USAmericana: Hot Topics

Author's Note: All characters are over 18. Many thanks to u/kenjisato and u/aphrodisiacxxx for their editorial help!

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"Call it Fate, call it Luck, call it Karma. I believe that everything happens for a reason"

- Dr Peter Venkman, Ghostbusters

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I'd expected my time at the mall to involve several things. I'd expected to walk away with something from the bookstore. I'd expected to get Panda for lunch. Hell I'd expected (well, hoped) that I'd manage to snag something neat from the Estate Shop (they had a sword last time I went in there which hadn't been that long ago).

What I'd not expected was a curvaceous, corseted, gorgeous goth to be bouncing up and down on my cock while moaning in delight.

Perhaps I should explain.

There'd been a number of changes at the mall, most of which involved invoking the various 'unmasked gods' that had taken charge of 'USAmerican' culture over the last few years (there'd been a 'Paradigm Shift' or something like that, so they'd apparently decided it was time to come out into the world). Wealth, god of wealth and influence, had a modest shrine next to the ATM while various gods of blended cookery had shrines in the food court, alongside some shrines to what folks might consider to be more 'traditional' gods, and generally they were pretty fun to go visit and look at.

Me, I was interested in the supposedly Fantastic shrine that ALTZ!!, a local scene shop, had put up to the twin gods of Goth. Word had it that the pair had recently appointed one of its managers (nobody knew which one) to be one of their prophets so the once-humble mall store had become a sort of mecca for the local goth crowd for a few months. Thus, the shrine.

When I walked in, it was fairly dead. There was a one employee working the register (a young, skinny, dark haired guy dressed like he didn't have a care in the world), another one Pretending to stock the shelves (a young woman who looked like she could have been the other's twin in both taste and looks), a number of half-stocked racks, and a couple other customers, a man and a woman, standing over by the clothing racks near the shrine.

The male customer was a greasy, pale, looming fellow with long black hair full of enough product that I was surprised he'd not collapsed from overheating. He wore fishnets anywhere you might see skin below the neck and his clothes were so tight that if he'd had any curves, literally any at all, you'd've been able to see them in excruciatingly crisp detail. It was a look that could've worked for him if he didn't have a continuous sneer that gave him the unbelievably punchable face of an absolute asshole.

The female customer, meanwhile, was stunning. She wasn't tall, hovering at about five foot nothing, but what she didn't have in height she More than made up for in voluptuousness, up top and down below. She had the kind of body musicians wrote songs about 400 years ago and brought the phrases 'huge tracts of land' and 'pixar mom bod' to mind. Her hair was a fantastic shade of neon blue and while her outfit wasn't anything to write home about, she was clearly here to change that.

"Really? Those boots, on you? Stick to Converses."

"Shut up, ass. I think they look cool."

Unfortunately, her male companion seemed to be the absolute worst choice of person to be her guide in that endeavour.

I tried to leave them be. Maybe I'd judged him too soon, or they had the kind of toxic friendship where they just always brought the worst out in each other. The longer I browsed, though, the more I heard him shoot down clothes and outfits that would have looked Amazing on her with deeper and angrier vitriol.

Really, Anything would have looked amazing on her, but he seemed bound and determined to only find clothes that would make her look frumpy and drab. Furthermore, he just kept Critiquing her, and not in the fun way friends do on occasion when they're trying to steer you away from the edge of a cliff. It was as if he wanted to find every positive thought she had about herself and poison it. I made a half-hearted attempt to keep the two of them out of mind, but his voice kept piercing through my thoughts like an icepick into a glacial wall.

***

"You're a little thick to pull off a dress like that, Penelope."

"Fuck you, Damian."

***

"Oh sure, wear that if you want to look like you rolled out of bed. Like, literally rolled. Get it? Like fat rolls?"

"I get it, dickhead; it just wasn't funny."

***

"You should just stay away from anything that looks elastic, which means those thigh highs are Out. You have to have a body like mine or Andrea's to really pull off that kind of stuff."

"How is my body any different from hers?"

"Do I need to spell it out, Penelope? You don't want to look like a wastoid, do you?"

