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The Greatest Humiliation Story Ch. 01

By: JohnKnuckles



Part 1: The Rivalry between the Haves and the Have-Nots!

I still remember growing up in the seaside City of Middletown: We had two high schools, one 7-11 (that wouldn't card you when you bought beer!) and three churches, but what was really unusually was how this one sleepy town had so many "haves" and "have-nots." This was decades ago, before all the sloganeering about the One Percenters and Occupy Wall Street, but in the seaside City of Middletown, either you were filthy rich - or you were a poor, pathetic working stiff.

My family was... well, we were not filthy rich.

On the east side of town, right alongside the sparkling white seaboard, lived the filthy rich. They had the big, beautiful homes, the big, beautiful yachts - and all the beautiful housewives with the big, beautiful tits. On the other side of town were the poor. Their homes were smaller, their wives' tits were smaller... and instead of yachts, there were motorcycles.

Lots and lots of motorcycles. 

The Queen Bee who ruled the city with an iron fist (and manicured French nails) was Mrs. Lacy Lovington, a.k.a. The Empress. She was the wife of the local Mayor - and good Lord, was she BEAUTIFUL! With her long blonde hair, eye-popping cleavage and ultra-curvy figure, she was the epitome of suburbanite sophistication. She always wore the latest fashion - Parisian dresses, Italian heels, Tahitian pearls and Manzoni mink coats (even when it was hot out) - and all these years later, I still remember how she'd tower over me. (Not that I minded; it meant that her freakishly big boobs were eye-level!) With her stiletto heels (and she ALWAYS wore heels) Mrs. Lovington was easily over six-foot, five-inches. 

I'll admit it: I masturbated to her. (Hey, ALL the other 18-year-old seniors in my high school class did! Probably most of the teachers, too.) Okay, maybe she had a BIT of a butter-face and a slight double-chin, but the mild hint of pudginess was her only flaw. Trust me, she was a stunner.

She was also the mom of Timmy Lovington - my best friend. We were the same age and had been BFF's since kindergarten.

Mrs. Lovington was president of the PTA, president of the Church of Middletown, president of the School Board, president of Middletown's Special Events Committee... and the president of pretty much everything else she wanted. She had it all - and she also had an archenemy. 

Rachel Trovolli. 

Lacy Lovington and Rachel Trovolli HATED each other! And that's what the rest of this story is about: 

Rachel was a tough-as-nails, pixie-sized brunette from the "wrong side of the tracks" who was more at home shooting pool than sipping Chardonnay at the Middletown Yacht Club. She was in her early 20s and always wore black leather pants, a snug black top, a black leather jacket and jet-black sunglasses. Her biker-boots were also black - with six-inch spiked heels. Her lipstick was bright red and her mascara was heavy, giving her something similar to a "Goth" look, but even if you're not into Goth-babes, there was no denying her beauty. 

She had the world's sexiest smile. Like she was sharing a devilish secret with you - and you alone!

Rachel moved into Middletown a few years earlier, when her Dad (or maybe it was her uncle?) took a job at the construction yard. Almost immediately, Rachel was turning heads and dropping jaws. Maybe it was because of her tight tops, bold makeup and bad-girl attitude - or maybe it was because of how crazy-sexy she looked when she slammed back a few shots of Jack Daniels while kicking your ass at pool - but Rachel quickly became the most lusted-after girl in town. 

If we weren't jerking-off to Lacy Lovington, we were doing the Five Knuckle Shuffle to Rachel Trovolli.

One night, Mrs. Lovington overheard Timmy and me talking about how sexy Rachel was. The tall, busty MILF glowered at us and snidely retorted, "You think that dark-haired little tramp is actually good-looking?! She's a shapeless twig with gaudy makeup! Furthermore, her REAL hair-color isn't even dark brown - it's light blonde! I heard it at the hair salon! And I'll bet you anything she stuffs her bra! You can tell! Hmmph!"

I was speechless, because until that moment I hadn't realized how jealous Mrs. Lovington was of Rachel. After all, the telltale sign of a woman's jealousy is when she belittles another woman's looks... and in my teenage mind, how could a woman as beautiful as Mrs. Lovington be jealous of anyone? 

In hindsight, the writing was on the wall: ALL women are insecure, and let's face it, Mrs. Lovington was getting... older. Maybe late 30s, early 40s? And I noticed from Timmy's family photos, as Mrs. Lovington had matured, her hips had grown wider, her curves had grown fuller, and her outfits had become more layered. But back then, I was still a kid - I honestly didn't know any better.

The feud began with catty name-calling: Mrs. Lovington would demean Rachel whenever possible, calling her a "tramp" or a "slut" in a voice loud enough to be heard by EVERYONE. At first Rachel ignored her. But finally she responded by walking right up to Mrs. Lovington at the Middletown Thanksgiving Festival, where the glamorous MILF was showing off her new designer dress. All the important people in town were hovering around her.

"What a pretty dress, Lacy! I didn't realize they made them plus-sized!" Rachel purred.

Mrs. Lovington turned beet-red! But Rachel wasn't done:

"Hey, let me know when you get a zoning permit for that big ass of yours! I'm looking for a place to park my Harley. Well, see ya!"

Everyone tried to stifle their laughter, but you could still hear the snickering ricochet like rim-shots! Mrs. Lovington turned even redder and placed her hands over her butt. (Personally, I didn't know what Rachel was talking about: Sure, Mrs. Lovington's butt was bigger than normal, but to me it looked round, firm and perfect. I LOVED her ass!)

Christmas break was when the feud flew into overdrive. Two of Mrs. Lovington's relatives came to Middletown for their annual visit - Abby the sex-kitten and "mature" Yvette. A.K.A., the bitch-cousins.

Abby and Yvette were local legends. High school boys, college boy - it didn't matter. Every red-blooded male DREAMED of getting in their pants!

But none ever did.

They were older than Timmy and me and TOTAL snobs. We HATED them! Abby looked sort of similar to Mrs. Lovington: She had the same sexy hips, buxom frame and heaving cleavage, but with red hair instead of blonde. (We called her "arrogant Abby" behind her back, because her ego was the only thing bigger than her tits!) Yvette was prim and fussy, and had one of those expressions that seemed to convey how unimpressed she was with everything. Her big thing was bragging about how "mature" she was - and how Timmy and me were a pair of whiny little babies.

Still, the cousins were both gorgeous - and they never failed to dress to the nines. Abby mimicked her aunt's style and wore beautiful clothes that accentuated her large bust and rollercoaster-curves. She was so preoccupied with her looks; Abby never met a mirror she didn't like! Yvette wore less-revealing clothes that encouraged her firm, perky tits to pop right out of her torso. And whereas Abby typically dressed like a 20-something socialite who belonged in a swanky Manhattan nightclub, Yvette preferred to dress like a business executive in her early 30s - she called it the "sexy professional vixen" look. 

Well, a high school senior was throwing a party, and Abby and Yvette dropped by to check it out (probably because they ran out of things to belittle). Most of us were wearing your typical high school clothes: jeans, t-shirts, and whatever else we could dig-up. Abby and Yvette, on the other hand, were dressed like they were walking the red carpet of a Hollywood movie premier! 

A buddy of ours - Nedley Nelson, a 19-year-old dropout from the poor side of town - asked one of the cousins out on a date. (I forget which one.) What I DO remember is how Abby and Yvette laughed in his face! I had never seen anyone act so rude! Then they starting going back and forth, discussing what a pathetic LOSER he was:

"Look at his clothes! Hello? Like, shop at the Salvation Army much?"

"Like, totally! And nice hairstyle, homo! That bowl-cut totally says, 'I'm poor and my Mom cuts my hair in the front yard!' What a dork! Take a hike, needle-dick!" 

A crowd of us observed the commotion, staring uncomfortably. I'm ashamed to say that none of us had the guts to stand up to them. Looking back, I guess we were afraid they would make fun of us, too... because, let's face it: Our clothes weren't any better...

But Rachel Trovolli wasn't scared. Hell no! She was watching the whole thing while perched on her motorcycle. Hearing enough, Rachel took a final swig of beer, hopped off her Harley and marched right over - flicking her cigarette in the cousins' faces! 

"Ow!! W - watch it, skank!!" shrieked Yvette, the "mature" one.

"You think it's cool to insult my friends?" threatened Rachel. "Just because your clothes are more expensive?"

"Oh, whatever!" snapped Abby. "As if we'd date your loser friends!"

"Yeah!" chimed Yvette, making the "Loser" sign with her hand. "Like we'd ever date a Middletown high school dork. No offense, but we're REAL women - and we dress the part, bitch!"

Rachel narrowed her eye. "So, it's your fancy clothes that make you too good for Nedley, hmm? The clothes make the woman? Well, let's see how you look without them. Strip!"

The cousins gaped at her. "You, like, can't be serious!" Abby sputtered. "We're totally not stripping, you psycho! Tell your loser friend to, like, go buy a Playboy!" 

"How immature!" sneered Yvette. "YOU WISH you could see a naked body as FINE as ours!"

Rachel cocked her fist and glared menacingly: "If you don't want your spoiled faces busted and bleeding, you will do exactly what I say. NOW STRIP!"

Abby and Yvette glanced nervously at each other. One of them tried to protest - 

- and Rachel SLAPPED her right in the face! Then she SLAPPED the other! And then she SLAPPED them again! Although they were both taller than Rachel, it was obvious that the leather-clad brunette had them completely intimidated!

Shaking and trembling, both girls began disrobing - outside, in front of everyone! Yvette, the "mature" one, turned bright pink, hyperventilating like an asthmatic little kid. Abby, the curvier one, looked like she wanted to cry. First their fancy designer jackets hit the ground. Then their blouses were unbuttoned and removed. Next, their skirts were unzipped. Yvette slid off her pantyhose. It was so quiet, you could hear a pin drop as they wiggled out of their clothes... 

Soon, the two rich bitches were stripped to their bra and panties! Yvette had white, ultra-firm undergarments - exactly what a 30-something lawyer or CEO might wear. Abby's undies were black, sexy and silk - surprisingly slutty. But Abby was also wearing something else... something... WEIRD was wrapped around her stomach...?

"Is that a girdle?" laughed Rachel.

Abby instantly began bawling like a baby: "No! It - it's for my back! It's a back-brace! I - I have a bad back, that's all! STOP LOOKING AT ME!!"

"Yeah, a bad back from carrying too many bags of Cheetos! Take it off, Fatty!"

With everyone circled around her, Abby howled in humiliation. Cameras were flashing as she popped out of the girdle. POP!! And POP is the right way to describe it, because once her belly was freed from the confines of the girdle, a big, flabby tummy sagged over the top of Abby's panties!

"Wow, what a porker!" someone laughed. 

Abby just stood there with her eyes wide open, her big tummy shaking violently.

"I think she swallowed a bowling ball!" giggled another. 

Both cousins looked like they were going to die of embarrassment!

But Rachel wasn't done: "Okay, ladies - take off your bras. Do it!"

Now a blubbering, quivering mess, Abby reached behind her back and unhooked her Victoria's Secret brassiere. OUT came her glorious tits! Her long, sagging breasts were crowned with saucer-sized areolas that wobbled in the night breeze - easily the biggest tits ANYONE had ever seen. They had no firmness whatsoever - but they were HUGE. The audience roared with approval. (And my teenage mind just about exploded!)

"Look at those udders!" said one boy. 

And look, we did!

"Big deal - all fat girls have big tits," retorted a girl. "See? Her stomach sticks out farther than her tits!"

Abby tried to suck-in her stomach... but the girl was right!

Meanwhile, Yvette refused to move. Instead, her eyes were wide open...

"Please... please don't make me!" she whispered to Rachel, keeping her arms crossed over her sturdy white bra. "Please let me keep my bra! Please - I'll do anything you want!"

"Why should I let you?" asked Rachel.

"Because... because... I - I have a secret!" Yvette whispered.

"You rich-bitches shouldn't keep secrets from us!" Rachel laughed.

With the crowd chanting, "Take it off! Take it off!" Rachel reached over to Yvette - and with one hard yank, tore the bra completely off her body!

Two silicone falsies flew through the air, spinning like footballs, landing softly on the ground.

It took Yvette a split-second to react, but we all saw her: She was as flat as a board! She was stuffing her bra! By the time she covered herself, it was too late: All our eyes had seen her tiny little nipples. "Mature" Yvette was as flat as a middle-schooler!

(Weirdly, I noticed Rachel blush when she saw Yvette's miniscule titties. Nobody else noticed, though.)

What a scene! The crowd was roaring in approval, pointing, laughing and repeating: "Fat Ass and Tiny Tits! Fat Ass and Tiny Tits! Fat Ass and Tiny Tits!"

"Now lower your panties to your knees and put your hands on your heads!" Rachel demanded. "Let's see your cute little bushes!"

Both cousins were too shell-shocked to disobey: Abby sobbed and clumsily yanked down her panties, revealing a thick, tangled, black web of pubic hair that definitely DID NOT match her ginger mane. Her bulbous ass wiggled and vibrated with every breath - almost like ocean waves on a stormy night. (By contrast, Yvette's pussy was as bare as a cue-ball. Totally bald! Not one hair! And her scrawny little butt was half-the-size of Abby's.)

"Not a natural red-head, are we?" laughed Rachel.

"Sh - shut up!!"

"And you... wow, you're completely hairless! Weren't you bragging about how 'mature' you were?"

"WAH!! WAH!! WAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!"

For the next several minutes everyone was cheering and taking pictures of the cousins' private charms. Arrogant Abby was forced to shake her jelly-belly and go: "MOOOO!! MOOOO!!" Just like a cow! And flatchested Yvette was made to cluck like a scrawny, titless chicken: "CLUCK, CLUCK, CLUCK!"

Only after offering a naked apology to Nedley (and kissing his feet) were they allowed to go.

The next day, when Lacy Lovington heard about what happened, she was FURIOUS! The Empress of Middletown was convinced that her family dignity had been violated... 

...And she blamed Rachel Travolli, SWEARING to get even!

But Rachel wasn't the only target of Mrs. Lovington's wrath: When I went to Timmy's house the next day, both cousins were still there. Only they weren't wearing their fancy-shmancy clothes anymore. And they weren't wearing their fancy-shmancy makeup and jewelry. And they weren't making fun of the way I looked.

I couldn't believe my eyes:

Yvette was TOTALLY naked, standing pigeon-toed next to the Lovington's backyard pool, being lectured by a college-aged swimming instructor! The very same swimming instructor who taught Timmy how to swim when he was younger!

I looked closer: Yvette wasn't actually totally naked. She was wearing inflatable swimming rings around her arms. "My Little Pony" swimming rings, to be precise. 

When she saw me, she tried to cover herself - but Mrs. Lovington was having none of it: "Oh, stop it, Yvette. Everyone's already seen your little-girl body, and it's not my fault you forgot to pack a swimsuit without those silly falsies. I don't care how old your college I.D. says you are; to me and everyone else, it looks like you haven't even reached puberty yet. Put down your arms! You look ridiculous!"

The swimming instructor roared with laughter! With a look of absolute dejection, Yvette lowered her arms... letting me see everything once again. And I had to agree: She looked JUST like a middle-schooler! Even though Yvette had always dressed so mature, without her clothes, it truly looked like she hadn't developed at all: Her body was shapeless, her pussy was bald, and instead of womanly tits, she had pointy little nips. And then - SPLASH! - she was thrown in the pool by the instructor! I stared at her narrow ass as she swam away...

Even more shocking was the other end of the yard: Abby was buck-naked, jumping rope! Her big belly, saggy breasts and wide hips shook and jiggled with every jump! Her long red hair was a frazzled mess! She saw me staring at her body and freaked out:

"Pl - Please, Aunt Lacy! L - Let me come in! Th - this boy is w - watching!"

"No," Mrs. Lovington curtly replied. "You need to exercise AT LEAST another half-hour. I WILL NOT have a tubby little cow for a relative. Now finish your workout!"

The sight was hypnotic! Those large breasts heaving! That black, furry pussy glistening with sweat! Those big thighs and chubby buns!

Timmy told me how furious his mother was. "Mum says our family name was dishonored. If you think Mum's mad at Abby and Yvette, you ought to hear what she says she's going to do to Rachel! I've never seen her so angry!"

However, I thought that maybe Mrs. Lovington had another reason to be angry - a reason that was deeply personal. It happened about a month ago:

After swimming in the pool with Timmy, he asked me to go upstairs to his parent's room to grab some suntan lotion from their upstairs bathroom. We thought we were all alone in the house. 

But... we weren't.

I guess Mrs. Lovington had just gotten out of the shower!

She was dripping wet, holding nothing but a small towel near the middle of her body. No shoes, no clothes, no makeup, no false eyelashes - nothing at all - when I barged into the room.

When she saw me, she gasped... nearly dropping the towel!

My heart skipped a beat.

It was the first time I had ever seen her like that! Even when I spent the night (which was fairly often), the next morning for breakfast, Mrs. Lovington was ALWAYS wearing top-dollar makeup, expensive jewelry and had her beautiful blonde hair immaculately-styled. (And of course she was always wearing clothes! Duh!) It was... so BIZARRE to see her like this!

The towel was BARELY covering her feminine goodies!

I'll never forget what she looked like: Without her makeup, her face was pale. Almost blotchy! Her lips and eyes seemed so exposed without their accessories. I looked down her body: Her thighs were fat and meaty, with a fair degree of cellulite. And it's funny, I had never noticed how THICK her midsection was! Even from behind the towel, you could get a pretty good idea of her true figure, and I'm telling you, she looked more like my chubby Aunt Patty than the sexy MILF-goddess who ruled the neighborhood!

I think she desperately wanted to scream at me - but she froze!

At that exact moment, I noticed that her naked rear-end was being reflected in the bathroom mirror! Clear as a bell! The very same derriere that I had lusted after for YEARS was now unveiled in all its glory! Yet I was stunned to discover that her REAL ass wasn't round and firm at all, but dimply and rectangular, with multiple pimples across her wet, white bootie! Her butt-crack was deep and pronounced, making each cheek seem almost like separate entities. Baby got BACK! Lots and LOTS of back!


The Greatest Humiliation Story Ch. 01



"G - get out!" she gasped.

Then her towel slipped! Not totally - just a little - just enough to give me a tantalizing glimpse of her hulking left tit. Then it slipped further, showing off her right tit! I didn't get to see her nipples, but in that one instant, I saw more of her cleavage than I ever had before.

"Sorry, Mrs. Lovington." I quickly turned around and left, hiding my erection.

Mrs. Lovington slammed the door shut and screamed at me to knock next time. I could tell she was REALLY embarrassed, because she refused to look me in the eye after that. 

But I could also tell that... well, how can I put this: Perhaps she had a reason to RELATE to a girl who was hiding a few extra pounds... and perhaps it unnerved her to think that people would now know that the women in her family had something to hide, when it came to their bodies?

END OF PART ONE



The Greatest Humiliation Story Ch. 02



Part 2: The Empress Forms a Plan

After Mrs. Lovington's cousins Abby and Yvette were so dramatically humiliated, the local reaction was mixed: The rich people hated Rachel Trovolli more than ever, because she had upstaged "one of their own." How DARE that peasant lay a hand on two members of the upper-class, stripping them naked in public! How DARE she make two high-society, college-aged debutantes MOO and CLUCK in front of swarms of white-trash, shaking their tits, wiggling their asses and displaying their pussies like common streetwalkers! Rachel was quickly blackballed from the swanky Middletown Yacht Club dances and holiday parties... but I doubt if Rachel even noticed, since she never bothered with any of that stuff anyway.

Back on her home turf - the "wrong side of the tracks" - Rachel was unquestionably the most sought-after babe in town. Cheers greeted her when she entered the pool hall! All the working-stiffs saluted her when she roared by on her Harley! All the leading men lusted after her more than ever, begging her for dates! And to all the 18-year-old schoolboys like me, well, Rachel was our hero.

Not just our hero: Our fantasy. 'Cause maybe it was my imagination, but since stripping those snobby cousins bare, Rachel looked even HOTTER. Late at night, armed with a box of Kleenex and a jar of hand-lotion, I replayed the scene of Rachel Trovolli stripping the rich-bitches over and over again in my mind! I'll never forget how shame-faced they looked when their tiny tits and flabby belly were exposed! And from that point on, whenever Rachel walked past me - with her long, dark brown hair, her black leather pants, her snug black top, black leather jacket, biker boots with six-inch spiked heels and her sunglasses, my penis seemed to salute her, too!

Meanwhile, Timmy's mom - Mrs. Lacy Lovington - was having her own issues: Sure, her gaggle of sycophants still told her how much they respected and supported her... but everyone else? They began to wonder: If Mrs. Lovington's blood-relatives were harboring so many secrets about their bodies... then what might Mrs. Lovington be hiding? Was SHE wearing a girdle? She had clearly gained some weight over the years. Were those big tits of hers inflatable balloons? Maybe her pretty blonde hair was a wig? 

The rumors were flying!

The two cousins were still reeling from the fallout as well: Their parents were so ashamed, they asked Mrs. Lovington to keep an eye on them a few extra months. And the Empress of Middletown obliged, punishing each girl in a different way for shaming the family name:

"Mature" Yvette - stripped of her falsies and fancy "adult" outfits - was reduced to wearing little kid clothes and attending middle school! Mrs. Lovington decided that if Yvette still looks like a little girl, then she was going to be treated like a little girl. 

