.

But then you start to think; what about the people who might need it? What about the people too afraid of social repercussions to do even the most everyday tasks? Could it not have therapeutic value for them to be able to breathe in a wonder substance that would help them achieve things their neuroses would not allow? What about couples in dire straits because they simply couldn't lose their inhibitions and open up to one another emotionally - or sexually? Wouldn't it benefit them? Or imagine a performer, a gifted singer or dancer or orator, suddenly crippled by stage fright? They too could be helped by this product, perhaps.

It was Dr Avery Bennett, the project lead, who raised the idea of more revolutionary applications. The chemist had a photograph pinned up behind his desk. It was apparently a piece of graffiti written on a wall during the riotous Paris uprising in 1967.

The graffiti read, in English: "THERE IS A POLICEMAN INSIDE ALL OF OUR HEADS. HE MUST BE DESTROYED."

"What is it that holds society together?" the doctor had asked his team one day. "Certainly authority, police, law, but what gives these things license? The civilian population of any country far outnumbers the army or law enforcement. They do not have to be obedient, yet for the most part they are. Why is this?

"The threat of punishment is enough for some, but for the majority, it is the social contract. The unspoken agreement between people; this we can do, this we cannot. This is acceptable, that is taboo. The thing within humans that holds us to the centre line. The policeman in our head.

"What if we could make it so that people could no longer hear the policeman any more, only their own id? What if we could make it that there was suddenly for them no 'cannot' - only want and don't want? Would a society hold together without the social contract, without personal inhibition?

"Imagine, we could reduce an invading army to anarchy, destabilise a brutal regime, liberate an oppressed country, all without firing a single bullet..."

That was why, in an effort to try and secure more funding, they had begun to showcase the potential of the gas to the sort of people who bought technology for the military. Dr Bennett had chosen Wendy to assist him on many of these trips to meet powerful people in suits and uniforms; in part because she was one of his most capable scientists, but also because they'd been having an affair for some time and they liked to use their overnight stays to carry this on untroubled by the risk of discovery by Dr Bennett's wife.

On this trip, as she had done many times before, despite it not really being advisable, Wendy had removed the samples of gas from the laboratory the night before, so she would not have to make a detour back to the facility on the way to the railway station early the next morning. Avery Bennet was energetic for a man almost twice her twenty-five years, and she always felt better if she had a good night's rest before one of their little sojourns, as it was unlikely she would be having much sleep while she was away.

Her head full of plans for tonight's liaison, and the spicy red lingerie she planned to wear under her sensible twinset, it was perhaps understandable that she didn't notice that one of the three small canisters of the gas - which the scientists had informally christened Uninhibitol - was not in her bag, not until they were well on their way.

Even then, she had registered only a mild sense of annoyance that they would have only two canisters to show - but she wasn't terribly concerned about the whereabouts of the third. It had doubtless rolled under the coffee table in the living room, or perhaps under the stairs of the house she shared with her two roommates, and she would find and return it to the lab on her return.

Which would have been fine, if it had been one of the canisters that wasn't faulty.

--

The problem with Uninhibitol, the kink they were trying to work out, the research they needed extra funding for, was that it didn't work. At least, for quite a while, it didn't. And then, all of a sudden, it did - test subjects would register as completely unchanged, and then suddenly their behaviour would alter. That in itself wasn't a particularly major problem, but they had only a brief window of 'perfect' working. After that, the longer the exposure to the gas, the more extreme the reaction. People went from being simply relaxed and uninhibited to being completely at the mercy of wants and desires they had kept repressed. And then, even after the gas was no longer in use, quite a long time would pass before the subject would return to normal - often with little memory of what had transpired.

The right level of exposure was fine. All that it would mean was that you would find the way to have that difficult conversation, sing that solo aria, dress up in latex for your wife. But random, unpredictable, even crazy effects would ensue - including a high degree of suggestibility - if the subject went for a long period exposed to the gas.

