The next day, Lust decided she definitely needed a shower. The hot lesbian sin-sex had been great, but she was sweaty, gross, and -- thoughtfully, she touched her tongue to some lingering violet plasma -- tasted faintly of grape.

Moreover, she couldn't quite get comfortable. She didn't think Sloth's ooze had stretched her quite so badly, but she ached, and something felt a little off.

Well, a shower would do her good, she decided, and she headed off to Sloth's bathroom to do so.

Goo sloughed off and down the drain, but she still couldn't get comfy. Making a face, she reached inside herself carefully and encountered a foreign object.

"Not again," she muttered, and stomped a wet path into the bedroom. Angrily, she threw it down on the bed, where Sloth was comfortably dozing under seven blankets.

"WHAT," Lust demanded, "is THAT?"

Sloth peered sleepily and blandly over the edge of the comforter, then down. "Oh," she said, bored, and picked up her finger. "It must have reformed when I did."

"YOU LEFT IT BEHIND!"

"Mmph," Sloth agreed, reattaching her finger, then yawning and tugging the blankets up over her head.

"Honestly," Lust muttered. "Sins."