I've got to say, when I'd drop by the house to see Timmy, it was HILARIOUS to "accidentally" walk into the bathroom and see Yvette sitting naked in the tub - her wet little boobies winking at me, and a rubber ducky floating in the water! She'd shriek, "GET OUT!" and yell at me to leave, but Mrs. Lovington would let me stay as long as I wanted: "Little girls don't get to lock the bathroom door, Yvette. Now put your arms down! You don't have any real breasts anyway. Trust me, there's nothing to see!"

And "little" Yvette would have no choice but to lower her arms, and I'd stare of those dinky, wet tits of hers for as long as I wanted! I'd blatantly do it, too! She'd glare back at me, but there was nothing she could do!

Sometimes Mrs. Lovington would even let me help her towel Yvette off. Toweling was fun (Well, for me - NOT for Yvette. For her, the thought of dorky, immature ME seeing her anatomy up-close-and-personal was HORRIFYING!). The best part was when we mopped the area between her thighs with the towel. She'd grit her teeth and she'd get so embarrassed, her fingers would shake! Then we'd dress her in these adorable Sesame Street jammies - the ones with a flap in the back. (Timmy yanked off all the buttons, so Yvette had to run around with the flap down and her cute butt sticking out for the rest of the evening!)

One night, when I was sleeping over in Timmy's room, we played the classic hand-in-hot-water prank on Yvette while she slept. And it worked! Timmy's Mom was FURIOUS: "YOU WET THE BED?!" She made Yvette strip naked in front of us, place her soiled jammies in a plastic bag and take another bath - and from that point on, two new rules were enacted: 

The first rule was that Yvette had to wear diapers at night. 

That was a sight to behold! Now, after her nighttime bath, Mrs. Lovington would lay Yvette down on the bed while she was still wet and naked, dry her off with a "Little Mermaid" baby towel, powder her privates - and then diaper her like a helpless newborn, pinning her feet near her ears! 

"Aunt Lacy!" she shrieked, while the Empress held up her legs and was powdering her bottom, "those boys are watching! PLEASE make them leave!"

"Sorry, dear. I'm a firm believer in equal right. Timmy and his friend need to learn how to take care of babies, too."

And then she let ME powder her gaping butt and hairless pussy!

"WAH! WAH!"

Once, I leaned down while diapering her and whispered, "Look, Yvette! I think you're finally growing your very first pubic hair! See?" 

Her face lit up, and she looked down, all excited! 

"Oops, sorry," I giggled, brushing away at her pussy. "It was just a piece of lint. Nope, you're still as bald as an egg!" 

"WAH! WAH!"

The second new rule was that Yvette lost her "wiping" privileges after using the bathroom. This meant that whenever she went potty, a "big person" had to inspect that she was clean. 

Yvette HATED this more than anything! 

She was required to put her head on the floor, pull open her ass cheeks, spread her vay-jay, and submit herself to an inspection. When Mrs. Lovington was busy and it was our turn to inspect, Timmy and me always did the same thing: No matter how clean she was, we'd complain that she was still dirty - just so we could poke around her privates and "clean" her ourselves: 

"You went pee-pee, Yvette? Bend over and spread yourself so we can inspect."

"This - this isn't necessary! Fuck you! GO AWAY!!"

"Do we need to call Mum, or are you going to be a GOOD little girl?" threatened Timmy.

"I'll... I'll be a good girl. Please don't call her!"

Yvette slowly shuffled her feet away from the toilet, took a deep breath, and then bent over, pulling apart her ass and vagina. 

"Very nice, Little Yvette! You're getting so much better! But I think you're STILL wet!"

"NO I'M NOT!! AND DON'T CALL ME LITTLE!!"

With the toilet paper wrapped around my finger: POKE, POKE, POKE! 

"See? You're STILL wet!" 

"Your - your hand!" she whimpered.

POKE, POKE, POKE.

"OOOHHH!! YOU'RE TOUCHING MY - MY... OOOOOHHHH!" she moaned. 

POKE, POKE, POKE! 

"Gee, now your little hoo-ha is REALLY glistening! For some strange reason, you're even WETTER now!"

POKE, POKE, POKE! 

"I HATE YOU!!" she wailed.

But even better was seeing arrogant Abby getting punished: Mrs. Lovington decided that her portly niece needed to lose some weight, so the top-heavy girl was forced to do naked workouts in the backyard every morning and every evening. Sometimes I'd wake-up extra early, just so I could soak in the sight of Abby doing her early-morning squats and leg-lifts in all her naked glory! 

Mrs. Lovington gave us permission to hose off Abby after her workouts, when she was all sweaty and dirty.

"No way! It's bad enough those DORKS spy on me when I'm exercising! I HATE exercising naked!" she hollered, waving her fists.

"You have to exercise naked because you're simply too fat for any of your clothes to fit, dear," Mrs. Lovington coolly replied. "You can't have a decent workout when your clothes are cutting-off your circulation."

Abby fumed, but still tried to argue: "Well, they're not allowed to hose me! NO!! I - I can come inside to shower!"

"It's not sanitary, dear," the Empress answered. "I don't want you dripping your smelly sweat all over the house."

"But - but - but... AUNT LACY!!"

"No buts!" 

So after watching arrogant Abby's blubber bounce for an hour-or-so, we'd grab the garden hose.

"This way, 'Flabby Abby!'" giggled Timmy, pointing at a wall on the left side of the house.

"Shut up, you creep! SHUT UP!!" Abby bellowed. You could practically see smoke billowing out of her ears!

"Ha, ha!" I giggled. "'Flabby Abby' - that's a good one!"

"You two are just jealous of me!" Abby stubbornly insisted.

"Jealous of what, Flabby Abby? Of how much you can eat?"

I guess that comment cut deep, because Abby's face turned bright red, her lip trembled, and she suddenly started bawling. It was a remarkable visual: Timmy's older cousin, stripped of her clothes, howling like a baby! Her big belly and cartoonishly large boobs heaved up and down; her thick black bush below was dripping with perspiration. She didn't stop crying as she walked to the left side of the house. But suddenly, she paused:

"Timmy! The cars on the street! The neighbors! They can see everything! You... you can't hose me here. You CAN'T!"

"Then we better be fast!" he taunted. He looked over to me: "Turn the water on!"

I turned the knob. The high-powered hose released a torrent of water! Abby was knocked backwards, stumbling until she was pressed against the wall of the house.

"AAAAHHH!" she screamed, quickly becoming a drenched rat. 

"Okay, Flabby Abby: Lift your arm! Good girl. Now your other arm. Let's clean both of your stinky armpits. Good! Okay, now your boobs - ready, aim, FIRE!"

Timmy aimed the hose squarely on Abby's big tits, and those suckers bounced and swung like a piñata on a string! Up, down, left, right! Abby tried to hold onto them, but they were bouncing too wildly!

"S - STOP IT!! STOP IT!! STOP MAKING MY TITTIES BOUNCE!!"

A small group of neighborhood rubberneckers had stopped to see the excitement, and I noticed that the cars on the street were driving by awfully slowly...

"Okay, Flabby Abby: Let's get that big ol' butt of yours clean. Turn around, bend over and part the Red Sea!"

"I'll get even with you T - Timmy!" Abby screamed, her teeth chattering and her nipples now diamond-hard. "I'll g - get even with you if it's the last thing I do!"

But she turned around nonetheless, bent over, and separated her massive cheeks.

It was incredible! Not only could we see the small circle of her anus, but we could also see her hairy pussy lips! They were clearly visible between her thunder-thighs! Timmy adjusted the nozzle so the water came out in two streams - and managed to hit both her holes at the same time!"

"Ohhhhhh!! OOOHHH!! T - TIMMY!! TIIIIMMMMYYY!!" she squealed. "Y - You need to stop... Stop it! SSSSTOP!" 

Then, second later: "DON'T STOP! DON'T STOP! OOOOHHHHHHH!!"

She fell to her knees. Her big boobs were on the wet grass and she was on all fours, grunting like a pig - but Timmy kept the hose 100 percent on target!

"I - I - I'M CUMMING!! OOOOOOHHHHH!!"

She dropped flat to her belly, then rolled on her back with her legs in the air - and Timmy was relentless, keeping the hose aimed squarely at both her holes at all times, not giving Abby a moment to catch her breath. 

"OOOOHHH!! I - I - OOOOOOHHHHHHH!! OOOOOOOOHHH!! GODDDDDDD!!"

Suddenly Flabby Abby began bucking her hips, moving them up and down! I've never seen her move so fast! It looked like she was fucking the Invisible Man! 

Timmy put down the hose and stared intently. So did I. So did the neighborhood kids... and the long line of cars on the street. Abby paid no attention to any of us and continued bucking her hips at a furious rate.

Then she stopped in mid-thrust - ejecting a milk-like liquid from her pussy!

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!! AHH!! AH!! AH! ...Ah! ...ah."

Abby contently looked up, as if awakening from a wonderful dream. Confusion, then dread filled her eyes as she saw the audience of people watching her! One of the neighbors started clapping - and we all joined in! Her jaw dropped and her face turned strawberry-red. Abby was SOOO embarrassed!

"WAHHHH!!" 

She covered her face in shame and sprinted back to the house - her flabby buns wobbling behind her!

Mrs. Lovington was pissed at her nieces, but she was mostly fixated on having her revenge on Rachel Trovolli. Finally, after so many night of strategizing, a plan was set:

February 14 was Valentine's Day, and the City of Middletown always had a big Valentine's Day Festival. The marquee event was the crowning of Middletown's two Queens (one for adults, the other for kids). Lacy Lovington had been crowned Queen the past seven years in a row... but this time, she said she was going to rig the contest so Rachel would win.

Let me explain:

Each year, the Queen would stand on a stage, with the whole town watching. It was supposedly a big honor. There'd be music and dancing, and the Queen would sit on a throne that was built just for her, overseeing the party.

I told Mrs. Lovington that I didn't understand how the plan was supposed to work - I mean, what was so humiliating about being crowned Queen of Middletown? But Mrs. Lovington just smiled maliciously...

The next day, Mrs. Lovington invited Timmy and me to accompany her to Pete's Pool House, the dingiest, dirtiest pool bar in town. It also happened to be where Rachel Trovolli slammed shots of Jack and hustled games on the side. I couldn't figure out WHY she wanted us to come with her... until we stepped inside:

Mrs. Lovington was nervous as hell! And looking around, I couldn't really blame her: The place was packed with scruffy-looking bikers, long-haired rebels and sleazy biker-babes. It was definitely NOT your typical Sunday Social at the Middletown Yacht Club!

All eyes were on Lacy Lovington. The music stopped, the drinking stopped - everyone turned around and stared.

"Er... I'm looking for Miss Rachel Trovolli," Mrs. Lovington said, forcing a contrived smile across her face. "Has any of you... ladies and gentlemen seen her?"

In her patented black leather pants, black leather jacket and spiked heels, Rachel coolly walked over, holding her pool cue.

"Good afternoon, Lacy!" the brunette cooed. "So lovely to see you again. And my, what a pretty dress! Did you buy it at the Big & Tall store?"

The crowd began to laugh and Mrs. Lovington turned bright red. But somehow, she managed to maintain her smile and retorted:

"Why, no dear. This dress is an Italian import, but I'm sure you're unfamiliar with it. After all, they don't make it in kid's sizes."

Now it was Rachel's turn to blush. Showing just a hint of anger, the diminutive brown-haired beauty gritted her teeth.

"Cut to the chase, Lacy. What are you doing here?" 

Mrs. Lovington put her hands on her hips and posed sexily. (And I have to say, she DID look sexy. Despite Rachel's snide comment, the dress fit her wonderfully - hugging her curves and showing off her ample cleavage. Those big boobs of hers were squeezed together and defying gravity!) The MILF let the drama build before answering: "Rachel, dear. I have good news! You've been named the new Queen of the Middletown City Valentine's Day Festival!"

"Wh... what?" Rachel asked, stunned by the announcement. A few folks in the bar began to applaud. "Isn't being the Queen your deal, Lacy?"

"Oh, somehow I'm sure they'll find a suitable role for me," Mrs. Lovington grandly replied, walking over to where Rachel was playing pool. "But congratulations! You'll be crowned Queen of the whole town, everyone will cheer you, and you'll receive a $5 thousand dollar check!"

Now, $5 thousand dollars might've been peanuts to Mrs. Lovington and her high-society friends, but to the rest of us, it was a LOT of money.

Rachel was speechless, so Mrs. Lovington leaned forward, lurching over the corner of the pool table, and spoke loudly enough for everyone to hear: "...And no offense, dear, but you look like you could use the money. Your wardrobe... tsk, tsk!"

Blushing again, Rachel thought for a moment - and then raised her pool cue. "I'll tell you what, Lacy: If I miss this shot, I'll accept the crown as the Queen of Middletown. Deal?"

And then, with a devilish grin, Rachel took her shot. BAM: The billiard ball popped right off the table - flew in the air - and landed right in the center of Mrs. Lovington's cleavage!

"Oops, guess I missed!" grinned Rachel.

Mrs. Lovington turned red again, and tried to discreetly grope inside the top of her dress to retrieve the billiard ball... but it had sunk too deeply between her enormous boobs!

"Here, let me help you," Rachel said, pointing the end of her pool cue directly at Mrs. Lovington's tits. Rachel pushed the pool cue inside the fabric - and yanked down hard:

Her dress ripped right down the middle.

The billiard ball rolled out... and so did BOTH of Mrs. Lovington's big tits!

It felt like everything was moving in slow motion: Mrs. Lovington's dress was ripped right down to the belly button, and those giant tits of hers simply EXPLODED out, bouncing up and down. Before all our eyes - those legendary, bouncing breasts! Unlike her niece Abby, Mrs. Lovington's areolas were more oval-shaped than round, adorned with a collection of dark-pink bumps, with a two-inch-long nipple jutting out of the center. But the rest of her breasts were eerily similar to Abby's: Ungodly huge, milky pale and ultra-saggy. And now they were swinging around wildly in the middle of Pete's Pool House!

The crowd stood up and cheered before Mrs. Lovington could even react. But when she finally did:

"OH MY GOD!! OH MY GOD!! MY TITS!! MY TITS!!"

The prim and proper MILF was flapping her arms hysterically. But to her dismay (and everyone else's enjoyment) this only made those gargantuan jugs of hers jiggle in every direction possible! They were flying left and right - like nunchucks! And her nipples were hardening before our eyes!

"Looky them tittties!" an old man yelled. "I've been wanting to see those puppies for YEARS!"

"OH MY GOD!!"

"They're saggier than I thought they'd be," the old man added.

"OH MY GOD!!"

Timmy jumped up and covered his mother's breasts with his jacket.

"Gee, sorry about that, Lacy," said Rachel with a grin. "So where do I go to pick-up my shiny new crown and $5 thousand dollars?"

Bright-red and hiding her chest in her son's jacket, Mrs. Lovington stumbled back several steps.

"You - you!" she stammered. "M - my tits! My TITS!! You showed everyone my TITS!!"

"Yes, and they're very impressive," Rachel acknowledged, not missing a beat. "But what about my crown and money?"

"You - you need to come down to Josephine's Boutique tomorrow at 11:00 a.m. to have your measurements taken," Mrs. Lovington spat out, still stumbling backwards.

"My... my measurements?" gasped Rachel. Suddenly, all the bravado was drained from her voice.

"Yes, your measurements," said Mrs. Lovington, regaining some of her swagger. "You need to be fitted for your Queen's dress and gown, of course."

Rachel's hands unconsciously went to cover her chest.

"I - I can write down my measurements on my own. I don't need to be measured!"

Almost immediately, Mrs. Lovington's swagger had returned: "Don't be silly, dear. The tailor has to be precise - and besides, it's not like you have anything to hide! I mean, you don't stuff your bra, do you?"

This time Rachel was the one who was blushing!

"N - no! No, of course not! I don't stuff my bra!"

"Good. We'll see you tomorrow at 11:00 a.m.!"

At another pool table, someone else hit a billiard ball. It popped off the table - and fell down the BACK of Mrs. Lovington's dress!




The Greatest Humiliation Story Ch. 02



"Here, lemme get that for you," said the old man, advancing on the MILF with his hands outstretched - and a twisted look in his eyes. Before she could move, he pulled down the back of her dress and took a peek.

"Is that a girdle?" he asked.

"OH MY GOD!!" she screamed, sprinting out the door as fast as she could.

END OF PART TWO



The Greatest Humiliation Story Ch. 03



Part 3: The Night Before Rachel's Comeuppance

Once again, I spent the night at Mrs. Lovington's house. I stayed over pretty regularly; maybe five nights a week, ever since Timmy and me became friends. In years past, the only time I avoided visiting was when the bitch-cousins, Abby and Yvette, were in town. They were horrible! No matter what Timmy and me were doing, they'd figure out a way to ruin it:

Back when we were little kids playing Army Man in the backyard, those BITCHES - just because they were older and bigger - would grab us, beat us up and steal our uniform - leaving us shivering in the cold in nothing but our tighty-whities! They'd give us wedgies and make us do stupid dances before we'd get our clothes back.

It got worse as we grew older, especially after we turned 18, 'cause the cousins' torture took on a sinister, sexual overtone - like they got-off humiliating us whenever they could:

If I'd go to the bathroom to take a leak, the girls would barge in. "What a cute little winky!" Yvette laughed. "Yeah, that looks like a penis - only smaller! Hee, hee! Look at the BIG 18-year-old stud!" giggled Abby. (I'd cry for them to get out... but they'd stand right over me and stare! Once, they took a picture!)

To FULLY satisfy their female curiosity, one afternoon they cornered us in Timmy's room and ordered us to pull down our pants... and then they measured our dicks with rulers! Our balls, too! I mean, they literally forced us to stand still - with our pants and underwear around our ankles - and made us stick out our yoohoos to be measured! When we tried to escape, they flipped us over their knees and spanked us on our bare asses! We tried to fight back, but after getting our butts beaten until we wept like babies (which was SO fucking degrading), we did what they wanted, and with tears in our eyes we let them hold and measure our manhood. But because they were so intimidating - I mean, we were scared shitless of those evil BITCHES - our penises... you know... kind of... restricted! (Much to their laughter and vicious cackling: "You two are pathetic!" "My pinky-finger is bigger!" "Ha, ha, ha!" "Look how TINY these LITTLE BOYS are!!")

Two weeks earlier, they lined-up dates with a pair of college studs from the nearby university. Football stars. Abby and Yvette pointed us out to their dates when they came to the house, using the "one-inch" hand-gesture, staring at our crotches... and laughing, like it was the funniest thing in the world. Their dates laughed, too. 

Well, now the tables had turned!

Since "mature" Yvette turned out to have a not-so-mature body, she had an extra-early 7:00 p.m. bedtime. I guess she was tired, because she was completely knocked out by 7:30. Timmy and me decided to do the hand-in-hot-water prank one more time...

...and once again, it worked! Abby overflowed her diaper, shrieking in terror!

Mrs. Lovington was FURIOUS!

"You can't even go consecutive days without wetting the bed?!" screamed Mrs. Lovington. "I put you in diapers, and you STILL stain my furniture?!"

"I - I don't know what's happening," cried Yvette. "I never do this at home! Promise!"

Once again, Yvette was required to strip naked in front of us, put her soiled jammies in a plastic bag and take another bath. Only this time, Mrs. Lovington added four new rules to the household:

First, Yvette was no longer allowed to sleep in a "big girl" bed. Timmy's old crib was brought down from the attic - the one that was decorated with pictures of Ernie, Bert and Elmo!

"A - a crib?! But I'm an adult!" she squeaked, hiding her little boobies and hairless twat behind her arms.

"Your bladder says otherwise, dear," the Empress answered.

Two, Yvette's diapers were now EXTRA thick and EXTRA absorbent. 

Mrs. Lovington took Yvette by the hand and marched her out of the room - and then they returned, with Yvette wearing her new diaper. The difference was like night and day: The old ones were thinner and discreet; under her clothes, you could scarcely tell she was wearing them. This one was so thick and puffy, "mature" Yvette had to waddle around bowlegged!

"I don't like it!" the humiliated cousin wailed, her fingers covering her nips. "I look stupid!"

"And I don't like doing extra loads of laundry, dear." 

Three, during nighttime, it was diapers ONLY: no jammies allowed.

"But - but - anyone could look in and see me topless!" Yvette cried in alarm.

"Now, dear... why would anyone want to look at THOSE little things?"

Yvette hung her head. Timmy and me were rolling on the floor in laughter!

Four, since Yvette was obviously having "bathroom issues," not only did she no longer have wiping-privileges, but now one of us had to stand in with her and OBSERVE her while she "made" in the toilet. And no longer was she allowed to use the adult toilet, but a small, Fisher-Price training-toilet was brought down from the attic - just for Yvette.

"You... you can't be serious!" gasped the bitchy cousin. "I don't want someone to watch me use the bathroom! I'm a WOMAN! I - I need my privacy! Please, Aunt Lacy - I'm begging you, don't do this to me! Leave me my dignity! I'm a WOMAN!! PLEASE!!"