A long period, like spending several hours in a house that was slowly filling with compressed, odourless, flavourless, invisible Uninhibitol leaking from a lost, faulty canister.

--

Izzy heard her roommate leave her bedroom and clomp off down the stairs. She looked blearily at the clock on her phone, wondering in her half-asleep state what Wendy was doing going out at such an early hour. Then she remembered she had one of those work trips she was always taking with her boss, and that she'd be heading out to catch an early train. Izzy, who, like their other roommate Faye was a year or so younger than Wendy and still studying for her PhD, thanked her lucky stars that so far nothing in her life required her to get up so damn early, snuggled down into her bed covers and drifted back off to sleep.

Several hours later, daylight now streaming through the curtains to stir her from her slumber, she grudgingly accepted it was probably time to get up.

Eyes gummy, she wandered across the hall from her bedroom to the bathroom. Removing her panties she sat on the toilet and emptied her bladder, then she turned on the shower, discarded the t-shirt she'd slept in, and stepped under the warm and refreshing spray.

A short while later, now comfortably awake and wonderfully clean all over, she wound herself in a large and fluffy towel and made her way back to the bedroom. The towel hit the floor, and Izzy sat on her bed and began to blow dry her long, dusky-blonde hair.

Hair dried and a soothing layer of delightfully-scented moisturiser applied to her skin - perfect to calm down her freshly-shaved legs - Izzy stood and regarded herself in her bedroom's full-length mirror. It was a familiar ritual, and one she always carried out with satisfaction. Izzy liked her body, and enjoyed how she looked naked - her skin golden, her large breasts bouncy and perky, her waist slim, her legs long, and her hips and ass round and tight. She was lucky, she knew, to look as good as she did, and sometimes when others were around her she grew self-conscious of it, the way guys eyes wandered over her figure, mentally undressing her. She knew they weren't doing that to every girl (although among her roommates Wendy was almost her body-double, while the willowy, strawberry-blonde and freckled Faye certainly had no shortage of her own admirers) and although she wanted to feel flattered by the attention, there was something inside her that told her that she should act with modesty, and so she shied away from revealing clothing in favour of more conservative attire which her social conditioning told her was more becoming in a young and career-minded scientist.

Today, though, she found herself wandering through a train of thought that was at once both unfamiliar and also surprisingly logical. She had a body that she herself enjoyed, and nudity was a state she felt personally comfortable with in private - so why restrict said nudity to privacy alone? She had no plans for the day beyond some study at home, and so it seemed a shame to cover herself up with clothes. Of course, Faye was around - but she was her friend, and a fellow woman - surely she would have no reason to object? And even if she did, what of it?

Smiling to herself, and completely unaware of the slight pinkish haze at the very edge of her peripheral vision, Izzy left her room naked and walked downstairs.

--

Faye sat on the couch, feet tucked up under her, in her customary about home outfit of yoga pants and a crop top. She'd been up and about a little while, having had breakfast and done her morning yoga routine, and now she was idly sat scrolling through apps on her phone, checking out her friends' Instagram stories and basically killing time until she felt ready to break out the books. She felt a little strange; light-headed - but it didn't necessarily feel unpleasant, so she put it down to a positive effect of her workout and good breathing technique. Everything felt very relaxed and calm.

She heard one of her roommates come downstairs and enter the kitchen. Remembering that Wendy was off on one of her trips, she concluded that Izzy was finally up. She found her sense of comfort and happiness increased with this knowledge. She liked Izzy. She found she didn't think enough about how much she liked Izzy. About how she liked being her friend. About how nice and fun her friend was. About how pretty she was...

She was still thinking about Izzy when the real thing walked into the living room holding a bowl of cereal in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other.

There was, Faye thought, something different about Izzy today. An air of comfort and confidence in herself that her friend often only exuded in more private moments.

Oh, and she was also naked.

That was definitely unusual, Faye thought. She'd never seen Izzy naked before, and certainly not around the house so casually and lackadaisically. Unusual, but not necessarily unwelcome.