***

Each time they snapped at each other, she'd eventually set the piece of clothing back and he'd look smug as a cat that got the dog blamed for a mess. What's more, anytime the young woman, Penelope, even had a Chance to drift away from him, he'd be right back at her side, quick as lightning, ready to verbally tear apart whatever she'd found. She seemed able enough to spar back with him, but that kind of shit could wear you down over time, even if you knew it wasn't true.

I took a deep breath and went over to the shrine. It wasn't the fanciest thing, like Wealth's was; but what it had, was full of community and life, unlike Wealth's. There was a sketch someone had made of the Twin Gods, little trinkets and doodads around it, and a pinboard covered with letters thanking the twins for coming out into the world. In the middle was a small fountain of water with a note stuck to the front and a small stack of dixie cups next to it.

I read the words under my breath. "While the water in this fountain is continually blessed by the twins, the fountain itself is maintained by the staff. Please leave it clean, don't double dip a cup, and don't take more water than you Really Need." Under that was an additional note scrawled in pencil that read "that means you, clarence. talk to agg if you HAVE to have witchy stuff," and I snorted a laugh.

"I just need a bit," I said to myself, as I dipped a finger into the fountain and dabbed my forehead with a speck of water.

Almost as Soon as the water touched my head, I felt a tingle and the man's voice pierced my thoughts once more. I looked over at him and saw that he was doubled over with laughter. Penelope was standing next to a wall of rather fetching corsets and looked as if she wanted to wither away.

"Like, seriously, you? In that? Fuck, in Any of these? Never gonna happen. You'd look like a beached whale," said the guy, wheezing as he put his hand on her shoulder to... I don't know, keep from falling over while he laughed, I suppose.

Something inside of me snapped.

"That is Such a crock of horseshit, you dense Ichabod Crane mother Fucker." I felt the words practically bubble out of me. Penelope and the two employees began to laugh while the guy stopped his shrieking, howling, laughter, and looked over at me like he'd only just realized that he wasn't the center of the universe.

"What did you say?" He sounded as if he was trying to be tough.

"I said that is a crock of horseshit, you dense Ichabod Crane mother fucker," I said back to him, not even halfway tempted to back down. "She could rock Anything in this store. She could rock a burlap--fucking--sack, and if you had working eyes, you'd be able to see that. So maybe pipe down Just A Scooch with the critiques."

"Guh. We weren't Talking to you." He scoffed and lolled his head back as if this display of dismissal would somehow drive me away.

I puffed up like an angry parrot. "Well I'm talking to you, Buster Brown, and I'm telling you right now that you are being a terrible friend."

He rolled his eyes. "You don't Know me Or her, so why don't you make like a... ugh... why don't you just shut up? Asshole."

The female employee spoke up. "Wrong. You are the one being the asshole, Damion Night (she almost spat out his name). A huge asshole, might I add." She only barely glanced over at him. The male employee didn't say anything, but nodded along with her.

"Hey, you can't call me an... guh. Whatever. Come on, Penelope, let's get out of here. This store is lame anyway." He did a big, slumping sigh before slinking away towards the entrance to the store. Then he paused and looked back behind him.

Penelope hadn't moved. Hadn't even watched him walk away; she was looking over the corsets as if scales had fallen from her eyes and she could only now see clearly.

"Come On, let's get out of here," said the guy, 'Damion Night,' who seemed to be realising that things might not be going his way.

Penelope ignored him. "Do you really think I could pull off a corset like this?" she asked, holding up an intricately patterned black one for me to take a look at.

"Absolutely," I said with a nod, giving her what I hoped was only a slight grin as I zipped over to her.

"Hey!" Damion's voice cracked and rose in pitch. He sounded like a kid upset with his mom for not letting him get candy at the register.

"L̸͍̑ë̷̞́a̷̳̍v̵̮̋e̵͉̓," snarled the female employee to Damian. Her eyes flashed gold as she spoke while the word veritably pulsed from everything around us.

His face went white, and he practically ran out, if a sort of quick shuffle could be called a run. The smell of ozone filled the air for a split second but faded soon after, followed by the 'dispersal' of the word.

The female employee turned to us, gave a cute little smile, and continued to pretend to stock the shelves.

Penelope and I, meanwhile, just looked at each other, and shared a nervous laugh.