"Don't 'please' me," retorted Mrs. Lovington. "If you were a real woman, you'd have breasts. DO you have breasts? If you were a real woman, you'd have pubic hair. DO you have pubic hair?"

Yvette sadly shook her head "no."

"Look at you! Without your clothes and falsies, you look just like a grade-schooler. Except a grade-schooler is usually potty trained!"

"WAAAAH!" wailed Yvette, wearing nothing but a diaper.

A few minutes later, Yvette had to use her new little-girl potty. Mrs. Lovington put us in charge. Wearing her extra-thick diaper and nothing else (and covering her tiny tits in her hands) Yvette waddled over.

"S - seriously, you guys don't need to watch!" she cried. "I know how to use a fucking toilet! Go away! Leave!"

"Don't be silly," said Timmy, untaping her diaper and pulling down the front. "You know you're not big enough for that kind of responsibility!" 

I leaned in to take a peek:

Her pussy seemed unusually puffy - much pinker than normal. Maybe a little moist. I think Yvette noticed too, because she began blushing when she saw me staring. She wobbled slightly as Timmy removed her puffy diaper from her body.

"We need to make sure you don't have any more accidents, Little Yvette," I added, patting her on the head. (Oh, how she GLARED at me!) We then carefully positioned her on the training-toilet, but because it was so small, Yvette's knees were almost up to her chin. She looked so comical, sitting there naked, holding her breasts!

"Hands down!" ordered Timmy. "You know you're not supposed to cover yourself! Now concentrate! It's the only way you'll learn!"

Choking a sob, Yvette put her hands down to her side, revealing her innocent little nipples to our adolescent eyes. She grinded her teeth and rocked back and forth on the toilet seat for a moment - 

- and then "mature" Yvette farted! Loudly! It was the first time I had ever heard a woman fart!

Timmy and me looked at each other in surprise... and then we started cracking up!

"This can't be happening!" wailed Yvette. "I HATE YOU!! I HATE ALL OF YOU!! I'M A GROWN WOMAN, FOR CHRIST'S SAKE!! I'M MATURE AND SOPHISTICATED AND - "

Then she farted again. The sound made her nips jiggle!

"Wah, wah! WAAAHH!!"

Tears were rolling down her eyes... followed by the sound of her urine echoing inside the potty.

"Look at you, going potty like a big girl," giggled Timmy. "I'm so proud of you!"

"F - Fuck you!" she cried, her face bright red. "I'm still older than both of you!"

She was right! Less than a week ago, Yvette had been dressed to the hilt - with high heels, pantyhose, perky (fake) breasts, and a wardrobe full of "sexy professional vixen" dresses, skirts and power-suits. She was dating college hunks and sneering at all the "losers" in Middletown. Back then, Timmy and me were the kids. ...And now?

Little Yvette was squatting topless on a training-potty! While we watched!

"Oh, you look SO much older and SO mature! Okay, Little Yvette, are you all done? Or do you still have to go too-toot?"

"I... I'm all done," she sniffled. "I don't have to toot-toot anymore. Can - can I please cover my breasts now? Please? I - I don't like it when you can see them." 

She looked so pathetic, sitting there naked with a pout on her face!

"Not yet, Little Yvette. Assume the position so we can wipe you clean!" giggled Timmy.

Moaning in despair, she awkwardly stumbled off the training-toilet, bent all the way over, put her head on the floor, and pulled back her butt-cheeks and gaped her vay-jay with her hands. Down below, her upside-down nipples were bobbing slightly as she breathed - as hard as marbles.

"You - you assholes! Hurry up and finish," she wailed. "I - I just wanna go to bed!"

"You don't have a bed anymore, Little Yvette. You have a crib," I corrected. "And speaking of assholes, yours looks red. I think you need some Desitin. You know, for your diaper rash."

"Diaper rash?!" she cried. "This is sooooo humiliating! This can't be happening!"

While Timmy was mopping around her pussy, gleefully toying with her pussy and poking around her inside, I put a dab of Desitin on my finger and dabbed the outline of her anus.

"It's c - cold!" she yelped. "W - wipe it off! I don't like it!"

Without warning, I stuck my finger inside her ass - all the way down to the knuckle!

"AAAAAHHHH" she cried.

I'll never forget how warm it felt...

At that same moment, Timmy began massaging her clitty with one hand, and pulling on one of her tender nips with the other. I grabbed the unattended nip and twirled it too.

"Your hands!" she squealed. "Noooo! Don't make me... NOOO!!"

Her body responded immediately: Her hips began bucking and "mature" Yvette - ass up, head down - had a massive orgasm, squirting all over Timmy's hand!

"OOOOooooooohhhhhhhhhhhh... OH, NOOOOOO!! NOT NOWWWW!! NOT IN FRONT OF YOU TWOOOO!! OOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHhhhhhh!!" 

Yvette collapsed face-first on the bathroom tile, with my finger still stuck inside her ass.

"I... I can't believe you stupid little kids made me orgasm! I'll NEVER live this down!" she sobbed. 

We gave her a few minutes to catch her breath, then rolled her over (I had to twist my shoulder, because my finger was still stuck in her rear!). Timmy took her dainty feet by the ankles and pinned them to her ears. 

"Why, I just don't understand it," he snickered. "Little Yvette! You're STILL wet! Your entire puss-puss is soaking!"

She made no further effort to shield her body, but by the way her eyes weren't blinking and her lower lip was trembling, I could tell she was listening to every word. 

I wiggled out my finger from her butthole (with a "POP!") and washed my hand in the sink while Timmy used half-a-box of baby wipes to clean her.

"Someone's been a messy little baby!" Timmy teased. "You leaked all over your thighs and tushy, too! Bad girl!"

And he have her a short, hard spank on her vulnerable little butt.

"Wah! Wah!"

We then took turns powdering her privates and reapplied her puffy diaper. She didn't say a thing as we carried her in our arms, bare-chested to her crib.

"Nighty-night, Little Yvette!" we giggled.

Yvette just laid there like a zombie, her overly-long legs hanging out of the crib, her hands flat on the miniature mattress. Her small nipples bobbled with every breath, and she watched her baby mobile spin and spin and spin...

One down, one to go:

Unlike Yvette, Abby was still allowed to wear her big-girl clothes, but Mrs. Lovington had confiscated her (surprisingly large) collection of super-tight girdles. This meant that none of her sexy dresses fit anymore - nor did any of her pants - but she could still (barely) squeeze into a few of her skirts. Only two or three of her party-girl tops still fit... but because her big belly was no longer restricted, they all seemed to ride-up on her.

This meant that all her tops had become belly-shirts - and her big, fat stomach hung bulbously out from the bottom. It was the WORST look possible for her, because it totally accentuated her belly-fat. It almost looked like she WANTED to show it off!

Whenever we'd walk by Flabby Abby and saw her shirt riding up, we'd give her jelly-belly a friendly squeeze - which REALLY pissed her off!

"Stop it, you little creep!" she'd scream. And then she'd valiantly attempt to suck-in her gut and pull her shirt back down, so it re-covered her belly... but moments later, it would inevitably slide back out again. Still, it was almost admirable how she tried to maintain her appearance. When it came to vanity, Abby was in a class of her own.

Because she hated how she looked without her girdle, Abby refused to leave the house - only going outside to do her mandatory exercises. So of course we BEGGED Mrs. Lovington to let us take her to the park:

"Please?" begged Timmy, using his best-little-boy-in-the-world voice. "Don't you think it would be GOOD for Abby to go on a walk with us, instead of sitting on her fat ass all day?"

Mrs. Lovington agreed.

So we all went on a walk together - Timmy holding one of her hands, me holding the other. This was so that when her shirt rode-up (which it did in a few minutes) she was unable to pull it back down.

"C'mon you guys! PLEASE! Let go of my hands!" she pled as her belly popped out.

"But why, Abby?" we innocently asked.

"Because my - my shirt!"

"What's wrong with your shirt?"

"My stomach! It - it's..."

"It's what?" I innocently asked. It really was something, how her belly shook and wobbled with every step. For a girl as vain as Abby, it must've been torture!

"You know what!" she cried. "Damn you! It - it's sticking out!"

"Why is it sticking out, Cousin Abby?" teased Timmy. The more we walked, the more her shirt rode-up. It was now all the way to the bottom of her tits! The other people on the walkway were staring and snickering!

"Because... because I'm a big fatty!" Flabby Abby cried, her voice starting to break. She was struggling to free her hands from our grip.

Breaking into laughter, we let go of Abby all at once. I guess we released her hands more suddenly then she expected, because she was still pulling against us with all her might. The force of her momentum propelled her forward - and she landed on her hands and knees three-steps ahead!

"You fucking creeps!" she screamed.

But then something interesting happened: The sexy skirt that Abby had somehow managed to squeeze into was stretched so tightly around her belly that, with the impact of falling, it suddenly ripped - tearing in half!

"Oh, no!! My skirt!!" 

Beneath her skirt were some VERY sexy undies: Bright pink, with cute lace fringes. But her ass was so big, her undies had slid to the halfway point of her butt. In other words, the top-half of her ass was completely visible!

Timmy grabbed what remained of the skirt as we both pointed and laughed like crazy! Red-faced, Abby staggered to her feet, quickly yanking the back of her panties so it re-covered her large tush. She was terrified that someone might see her. But I guess she pulled to hard - because the waistband snapped! She didn't realize it at first, but when she went to suck-in her stomach and pull down her shirt, her panties fell to her ankles!

"Nice bush, Abby!" I giggled.

"Oh, God - Nooooooooooo!" she cried, looking down at her completely exposed hairy pussy. She scanned her surroundings: A crowd of people were circling around her, pointing and chortling!

"Holy Christ, look at the jungle on that fat girl!" someone laughed.

Panicking, she bent over to pull her panties back up. Timmy took the opportunity to push her the rest of the way over - and Flabby Abby toppled over, landing with her hands on the ground, her bare ass poking up in the air!

"AAAAAHHH!!"

I reached over to pull her butt-cheeks apart, to give the crowd a show. Abby was still trying to force her way up, but she wasn't strong enough to reposition her body. Regardless, I was able to separate her flabby buns pretty easily, giving the audience an intimate look at her inner-anatomy.

"Damn, that's the hairiest asshole I've ever seen!" laughed a middle-aged man.

"No kidding," giggled his wife, "between those chubby white buns, she probably has dingleberries the size of breathmints!"

Abby was wiggling furiously on the ground, trying to free herself, but it was having the inadvertent effect of making her fat ass ripple and shake. I was still holding her firmly, pulling her cheeks as wide open as I could! I could feel her try to clench them back closed, but my grip was tight!

"Stop looking! STOP LOOKING!!" Abby wailed. "LET ME GOOOOOO!!"

Then, without warning, her shirt slid again to the bottom of her tits. And because she was fighting so hard to be freed, her belly was literally waving back at the crowd!

"Well, if you thought her ass was big, check THAT out!" giggled the wife.

"Oh, I've heard of her," said her husband. "That's the rich girl who stripped naked at the party and starting mooing like a cow! Remember?"

"Ooh, I'd like to see that," eagerly said his wife.

The audience's laughter - and being forced to relive her earlier humiliation - made Abby capitulate: "You fucking losers! If - if I moo for you, will you leave me alone?!"

Everyone agreed, so I let her up. With a look of rage on her face, she pulled her shirt back down, stretching it until it covered the top-third of her thick black bush. The rest of her vay-jay (well, what you could see through that mop of hair) was clearly visible... as was her entire ass from the back. She kept her thunder-thighs tightly pressed to protect what was left of her modesty.

"Moo! Moo!" Flabby Abby blurted, through gritted teeth - with a look that said she wanted to KILL everyone. "There, I did it. You people had your fun! Now GO THE FUCK AWAY!!"

"I dunno," said the husband skeptically. "It just isn't the same if you're wearing your top. After all, it's not really a cow if we can't see the udders."

With the audience murmuring in agreement, Abby angrily stomped her hoof - and her shirt popped right back up to the bottom of her tits!

Taking this as a sign, Timmy and me peeled her top off her body, leaving her totally naked, sans her Victoria's Secret bra. But seeing no other way to escape, Abby howled in fury and unhooked her bra.

Those big, meaty tits hung proudly out in the sunshine! Everyone applauded in approval.

"Sweet Jesus, you could kill a man with those things! Her name shouldn't be Abby - it ought to be Elsie!"

With the audience forming a circle around her, "Elsie" gripped her oversized belly with both hands, shaking it up and down and wailing with all her might: "MOOO!! MOOOO!! MOOOOOOOO!!"

While she was MOOOING, a hipster-woman reached behind her - and smacked her on the ass!

"OW!! You bitch!" squealed Abby, grabbing her buns and jumping in agony. Her big floppy tits, large butt and round tummy jumped with her. "Why - why did you do that?!"

"Just thought a cow should be branded!" giggled the hipster.

Timmy and me held her hands and made "Elsie" walk naked the rest of the way home. We took the scenic route, right past the nearby college! Where the football team was practicing and the frat boys were hanging out! (Just to keep things interesting, we maintained a choppy bounce to our step - which made those giant jugs of hers swing to and fro.) She kept her head down the entire way... like she still couldn't believe the humiliation she was being forced to endure.

But this in NO WAY made up for the YEARS of torment Abby had inflicted upon us. And thus we hatched a really, REALLY good plan to settle the score once and for all:




The Greatest Humiliation Story Ch. 03



After Yvette was put to bed (actually, a crib!), I snuck into the guest bedroom where Abby slept and stuck three Hershey Bars under her mattress. Then I wedged a few more behind the toilet in the bathroom. Timmy clandestinely dropped a few Hershey's Kisses inside her purse. The trickiest part of the operation was figuring out how to slide a Tootsie Roll in Abby's skirt pocket, because without her girdle, the fabric was stretched so ridiculously tight that there wasn't much room. 

Timmy "accidentally" bumped into her in the hallway: 

"Ow! Watch where you're going, you dickless nimrod!" 

I snuck behind and discreetly slid the Tootsie Bar into her side pocket.

Seconds later, Timmy called out from the bathroom: "Hey, Mum - check this out! Look what someone hid in here!"

Mrs. Lovington, Abby and me all approached the bathroom door and looked inside. Timmy was pointing to an object stuck behind the toilet: "Mum, what is that?"

Going to inspect, Mrs. Lovington pulled out the candy from behind the commode.

"Hershey Bars!" she exclaimed. "Who in the world would hide Hershey Bars in the bathroom?"

All eyes went to Abby.

"Oh, please! Of course it's not me!" Abby angrily retorted.

"I don't know, Abby," I sweetly answered, "everyone else is allowed to have candy whenever they want. You're the only one with a motive."

"Fuck you, you little twerp! I'm telling you, it's NOT me!" she screamed, stomping her foot... and as she stomped her foot, her shirt rode up again, right to the bottom of her tits - her exposed belly reminding everyone of her gluttony.

With Timmy and me giggling, Abby screamed, "Shut up! You creeps are SO immature!" and then, with all the dignity and aplomb she could muster, she sucked in her stomach and pulled down her shirt so it re-covered her belly. Still trying to look sophisticated and womanly, she straightened out her skirt, pulling it down further over her legs. And as she did that, the Tootsie Roll fell out of her pocket, landing on the floor with a loud CLANK.

Abby turned bright-face: "I - I swear that's not mine! Honest!! I - I don't know how it got there!"

Mrs. Lovington eyed her suspiciously.

"Check her purse, Mum!" recommended Timmy.

The Empress snatched away Abby's purse and poured the contents out on the bathroom counter. Makeup, lipstick, mascara, tampons (Gross!) and the Hershey Kisses rolled out.

Abby covered her face in despair! ...and while she did so, her shirt rode back up again. 

"Hershey Kisses! Why, you sneaky, conniving piggy!" admonished Mrs. Lovington. "We've all been working so hard to help you lose weight, and THIS is how you repay us?!"

"Maybe you should check her mattress, ma'am," I innocently added.

When Mrs. Lovington found the Hershey Bars stuck under the mattress, well, it was the last straw. She was LIVID!

"I'll bet she has even more candy hidden on her body, Mum!" Timmy offered. "You should search her."

"NO!! SCREW YOU!! I WILL NOT TAKE MY CLOTHES OFF!! This... this... I SWEAR that's not my candy!!" Flabby Abby wailed.

Mrs. Lovington no longer believed her: "Abby, strip this instant - or I'll enroll you in a Fat Camp for the rest of the school year! No college or anything!"

Given that ultimatum, Abby had no choice but to acquiesce. Before our prying eyes, she peeled off all her clothes once again, until she stood completely naked. She desperately tried to keep her hands over her tits and pussy, but Mrs. Lovington was having none of it:

"Hands on your head, Abby. With all the folds of fat on your body, who knows where you could be hiding candy."

With an angry stomp of her foot and a mortified whimper, Abby put her hands on her head. She was staring DAGGERS at us!

"Timothy, go pat Abby down," the Empress directed. "Make sure she's not hiding anything."

Timmy and me had planned for this eventuality: "Mum, couldn't you ask my friend to do it? I... I just don't feel comfortable touching my cousin's blubber when she's nekkid."

"FUCK YOU, TIMMY!! I DO NOT HAVE BLUBBER!! I'm - I'm BEAUTIFUL!!" screamed the naked fat girl with her hands on her head.

Mrs. Lovington motioned for me to move forward. Deftly palming a miniature Tootsie Roll, I approached Abby. She was standing as still as she could, but breathing so angrily that those big tits of hers - as well as her tummy - were practically bouncing! I could see several drops of perspiration on her forehead as I groped her sides...

"You need to look under her boobies!" Timmy sweetly pointed out. "You could hide a whole candy store under those things!"

So with my free hand, I massaged her titty-fat for a few seconds - and MAN, did it feel good - and then I gripped her pointy nipple.

Abby gasped!

Still gripping her nipple, I pulled up her tittie. I raised it right up to her eyeballs! Suddenly, instead of staring daggers at me, Abby was giving me a submissive, pleading-sort of look...

"Hmm, no candy under here," I told Mrs. Lovington. "But phew, it sure smells bad under her boobie. Sweaty and gross!"

"It - it does not!" cried Abby

"Shame on you, Abby," scolded Mrs. Lovington. "Good hygiene is important."

I proceeded to examine the other breast the same way. (I think her left tit was slightly larger than the right.) Then I knelt around the back of her to check her chubby rear-end - but Abby had clenched her butt-cheeks tight.

"There's nothing in there, you creep!" she whispered in a growly, furious voice.

"I think she might be hiding something here, Mrs. Lovington!" I called out. "I really do! She won't let me look."

"Abby! Stop clenching or there'll be HELL to pay!"

Now starting to cry, arrogant Abby unclenched her massive buttocks. Damn, her ass was big! Without her clenching, I easily spread her ass all the way wide - MUCH wider than at the park. I didn't stop until her anus was so open, it looked like it wanted to speak! I could even see her pussy lips between her thighs...

"Still no candy, Mrs. Lovington, but her butthole is REALLY hairy. All kinds of thick black hairs are encircled around her pooper!" I cheerfully reported.

Abby choked back an incredulous sob - her hands still firmly on her head.

"Shame on you, Abby!" reprimanded the MILF. "Why, that's disgusting!"

"I can't help it!" she wailed. "That - that's just how I am! I didn't want anyone to know!"

I then let go of her ass-cheeks and returned to her front. With meticulous detail, I kneeled back down and went eyeball-to-eyeball with that hairy pussy of hers! For a few seconds, I stared (and tried to memorize!) every wonderful detail: How the hairs naturally parted from the center. How it was thicker in the middle than the sides. How she smelled.

"I know it's gross, but you need to dive in there and move that jungle-bush to inspect!" advised Timmy.

"NO HE DOESN'T!!" cried Abby. "I swear if he touches me there - I'll..!"

Too late! With one hand, I ran my fingers through her pubes. Abby gasped! I kept rubbing my fingers back and forth until I reached her pussy lips. (Now I was starting to sweat!) I pressed on - and gently traced her pussy's opening with my fingers... I could feel the hint of her "personal" wetness...

I looked up: Abby's eyes were as big as dinner plates! She was starting to pant... I heard her grunt... and she began pushing her pussy INTO my fingers...!

Then, with my other hand, I reached into her pubes - and feigning surprise, I turned to Timmy and Mrs. Lovington:

"Hey, look what I found! She was hiding a mini Tootsie Roll in her bush!"

Mrs. Lovington was thunderstruck!

"That - that - NO!!" cried Abby. "I - I don't know how that got there! Honest!"

"Abby, I'm so disappointed with you!" admonished Mrs. Lovington. "This IS NOT acceptable behavior! I think we're going to need five new rules in this household..."

The first rule was, Abby was no longer allowed to carry around a purse.

The second rule was, since Abby was (evidently!) sneaking into the bathroom to eat candy, she was no longer allowed to use the bathroom without one of us there to watch her. If she had to go #1 or #2 (ew!) one of us had to accompany her.

"B - but... you can't let... I mean, my privacy...!" Abby cried. 

"Little piggies don't get privacy, Abby," the Empress retorted.

The third rule was, after all meals, Abby was subject to a naked pat-down search - to make sure she wasn't sneaking away any food.

Even when company was over! And even at restaurants!

The fourth rule was, since she was having difficulty maintaining good hygiene, Timmy and me were responsible for bathing her, soaping her, and making sure she was TOTALLY clean!

