As Peter walked down the hallway, he passed by two women pushing mops.
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One was a tall, statuesque brunette in short-shorts that showed off her long legs and a green-striped tube-top that showed off her big muscles and even bigger tits. The other was shorter and more slender, but equally shapely. Golden curls flowed from the back of a rather goofy green-and-yellow-lightning mask that hid hid the top half of her face, but not her exquisite cheekbones or lush, green-painted lips. She wore a green leotard (with a yellow lightning pattern, like the mask) that narrowed into a thong at the bottom, drawing the eye to the pale globes of her perfect ass, a view further emphasized by her spike-heeled thigh-high boots.
Once again, Peter experienced the vague echo of memories, of a mountain of a man with arms ending in hammers made of sand, and of a skinny guy throwing lightning bolts. He was also puzzled as to why everyone was acting like it was perfectly normal for janitors to be dressed like
DON'T THINK ABOUT IT
He shook his head. As he passed the two, they bowed their heads and whispered. "Master."
Despite having just busted a nut in Doctor Octavia, Peter's cock twitched at this. He walked up to them, and copped a feel of the blonde's butt and the brunette's boobs. Both of them moaned.
"I have a free period after my next class. Wait for me in that empty classroom," he instructed them, and then ran off, before he was late for class.
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