"Morning!" Izzy said breezily to her friend as she settled her bare butt down on the opposite couch, put down her coffee and began to eat her cereal.

"Morning Iz," Faye replied. "Why are you naked?"

Izzy gave herself a look-over, as if surprised - not by her lack of clothing, but by the fact that Faye would think it something to ask questions about.

"Oh, I dunno," she said with her mouth full. "I just didn't feel like putting any clothes on today." She swallowed her mouthful of cereal. "You don't mind, do you?"

Faye shook her head slowly. "Nu-uh, I don't mind at all... just... different from usual, is all."

Izzy smiled happily and carried on eating.

It wasn't just Izzy's lack of clothing that was different, a tiny part of Faye's brain suggested. The fact that she was feeling so relaxed and comfortable with such a gorgeous girl sitting opposite her completely naked was, well, not completely in character for Faye herself either.

It wasn't that Faye necessarily liked girls in that way, she would normally tell herself. She just... tended to make friends with girls that she thought were very pretty, in a way that sometimes gave her butterflies in her stomach and a tightness in her chest - and between her legs - that made her nervous and tongue-tied. So on any other day, Izzy being so casually and openly naked in front of her would have been probably a bit too much to cope with. But right now she just felt that same sense of extreme comfort and happiness with herself that she'd been feeling all morning.

The two friends sat making idle chit-chat as Izzy finished her breakfast and sipped her coffee. Faye noticed her naked roommate was becoming increasingly relaxed and comfortable the longer they were together; initially she'd been sat very formally, knees together, but now she was sitting back, legs apart, revealing the smooth-shaven lips between them. Her full, enticing breasts rested comfortable on her reclining torso, her nipples pale brown against her golden skin, soft in the warm air.

It was then that Faye felt the old familiar feeling she sometimes got when she looked at one of her pretty friends. But unlike the other times, this time it wasn't uncomfortable. This time at least, Faye felt the thoughts come into her head and welcomed them. They were nice things to think about, she realised; they had always been nice thoughts, and not to be afraid of.

Almost unconsciously, Faye slipped her right hand into the waistband of her pants. Her questing fingers picked their way underneath the elastic of her panties and paused to tease the thin strip of silken hairs they found contained within. Then her hand, with a mind of its own, pressed on, sliding between the cleft of the two warm, moist lips of flesh. Her left hand, meanwhile, found itself pressed to her chest, subtly massaging a breast.

"I always wanted to be freer with my body, you know?" Izzy was saying, the topic of conversation having finally returned to her unclad state. "Just walk around naked without a care. But I always thought I shouldn't. Plus I was too nervous and shy to imagine ever actually doing it. But today... I dunno, I just felt differently."

"Uh-huh," Faye replied, her eyes fixed on her friend's body. Izzy could have been describing the lost mysteries of the ancient world in a ten thousand year old language for all the attention her roommate was actually paying to what she was saying. Faye had a strange, faraway look in her eyes, and after a moment Izzy's eyes and brain caught up and she looked meaningfully at the hand moving subtly but rhythmically in the front of her roommate's pants.

"Faye?" she asked.

"Uh-huh?" her friend replied. She was breathing more deeply now, the hand on her breast flexing to tease a nipple beneath the fabric.

Izzy nodded towards her roommate's crotch.

Faye smiled in a disconnected manner. "Oh... yeah." She was starting to feel very good.

"You're masturbating." It was a statement, not an objection.

Faye smiled more widely. "Yeah..." she said in a warm and slightly breathless voice. "You... uh, you don't mind, do you?"

Izzy smiled and shook her head slowly. "Not at all," she replied.

--

Izzy sat comfortably naked on the couch and watched as Faye began to pleasure herself more openly, in a manner that suggested she was perfectly comfortable with the fact that Izzy was present while she did so.

And why shouldn't she, Izzy thought to herself. She might have previously considered her friend fingering herself while she was in the room to be, well, inappropriate - over-familiar, to say the least. But somehow she couldn't now imagine why that would have ever been her position on the matter. True, this wasn't something Faye had ever done before, nor, for that matter, had any girl Izzy had met. She was prepared to accept that usually it wasn't acceptable to masturbate openly in the presence of your friends. What she was struggling with, right now, was why it wasn't acceptable.