Abby covered her face and began weeping in earnest: "No! Not by THOSE little twerps! They'll - they'll get to see EVERYTHING!!" 

But the best was yet to come:

The fifth rule was, Abby had to lose all her pubic hair.

"NOT THAT!!" the cousin wailed. She instantly covered her unruly bush with her hands. "PLEASE, Aunt Lacy - don't let them take away my - my womanhood! I - I don't wanna be a bald little girl anymore! Don't make me like Yvette! Wah! Wah!"

But Mrs. Lovington was adamant: "Back to the bathroom, Abby."

Abby was required to lay naked on her back, her legs akimbo in the tub. First came the electric razor - and it sliced right through her jungle, reducing it to rubble! In its wake was a mile-high pile of wiry black hairs!

Arrogant Abby was no longer crying. (I think she was in too much shock to cry!) Instead, she just sort of lay there... kind of like a naked, beached whale: Her tits had sagged towards her arm pits, and she was holding up her chubby thighs so we could reach every crevice. I did notice that she'd look away whenever we stared straight in her eyes...

Next came the disposable razor. Swipe, swipe, swipe!

"Jeez, Abby!" laughed Timmy, looking at the blade. "Your thick pubes has already worn this blade down to the nub! Good thing we have so many..."

Swipe, swipe, swipe!

Timmy then pulled her legs up to her chest, pushing her knees to her jaw. This gave me unobstructed access to that hairy ass of hers. Pulling one cheek open at a time, I continued to shave away - not stopping until every single hair in the gully of her ass was eliminated!

Other than squirming when the razor veered too close to her anus, Abby didn't move.

When we were done, we stood her up and brought her to the full-length bathroom mirror. It was a game-changing transformation! What was once a mature, womanly field of dark pubic hair was now... barren and white! So white, it practically glowed in the dark!

You could tell her "delicate areas" had never seen a ray of sunshine, it was so breathtakingly white - sans the pink little clitty that was proudly jutting down. What a difference! Without that jungle in the way, you could really see her pussy lips in crystal clear detail - and her adorable little clitty dangling beneath!

Abby stared in the mirror with her jaw open and gasped:

"Wh... what have you DONE to me?! My beautiful hair... my womanhood... you - you - you took it all away! I - I look like a little girl again!"

She stood in front of the mirror in disbelief for minutes, running her fingers over the parts where hair used to be, still not believing her own eyes. Then she angrily stomped her feet over and over again:

"I - I want my pubic hair back!! Wah!! Wah!! Give it back! GIVE IT BACK!! I don't wanna be a little girl anymore!! Wah!! Wah!!"

She was stomping her feet and crying - and without her pubes, a little girl was EXACTLY what she looked like!

We drew her a bath to wash away the rest of the stray hair. Abby stepped in, and I think the coolness of the water shocked her back to reality. The crying stopped, even though her eyes were still as red as her hair. (Well, her head-hair - since that was all she had left!) She crossed her arms over her breasts and stared forward, refusing all eye contact. But when I reached for the soap, she snapped at me:

"Give that to me, you little twerp! I can lather-up myself, thank you very much!"

"I'm not so sure," said Timmy, patting her head. "It's a big responsibility."

"Go fuck yourself!" yelled Abby. "I'm still an adult, for Christ's sake."

With a tsk-tsk look, I grinned while shaking my head: "Now Abby, if you were REALLY an adult, then where is all your big-girl hair?"

Arrogant Abby looked down at her bald little pussy... and once again covered her face with her hands.

"I don't have any big-girl hair anymore!" she wailed. "I'm a little girl! Wah!! Wah!!"

She didn't protest when we lathered-up those big titties of hers, getting them nice and smooth. (Damn, they felt good!) And she didn't protest when we put her on all fours and cleaned-out her cheeks and anus with the soap. (It looked so different without any hair!) And she didn't protest when we kept her on all fours and REALLY cleaned out her squeaky-pink hairless pussy, massaging her crevices... THOROUGHLY... although we could tell she was >this-close

But when we rolled her onto her back and began soaping her tummy, she began squirming:

"Ha, ha! S - Stop it! You're tickling me! Ha, ha!"

I guess we had hit her ticklish spot, 'cause her whole nude body was squirming and shaking! Her legs were kicking and her arms were thrashing! Cute fat-rolls were appearing on her tummy as her legs and thighs kept flaying wildly!

"S - Stop it!! Ha, ha! PLEASE!! Ha, Ha! Ha, ha! You - You're gonna make me pee!!"

This, of course, incentivized us to tickle her harder!

"NO!! S - Seriously!! Ha, ha! S - Stop!"

Then, in the very next breath, Abby arched her back, stuck out her bald little pussy - and pissed herself while we watched. The stream hit the other side of the tub, and her pink little clitty seemed to wiggle the entire time.

"Noooooooo!!"

Upon finishing, Abby immediately sat up in the bath and covered her face in her hands. We could hear her crying again.

"Still think you're an adult, Abby?" I teased. "Only little girls go wee-wee in the bath tub!"

This only made her cry harder.

"Mum!" Timmy called out. "Cousin Abby peed in the tub when we tried to clean her!"

"Oh, God - don't tell her!" Abby whispered. Her face was completely panic-stricken. "Whatever you do! PLEASE! I - I'll do whatever you want!"

But Mrs. Lovington was already there, staring down with her hands on her hips.

"I'm SO disappointed in you, Abby. These boys were only trying to help you with your horrible hygiene - and THIS is how you repay them?! Shame on you! But if you're having trouble controlling your bodily functions tonight, then I know what I'll have to do..."

Mrs. Lovington pulled Abby out of the tub. She didn't bother toweling her down either. Wet and naked, Abby was dragged out of the bathroom.

Several minutes went by. Timmy and me could hear the sounds of scuffling and Abby's protests on the other side of the door.

Just as we were getting ready to leave, in came arrogant Abby - waddling bowlegged, wearing a fluffy diaper - and nothing else! 

The sight was so comical, we nearly doubled over in laughter! Abby's face was scrunched into a sad, pathetic grimace!

"Abby," demanded Mrs. Lovington. "Don't you have something to tell the boys?"

Her mouth gaped twice before she could make any words. But then she croaked out: "I - I'm sorry I've been a bad little piggy! Oink, oink!" 

And then she stood there sniffling, her big belly hanging over the top of her diaper, her gigantic tits drooping lifelessly to the sides. We could tell she was trying to suck-in her stomach, trying vainly to look as thin as she could - but she was still plenty fat!

"WHAT ELSE do you have to say, Abby?"

"Oink, oink! I - I promise I'll be a better little piglet tomorrow! Oink, oink! I'll be a good piggy!" she croaked.

"Apology accepted, little piglet!" sniggered Timmy.

Abby emitted a long sigh - only it sounded like a squeal! And I guess she released her stomach muscles, because her tummy suddenly bulged out a little bit further - and her diaper slid off, landing around her ankles!

The little piglet's hairless pink pussy was exposed again! Abby began crying - the indignity of it all!

Mrs. Lovington made Flabby Abby waddle out with the diaper around her ankles, retaped her in the hallway and escorted the little piglet to bed...

By now, it was time for Timmy and me to hit the hay, too. But it wasn't easy, after enacting revenge on the bitch-cousins. Still, we tried our best. After all, we knew we had a big day ahead of us...

...and we couldn't help but wonder, how would Rachel Trovolli survive what Mrs. Lovington had in store for her?

END OF PART THREE



The Greatest Humiliation Story Ch. 04



Part 4: The Empress Strikes Back!

It was high noon. (Actually, it was 11:00 a.m. But it amounted to the same thing.) Timmy and I sat nervously in our chairs at Josephine's Boutique, the clothing store and beauty salon for the super-rich, located in the heart of Middletown's business district. Mrs. Lovington was pacing impatiently, constantly checking (and rechecking) her Rolex watch.

"Where is that puny bitch?!" fumed the Empress.

At around 11:15 a.m. the unmistakable roar of a Harley engine filled our ears. Timmy looked at me and I looked back - and our hearts skipped a beat. Could this really be happening?

Moments later, our questions were answered: The door swung open and the bright sun shined in, almost blinding our eyes - and surrounded by the sunlight, looking like an avenging angel from heaven, was none other than Rachel Trovolli!

She calmly strutted down the center of the store. Our eyes refocused and we could see a bit more clearly: Rachel was wearing her patented black leather boots with six-inch spiked heels, tight leather pants, a snug top (showing the curvatures of her perfectly-sized breasts), leather jacket and jet-black sunglasses. Her long dark mane flowed behind her, almost like a superhero cape.

She saw us and flashed a devilish smile; her fire-red lips glistened with mischievous glee. Then she winked. (Even though I knew Mrs. Lovington wouldn't approve, I smiled back. She was SOOOO hot!!) Rachel was 23-years-old and I was only 18, so there was no way she'd ever date a younger kid like me, but in my dreams, well... in my dreams we were lovers. And we had been for a very long time! 

Using her middle finger, Rachel pushed her shades up her pretty face, so they balanced atop her dense brown hair. Mrs. Lovington emerged from the shadows, greeting Rachel like they were Best Friends Forever:

"Oh, Rachel dear - there you are!" boomed the MILF, holding a clipboard. "So lovely to see you again! Exquisite day, isn't it?" She tapped her watch. "Not quite a stickler for punctuality, are we? Hmm?"

Rachel shrugged her shoulders and surveyed her surroundings: Dozens of mannequins, all dressed in the trendiest Bourgeoisie fashions, crowded the windows, and racks of women's clothes lined the center of the store. A long red carpet - almost like a runway - stretched from the front door to the back. And in the corner was a very fancy salon chair, complete with a large sink, a collection of scissors, a hairdryer and all kinds of hair products. There was also a scale - the kind of scale you might find in a doctor's office.

"Hi Lacy. So... awesome to see you again. Um, cute little place you have here."

"Thank you, dear. Josephine is a family friend. Such a nice woman. Well, are you ready to become a Queen?"

The leather-clad beauty burst into laughter. "I'm not really into that pageant-stuff, no offense, Lacy. But hey, if you want to crown me Queen of the town, that's cool. Anyway, I'd really like to pick-up my check for $5K, if you don't mind."

Mrs. Lovington enthusiastically bobbed her head. "Certainly, my dear, certainly. You just need to sign the contract here..." The much-taller blonde pushed the clipboard into Rachel's hands.

Not bothering to read the contract, Rachel scrawled her name on the dotted line and handed the clipboard back.

"Great. Now where's my money, Lacy?"

"First things first, dear! You and me... Rachel, we got off on the wrong foot. You made mistakes, I made mistakes... yada yada. Let's toast our new friendship! Let bygones be bygones!"

Sitting on a nearby countertop were a bottle of Champagne and two glasses - already filled. Mrs. Lovington handed Rachel the glass with the red rim, taking the glass with the blue rim for herself. (I couldn't help but notice that Rachel's drink was darker and cloudier than Mrs. Lovington's.)

"A toast to... fresh starts! Cheers!"

Rachel looked quizzically at the voluptuous older woman and shook her head.

"That's really cool of you, but I'm more of a beer and whiskey gal than a Champagne-sipper. Not my style."

A brief look of frustration filled the Empress' eyes, but she expertly masked it with a façade of indignation:

"My dear! I pulled strings to crown you Queen! I'm making an effort to bury the hatchet! I'm writing you a check for $5 thousand dollars, straight from the City's coffers... and you won't even join me in a simple toast?! I'm... HURT!"

The brunette rolled her eyes and took the glass.

"Fine, Lacy, fine. Here. Cheers."

Rachel downed the bubbly in one prolonged gulp, while the MILF slipped slowly - her sinister smile widening.

"Ack! No offense, but that was the foulest-tasting drink I've ever had! Don't know how you rich people drink that stuff!"

"It's an acquired taste, dear. For the sophisticated palate. Much more refined that the backwater filth YOU PEOPLE are drinking."

"Whatever. I wasn't aware that a drink that tastes like ass was considered 'refined.' But like I said, no offense."

Mrs. Lovington put her hands on her womanly hips, arched out her large chest and flashed an exaggerated smile.

"Quite frankly, a skinny little pixie like you should be... more cautious of what she puts in her body. I've heard stories about you, dear. You might drink and smoke and curse like the men do, but you've still got the metabolism of a woman. Well, let's face it: The metabolism of a girl. Of a very, VERY little girl!"

Rachel lowered her sunglasses with her middle finger and smiled right back. 

"Quite frankly, Lacy, a BIG girl like you should be cautious of what she puts in her body, too. 'Cause if you gain any more weight, not even that girdle you're wearing will be enough to cinch-up your belly! It looks like you might explode out of your dress!"

"I - I don't wear a girdle! How - how DARE you!"

The younger woman grinned her devilish grin.

"Sure you don't! WE believe you! Anyway... I'd like to pick-up my check. Where is it?"

With a loud cackle, Mrs. Lovington replied, "Why, Rachel! We still need to take your measurements for your outfit! Did you forget? After all, we need to make sure everything fits."

Rachel crossed her arms and shook her head.

"No dice, Lacy. I'd like my check first."

"The contract you signed mandates that YOU must get measured and fitted FIRST! Otherwise, you're in breach of your contract, dear - and if you read page 3, clause 4B, you'd note that the penalty for breach of contract is... oh my, $25 thousand dollars!"

"$25 grand?!" protested Rachel. "My family doesn't have that kind of money! We'd - we'd be ruined!"

"Then I suggest you cooperate, young lady."

"Fine," sighed Rachel. "Where's Josephine?"

"Josephine couldn't make it today. But don't worry: I'LL take your measurements for her! ALL of them! We rented out the studio for the hour. It's just you and me, Rachel. Well... it's just you and US!"

Mrs. Lovington pulled out her tape measure and cackled again.

Out walked Abby and Yvette. Mrs. Lovington had allowed them to wear their normal clothes: Yvette was walking briskly, freed from that horrible diaper she had to wear at home. "Mature" Yvette was once again looking as mature as she normally did, wearing a drop-dead-sexy power suit that clung to every curve she had... as well as a few she didn't have, since she was once again sporting a pair of perky falsies. Abby was clearly back to using her girdle, and I had to admit, her clothes now fit PERFECTLY: A sexy-tight skirt, shapely hips and a hot red top that accentuated her (seemingly) tight contours. It was like she had lost 60 pounds overnight! 

Timmy and me looked at each other once more. So THIS was her plan! An ambush! But little did we know the extent of it...

"Hi, Rachel," cooed Abby, shaking her big tits and arching her chest like a supermodel on a photo shoot. "Remember us?"

"Yeah!" added Yvette, who was once again the epitome of feminine class and grace. Her firm breasts pointed forward and she could've easily passed for a young executive in her early 30s. (I mean, it was hard to believe that only the night before, she was flatchested and weepy-eyed, sitting naked on a training-potty and farting!) "Remember us? How's life, you immature little dwarf?"

"Sure, I remember you two," said Rachel. "It's Fat Ass and Tiny Tits!"

We started snickering from our chairs. Mrs. Lovington glared in our direction, so we covered our mouths and tried to keep quiet.

"Go to the corner, dear," demanded the Empress. "Go to the corner and disrobe. I'm losing my patience."

Abby stood in front of Rachel, trying to look as intimidating as possible. And with her big tits and tall, womanly frame, she WAS an intimidating woman. (Well, she used to scare the hell out of me - at least until we saw her naked, shaved and crying, and made her pee herself in the bath tub!) Yvette circled all the way to the front of the boutique and fiddled with the front door. But Rachel didn't budge, standing firm and confident, not showing an ounce of fear.

"I'll tell you what, Lacy: If you want to take my measurements over my clothes, go ahead. Knock yourself out. But if you think I'm gonna strip naked for you, you're fucking delusional!"

Suddenly Rachel's eyebrows lifted, and a strange new look appeared on her face. She gripped her lower stomach with one hand and pulled off her sunglasses with the other.

"Um... where's the ladies room?" she asked.

"Is there a problem, dear?"

"Where is it?!"

Mrs. Lovington cackled again, gazing over to Rachel's empty Champagne cup. "This is a boutique, dear - not a restaurant! There aren't any public restrooms. Yes, Josephine has a private bathroom in her office, but it's very small. She trusted me with a key, but I promised I wouldn't let anyone else use it. She's very particular."

"I... I gotta get out of here!" stammered Rachel. 

She slowly backed away from Abby and then sprinted as fast as she could to the front door. But - 

"It's locked!" she cried, banging with her fists. "Open the door! Open the fucking door!"

"No, dear. Per our agreement, Josephine asked us to keep the doors locked while you were fitted. Lack of security during business hours and all. She has a lot of expensive merchandise. Is there >snicker

Rachel was now holding her lower stomach with both hands and walking gingerly.

"Fuck! J - just let me use her private bathroom! Please!"

"Certainly, dear," smirked the Empress. "But you must take those gaudy, ugly boots off first. Josephine is adamant about footmarks in her private area... germ-phobia, you see."

"Fine! Qu - Quickly! It's an emergency!" Rachel cried, hopping on one foot and then the other. In record time, she removed both boots, standing barefoot on the floor.

"Ha, ha! Aunt Lacy, look how TINY she is!" laughed Yvette. "Without her high heels, she's the size of a little kid!"

And it was true: Minus those six-inch spiked heels, Rachel's entire stature was dramatically altered. Before, she was still slightly on the short-side, but those sexy leather boots gave her the illusion of having long, sensuous legs. Without them, Rachel's legs now seemed like sawed-off stubs - she was even shorter than Timmy and me!

"Just give me the fucking bathroom key!" spat Rachel, practically doubled over in agony. "Please!"

"I'll need your jacket too, dear."

"Why?!"

"No high-end fashion boutique allows its customers to enter the bathroom wearing a jacket! Makes shoplifting too easy... and no offense, dear, but you DO drink and carouse with all kinds of riffraff."

"Jesus fucking Christ!!" the brunette cried, peeling off her jacket and throwing it angrily on the floor. "There?! Are you happy? Can I PLEASE have the bathroom key?!"

This was the first time any of us had seen Rachel without her leather jacket. She always had it on. The cut of the jacket - as well as its thickness - gave her the appearance of muscle mass. Without it, wearing only her leather pants and a tight black t-shirt, her arms were painfully skinny. Almost bony!

Mrs. Lovington was grinning from ear-to-ear, clearly enjoying what she was seeing. So were Abby and Yvette, who now easily towered over the short, skinny girl who was clutching her abdomen in distress.

"Very good, dear. Now remove your pants."

"WHAT?!"

"You'll just have to take them off anyway in the bathroom, won't you? Besides, by the look at how you're holding your tummy, you'll probably be in the bathroom for a long time - and we only have use of the boutique for an hour. At least with your pants, I'll be able to use them as a measuring-stick against Josephine's other clothes, to get an idea of what might fit."

The pain in Rachel's abdomen was swelling, and the poor girl was walking duck-legged. Large beads of sweat were growing on her forehead...

Still, she gritted her teeth and refused: "Sc - Screw you, Lacy... I'll... I'll take my pants off IN the bathroom, thank you very much! Now... give me... give me... give me the KEY!!"

Mrs. Lovington shrugged her shoulders and gave a toothy smile instead. You could openly see her chuckling under her breath.

"No key! Not until you give me your pants! I can wait as long as you'd like, dear...!"

"Oh, God!" cried Rachel, nearly falling over. "You bitch! F - Fine! Here - "

The pretty brunette stumbled around awkwardly, gripping the top of her pants: With her hands shaking and pearls of sweat dripping off her face, she unbuttoned her leather pants, pulled down the zipper, and wiggled her hips until the pants reached her ankles. Then she stepped out, tossing the pants to Mrs. Lovington.

And there stood Rachel Trovolli, in nothing but faded gray panties and a tight black t-shirt!

Her real body was so DIFFERENT than what it looked like clothed: Her legs were as spindly and skinny as her arms! She had the under-developed rear-end of a schoolgirl - not at all the round, juicy sphere I had expected! Her hips had almost zero curves - like a prepubescent waif! If it weren't for her Goth-inspired makeup and perky boobs, the big, bad, biker babe truly could pass for a little kid!

But... because it was Rachel Trovolli's body - and I was seeing it uncovered for the first time - it was AMAZINGLY sexy. I mean, this was STILL Rachel Trovolli... um, wasn't it...? 

"Wow, Aunt Lacy," cooed Abby. "You were RIGHT! She has no curves at all! Ha, ha! Look at her! I've seen fourth graders with more curves! And look at those panties! What are they - hand-me-downs? Is that a STAIN in the back? Ha, ha!"

"Sc - screw you, Fat Ass!"

"Don't be mean to her, Abby dear," Mrs. Lovington said to her niece. "These stained old panties are OBVIOUSLY all she can afford!"

"You know what I think?" queried Yvette. "Shouldn't we take her top, too? Wouldn't that be helpful? We have less than half-an-hour left, and this naughty little girl looks like she's going to be stinking-up the bathroom for a very long time."

"Argh!" grunted Rachel, blushing from head to toe in embarrassment. "I did what you wanted, and there's no reason for me to take off my top! Now give... me the God... damn... KEY!! PLEASE! PLEASE! ...Before it's too late!"

"No, Abby makes a good point," said Mrs. Lovington. "Your top would be helpful. Hand it over, dear!"

