The Cosmos, The Arrivals, Book 1, Chapter 3, Babs Anticipates Tiffany, Robyn & Steph: Roommates, Day 1, Section 6, Babs: Self-inspection in Bunkroom Mirror. ¶ Babs’ view out her Bedroom door enables her to see any and all comings and goings up and down the angular stairwell. Should she elect to close her door, a network of surveillance cams, trip beams, and sensors continue to provide her Desktop with total electronic coverage. Any unauthorized Pledge venturing down the stairwell will quickly end up trapped between spring doors that close both the bottom and top of the stairs. That’s not a place any Cosmos should aspire to occupy. ¶ Babs exits her room, turns left, and heads into the spacious Bunkroom. The Bunkroom occupies the back left of the Cosmos House and lies above the Dining Room. It has three pairs of bunks stacked along the back wall, whereas the opposite, front wall, is covered with a mirror. {The Mirror, or just, Mirror. And I know, from experience, that Mirror contains latent capabilities.} ¶ Babs approaches the image of herself in this Mirror carefully. It is full size, running from above the top of her head to below her bare toes. She tosses all her black hair back so it rides high on her forehead and falls behind her shoulders, skin taunt over muscle and bones. BB avoids looking at what she knows she must not be obsessed with. She moves closer, pauses, and stands erect with her hands on her hips, and considers her reflection. ¶ The Bikini Babe looking back at her stands pleasantly hour-glassed, not overly muscular, but with good physical stamina. BB’s exquisite makeup sparkles her face. Her waist narrows above her pelvic bone, and her nombril hangs on below. Leglines rise only slightly above great legs. Babs dares to look at her bra’s generous cleavage. What’s not to like? ¶ Babs gives herself a playful grin and relaxes alone with herself. Most know Babs is a beauty, a knockout. But BB treats herself with more modesty. The Bikini Babe in the Mirror shrugs, “I know I’m a looker, I know my babambas stand out, and I know I can tease.” ¶ But Boss Babe also has goals, and assures herself in the Mirror, “And I know you can command!” She looks into her black eyes in the Mirror and reflects. Her eyes sparkle. ¶ A chill in the air makes goosebumps on BB’s breasts stand up, and she senses the milk glands of her exposed areola crescents pucker with detail. Areolage 24x7! Babs examines herself in the Mirror, breathes deeply, and mutes an oncoming blush. {There’s no going back.} ¶ BB catches her irritated eyes in the Mirror and speaks in harmony with her visage, “I don’t like things I don’t control, and I don’t control these exposures.” Boss Babe grits. “But I’m about to change that once that my first Pledge arrives.” Babs stiffens, cocks her head, and addresses herself in the Mirror, “Somebody gave me this Bikini to wear, somebody resurrects a vulgar picture of me in the Dining Room, and somebody makes sure I get broadcast by Cams and paparazzi outside. Maybe MomCap, maybe Madam Nurse, maybe GM, maybe Gamers outside of School. Maybe Gamers deliberately attempt to rock my boat and unnerve me. But Gamers are not going to get the better of me! Gamers shall not be successful at scrambling my mind brain.washing me into a new person.” ¶ Once again Boss Babe and her visage speak in tandem, “I am not going to succumb. I know what you are trying to do to me. And I’m not even going to let my crescents blush me anymore!” ¶ As if it were as simple as that. ¶ Babs conquers fears and watches herself in the mirror as she slides her shoulder straps off, pushes her bra down, and fetches her breasts into the open. {Yes, this is how I look in the shower; this is what threatens to spill out and get cammed—but right now it’s just me watching myself in the Mirror. I can do this! It is when I get watched by others that reactions get complicated.} ¶ A chill brings BB’s nipples to erection, and she cups her firm bosom in her hands and lifts both breasts upward. She traces her fingers across the suntan lines that arc across her areolas and upper breasts. As she follows the lines she dares touch her erect bullets. This is not like her, but it feels good. ¶ Unthinkingly Babs casually drops her hands to her waistband, hooks her thumbs into the top of her bikini briefs, and pushes and wiggles the nombril lower. In the Mirror Babs can see not just her current tan line, but also a fainter tan line lower down, one that bisects her black bush as documented in the Dining Room Picture. The double six Dice roll enabled Bikini Babe to pile tan atop her hairage, and Babs considers the tan line left behind. {It’s a vulgar mark, albeit a decoration that will fade eventually.} ¶ BB watches her reflection turn around and shows her how the lower tan line strikes across her butt crack. Cheek-to-cheek posterior rugage. Babs twitches, interrupts herself, and lifts her waistline up to its rightful horizontal position as she rotates aro