After all, everybody did it, didn't they? Well, most people, anyway. Even Izzy did it, sometimes. Not often, admittedly. Oh, she tried, but then half the time her brain would take her back to that time when she'd been a kid and her mom had walked in her bedroom because she'd left her light on after lights out, and found her with her nightdress up and her panties down and her hand between her legs. Mom had given her both barrels over it, calling her wicked and sinful, and ever since then, no matter how much enlightened literature Izzy read on the subject she couldn't escape the feeling that it just wasn't something nice girls should do.

But now, as she watched, and listened, as Faye was having a very nice time, Izzy found herself re-evaluating this long-held belief, and what she came to think instead was, who wants to be thought of as 'nice'?

So she sat back to watch Faye, and as she did, she felt a growing sense of nervous excitement within herself. Perhaps, she thought, the fact that I'm naked right now has made this happen - perhaps my new-found bodily freedom is ushering in an air of new openness and feminine self-expression in our home? The idea that Faye might be so moved by the sight of her naked body that she had to abandon social convention and start frigging herself right there on the couch was a novel and pleasing thought. She'd always thought of her body as something that males appreciated - but now she realised she'd been naïve in thinking women wouldn't like her, too.

As these thoughts formed in her brain, as she looked at Faye and all the fun she was currently having, she found herself cupping one of her breasts in her hand. She looked down at herself, rolling her thumb and forefinger over one of her big, oval nipples, seeing the flesh pucker and swell in response, feeling the electric tightness grow in her chest and between her legs.

A decision made, Izzy wriggled back on the couch, lifting one leg, resting her foot on the edge of the cushion, parting her legs wider. Cautiously, she ran a finger along the inside of her thigh. Faye had noticed her new position with some happiness, Izzy felt, and that alone was enticement to proceed. She flexed her hand over the smooth, wrinkled cleft of her pussy, parting the lips by spreading her fingers, surprised by her own wetness. She easily found her clit and then, as Faye watched, she began to mirror her friend's rhythm.

As Izzy masturbated, Faye looked at her with undisguised joy and longing. She slipped her hand from her waistband, and Izzy felt a momentary, inexplicable pang of disappointment, before she understood, observing as Faye elbowed her way out of her crop top, and then pulled down her yoga pants and wiggled free of them. Her pale, slender body now clad in just her underwear, she settled back on the couch and, spreading her limbs wide, pulled her panties aside at the leg. Izzy caught a glimpse, a tantalising glimpse, of the wet pussy, wide and eager, crowned with a patch of hair more orange than that on her friends head, and then the fingers were there again, obscuring the view, working harder and more frantically than ever.

With sudden excitement, Izzy slid two fingers inside herself, marvelling at the ease her slick pussy accommodated them, marvelling at the soft, wet, ridged walls. She withdrew and plunged into herself again and again, all the while letting the ball of her ring finger rub across her clit with every inward gesture. The feeling, the wonderful feeling, was growing easily within her, and on the opposite couch Faye was curling her toes and gasping.

Then, oh then what bliss, her orgasm was upon her, and she was moaning and squeaking as her body shook with release. It had been some time since anything had made her feel this good, and she was lost for a time into waves of pleasure, finally falling back on the couch to breathless recovery.

As the spots cleared from her eyes she regarded a similarly dazed Faye, and realised her roommate, too, had reached a happy and intense climax.

--

Faye had watched as naked, beautiful, goddess Izzy had climaxed, and the sight and sound of such pleasure had pushed her over the edge into her own paroxysms of ecstasy. Now, as she lay back and caught her breath, she felt a sudden need to be close to her friend, to decrease the distance between them. Like a young deer she got wobbly to her feet, and crossed the living room to deposit herself on the same couch, each girl regarding the other wordlessly and smiling.