"I - I need to go SOOOOO BAAAD!!" Rachel howled, doing the "bathroom dance" in front of me. "CHRIIIIIIST!"

In one swift motion, she peeled her shirt off her body and tossed it to the ground... leaving her in nothing but her old, mismatched bra and panties.

The legendary Rachel Trovolli! In nothing but bra and panties!

Like her arms and legs, her stomach and back were painfully thin. You could count her ribs! And it looked... WEIRD how her bulky white bra stuck out so far from her chest - like she was smuggling two round baseballs, or something.

"Are you happy now?!" Rachel cried, her short, skinny body covered in sweat. One hand was hugging her abdomen; the other covered her bra. "I NEED THE KEY!! GIVE ME THE FUCKING KEY!!"

"Of course, dear," sang Mrs. Lovington. "Here you go! Come and get it!"

The much-taller MILF, wearing high heels, held the key up in the air, letting it dangle down.

With Abby and Yvette snickering in the background, Rachel waddled over duck-footed. Her eyes were red and her skinny body was glistening with perspiration. She lifted her arms to the keys - but they were too high up! She couldn't reach them!

"This isn't funny!" she screamed, with tears welling in her eyes for the first time. "I need to m - make in the bathroom! Please - lower the keys!"

"Jump up and grab them, dear! Hee, hee..."

But the poor girl was in so much gastric distress, all she could do was hold up her hands as high as she could and stand on her tippy toes -

- And that's when Yvette snuck behind her and unhooked her bra!

"NOOOOO!!" screamed Rachel.

It was too late: Two rolled-up balls of socks fell down!

"Well, well, well!" crowed Mrs. Lovington. "Look who's a bra-stuffer!"

"OH MY GOD!!"

While Rachel was wrapping her arms around her (now much smaller chest), Yvette took the opportunity to yank her panties all the way to the ground (and with Rachel's lack of curves, the panties came down to the earth in a quick, straight line)! Her scrawny little ass was completely exposed.

"She should've stuffed the back of her panties!" laughed Yvette, pointing. Look at that wiry thing!"

"Like, totally!" giggled Abby. "That's the boniest little butt I've ever seen! It's, like, her ass-cheeks have completely melted away!"

"SH - SHUT UP!! ST - STOP LOOKING AT ME!!"

I never thought it was possible, but Rachel was being dismantled! She dropped her hands to hide her ass from their taunts...

... and now that Rachel was preoccupied covering her rear-end, Mrs. Lovington effortlessly peeled away her loose-hanging bra, leaving the biker babe 100 percent naked!

"HEY!!"

"My dear, let's be realists: You don't really NEED a bra, do you?"

She had done it! Mrs. Lovington had actually done it!

Abby grabbed the brunette's arms and pinned them behind her back, spinning Rachel around and holding her up in the air so we could all have a good look: Rachel was totally flatchested! I mean, TOTALLY! It was true! Even more so than Yvette! In fact, you could still count the ribs around her little pink nips! There was no budding at all! No cleavage - nothing!

Even her nipples were tiny. (Pointy - like extra-long pencil erasers - but tiny!)

"STOOOOOP!! LEMME GOOOOO!!" Rachel shrieked, now crying openly. Her legs kicked around as she tried to free herself, which inadvertently gave us an intimate view of her pussy: Her most sacred-of-sacreds was lightly covered with sparse blonde(!) hair, and her pussy lips were MUCH thicker than either of the cousins! I mean, they were downright beefy!

Abby turned Rachel back around to face Mrs. Lovington. The older, taller MILF looked down to appraise her archenemy... and started laughing hysterically!

"Goodness! My apologies, dear, but I didn't realize they MADE bodies like this! Wow! Without your 'tough-girl' clothes, you really are just a shapeless, titless little pixie! Why, I had bigger tits when I was 11! I've got to take a picture of this!"

She pulled out a camera from her purse.

"No! YOU - YOU CAN'T!" cried Rachel. "My reputation - I'll be ruined!!"

"Oh, I know, dear."

With Abby holding her firmly from behind, Mrs. Lovington aimed her camera:

CLICK! CLICK! CLICK! CLICK!

"STOP! I - I don't give you permission! STOP!!"

"Get a close-up of her little tits!" Yvette laughed. "Use the zoom. After all, that's the only way anyone will see them!"

Mrs. Lovington leaned in closer:

CLICK! CLICK! CLICK!

"NOOOOOOOO!! NOT MY TITTIES!!"

"And her meaty-looking pussy, too! Ew, gross! Here, I'll open her thighs so you get a better angle..."

CLICK! CLICK! CLICK!




The Greatest Humiliation Story Ch. 04



"STOP!! STOP EXPOSING ME!! AAAHH!!"

"Here, let me pull up her other leg... there we go!"

CLICK! CLICK! CLICK!

Rachel's legs were spread so far apart, it was practically a gynecological pose!

"NOOOO!! THAT - THAT'S PRIVATE!!

"Don't let her go, Abby. I'm gonna open up her pussy lips ALL THE WAY!" giggled Yvette. "I want to see her pink little clitty!"

Yvette used her two fingers to separate Rachel's pussy lips and then pointed: 

"There it is! There's the clitty!"

She gripped Rachel's tender clitoris and wiggled it in triumph!

"AAAAHHHH!!"

"I got Rachel's clitty! I got Rachel's clitty!" she sang.

Mrs. Lovington zeroed in for a close-up: CLICK! CLICK! CLICK!

"MY CLITTY!! MY POOR LITTLE CLITTY!!"

Abby finally released Rachel, and the naked girl spun helplessly around, twirling clumsily in a circle. Yvette then smacked her on the ass and she spun around again until she toppled over, landing on her bony bottom. She was so weak and skinny! And now that she'd been crying, her mascara had run all the way down her face. It was mindblowing how this hotter-than-Hades biker babe had been reduced to an itsy-bitsy little naked girl in a matter of minutes! Rachel's tiny nipples were poking forward, and from how she was sitting with her skinny legs kicked out, Timmy and me had a straight-line view of her pussy!

"Wah, wah! Just... give me the bathroom key! Please! I - I don't wanna fight no more! You win! Please... Don't make me go poo-poo in front of everyone! Wah, wah!"

Poor Rachel didn't even try to shield her body. She just sat there - as nude as the day she was born - tightly holding her lower stomach, bawling her little eyes out, crying and crying.

"Abby! Yvette! Help Rachel to her feet. And bring her over to the salon sink so she can wash away her tears and compose herself," ordered the Empress.

The bitch-cousins each grabbed an arm and dragged Rachel to the sink...

"Pl - Please... I just wanna go to the bathroom!"

They stuck Rachel's face under the sink, scrubbing her face clean. All of Rachel's makeup and lipstick was wiped away... and the REAL face beneath the Goth-styled cosmetics was so... innocent and childlike! 

Timmy and me couldn't believe it! This naked, bare-faced little nymph was... Rachel Trovolli?!

"Well, since she's already over there, might as well have her weighed and measured," Mrs. Lovington decided.

Abby and Yvette pushed Rachel onto the scale, making her stand straight. Rachel's narrow butt was facing us... her skinny, knobby knees clanging together.

"No, turn her around!" ordered the MILF. "I want to see her eyes!"

The cousins turned her around, and we were greeted with a full-length view of the pale little naked girl who was masquerading as Rachel Trovolli. She looked so sad and pathetic, standing nude on the scale.

"She weighs... ha, ha! 89 pounds!" laughed Yvette.

"And she's only... 4 foot 10!" sniggered Abby. "She's a midget!"

Rachel's eyes were blinking in disbelief - like she still couldn't comprehend what had happened to her!

Mrs. Lovington came forward, holding the tape measure. I had NEVER seen her so happy!

"I'LL take her measurements," proudly said the Empress, accepting her trophy. "Just like I said I would! Rachel, hold out your arms!"

Rachel choked back a sob and did what she was told. Mrs. Lovington wrapped the tape measure around her chest, making sure she wiggled the tape so it rubbed over Rachel's pink little nips, bumping them up and down.

"Let's see," announced Mrs. Lovington. "Without those silly balls stuffed down her bra, Rachel Trovolli has a bust-size of... 28 inches! HA!! Oh, my! Everyone, take a look at this! 28 inches!! I think that's a new record! Congratulations, Rachel: You have the world's smallest tits!"

All eyes were on Rachel's secretly small tits, and the bitch-cousins were howling with laughter. Rachel looked like she wanted to curl-up and die!

Mrs. Lovington then held the tape measure to Rachel's baby nips:

"Just out of curiosity... her nipples are... only one-and-a-half inches wide! WOW!!"

"Which means her whole breast is only one-and-a-half inches - 'cause all she's got are nipples!" cracked Abby.

More laughter. Rachel's face puckered-up and once again, she started bawling.

"WAH! WAH! I - I CAN'T HELP IT!!"

Mrs. Lovington moved down her bare body with the tape measure:

"Her waist is... 28 inches. And her hips are... 29 inches. My goodness, Rachel! You have no curves at all!"

"I - I don't wanna be Queen no more!" Rachel cried, sounding like a little girl who lost her puppy. Her skinny body was turning from pale to pink. "Just lemme go poo-poo and I'll take my clothes and get outa here! I... I don't wanna do this no more!"

"You mean you STILL need to go to the bathroom?" asked the Empress, feigning surprise. "But of course... right after we do one more thing!"

Mrs. Lovington snapped her fingers and the cousins hoisted Rachel by the elbows, carried her over and strapped her into the fancy salon chair. Rachel didn't fight; I think she was too far gone to fight. The cousins then held down her hands and began clipping away her red fingernails, until they were all gone. They also removed her rings, necklace and earrings. 

Yvette pushed open her legs, and in a few short swipes, she shaved her sparse pubes from her vagina. It literally happened THAT fast.

"My pussy! My pussy! NOOO!! I - I don't wanna be bald!"

You wouldn't think it would make that much of a difference, since her pubic hair was so light, but it really did. Her body was instantly changed: Shaving away the last sign of her adulthood cemented her new transformation, from grownup to... to something else.

I've got to hand it to her: Yvette was unbelievably precise, shaving every last hair!

"Why?!" blubbered Rachel, looking down between her legs. "WHY?!"

"We're just giving you a look that's a bit more... shall we say... 'age-appropriate.' Your days of playing dress-up, pretending you're an adult, are over! The whole world is going to know what you REALLY look like!" Mrs. Lovington answered, holding a long pair of scissors. "But we're not done yet!"

The MILF held Rachel's long brown hair in her hands, grooming it and stroking it in her fingers until it was nice and even. And then - at shoulder-length - SNIP!!

"My hair!!" cried the naked girl. "My beautiful long hair!!"

With one snip of the scissors, her long brown locks were... GONE! Her hair was now shoulder-length - the kind of hairdo Mommies like to give little toddlers! Before, her long, flowing brown hair balanced her body, highlighting her wildness and raw femininity. And without it?

"Hee, hee! She looks like Dora the Explorer!" laughed Abby.

"WAH! WAH! WAH!"

Seconds later, Mrs. Lovington put Rachel's hair in adorable pigtails! With big pink ribbons! Abby held a mirror to Rachel... and the SHAME and HUMILIATION in her eyes was unmistakable! 

Rachel looked like a preteen!

"What... what did you do to me?! You - you've ruined me!" gasped Rachel. "You've taken away my looks! My adulthood! Wah! Please lemme go! And - and I really NEED to poop! Ow! I... I can't hold it in much longer! Ow! My tum-tum! Ow!"

"We're down to the very last item on our to-do list," announced Mrs. Lovington.

She held out a fluffy, pink, little girl's church dress. It was SO over-the-top, it was ridiculous! No allowance for a woman's chest (of course), and poofy at the bottom. A big picture of Tweety Bird was in the middle.

Rachel was released from the salon chair, and the cousins forced the dress over her head, pulled out her arms, and pushed her in front of the mirror.

This "Rachel" looked NOTHING like Rachel!

Upon seeing her reflection, Rachel cried harder.

"I don't wanna wear that! Please! It - it's a little kid's outfit! I - I thought I was gonna be Queen!"

"You will, be dear. You'll be Queen... Queen of the children's division. HA! HA! HA!"

"WHAT?!"

"Well, of course! Silly me, not making that distinction clear. An accidental oversight! >snicker

For added emphasis, the Empress pinched Rachel's cheek (while Yvette pulled up the front of Rachel's dress to expose her clean-shaven pussy, and Abby pulled up the back to giggle at her bony butt).

"You... you tricked me!"

Mrs. Lovington looked at her Rolex and grinned.

"Well, look at the time! Our hour is up. Abby, Yvette - go open the front door! It's time for our press conference!"

The cousins did what they were told. Immediately, half-a-dozen newspaper writers, photographers, TV reporters, cameramen and local business leaders flooded inside.

"Mrs. Lacy Lovington!" greeted one of the photographers. "We're here for that exclusive first-look of Middletown brand-new children's Queen! Thanks for setting this up! Where is the lucky little lady?"

"Here she is!" announced Yvette, pushing Rachel center-stage. "Here's the most adorable little girl in town!" 

The cameras started clicking right away.

Rachel Trovolli was in shock! Her makeup and jewelry had been taken away, her hair had been cut, and she was standing barefoot - without any underwear - in a fluffy pink church dress! In pigtails and ribbons!

A TV reporter pushed a microphone in front of her face.

"Aw, aren't you a sweetie-pie! How old are you, little girl?"

"I'm... I'm 23!" squeaked Rachel.

The news reporters laughed - like she was making a little-kid's joke!

"Sure you are, sweetie! 23! Very funny! Well, tell us about yourself: What are you hoping for when you grow up?"

Rachel looked down at her nonexistent breasts. Her bottom lip quivered.

"I wanna have big-girl boobies!"

The reporter whispered to the cameraman, "We'll edit that out." He then returned to Rachel: "Little girl, do you have anything to say to the nice people of Middletown?"

Rachel looked directly into the camera. Her eyes were as wide as they possibly could be. 

"I... I... I gotta go boom-boom! I... I GOTTA GO BOOM-BOOM!! I - I can't hold it in anymore!!"

With the cameras still rolling, Rachel awkwardly wobbled out of Josephine's Boutique, and then ran until she reached the street. A few of the cameramen chased after her. Upon reaching the curb of the street, the call of nature was too much:

I couldn't believe my own eyes! 

In front of all those people, Rachel hiked up her dress! She circled twice, giving everyone an unmistakable peek at her shaven pussy and bony butt! Then she squatted down...

"Hey, what's she doing?" asked a reporter

Looking back at those prying eyes, Rachel lowered the dress around her so she could use it as a shield... and defecated! Loudly! Right in public! (But at least with the dress covering her, she could hide the shameful visuals.)

"Is she... is she taking a dump?!" asked the reporter.

"OH, GOD!! I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS IS HAPPENING!!" she wailed in humiliation.

"That's disgusting! What a naughty little girl!" exclaimed another.

"He's right," agreed one of the businessmen. "I'm a sponsor of the festival - I don't want my business associated with... that! What if she poops on stage? Near my logo?"

"Well, we haven't given her the $5K check yet," noted Mrs. Lovington, "so it's not too late to revoke the crown for Clause 7H: 'Conduct Unbecoming.' Okay, she's stripped! That means the City is no longer liable for paying her! We'll give the kid's crown to a poor kid at the local orphanage - someone who is housebroken, hopefully. It'll be good PR."

Rachel overheard the Empress.

"You mean... I... I went through all that... FOR NOTHING?! FOR NOTHING!! NOOOOO!!"

The Empress ignored her: "Abby, Yvette - if she's no longer Queen, she no longer gets that beautiful dress we got for her. Go bring it back before she spoils it!"

While Rachel was still squatting on the ground and unable to move, the bitch-cousins ran down to the street. The startled girl looked up:

"Go away!" whimpered the squatting girl, securing the dress down with her hands, trying to preserve the last remnants of her modesty. "Haven't you done enough?! Please! Leave me a shred of dignity! PLEASE!! Have mercy on me! Let me keep the dress... don't strip me naked in front of all these cameras! I - I don't want everyone to see my little boobs and my bony butt! Not - not like THIS! Not when I'm making potty! PLEASE!!" 

"Let me think about it... hmm. NOPE!" teased Yvette - 

- and all at once, Yvette pulled the dress right off Rachel's body! In front of everyone! UP went the dress, and her entire naked body was revealed: Her itsy-bitsy one-and-a-half-inch pointy nipples, her skinny frame, her 89 pound body, her wiry ass and her clean-shaven pussy... there was NOTHING left to hide! Rachel's upper thigh muscles were convulsing and her butthole was opening and closing as her adorable pigtails bobbed up and down.

The cameras were flashing!

"NOOOOO!! TURN OFF YOUR CAMERAS!! PLEASE!!"

Losing her dress was the coup de gras - the final nail in the coffin. Sexy, tough-talking Rachel Trovolli was revealed to be nothing more than a teeny-tiny, titless girl in pigtails and ribbons, relieving her bowels in front of throngs of reporters!

"WAH! WAH! WAH! LOOK AWAY!! LOOK AWAY!!"

About a minute later, Rachel stumbled to her feet. At first, she didn't cover herself; she simply staggered around in the buff, holding her aching rear-end. Then, seeing the cameras flash, she suddenly became aware of her nudity.

"AAHH I'M NAKED!! IT - IT WASN'T A DREAM!!" 

She covered her tiny chest in one hand, put her other hand over her pussy, and scampered away to her Harley. The humiliated girl located her spare key in the bike's side compartment, hopped on - and drove away as fast as she could, driving through town buck-ass naked!

Mrs. Lovington smiled a happy, toothy smile. Vengeance was hers! Her revenge was complete! She'd NEVER have to deal with that BITCH Rachel Trovolli ever again!

...or so she thought.

END OF PART FOUR



The Greatest Humiliation Story Ch. 05



Part 5: The Set-Up

Mrs. Lovington had been floating on cloud nine, ever since she utterly destroyed her archenemy, Rachel Trovolli. The Empress truly began to believe that she was invincible: A real-life, modern day Queen. Nay, not just a queen:

A Goddess.

And soon Mrs. Lacy Lovington - the most BEAUTIFUL woman in Middletown - would once again receive her crown!

At home, she couldn't stop talking about her demolishment of Rachel: "That little pipsqueak won't dare to show her face ever again! Ha, ha, ha, ha!! Remember the expression on her face when we measured her tiny little tits! 28 inches! Ha!"

She even proudly showed us the laxative she used to spike Rachel's drink, and was using photographs of Rachel Trovolli as her personal screensaver! Sometimes I'd catch her sipping Merlot late at night, watching those images on a perpetual loop... and cackling with glee! There on the computer was the toughest, sexiest girl in town, naked and helpless...

Her only disappointment was the media blackout: Because Rachel was, ostensibly, the children's Queen, there was uncertainty of her age. Mrs. Lovington insisted to everyone that she really was 23, but the media outlets were wary of airing any images of a minor in a state of undress. Almost none of the footage was ever reshown. And yes, there were plenty of eye witnesses, but almost no one from Rachel's side of the tracks believed that the puny, titless, pigtailed girl going poo-poo in the streets could POSSIBLY be Rachel.

It just didn't seem plausible!

Further complicating matters was the fact that the brunette beauty had completely dropped out of sight. I looked for her in her favorite pool halls and whiskey joints, and every time I heard the purr of a motorcycle engine, I turned my head, hoping it might be her.

But... no Rachel.

Back at the Lovington's abode, things had taken a turn for the worse for Timmy and me: Because the Empress was so pleased with Abby and Yvette's assistance in the downfall of her archrival, she had given them back all their old privileges and suspended their punishments. This meant the bitch-cousins were free to be their bitchy, horrible, egotistical selves. Once again, Abby was using her girdle and wearing sexy clothes - and once again, Yvette was "mature" and sophisticated, dressing like a 30-something vixen with well-rounded tits (well, falsies). All their punishments had been suspended, and the diapers, baby jammies, workout tapes and crib were returned to the attic.

The bitch-cousins pretended like the previous indignities had never even happened: Abby was as arrogant as ever, acting as if she was the hottest thing on two feet. She dressed like a supermodel, flaunting her assets. Yvette was back to sneering at all the "losers" in Middletown, turning up her nose at everyone else. Once again, everything our town had to offer was "immature" and utterly beneath her.

But to us - Timmy and me - well...

Those awful two girls took their revenge, stripping Timmy and me when I spent the night! We might've been 18-year-old high school seniors, but we weren't very strong; no matter how much we struggled, they simply overpowered us. Without breaking a sweat, they held us down, peeled off our clothes, and took turns spanking our asses until it hurt so bad, we broke down in tears!

"Aw, look at the baby boys! Are widdle Timmy and his friend CRYING?" giggled Abby.

"Well, you KNOW how immature they are!" answered Yvette. "I don't care if they're high school seniors or not; we both know they're still just babies. And what do babies wear...?"

I think you know what's coming next: Those BITCHES held us down on our backs, pulled back our legs... and they fucking diapered us!

"Aren't they cute!" laughed Abby. "But they're missing something..."

Abby pulled two baby bonnets from her purse. Within seconds, we were wearing that, too.