"Praise be to the twin gods of goth?" I said, grinning broadly and waggling my eyebrows at her.

Penelope laughed again; a lovely, rich, sweet thing. "Praise be."

We stood next to each other in silence, Penelope looking everything over while I watched her look, girding my loins before speaking again.

"Water's free, yo," said the male employee from behind the counter. The tension between us began to melt, and we drifted back to the shrine, each of us pouring out a small cup of the blessed water for ourselves.

I took a deep sip from mine, then sighed as a trickle of blessing began to flow from the twin gods of goth into me once more. The water was cool, but I felt a pulsing warmth spread through my chest like hot chocolate on a cold day. "I'm Tad."

"So my knight in shining armor has a name." She smiled. "I'm Penelope."

I blushed and took another sip. "I try. So what were you looking for when you came in?"

Penelope sipped at hers and blushed. "I'd been hoping to get something a little more... me, I guess. I like the style here, but thanks to a certain someone I'd almost started to think that I couldn't pull it off without his 'help.' Now I guess... I dunno. I want something... I dunno. Something new."

I grinned at her. "Well let's get to it then, shall we?"

She grinned back at me in turn. Once we downed our cups, I followed Penelope back over to her first rack and watched as she began to pull clothes off the racks. Only a few at a time at first, but as I continued to encourage her she gained both momentum and passion, her spark of cheer growing into a flame.

We started with corsets because, well, we were already right there, but that was by no means where we stopped. We browsed skirts of both the modest and 'barely covers your ass' varieties, a veritable cornucopia of black Victorian and lolita lace shirts, knee high boots and black platform stiletto pumps, and, my personal favorites, fishnet stockings and thigh high socks.

I don't know how much help I really was, as My problem was that she Really Would look good in anything she chose, which meant that I could never say what she should get if she had to choose between two items.

Nevertheless, Penelope seemed to appreciate my companionship and I sure as hell didn't mind spending time helping a gorgeous young woman like her pick out clothes that'd make her look more stunning than she already did. It was only after we got to the last item on her list that I realized she'd been enjoying my company just as much.

"So I could probably get more than one of these, but I'm really having trouble choosing between them," said Penelope, a sly grin on her face.

She was holding up two different pairs of panties for me to look over; one was lacy with a few strategically placed butterflies while the other was plain but also clearly crotchless.

I fought back a blush. "That depends on the occasion you want to wear them for I suppose. If you're wearing one of your new short skirts I'd probably go with the lace. If you're feeling particularly amorous or adventurous then I'd go with the... with the other pair."

"That's a tough choice," she purred, raising an eyebrow mischievously. "Why don't I try them both on and see?" She cocked her head, gesturing for me to follow her as she sauntered towards the fitting room, her most delectable clothing choices in hand; I trailed after her like a puppy towards a clean carpet.

There was a very plain padded metal chair just outside the fitting room. It wasn't very comfortable, which I know because she gave me a little tap on the nose and told me to 'sit and wait' before she went into the fitting room. So I sat, and waited, and resisted the urge to shift my pants so I wasn't quite so obviously straining against them.

I don't know how long I just sat and waited, eyes locked onto the fitting room door, but it felt like an eternity. My heart beat faster and I took deep breaths.

("She probably really is just asking for advice,") I thought to myself in a failed attempt to quell my excitement. ("It's not like we know each other that well. We just met.")

"You ready for me?" she asked, from the fitting room; but before I could say anything she'd already opened the door and sashayed out to where I sat.

You know how I said that some of the skirts were short enough that they'd barely cover her ass? Well it turns out that they were even shorter than that, doing a poor job of covering even Half of her ass, which was now being Very emphasized by the platform stiletto pumps she'd chosen to wear with it, along with dark thigh-high stockings.

When my eyes trailed above her waist, I saw she was wearing one of the white frilled shirts covered with laces and a black corset with a deep blue trim. Her bust seemed to have magnified, going from merely 'prominent' to 'fulsome and bountiful' while the corset hugged her hips and waist, accentuating every beautiful curve she had.

I may have gaped like a fish for a moment.

"Well? What do you think?" she asked, giving me a little spin. The butterfly lace panties sat Perfectly on her, leaving only a fraction of her being to the imagination.