We hoped that would be the end of it, but Yvette grabbed her video camera. Timmy and me looked at each other, confused. But once we received their orders, we were degraded beyond earthly comprehension:

Those motherfucking BITCHES filmed us in the backyard, wearing nothing but a diaper and bonnet, singing, "I'm a widdle teapot, short and stout! Here is my handle, here is my..."

Christ!

Then they let us go... warning us that if we EVER spoke a word of what had happened to the two of them earlier - how Flabby Abby was a fat, naked piggy and Yvette a flatchested girl who needed help wiping - they'd make copies of the video and send it to every girl in town!

That was the last time I spent the night over. I still saw Timmy in school and would visit him at his house during the day, but I REFUSED to stay overnight for as long as the bitch-cousins were there... and from the stories Timmy told me in the schoolyard, I had definitely made the wise decision!

During the afternoon it was usually safe, because Mrs. Lovington was nearby. And it was during the afternoon of February 12 when Mrs. Lovington called everyone over: She just received something VERY exciting in the mail!

"Listen to this," she breathlessly read, holding a monogramed letter in her hand. "The P.H. Society of Middletown has hereby awarded ME their Woman of the Year trophy!"

"Awesome! Um... what's the P.H. Society, Aunt Lacy?" asked Yvette.

The blonde, busty MILF shrugged her shoulders, maintaining her enormous smile.

"I don't know - I think it's a beauty organization - 'P.H.' usually refers to P.H. balance. Right? Like, in beauty products? Anyway, that's not what's important. The letter says that 'In recognition of Mrs. Lacy Lovington being crowned Queen of the City for an unprecedented eight straight years, on February 14, she will have her Valentine's Day Festival makeup and hair prepared by the P.H. Society's award-winning stylists at our brand-new spa. It's a special honor for the most beautiful woman in town.' Did you hear that? 'The most beautiful woman in town!' Ooh, and it gets better: I can bring two friends with me to be styled as well - free of charge!"

"Hooray!" clapped Abby. "Can me and Yvette come?"

Mrs. Lovington kept reading the line "the most beautiful woman in town" over and over again in her head. Minutes flew by. Then, startled, she looked up:

"What? Oh, yes. You two can definitely come! It'll be our... victory celebration!"

The bitch-cousins hugged each other in excitement... and Mrs. Lovington continued rereading the line, "the most beautiful woman in town" for the next hour. I could see her lips move when I walked by.

So here it was, February 14, mere hours before the Festival. Abby and Yvette were standing in the living room... and even though I HATED THEM, I had to admit that they looked... gorgeous. 

Absolutely gorgeous.

Abby was wearing a red-hot evening gown and red-hot heels. Along with her red hair and shapely figure, she was breathtaking. (I had to remind myself that there was a girdle beneath all this beauty - and what Abby looked like naked, fat and peeing in the bath tub - because the way she looked now, her beauty nearly sent my heart into palpitations!)

Yvette walked in wearing a midnight blue formal gown, black gloves and a fancy black hat. She could've easily passed for her early 30s. Just like Abby, she was so beautiful and dreamy, it was too damn easy to forget what a BITCH she was... so I made myself remember what she looked like flatchested and buck-ass naked, farting on a training-potty!

Maybe it was my adolescent hormones playing mind-games with me... but I could feel myself falling in love with them both. I mean, yeah, I knew what evil cunts they were... but they looked SO GOOD...

"How come you girls are already dressed up and wearing makeup?" Timmy asked. "Aren't you going to get a beauty treatment from the P.H. Society before the Festival?"

Yvette rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips.

"You're so immature!" she chided. "Little Timmy, when you go to an elite specialist like the P.H. Society, you want them to see how sexy you already look. That way, they can help you improve it. Duh!"

"...Although to be honest," added Abby, staring into her hand-mirror, "when you look THIS good, it's almost impossible to improve!"

Then came the Queen:

Wearing a white flowing gown with blue accents, she looked like a Disney princess! (I think Elsa from Frozen stole Mrs. Lovington's dress-design, to give you an idea of what it looked like.) Her thick blonde locks were piled high on her head, and a crystal tiara was already in her hair. With her zillion-dollar jewelry and exquisite makeup, Timmy's Mom had NEVER looked better.

Even Abby and Yvette applauded. I dropped to my knee and bowed... 'cause it just seemed like the proper thing to do!

Mrs. Lovington smiled her Victorian smile and nodded in approval at the bitch-cousins:

"Abby and Yvette, you both look beautiful. Visions of beauty!"

Her nieces beamed. Then the Empress checked her watch:

"Two hours before the Valentine's Day Festival begins. Plenty of time. Let's head over to the address the P.H. Society gave us for our expert styling. Teehee! I can hardly wait, but frankly, girls, when you look as good as WE do, there's not much to improve upon."

"That's what I said!" agreed Abby.

We all got into Mrs. Lovington's super-big, brand-new Cadillac SUV (Timmy and me had to cram into the very back so the "beautiful girls" could have more room) and drove through downtown Middletown. The P.H. Society's address was adjacent to the Festival grounds. ("How nice. This means we can walk over when we're done," noted the Queen.) We parked right outside.

"Funny, I've never noticed this building before, Mum," said Timmy.

"A construction crew was working around the clock... they put the building up in just two weeks," Mrs. Lovington replied. "They must be VERY rich to afford so many builders working overtime. I'm surprised they haven't asked ME to join the P.H. Society. After all... well, just LOOK at me!"

We walked inside the building, and you could tell it was brand-new: It had that "new building" smell.

We looked around: There was a fancy fountain in the middle. Five styling chairs by the walls. Beautiful, custom-built bookshelves and very nice furniture. To the side was what appeared to be a locker room. Near the front door was a clothes rack, but only one item of clothing was on it:

The pink, little-girl dress the Queen had forced Rachel to wear.

"Hey, look!" said Yvette, noting the dress as well. "What's that doing here?"

"I dunno, but I hope they washed it!" giggled Abby.

Mrs. Lovington spotted the liquor cabinet on the far wall: "Hmm. Apparently, they have a social hour. That's nice... lots of bourbon and whiskey, though... Hmm. You'd expect more Dom Pérignon from an organization as classy as the P.H. Society."

"Maybe it's mostly men," Yvette thoughtfully offered. "Really rich men!"

Timmy had gone to explore the area that looked like a locker room. He poked out his head and reported:

"Mum, it's really nice in there! Private shower stalls, lockers - and even one VIP private shower. I checked it out: The VIP shower has thick privacy doors, three shower heads, built-in music and all kinds of soaps, oils and shampoo! It's like a spa fit for a Queen!"

"How appropriate," smirked Mrs. Lovington.

Just then, the front door swung open. In walked three large, good-looking men. They were dressed in fancy suits, but you could tell that they were quite muscular.

"Good afternoon, ladies! ...and, er, boys," the man in the middle said in an unusual accent. "Welcome to the new Middletown headquarters of the ancient order of the P.H. Society. My name is Mr. William Yard, Executive Director. These are my associates, Mr. Jones and Mr. Smith."

The two associates bowed courteously, and then kissed each of the ladies on their hands. Abby and Yvette just about fainted! Even Mrs. Lovington blushed.

"My goodness!" exclaimed the Empress, fanning herself. "It's such a pleasure to meet TRUE gentlemen!"

"The pleasure is all mine, my dear. Mr. Jones and Mr. Smith are two of the finest stylists and cosmetic artists in Europe. We've brought them in especially to take wonderful care of you beautiful ladies."

The bitch-cousins clapped their hands in glee at the prospect of being pampered by these handsome hunks. (Timmy and me rolled our eyes in disgust!)

"De pleasure izz all ourz, madam!" said Mr. Smith, bowing once again.

"But before we begin," continued Mr. William Yard, "do any of you lovely ladies have any questions?"

"No! Let's get started right away!" squealed Abby.

Everyone laughed. But Mrs. Lovington had a question:

"The dress hanging on the wall over there... that pink little-girl dress. Why is it there?"

"Sister Angelica of the Middletown Catholic Orphanage will be bringing a group of orphan-girls to visit, including the lucky Festival Queen, little Tammy Brown. This dress is for her. You see, the P.H. Society takes enormous pride in our commitment to community activism."

"That's so noble," said the Empress through a phony smile. "I love helping the community, too. It's ALL about the children! Why, I just LIVE to help the... y'know... poor, filthy underprivileged."

Mr. William Yard bowed again.

"And that's precisely why we're so proud to honor you, madam," he said. "Your beauty is only surpassed by your generosity."

Ugh! Gag me! I felt my stomach getting queasy, but the Queen and her two minions were gobbling this garbage up with a spoon...

"Tell me," purred Yvette, grabbing Mr. Jones by his big bicep and speaking with her most mature voice, "does the P.H. Society have parties? Where... WE could attend?"

"Normally our galas are strictly members-only, madam," Mr. Jones answered. "But given how beautiful and enchanting the three of you are, I'm of the opinion we should make an exception."

"You should, you should!" agreed Abby, shoving her big, fat tits in front of the men and batting her lashes.

Timmy and me looked at each other and rolled our eyes. What a bunch of phonies!

(Little did I know how right we were...)

"I like what I'm hearing," cooed Mrs. Lovington. "Well, let's begin! How shall we get started?"

Mr. William Yard pointed to the entrance to the locker room:

"The lovely Yvette and the adorable Abby should go take a shower in our deluxe, state-of-the-art spa room. We've handpicked the finest soaps, shampoos and exotic oils from Paris, London, and the Maharaja of India. Please, use them all. You'll find that each and every pore will shine with a sparkle worthy of a Goddess! It's a very important part of the beauty process - reinvigorating every inch of your body. Trust me, my ladies, you'll be positively radiant."

Abby and Yvette nodded at each other, grinning like the cat that swallowed the mouse. (Or in Abby's case, mice!)

"It's important for you to use the shampoos and conditioners as well. Not only will your beautiful hair gleam with a golden luster unlike anything you've ever seen before, but all the impurities will be stripped away, allowing Mr. Smith and Mr. Jones to work their magic!"

Mrs. Lovington had a concerned look on her face: "Um... I'M a natural blonde - as I'm SURE you can tell - but, um... ABBY here dyes her hair..."

"Aunt Lacy!" protested Abby.

"It's okay," laughed Mr. Yard. "The hair products are 100 percent safe for colorants. And you have my word, Miss Abby: Your exquisite red hair looks like it was spun from the enchanted loom of Aphrodite herself."

Reassured, Abby shot her aunt a defiant snarl.

"And you, the Queen of the City, the incomparable Lady Lacy Lovington," continued Mr. Yard, "should do the same - only YOU will be granted full use of the P.H. Society's VIP, ultra-luxury private spa suite. All the same oils, fragrances, soaps and shampoos are there, but you'll be provided extra room, greater privacy and enhanced comfort - because our Queen deserves nothing less!"

The three women were practically floating in the air... and my stomach was feeling nauseous! It made me SICK to see those horrible, evil BITCHES being treated like royalty.

Mr. Smith spoke up: "I humbly ask for zee lovely ladies to take zee full hour showering, soaping, shampooing, conditioning and reinvigorating. It takes zee full hour to optimize zee use of zese exotic ingredients, and we spared no expense!"

"A full hour?" asked the Queen, looking concerned. She checked her watch. "The Festival isn't that far away from beginning... and I must be center-stage to accept the crown. After showering for a full hour and redressing, that won't give your team much time to fix our hair and reapply our makeup... will it?"

Mr. Smith laughed.

"Respectfully, my Lady, with three women as beautiful as zee three of you, we won't need more than minutes! Zee beauty treatments in the shower does most of zee work for us. Your wrinkle-free skin will glow with a fabulous, sensuous femininity. Your hair will be instantly-manageable. By working fast, we maximize your beauty-potential. On my word of honor, you'll never look zee same again!"

"And besides," added Mr. Jones, "we happen to be extremely good at what we do."

"You're in excellent hands, Lady Lacy Lovington," beamed Mr. William Yard. "Shall we begin?"

"Yes! Yes, we should!"

"Wonderful. Lady Lacy Lovington, your VIP luxury suite is on the left. Miss Abby and Miss Yvette, your spa area is on the right. You'll find ample room to hang your dresses, as well as a locker to place your, ahem, personal feminine items."

"'Personal feminine items?'" giggled Abby. "You mean our bra and panties? Not to worry: I'm not wearing any!"

Dammit... I couldn't help it, but a tent popped up in my pants! What was WRONG with me?!

Startled, Mr. Smith and Mr. Jones looked at each other. Mr. Yard filled the silence by speaking up:

"Er... well, Miss Abby, you're certainly a... special lady! I can see why your sex appeal has already become fodder of local legend. Well, now... let's get started, shall we?"

The ladies departed to the locker room with a happy bounce to their step. Several minutes ticked by; the three members to the P.H. Society stayed silent. 

Timmy and me went to sit down on the couch.

"Um, gentlemen," said Mr. Yard. "Wouldn't you prefer to wait elsewhere...? Outside, perhaps?"

"No, it's cool," said a familiar voice coming from the front door. "I know them. They're not like those bitches."

We turned around - and standing there was Rachel Trovolli!

END OF PART FIVE



The Greatest Humiliation Story Ch. 06: Final



Part 6: The Fall of the Queen 

"Rachel!" I cried.

She was wearing her black biker boots with six-inch stiletto heels, black leather pants, tight top, perky breasts and a black leather jacket. She had redone her hair, giving it kind of a punk-rock look. (I personally preferred her longer hair, but she still looked smokin' hot!) Her lips were bright red and she was wearing her patented Goth mascara. With her sunglasses perched on her forehead, she looked as good as new. Best of all, her devilish grin was back, too!

I ran over and gave her a big hug.

"Whoa... calm down, kid! Nice to see you, too!" she laughed.

My heart sank: A... kid?! Did she call me a kid? I'm 18! An adult! And I desperately wanted Rachel to see me as an adult... to see me as a man. But now was not the time.

"I'm just glad you're okay... after, you know... what those terrible women did to you," I croaked instead.

She nodded and playfully ruffled my hair. She pointed to Timmy.

"Your friend," she said. "Can we trust him?"

"Rachel, I, uh... I've always, uh, admired you," stuttered Timmy, his face blushing. "I've always, uh, LIKE-liked you. And - and I can't help who my mother is. I know she has it coming! And - and I just HATE those stupid, no good cousins of mine! I HATE them!"

The brunette beauty nodded again and then turned to Mr. William Yard.

"So what was that you were saying, Dave? Was it: 'spun from the enchanted loom of Aphrodite herself'? Ha! Did you pull that out of your ass or what?"

Mr. Yard (or was it Dave?) laughed, and then replied with a thick blue collar dialect, "Aw jeez, Rach! I thinks I heard it from one of dem rom-com movies my wife makes me watch. Pretty good though, eh?"

"William Yard is really... Dave?" I asked.

"These guys are all buddies from the pool hall," answered Rachel. "Get it? P.H. Society? Pool House Society."

"Yeah, kid," chuckled Dave. "And do youze get my name now? William Yard? The nickname of William is Bill. Get it?"

"Bill Yard?" I pondered. Then my face lit up: "Bill Yard! I get it! Billiard!"

"You're pretty smart, kid," Rachel complimented, ruffling my hair again.

(And once again, a tent popped up in my pants!)

"How - how did your pool hall buddies pull this off?" asked Timmy.

"Not just friends from the pool hall. I've got lots of family that do construction," said Rachel. "Their crew was commissioned to build on this property anyway. As a special favor to my family, they all agreed to build a bit faster, and make 'special modifications' to the building. Then they'll tear it down and build it the way it's supposed to be when we're done. It's all a part of our plan."

I looked into Rachel's eyes. They were usually sexy-cool, seductive and mellow - but now they were burning with hatred. I mean, they were practically blazing!

"And now, those BITCHES are gonna learn a lesson they'll NEVER forget!"

Dave pushed a normal-looking panel on the wall behind the salon chairs. A secret door popped open. We looked inside the room: There was a couch, a cooler with drinks and snacks, a box in front of the couch - and three big TVs that were showing hidden-camera videos and audio of EVERYTHING going on in the locker room! 

"Kids, go inside and watch," ordered Rachel. 

And so we did.

On the big TVs, we saw Rachel, Dave and the other guy tiptoe into the locker room. Dave was holding an empty garbage bag. Rachel had scissors and some sort of spray bottle.

First they went to Abby's shower. Arrogant Abby was singing to herself, oblivious to the intruders. Her dress was on a hanger, and her high heels and girdle were in the locker. (As she boasted, there was NO bra or panties.)

Dave swiped her girdle and put it in the bag! Her towel, too! Then Rachel made a snip to the center of her dress and sprayed it with her bottle.

Next they went to Yvette's shower. Her wardrobe was much more elaborate than Abby's: Dress, slip, pantyhose, gloves, shoes, hat, bra, panties... and two silicone falsies.

Dave swiped EVERYTHING she had and put it in the bag! EVERYTHING, except her towel.

Last, they went in Mrs. Lovington's private VIP suite.

I expected them to steal her things, too... but they didn't. Not a single thing.

Instead, they examined her beautiful "Winter Princess" formal gown: Rachel carefully snipped in a few specific spots with her scissors. She then sprayed the dress with her spray bottle and put it back. She did the same to Mrs. Lovington's high heels.

Then they went to her locker: Rifling through her things, Rachel found a big girdle - and grinned ear-to-ear! 

So it was true - the Queen DID wear a girdle! (And it was an enormous one, too - significantly larger than Abby's!)

But instead of stealing it, Rachel again made a series of surgical snips and cuts, then sprayed the girdle with the same bottle. She did the same to Mrs. Lovington's bra in six different places... and Lord, I got to tell you: That bra was HUGE! It made Abby's bras look like training bras!

They continued sorting through her things: Rachel held an item that she didn't immediately recognize. The other guy whispered in her ear - and she covered her mouth to avoid laughing. I couldn't identify it either... but Timmy did:

"Uh, oh - they found Mum's fake bum!"

"Huh?"

"Mum's fake bum. She wears it under her panties. Supposed to make her tush look good. She's terribly secretive about it."

I squinted my eyes and stared again... and it DID look like a round, hollow female butt! Like a butt-cap! 

The other guy took something out of his pocket and rubbed it on the inside of the artificially ass. They then carefully put everything back and left.

Moments later, the secret door popped open. Rachel looked in, smiling her devilish smile! She then sat right between Timmy and me, grabbed a beer from the cooler and took a long swig. (Since Timmy and me were only 18, we were drinking Pepsi.) She propped her black leather boots on an empty brown box that had the word "Sybian" printed on it and sighed contently.

"What were you doing with the scissors and spray bottle?" I asked.

"You'll see," laughed Rachel. "But I'll give you a hint: The spray bottle is a transparent, limited-holding superglue. It works on contact, then loses its stickiness. But it only works for half-an-hour, tops. Then it evaporates. Poof! Builders use it to place lightweight items vertically, so they can see what it looks like before they install 'em. Works great on clothes, too. Can't even tell when you've used 'em! Unfortunately, it doesn't last very long...!"

I began grinning.

"I think I get it!" I grinned. "But what was Dave's friend doing with Mrs. Lovington's... er... her... um..."

"You mean her fake ass?" laughed Rachel. "It's a delayed-reaction silicone lubricant. More toys from the construction yard. Takes about 30-minutes to get going, but then it gets greasy-slick."

"What about all the shampoos and conditioners?" asked Timmy. "Did you tamper with those? You're not going to make them bald, are you?"

"I'm not that cruel. No, I didn't tamper with Abby or Yvette's shampoo. Fucking with a girl's hair is... the lowest of the low."

Rachel absentmindedly touched her much-shorter locks, and her face turned pink. There was the brief sting of embarrassment swelling in her eyes, but it quickly faded.

"Well, what's in store for 'em will be MORE than enough, trust me! But for Lacy? The Queen Bitch? Well, let me put it like this: If she's really a natural blonde, she had nothing to worry about. But if she isn't... we'll know! EVERYONE will know!"

I had one last question. I pointed to the brown box she had been resting her feet on.

"Rachel, what's a Sybian?"

"It's a, er... female pleasure-product. Kid, don't ask me to explain! You'll see soon enough: We secretly placed it in the Queen's on-stage throne. Dave installed it inside the throne's cushioning. Heh!"

"I - I'm not a kid," I tried to say, sitting up in my chair to look as tall as I could. "I'm 18! Just... just wanted you to know that I'm, y'know, not a boy... but a man."

She playfully squeezed my knee and then stood up.

"C'mon... big man! Time to get back to the main part of the building. Keep your mouths shut and enjoy the fireworks!"

We did what we were told and closed the secret panel. Rachel, Dave and the other guy headed for the front door.

"Wait - you guys are leaving?" I cried. "What about the styling and makeup?"

The other guy looked at me like I had rocks in my head: "Yo, kid! I operate a frickin' bulldozer for a living. I know nothin' about no hair-styling!"

"Just watch!" laughed Rachel, blowing us a kiss. "When the bitches emerge from the locker room, tell them the P.H. Society gentlemen had an emergency, but will return later."

And then they left.

For what felt like an eternity, Timmy and me waited. 

And waited. 

And waited and waited. The anticipation was KILLING us!

Mrs. Lovington came out first. She was wearing her beautiful gown and high heels. There was no makeup on her face and her hair was damp, which was unnerving; it was only the second time I had ever seen her bare-faced. But "Mr. Yard" was right: Her skin WAS glowing. She looked good. Damn good.

(I studied her ass with a newfound suspicion. I concluded that her butt-falsie must be flawless, because her rear-end looked PERFECT! Nobody would ever suspect a thing.)

"Where are the girls?" asked the Empress. "Still in the shower? That figures."

She looked in the mirror: "My word! I look... BEAUTIFUL!! Those oils REALLY work! Oh, mirror, mirror on the wall: Who's the fairest of them all?"

"You are, Mum," sighed Timmy. "You are."

"Damn right I am. Now... where's William Yard, Mr. Smith and Mr. Jones? I'm ready for my hair and makeup!"

"They said they had an emergency and will come back later," I said.

Mrs. Lovington looked at her Rolex, then gazed longingly at the dazzling assortment of makeup and hair items by the mirror.

"Hmm... there's really not any time to dillydally. As the Queen, I can't afford to be late. I'm the most important one. Well, I guess I can do my hair and makeup myself... but the P.H. Society owes me a raincheck!"

Within minutes, the Queen had brushed and styled her long blonde hair, reapplied her makeup and placed her crystal tiara back on her teased blonde locks. She truly did look like royalty!

"There!" she exclaimed, fully satisfied with her appearance. She looked again at her Rolex.

"Timmy, dear: Tell your gorgeous cousins to join me at the Festival when they're finished. And when you see Mr. Yard again, please thank him on my behalf. Now, ta-ta! It's time for the Queen to accept her crown! Now tell me, how do I look?"

"You look beautiful, Mrs. Lovington," I said.

An evil smile formed on her face. She patted her pocketbook like it was packing an Uzi.

"I also brought some photos of that naked little runt Rachel! If any of her loser friends even DARES to mention her name, well, this will be a Festival that nobody will forget! Ha, ha, ha!"

And with that... she was gone.

About ten minutes later, there were loud sounds coming from the locker room. Timmy and me went back into the secret room to see what was going on:

Yvette and Abby had gotten out of the shower. Yvette was toweling herself dry; Abby was naked, searching for her towel. (And seeing Flabby Abby in the buff shocked me back to reality: Instead of being the sexy girl in the formal gown, her large belly stuck out and wobbled, her fat ass shook, and her big, saggy tits swayed like the bell of a watchtower.

"I can't find my towel!" Abby complained. "You must've took mine!"

"Like, take a chill-pill," retorted Yvette, rolling her eyes. "Maybe it got lost in that big ass of yours!"

Abby scowled, crossed her arms - and then reach over, yanking the towel away from Yvette!

"HEY!" screamed "mature" Yvette - and for the first time in a long time, her not-so mature body was unveiled: Tiny tits, narrow butt, hairless snatch and a little-girl body.

Yvette tried to grab back the towel, but the much-larger Abby easily fended her off with one arm, continuing to dry herself off.

"There. I'm done," smirked Abby after a few minutes, tossing Yvette the towel.

"Yeah, but it's all wet now after mopping up your fat body!" muttered Yvette under her breath.

"What was that?!" challenged Abby.

"Nothing... nothing," sighed Yvette, attempting to dry her body with a damp towel.

Abby took her pretty gown off the hanger and looked in her locker:

"Oh, no! My - my girdle! I can't find my girdle!"

Yvette snickered. She was just about to say something catty, but when she walked over to her locker area:

"Like, what the fuck! WHAT THE FUCK!! All my clothes are gone! ...EVERYTHING! It's ALL GONE!!"

"Ooh, I'll bet stupid Timmy and his creepy little friend are trying to play a prank on us," grunted Abby, baring her teeth. "Let's go kick their ass and get our stuff back!"

"But... we can't go out like this!" whined Yvette. "What if those cute P.H. Society gentlemen see us? Hey, give me YOUR dress! I can wear it while you wait."

"Oh, no you don't!" warned Abby. "You're not stealing my dress. Go wrap that towel around your body, or something."

"But - but - it's not like you can wear it without your girdle, Abby!" whined Yvette.

"Can too!" Abby insisted. "I've lost lots of weight! I'm now slender and trim!"

To prove her point, Abby sucked in her flabby belly as much as she could, put the gown over her head, and pulled and yanked and tugged and struggled until it somehow covered her body. But to say it fit tightly was an understatement: She looked like three-pounds of blubber trying to fit in a two-pound bag!

Abby wrapped the towel around her midsection, then tucked the leftover towel into the top, attempting to create the illusion of tits. But trust me, she wasn't fooling anyone!

Seeing that the bitch-cousins were about to exit the locker room, Timmy and me snuck out of the secret room and quickly shut the door. We had just gotten back when the two angry girls had arrived:

"You little shits!" screamed Yvette. "Give me back my clothes! ALL my clothes!"

"Yeah!" yelled Abby, walking stiffly in her way-too-tight gown. "And give me back my, um, secret beauty item. AUNT LACY!! AUNT LACY!!"

"Mum isn't here," Timmy said, trying not to snigger. "She already left for the Festival. And Mr. William Yard and his colleagues will be returning shortly."

"Well, give us back our clothes!" screamed Yvette. "Or - or -"

"Or what?" I smiled.

"Or - or I'll punch you in the face!" she cried.

She made a fist with both hands, swinging wildly in the air, throwing hooks and uppercuts...

...when her towel unraveled, falling down to her feet!

"EEEK!!" shrieked Yvette, looking down at her tiny little tits and bald little pussy. Her nude body looked so small and innocent! She then looked to us and saw us staring, and a jolt of humiliation rocked her body.

"Ha, ha, ha, ha!" Abby laughed, pointing at Yvette.

"SHUT UP, ABBY! THIS ISN'T FUNNY!"

Flushing, Yvette covered her body in her arms, shot us a nasty look and bent down to picked up her towel. (I got to say, it was awfully nice seeing the REAL Yvette again!)

"Ha, ha, ha, ha!" Abby continued to laugh.

Abby's laugh was loud and obnoxious. Her whole body shook with laughter...

...and then her beautiful gown started to split over her belly, right over the belly-button! It continued to split until her entire stomach stuck out! It looked like the scene in Alien when the monster appears!

"OH, NO!!" Abby cried.

She looked down - and to her dismay, the tear-line kept steadily growing: In fact, it continued spreading south until her pussy and thunder-thighs were showing, too!

"NOOOOO!!"

I guess Abby had been trying to grow-out her pubic hair, because it now looked all stubbly - like Indiana Jones' five-day-old shadow, or something. 

"You got a prickly pussy, Cousin Abby!" giggled Timmy. "Like a cactus!"

"SHUT UP, YOU CREEP!!" she yelled, covering her vagina and stomach with her hands.

Yvette looked out the front door window, desperately rewrapping her towel:

"Oh my God! People are coming! Abby! PEOPLE ARE COMING!!"

Abby ran over - and yanked the towel off of Yvette!

"Hey!" cried the naked girl.

Abby wrapped the towel around her stomach and bottom-half.

"ABBY!!"

The larger girl shrugged her shoulders: "You're on your own, Yvette!"

Panicked, Yvette ran over to Timmy and me, hiding her body in her arms:

"Boys! PLEASE! Let me have your shirt and pants! PLEASE!! I'll - I'll do whatever you want! PLEASE!! I - I beg you! There isn't much time!"

Timmy and me looked at each other. Huh? Whatever we want? ...What did THAT mean?

Yvette dropped her arms to her side:

"See? I'll - I'll let you look at me naked body! Look! LOOK!! An adult woman is standing fully naked in front of you! You can see everything!"

Timmy and me didn't move. This was so unlike Yvette! We were too stunned to make a sound...

"You want to touch my tits? Go ahead!! Touch them! You can! I - I never let anyone touch my tits! But you can do it! Here!"

She actually grabbed our hands - and forced them directly on both her boobs!

I felt her small nipple swell and crinkle in my palm, and then I gripped her soft surrounding skin. Enjoying the sensation, I twirled the tip of her nip in my fingers!

"NOW GIVE ME YOUR CLOTHES!!"

"I dunno, Yvette," replied Timmy. "I think I'd like to keep my clothes. Thanks anyway."

"How about my pussy?" she shrieked, turning to me. She grabbed my hand and stuck it right on her warm, hairless vay-jay! "See? Isn't that nice! My pussy! You're touching my pussy! You - you're a STUD!!"

It actually WAS nice. VERY nice! The heat radiating from her vagina nearly melted my skin! I rubbed my finger over her pussy's opening, working the tip of my finger insider her!

"See?" she shrieked, while my finger was still partially inside her most sacred place. "You - you got to third base with me! With ME: Mature, beautiful Yvette - the hottest girl in town!! You can go all tell your friends! Now PLEASE!! GIVE ME YOUR CLOTHES!!"

"Thanks, Yvette," I answered, withdrawing my finger. "But not good enough. No thanks. Do you have any other ideas?"

"WHAT?!"

With fear in her eyes, Yvette looked back at the front door. Suddenly - without any warning - she threw herself flat on her back, spread her legs as wide as she could, and pulled her pussy lips open:

"LOOK!!" she cried. "Look inside my pussy! I'm showing you - I'm showing you EVERYTHING!! Nobody on earth has seen me like this! LOOK!! My most private hole! My clitty! My puss-puss! LOOK!! LOOK!!"

And look, we did! Yvette was literally fingering herself, letting us watch her twiddle her clitoris, showing us the intimate details of her inner-most charms!

"Yvette!" hollered Abby, pointing to the window. "People! They're nearly here!"

Now operating at a DEFCON 5, Yvette scrambled off the floor, scouring around the building for something - ANYTHING! - to wear! Anything at all...

...and hanging on the corner, she saw the pink, little-girl dress.

Choking a sob, Yvette ran over and slipped it over her head.

"Aw, you look adorable, little Yvette!" I giggled.

"I HATE YOU!!" she screamed.

With the fabric's flat top, she no longer had ANY illusion of breasts. The dress fluffed at the bottom, hanging awkwardly off her body. Her legs were longer than Rachel's, meaning that the dress covered less of her upper thighs. She looked more ridiculous than Rachel did!

The front door swung open: Standing in the doorway was Sister Angelica and a dozen little orphan-girls... only these were NOT the well-behaved girls of storybooks, but unruly, scary-looking kids. They even scared ME... a tiny bit, I mean.




The Greatest Humiliation Story Ch. 06: Final



Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Abby scamper back to the locker room...

Sister Angelica was an older woman with thick glasses and lots of wrinkles. When she saw Timmy and me, she spoke:

"Pardon me, young men. We're looking for Mr. Yard of the P.H. Society. He has a pretty pink dress for Tammy Brown, the Festival's Queen of the children's division. Isn't she adorable?"

We looked over at Tammy... and let me tell you, she looked like she fell out of the Ugly Tree and hit every branch on the way down! She was so ugly, as a baby, I'm not sure how they knew which end to diaper!

Tammy pointed to Yvette.

"Sister Angelica! That girl stole my dress! Not fair! Make her give it back!"

With all the dignity and aplomb she could muster, Yvette walked over, shook Sister Angelica's hand, and spoke - in her most-mature, adult-like voice: "Greetings. My name is Yvette; you must be... Sister Angelica, is it? Very nice to meet you. I apologize profusely for the misunderstanding, but there appears to be a mix-up. You see, I'm a mature, sophisticated woman undergoing a spa treatment, and - "

In one fell-swoop, Sister Angelica pulled the dress off Yvette's body - yanking it away - exposing her nude, under-developed figure! Her itsy-bitsy nipples wobbled and shook, and her hairless snatch was visible to all eyes!

"AAAHHH!" shrieked Yvette.

"Little girl, it's not nice to steal."

"Little girl?! I'm a WOMAN! I'm telling you, I'm a WOMAN!" 

Sister Angelina grabbed her by the ear and demanded: "Where is your Mommy?"

"I - I don't need a Mommy!" cried Yvette. She turned to Timmy and me: "Tell her! Tell her I'm a grown-up!"

Timmy smiled: "Don't lie, little girl. You don't have a Mommy."

Yvette's jaw dropped!

"Shame on you," scolded Sister Angelica. "First stealing, then lying? And since you have no Mommy, obviously you're an orphan who escaped the orphanage! At my age, it's hard to keep all of you straight... But now that I've found you again, you know the penalty for sinning..."

Still holding onto Yvette by the ear, Sister Angelica dragged her to the nearby chair, flipped her over her knee - and started spanking her!

"OW, OW, OW, OW!!" wailed the cousin. "You BITCH!! Let - LET GOOO!!"

Within seconds, great big tears were rolling down her cheeks.

Sister Angelina might've been old, but she sure could deliver one heck of a spanking! The palm of her hand POUNDED Yvette's ass into submission! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

"WAH! WAH! WAH!" she bawled like a baby, helplessly thrashing her legs and feet.

When the Sister was finally done, she re-gripped Yvette by the ear, and made her line-up with the orphan-girls... and in all honesty, Yvette looked no older than they did! Younger, even!

And totally naked - with a beet-red bottom.

"Okay, little girls," ordered the Sister. "We'll drop Tammy off at the Festival, then return to the bus."

"You... you're taking me to live in the Orphanage?" Yvette cried in disbelief.

"But of course," Sister Angelina snapped. "But not right away: We promised to local college that we'd entertain the football team by having our girls sing and dance for them. It'll only take an hour. I hope you practiced your routine."

"The - the local college!" gasped Yvette. "But... I'm naked!"

"That's nobody's fault but your own. Maybe next time, you'll learn that crime doesn't pay."

"But - but... I dated half of the boys on the football team! I - I teased them! I wouldn't even let them get to second base! You - you can't make me go there! PLEASE! Don't make me sing and dance - not without any clothes! I'll be ruined!! PLEASE!!"

"You certainly have a vivid imagination," snapped Sister Angelina yet again. "No more backtalk! ...Or do you WANT another spanking?"

"No!" blubbered Yvette. "No more spankings! I'll be a good girl!"

We watched the orphan-girls - plus one naked newbie - march out the door. Yvette held her face in her hands as she left with the other little kids. Good riddance!

Once the front door clanged shut, Abby scuttled out of the locker room and back into the main building, still wearing her split gown, with Yvette's old towel wrapped around her exposed areas.

"Are they gone?" she asked in a panic. "Good! We'll go get Yvette in a second - but first, you two little ASSHOLES are gonna give me back my girdle! Then give me Yvette's panties and clothes, and I'll be able to cover myself."

"I told you, we didn't take it," I explained.

"I've had it with you!" she roared - and with her right hand, she PUNCHED me, knocking me off my chair and onto the floor.

Abby turned to Timmy: "You're next, dickless! Now give me back my clothes, or I'll knock you into next week!"

Timmy cowered in his chair and braced himself... but then a loud voice boomed from the doorway:

"I don't think so, Abby!"

It was Rachel!

Abby turned and gawked. I thought for sure she'd tremble in fear... but instead, a cocky grin formed on her face.

"Well, well, well! If it isn't the big, bad biker babe! ...NOT!"

"Step away from the boys. We have a score to settle," snarled Rachel.

"I'm not afraid of you anymore!" grinned Abby. "I've seen what a skinny little wimp you are! Just try not to shit everywhere again! Ha, ha!"

"The only thing that looks like shit is you, Fat Ass. You might be hiding your whale-like belly behind a towel, but we all know you have the figure of a sumo!"

Enraged, Abby charged her - but Rachel deftly sidestepped her opponent and punched her in the stomach!

"OOF!!"

Abby dropped to all fours like a pile of bricks.

Rachel turned to me and offered her hand: "Are you okay, kid? Here, let me help you up..."

But Abby was only playing possum. She tackled Rachel from behind, dragging her to the ground!

"Now I've got you!" the cousin gloated.

Using her (considerable) weight-advantage to hold her opponent face-down on the floor, Abby sat on Rachel's lower back, grabbed the inside of Rachel's waistline - and started yanking them down!

"You - you - get your fat ass off me!" struggled Rachel.

But Abby was relentless: She tugged and pulled not just Rachel's leather pants, but her panties, too - pulling them down Rachel's scrawny ass, over her thin thighs, and not stopping until she reached her calves! Rachel's boots were the only thing preventing her pants and panties from being totally stripped off her body!

"Ha! There's that bony butt of yours!"

While Rachel struggled, Abby started spanking her: SMACK, SMACK, SMACK!! Rachel wiggled and tried to free herself, but Abby was too heavy.

SMACK, SMACK, SMACK!!

"Ow! S - Stop it, bitch! Ow!"

SMACK, SMACK, SMACK!!

"OW!! STOP IT! S - STOP IT!!"

Abby paused for a millisecond - then spread open Rachel's butt-cheeks, roaring with laughter.

"Now there are THREE assholes in the room! Ha! Everyone look! You can see completely up her ass!"

"NOO!!" screamed Rachel, desperately kicking her legs on the floor.

But we refused to look, crossing our arms instead.

Scowling, Abby thought for a moment - and then stuck her finger insider Rachel's anus, wiggling it around!

"AAAAAAAH!! GET IT OUT!! GET IT OUT!!"

And then she withdrew her finger, smelled it, and went back to spanking:

SMACK, SMACK, SMACK!!

With Rachel preoccupied with protecting her skinny rump from being spanked and fingered, Abby quickly repositioned her body and rolled Rachel over, so she was flat on her back. She then reached down - and sunk her fingernails into Rachel's pussy!

"OOOWWWWWW!!" screamed Rachel. "L - Let go!! PLEEEEAASE!! LEGGO!!"

"Spread your legs, bitch!" ordered Abby. "Show the boys your precious little pussy!"

Writhing in pain, Rachel nodded with a scared look in her eyes and obeyed: Her thighs opened wide, with her calves still trapped together by her pushed-down leather pants. Rachel meekly lay there, as still as a ragdoll, whimpering in agony.

"See?" Abby gloated to us. "There's your hero's pussy, nice and open! Take a good look!"

"No, Abby," I said crossly. "Let her go."

"Come over here and take a look - or I SWEAR TO GOD I'll claw-out her disgusting snatch!" 

Not seeing any other options, Timmy and me did what she said, peering over to view Rachel's body. I guess her pubes grew slower than Abby's; Rachel was still completely hairless. Her thighs were spread and her pussy lips had a small gape to them. An expression of total humiliation flooded her face, and her skinny, wiry legs twitched helplessly.

Abby put her hand between Rachel's thighs - and jammed two fingers inside her vagina! I mean, ALL the way inside!

"OWWW!! CHRIST!! YOU - YOU FUCKING BITCH!! YOU FUCKING BITCH!!" Rachel cried.

I couldn't believe it! Abby was finger-fucking Rachel! Brutally! Pumping her fingers - from the fingertips to the knuckles and back again!

"Ha! Now pull up your top," Abby threatened, "or I'll tear your pussy apart!"

With leaky eyes and trembling hands, Rachel pulled her tight black shirt up to her throat, exposing her narrow stomach and white bra.

"H - Here!" she gasped. "Please... take out your fingers! My - my pussy!"

"No," ordered Abby. "All the way! Pull your top all the way off!"

"O - Okay!" sobbed Rachel, pulling her shirt over her head and off her body.

Other than the bundled-up pants and panties around her calves and her oversized bra, Rachel was naked again... and somehow, looked even smaller now than she did at Josephine's Boutique.

"Look at the big, tough biker girl!" teased the cousin. "Ha! Never forget, Rachel: I own your ass! DON'T I?"

I couldn't believe it: Weeping - and her nose running - Rachel nodded her head! She... she was being destroyed!

Now in full control, Abby reached under Rachel's bra with her free hand. Out came two rolled-up balls of socks.

"Still a little bra-stuffer, are we? ANSWER MY QUESTION!!"

"Y - Yes... I - I stuff my bra!" Rachel cried. "I - I STUFF MY BRA!!"

"And WHY do you stuff your bra?" teased Abby.

"Because... because... I - I don't have any tits...!"

"Louder!"

"I DON'T HAVE ANY TITS!!"

Roaring with laughter, Abby pulled up Rachel's now-loose-fitting bra, yanking it all the way off her body, exposing her one-and-a-half-inch nipples.

"And here we are!" she chortled in triumph. "The world's smallest breasts! Hee, hee! You could use a Band-Aid for a bra!"

Rachel looked so pathetic. It broke my heart! Abby was continuing to finger-fuck her hairless vay-jay, pumping her two fingers in and out, while pointing and laughing at Rachel's embarrassingly small chest. Abby's hand was now sopping wet...

"Your fingers! Please! STOP!! PLEEEEEAAAASSE!!"

"Now play with those silly little titties of yours! DO IT!! Show the boys how you like it!"

With shame in her red eyes, Rachel looked over to us. Sobbing, she started twisting and pulling on her tiny nips, stretching them vertically.

"This... this is how I like my boobies played with!" she bawled.

"Boobies? HA! HA! HA! It's nipples! Just nipples! All you have are nipples! Say it! SAY IT!!"

"ALL I HAVE ARE NIPPLES!" Rachel sobbed. "I DON'T HAVE TITS! ALL I HAVE ARE NIPPLES!" 

Abby cackled in hysterics: "Ha, ha, ha, ha! Okay, boys: Your turn!"

Timmy and me looked at each other, confused.

"You heard her!" insisted Abby. "Come pull on her silly little nips! It's all she has! HA!! NOW DO IT - or I'll fist this bitch!"