I may have gaped like a fish for more than a few moments.

I crossed my legs and cleared my throat.

"You look... wow. You look amazing. Like... you look... oh wow." Whatever verbal inspiration I had dried up as I tried to express her sultry beauty in more complex words than my mouth was allowing out.

She blushed and gave me a little curtsy.

"I'm glad you like it. Stay there and I'm going to go try on the other pair."

I nodded, crossed my legs even tighter, and watched her flow back into the fitting room.

Moments passed. Ages, millennia passed. It felt like I'd waited far longer this time than the first time she'd gone into the fitting room.

I almost began to settle down when she called out to me.

"Hey, could you come in here for a second? I need your help with something."

I went from gaining softness to fully hard in a second and went into the fitting room having given up on hiding my... stiffness.

She was bent over at the waist, one hand supporting herself against the wall while she used the other to fiddle with the waistband of her butterfly panties. There was a growing wet spot on them, and I could smell her arousal as I closed the door behind me.

She looked up at me with a pout. "I'm having trouble getting these off and I don't want to Break them. Could you help me get the other pair on?"

I nodded, then got to my knees. Slowly, carefully, deliberately, I pulled her butterfly panties down over her stockings. Her aroma was intoxicating and she glistened and pulsed as I worked her panties down her legs and over her stilettos.

My head began to lean towards her without any trace of thought from my brain and I had to fight off the urge to just dive in. I wasn't at all aided by the fact that she seemed to lean back towards me more and more the longer I stayed down on my knees.

"There's that pair off," I said, my throat suddenly dry. "Now let's get that other pair on."

She nodded, lifting each foot slowly as I finished taking the first pair off.

I set it off to the side, not bothering to think or worry about what we'd tell the employee at the register later as to why it was so very, Very wet.

The second pair seemed to glide up her legs, like they'd had been meant for her, designed for her, Created for her. Her knees quivered as I pulled the panties past them. She gave a little moan once I'd pulled them up all the way.

"There you go. All the way on," I said, gulping as I looked at her soft, plying wetness.

She stayed bent at the waist and she now had both hands against the wall.

"What do you think of the panties? Should I buy them?" she asked, her voice raw and husky. She pushed out a little bit towards me.

"I'd have to get a better look, I think, if I was going to be a good judge of that," I said, putting my hands on my thighs and using every ounce of willpower I had to restrain myself.

She giggled. "You can touch them if you want. Touch me, if you want. It's okay. And... I'm clean, if you know what I mean. I mean, I don't have any STDs, if you were worried." I could hear the blush in her voice.

I nodded. "I knew what you meant, and I'm clean, too."

I put my hands on her delicious ass and spread her cheeks apart. My throat was parched now, but based on how soaked she was it wasn't going to stay parched for long.

As she moaned and pressed back against me, I moved one of my hands down from her ass and, very glad that I'd cut my fingernails the other day, began to move a finger inside of her.

"Oh gods yes," she moaned as her legs began to shudder. I got the sense that the only thing propping her up was my hand on her ass and my face in her pussy but I didn't care. She was glorious and I needed more.

I moved my tongue over her lips, found her clit, and began to flick and massage it with my tongue, glazing at it with my teeth every so often just enough to give her a shudder. I slipped another finger inside her and, while I fingerbanged away, felt a little like a truffle pig as her moans slipped into the increasingly occasional scream of pleasure.

"Where'd you learn to do this?" she asked, as she writhed above me.

"Health class. Anatomy is important," I said, pausing only long enough to speak before diving back into her wet pussy as I continued to consume every bit of her that I could.

"And people say that health class is dumb. Oh gods, YES," she said, writhing as I continued tonguing her, throwing all caution to the wind.

I knew from the moment I'd come in that she'd been aroused, but only as I continued my (what I felt to be) wonderful assault on her sexual senses, did she begin to truly fall into the pleasure of the situation. I didn't try to fit more than two fingers inside her, but my instincts were telling me that she was ready for more than a finger and I Desperately wanted to listen to them.

But that wouldn't be right by her; I wasn't just down between her legs to get her aroused. I was down there to give her a screaming orgasm and By George she was going to get it.