We didn't want Rachel hurt, so we leaned over and touched her small nipples. Rachel looked so embarrassed! I was surprised by how warm - and how hard - her nipples felt. We both tugged up and down a few times. 

"I'm sorry, Rachel," I whispered.

Abby looked over to the salon chairs and spotted an electric razor. A sinister gleam appeared in her eyes.

"Timmy! Go get me the razor! I'm gonna shave this bitch bald! Ha, ha, ha!!"

"No, Abby! You can't!" I shrieked.

"Do it now, Timmy - or I swear to God, I'll tear her pussy into pieces! DO IT!!"

"Ow! AAAAHHH!! OW!! OW!!" cried Rachel. "My - my pussy! Wah!"

The poor girl's vagina was being pumped and pounded, and her pointy little nips wiggled with every thrust. Skinny, helpless Rachel... naked and exposed...

Abby glared at Timmy. Timmy looked to Rachel for guidance. Rachel... winked?

And then - BAM!! - she punched Abby right in the jaw! It sounded like the crack of thunder!

And the much-larger girl rolled off of her, 100 percent knocked out.

"H - Help me up, kids," groaned Rachel.

Timmy and me helped Rachel to her feet. She was clearly injured. The brunette beauty leaned on Timmy while I dressed her: I unraveled her cotton panties from the inside of her leather pants, then pulled them up past her knees until they reached the middle of her thighs.

"Please... bring me that cream... my - my pussy hurts!" she sniffled, wiping her runny nose.

I went to the counter and took a tube of cooling aloe. Rachel looked at me and nodded, so I twisted off the top, squirted a dab onto my fingers, and massaged it into Rachel's aching pussy. It looked so sore and puffy...

"More... more on the left and... and underneath, please," she whimpered with sad, watery eyes.

I did what she asked, rubbing her tender, soft skin. It felt so fragile - and yet SO sexy! I mean, I was legitimately trying to help her - but this was Rachel's PUSSY that I was touching! 

"Please... a - a little on the inside, too... If... if you don't mind..."

I nodded, delicately coating the inside of her pussy lips with my fingers tips.

With a horribly embarrassed expression, Rachel turned around and pulled open her butt-cheeks.

"And... and please... my b - butt hurts where she fingered me. If you don't want to... I - I understand..."

Without saying a word, I re-dabbed my finger and traced her anal opening, making a small circle, trying to be as gentle as I could. I penetrated her - just slightly - to salve the inside of her violated hole.

"Th - thank you," she croaked. "It feels better now."

I nodded back and continued to dress her, carefully raising her panties over her reddened vay-jay and narrow butt, smoothing out all the wrinkles. I then pulled her pants up and zipped and buttoned them for her. I saw her black t-shirt near my feet, so I handed it to her.

"Um, can you p - please find my bra and falsies? I... I don't want anyone to know how flatchested I am. Not... not even my family knows." 

She looked down at her small little nips, and tears welled in her eyes again.

"Sure, Rachel," I whispered.

I easily found her bra. The rolled up socks that Rachel was using as falsies had scattered across the floor, so I retrieved them, dusted them off and stuffed them back into the cups of her bra.

"Arms up, please," I nervously breathed, unable to keep my adolescent eyes off her tits - and without saying a word, she obeyed. 

I pulled her arms through the bra straps and gently re-covered her small breasts. Once her shirt was added, she looked as good as new... although she was noticeably limping.

"Thanks, kids," Rachel said in a soft, uneven voice. She was blushing, looking down. "I'm... I'm sorry about that."

"Sorry? Sorry for what?" I asked.

Rachel was still blushing, still refusing eye contact.

"Look... I know how... how UGLY my body is. How skinny and - and gross it is. My tits, my ass, my - my ugly pussy... I'm... I'm sorry."

Her lip quivered, like she was going to start crying again.

"Rachel!" I said in shock. "You have nothing to apologize for! I think you're... I mean... I think you're BEAUTIFUL! From the top of your head to the tips of your toes! And - and everything in between!"

The brunette looked at me in surprise. And then - slowly - her devilish smile returned. Rachel leaned down... and kissed me! On the lips! With her tongue!

I nearly fainted!

Timmy looked down at Abby, who was still unconscious, snoring away like a slumbering rhino.

"Rachel, what should we do with her?"

Rachel's smile widened.

"You heard her, Timmy: Bring over the razor!"

About ten minutes later, Abby began to wake up. She rubbed her aching jaw and looked around:

She was sitting on the street corner. And it felt unusually cold...

Abby went to run her fingers through her log red hair. But something was wrong:

She had no hair!

"Oh, no!!"

Abby looked down: She was almost completely naked.

Then only thing she was wearing was a cowbell.

"OH NO!!"

As she stood to her feet, the cowbell went CLANG, CLANG, CLANG! People walking by were tossing money into a hat, staring at her expectantly. Then she noticed a sign behind the hat:

"Middletown's Bald-Headed Cow! Tip $2! All Proceeds Go to the Local Orphanage! Will Shake Belly for Money!"

A crowd of college-aged boys - including many of whom Abby and Yvette had relentlessly teased - were staring at her impatiently.

"Well?" demanded a cute college boy. "I paid my $2. Now shake that belly, cow!"

"Cow? But - but - I'm still beautiful! ...Right?"

The laughter was deafening!

Sobbing, Abby's brain began processing her new reality: "You're not beautiful. You're a big, fat bald cow! EVERYONE has seen you naked! EVERYONE knows how ugly you are!"

With her face sizzling with shame, the bald-headed girl gripped her belly and began jostling it up and down. Her big tits bounced like playground kickballs.

"MOOO!! MOOO!! MOOO!!" she blubbered.

CLANG, CLANG went her cowbell.

Another college boy tossed in a $5 bill.

"Five bucks!" he shouted! "Shake your fat cow-ass, baldie!"

Abbie stuck out her big buns, swaying them from side-to-side. Her enormous rump rippled like ocean waves.

"MOOO!! MOOO!! MOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

CLANG, CLANG.

Cameras were flashing! People were laughing!

"Moo louder!" Abby's brain ordered. "Everyone is watching! They're all watching YOU - with no girdle, no clothes, no hair! Everyone you used to laugh at, tease and mock is now laughing at YOU! And you deserve it, Abby - 'cause you're fat, bald and ugly!" 

Abby looked down at her exposed tits, bulging belly and stubbly twat.

"MOOO!! MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

Meanwhile, up on the Festival stage, Mrs. Lovington was standing patiently to the side with her hand on her hip, chatting and flirting with local VIPs. A large, royal throne was sitting in the middle of the stage, just behind the microphone stand. Supersized TV screens were strategically placed around the Festival field, so nobody would miss a thing. And oh, how the local VIPs were sucking-up to the Queen:

"Mrs. Lovington, you're the vision of beauty! You've outdone yourself!" gushed one.

"Don't let my wife catch me saying this, but you are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen!" declared another.

Even the women were joining in: "Lacy, I do declare, that gown fits you like a glove! I wish I had your figure!"

"I know!" sighed a second woman. "I'd give anything to have those rock-hard abs and firm, round tush! And your natural-blonde hair is gorgeous! You're a marvel, Lacy!"

The buxom blonde fanned her hand and purred with mock sincerity: "Aw! Aren't you all sweet! Yes, I suppose I do look rather... fetching, don't I? But I can't help it. This just happens to be how Jesus made me!"

"Well, the City of Middletown is damn lucky to have a lady like you representing us. Thanks again for agreeing to be our Queen!"

Mrs. Lovington arched her back and proudly stuck out her firm, statuesque chest.

"I think it's important for the people to have someone to look up to, don't you agree?" she said with a self-satisfied smirk. "Especially the poor!"

Before long, a local war hero made a short speech to kick the festivities into high gear. He thanked a few prominent business people, and then accepted the privilege of placing the crown on the Queen's head:

Mrs. Lovington graced the stage to a spattering of claps and wolf-whistles. Like a Monarch, she serenely waved to her subjects. Most of the poorer people were packed closer to the stage, and most of the rich were farther to the back - behind the velvet ropes in the VIP area.




The Greatest Humiliation Story Ch. 06: Final



But give the Empress credit: She looked stunning. Never better! Blonde, dazzling and oozing sex appeal, she looked as if she was carved from a block of granite.

Perfection incarnate.

Mrs. Lovington knelt down with a ladylike curtsy, and the war hero placed the crown on her head. She kissed him softly on the cheek, then went to the microphone:

"Ladies and gentlemen! My good people of Middletown! I'm proud to once again serve as your Queen!"

The MILF looked up at the giant TVs to admire herself. No pun intended, this was her "crowning" moment. She was the Queen of the City once again! Her archenemy had been annihilated! The entire community was groveling at her feet!

"To me, being a Queen is more than just being rich and beautiful. Yes, I know how lucky I am to have been blessed with my all-natural blonde hair, a trim figure and big bank account. That's why I'm delighted to say to the poor people of Middletown: A portion of the proceeds from this Festival will be earmarked to you! So you can buy a can of beans, deodorant... or whatever."

There was a short-lived round-of-applause. Then someone shouted from the poor section:

"Boo! We want Rachel Trovolli!"

A big, booming cheer followed: "RACHEL! RACHEL! RACHEL!"

Mrs. Lovington looked down and smirked, "Oh, I don't think we'll be seeing Rachel anymore. I know some of you seem to think that - that... girl is attractive - "

Another loud cheer!

"But I happen to have some photographs that prove otherwise!"

The Queen took a step backwards to retrieve the photographs from her pocketbook...

...and her left heel snapped, ripping in half!

"What the?"

Now off-balance, the Queen stumbled back another step...

...and her right heel snapped! She was now barefoot on the stage, with the tattered remains of her two high-heeled shoes littered in front of her.

"Son of a bitch!" the Queen cursed. "Those shoes cost $700!"

Putting a big, fake smile back on her face, Mrs. Lovington returned to the microphone: "I apologize, ladies and gentlemen. It appears we're having a, uh, minor wardrobe malfunction. But I assure you that... that... that..."

The Queen's midsection was rumbling and shaking. The audience started to murmur and stare, wondering what was happening. And then there was another SNAP - 

- and the Queen's girdle popped open, tumbled down from the inside of her gown, and landed atop the stage!

A wave of pandemonium swept through the crowd. Everyone was pointing and whispering, when one loud voice carried above all others: 

"Hey, that's a girdle!"

The whispers grew louder! Panicking, Mrs. Lovington grabbed the microphone stand, her eyes as big as dinner plates.

"NO! I - I don't wear a girdle! That - "

But before she could continue, her gown pulled and yanked at a funny angle - like it was being attacked by invisible poltergeists. The Queen looked down in horror:

Her gown was starting to SPLIT OPEN over her belly!

It was a tiny tear at first, no more than an inch or two. Then three inches. Then four. Then five, six, seven!

Before she could blink, her entire tummy was sticking straight out!

Mrs. Lovington's stomach wasn't quite as massive as Abby's, but it was still plenty large - with nasty stretchmarks and a deep, bulging bellybutton. Her bulbous gut was now hanging all the way out of her gown, jiggling like a giant mold of Jell-O!

"NOOOOO!!" screamed the Queen.

To the side of the stage, the MILF heard one of the women whisper: "Did she just claim that she had a trim figure? Ha! She's a hungry, hungry hippo!"

"I - I don't know what's happening!" the Queen cried into the microphone. "But this... this is just an optical illusion! I swear!"

Mrs. Lovington silently prayed that the run in her dress would stop spreading. She prayed to God. Then Jesus. Then Allah. Then Zeus. Then Buddha.

But her prayers went unanswered:

Whereas Abby's dress split downwards, Mrs. Lovington's split upwards, continuing to race up her ribcage. As her eyes widened, the split continued its northern ascent, racing in between her two giant tits and not stopping until it reached the very top of her gown - splitting it in half!

"NOOOOO!" 

The fabric slid off her shoulders and onto her sides, like an unpeeled banana! Lacy Lovington's big belly, fleshy torso and thick arms were unveiled... and the Queen was standing in front of the entire city with nothing but a sturdy white bra covering the top-half of her body!

"Wow, talk about letting yourself go!" shouted a heckler.

"Join a gym!" shouted another.

Before Mrs. Lovington could respond, her bra suddenly trembled and shook, like San Andreas Fault. And then...

...the top, bottom and sides ripped simultaneously, exploding through the air like confetti!

And just like that, the Queen was topless.

All at once, her big, fleshy tits sagged from their formerly-perky heights, falling like heavy bags of sand, sagging to the sides of her body, until her nipples were level with her belly-button. Her gigantic, ostrich egg-shaped areolas stared the audience in the eyes - with the tips of her nips jutting several inches out, like pink, unwrapped Crayola crayons.

Mrs. Lovington just stood there, frozen in shock!

"Droopy boobies! She's got droopy boobies!"

The laughter that followed was deafening, and it seemed to snap the MILF back to reality.

"DEAR GOD!!" she screamed, attempting to cover her oversized tits in her arms. She turned her back to the audience to shield her modesty...

...when that perfectly-round ass of hers began vibrating.

A hush fell over the audience. There were three - maybe four seconds of total silence.

And then, her rear-falsie popped out of the back her panties, twirled high up into the air, spun in a circle, and landed on the floor of the stage.

"It's a fake ass! That's a fake ass!" roared a heckler.

In all their careers, George Carlin, Richard Pryor and Chris Rock had NEVER heard such uproarious laughter.

"THIS CAN'T BE HAPPENING!!" wailed Mrs. Lovington. "TURN OFF THE TV!! HELP!!"

But it got worse: Without the solid, fake ass to keep her gown wedged around her waist, the entire outfit dropped to her feet. She was now near-naked on stage, clad in nothing but her baggy panties! And these weren't sexy, pretty panties; these were loose-fitting granny-panties - chosen by the Queen because they were baggy and loose enough to discreetly hold her plastic ass-mold!

Very, VERY loose-fitting: Now empty, they slid down her thighs to her ankles.

The Queen was naked.

Mere moments before, her ass looked round and perfect. Now, it was a brutish, rectanglish blob of cellulite and pimples. Her thick butt cheeks shook and gyrated with every heartbeat. The back of her thighs were portly and flabby, with webs of blue varicose veins shooting down to her calves.

"This is our Queen?! My mother has a better ass!" heckled some poor slob from the front row.

"Get that fat-ass some Oxy-Clean!"

"MY BUTT!" squealed Mrs. Lovington, instinctively throwing her hands over her butt-cheeks, turning her ass away from the peering eyes of the entire city. But in doing so, she had turned to face the audience directly.

Her face went bright red when she realized what she had done:

The could now see... EVERYTHING!

The front of Mrs. Lovington's thighs were just as flabby as the back, but all eyes were now on the region of her body just below her big, bloated white belly:

Her pussy.

Groomed no better than Abby's untamed pubic-jungle, the blonde-haired Queen of Middletown had a bush of shockingly dark pubes - mixed with streaks of gray.

"NO!! DON'T LOOK!! MY - MY PUSSY!!"

She looked up at the big TV screens: They had zeroed-in on a close-up. 

Her holiest of holies was bared before the whole City of Middletown... and the carpet DID NOT match the light blonde curtains.

But then the curtains began to change:

The shampoo's chemicals began to take effect. Before the crowd's amazed eyes, her yellow-blonde hair darkened.

And grayed.

Until the carpet and curtains were dead ringers.

"So much for her being a natural blonde!" snickered one of the VIP ladies who had earlier complimented her beauty.

"Take a look at the REAL Lacy Lovington!" jeered the other. "She's nothing but a fat, brown-haired housewife who's going gray!"

Mrs. Lovington was as naked as a jaybird, shaking her brown-and-gray head "no!" She looked around desperately for help - to her left and then to her right. Instead, all she saw were fingers pointing at her - and laughter! They were... they were all LAUGHING at her!

Even the old war hero was pointing and laughing.

Her eyes caught a glimpse of the TV screens: Her hair! Her stomach! Her thighs! Her body!

The Queen lost her footing and stumbled backwards, falling butt-first into her throne. Her beefy legs flew into the air, her jaw dropped open and her arms hung lifelessly by her side.

And that's when the Sybian that had been placed inside the throne's cushioning clicked on:

"Oh! OHH!! OOOOHHHH!!" squealed the Queen, her thighs further widening.

The boisterous crowd quieted, transfixed by the curious sight.

The Sybian began moving faster, stimulating her clitty through the throne's cushioning. Mrs. Lovington was too dazed to move, to shocked to fight - and getting WAY too sexually stirred to resist!

"OOOOOOOHHHHHHHH!!" she shrieked, her hips grinding like the gears of a Mack Truck. With her two hands, she aggressively pulled the tips of her enormous nipples and arched her back. Her big belly jiggled and rippled with every delicious stimulation...

"I - I - I CAN'T SSSTOP!!" she screamed, grinding and rubbing onto the Sybian.

It was as if her pussy had a mind of its own!

Then, suddenly, her legs shot to the heavens. Mrs. Lovington opened her thighs like she was doing the splits and separated her pussy lips with both hands - flashing the audience not just the inside of her vay-jay, but also the opening of her anus. She bucked her like a wild woman, rubbing her badly-swollen clitty like she was trying to start a campfire!

And then she squirted. All over the front row.

With a loud cheer from the crowd, the Queen collapsed from the throne, falling onto her hands and knees, crawling naked - her big tits and large belly swaying to and fro. She could hear the other woman and trophy wives gossiping as she crawled by their feet:

"Disgraceful!"

"She's disgusting!"

"If I were her, I'd never show my face again!"

She then fell off the stage, landing in the arms of the poorest, dirtiest citizens of Middletown.

The Queen was quickly hoisted back into the air, and soon found herself crowd-surfing through the audience, getting pawed and touched by men, women and dirty-looking low-lives. Strange hands were gripping her tits, fingering her anus and manhandling her brownish-gray pussy. The inside of her thighs were being felt-up and groped. Cameras were flashing everywhere!

"YOU CAN'T DO THIS!" she moaned. "I'M THE QUEEN!! THE QUEEN!! THE QUEEN!!"

Then she was lowered. In front of her was a man with a black, bushy beard.

"You might be the Queen, but I'm Rachel Trovolli's Uncle... and I've got a 'bone' to pick with you, ya brown-haired skank..."

He unzipped his fly, whipping out the largest dick Mrs. Lovington had ever seen!

The audience lifted the Queen halfway into the air and opened her legs as wide as they'd go, carrying her to the Uncle. Her giant tits jumped and bounced. Rachel's Uncle pushed the head of his penis so that it rubbed her vaginal opening. 

"NOOOO!! I'M RICH!! I'M ROYALTY!! YOU'RE A PEASANT!! I FORBID IT!! NOOOO - "

But when she looked down, the Uncle had already rammed his hulking manhood ALL THE WAY inside her royal pussy.

"NOOOOOOO!!"

An acne-riddled, 18-year-old high school senior who used to clean her pool was sucking on her left tit. The filthy old man from Pete's Pool House was sucking on her right. Someone else had jammed his middle finger up her asshole... and Rachel's Uncle was FUCKING her raw!

"OOOOOHHHHH!! OH GOD!! OH GOD!! OH GOOOOOODDDDDD!!"

More hands were on her, groping her, touching her, feeling her, and fingering her. She recognized the middle-aged coffeehouse waiter whom she used to bully; he was finger-fucking her anus. The garbageman and a greasy-looking chain-smoker from the garage station were nibbling on her nipples, high-fiving each other. And all the while, Rachel's Uncle was blasting her pussy with his enormous cock - chopping at it like he was trying to bring down a Redwood!

"NOOOOOOO!! I - I WON'T GIVE YOU THE SATISFACTION!! YOU - YOU CAN'T MAKE ME CUM!!"

A teenage girl took out a pair of scissors and cut a big chunk of the Queen's hair. ("A souvenir!" she explained.) Soon, others joined in, slicing away at her brown-gray locks. Her formerly-blonde crown of golden blonde hair was quickly reduced to inch-high rubble.

It was too much.

"YOU CAN'T MAKE ME CUM!! YOU CAN'T!! I WON'T LET YOU!! I - I - I - "

"I wanna hear you say it," growled the Uncle. "You ain't no Queen. You're a fat, old cum-slut. And you've lost all your hair. Say it. SAY IT!!"

"OOOOOOOOOHHHH!! OH NO!! OOOHHHH NOOOOOO!! I'M CUUUUUMMMMMMING!! I... I... I... I'M A FAT OLD CUM-SLUT WITH NO HAIR!! I'M A FAT OLD CUM-SLUUUUUUUUT!!"

The Queen orgasmed once again while everyone watched... 

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!" she wailed, staring at herself on the big screen TVs.

Meanwhile, up on the stage the City of Middletown's VIPs looked around, unsure of what to do.

"Obviously, we need a new Queen," said one.

"Obviously," agreed a woman, watching the old Queen sucking dick in the poor section while new people maneuvered their cocks in and out of her brownish-gray twat.

"But who?"

Then - to an avalanche of applause, Rachel Trovolli walked atop the stage. She had a slight limp, but was clearly enjoying herself. She flashed her devilish grin and waved at the crowd.

"RACHEL! RACHEL! RACHEL!"

The biker babe bowed her head. The VIPs looked at each other and shrugged.

Then they placed the crown atop her head.

THE END