Bree woke with a yawn, and stretched out her thin arms to the sunbeam
that invaded her small room through the curtain-less window. It
was warm on her bare skin, caressing her naked body like the soft
hands of a gentle, caring lover. She came to wakefulness with a
smile as she rubbed her bright blue eyes of their drowsiness.
She stood from her mattress, the old, worn springs groaning in
protest from even the slight shift of her miniscule weight as she
set her barefeet to the chilly concrete floor and lifted herself
from the floor. She stretched once more, nearly grazing the low-hanging
ceiling with her extended fingers - in a few more years, maybe she
would be tall enough to touch it, or even place her palm flat against
it - as she stretched, before bending low to reach her toes. She
could touch her fore-head to her knees easily enough without any
warming up. She wondered if, with enough practice, she would be
able to tuck her head between her legs and kiss her own ass. Bree
smiled at the thought.
There was little in her room, but that didn't matter, since she
never spent much time in it. The ripped and worn mattress lay on
the floor against one wall - such an improvement from sleeping on
floor itself. There was a truck on one side, and she knew it was
filled with all kinds of toys and tools of pain, but it was locked
except for playtime, so Bree used it as a seat most of the time.
There was a small table, too, with her glass of water on it, and
sometimes some food when she was good. The water was refilled every
night while she slept, unless she was bad, but it had been a long
time since that happened.
Today, however, there were cloths on trunk, draped across the old
rounded top like shrouds over a coffin. Bree's smile vanished from
her face and her skinny body began to tremble. Her heart was racing,
crashing with thunderous quakes in the cavity of her chest, the
noise swarming in her ears, making her dizzy. She tried to gasp,
but found it hard to suck in enough air to fill her lungs.
She stumbled, but caught herself on the trunk before she could
fall. She closed her eyes and stood there, in her self-imposed darkness,
and tried to force herself to relax, to fight off the chilling panic
that gripped her body. She bit her lip and opened her eyes again;
she was mere inches away from those garmets, and she started at
them with open dread.
Clothing, or at least, clothing like this that concealed her body
rather then enhancing or displaying it, meant she would be going
outside. Outside meant people.
Bree shivered against the chills and cold sweat that broke out
across her skin. She wondered how the sunbeams, which had been so
warm mere moments before, could now become so dark and cold.
She took up the shirt first and slid it over her thin frame. Their
were no sleeves, and the powder blue thing hung loosely on her body,
which lacked the substance and form to fill out such a piece. It
looked absolutely featureless on her, except for the two small nubs
of her nipples. Her skin had always been especially pale, but Bree
had dark red-brown areola and nipples, and in cloths as flimsy as
this, the much darker color was easy to see through the material.
Her nipples were also particularly long and thick, especially in
comparison to her small, undeveloped breasts, which seemed like
nothing more then small lumps of smooth round flesh on the ridged
ribbed landscape of her torso.
Looking down at her tits - and she could barely bring herself to
think of those small things with such a voluptuous word - she frowned
at the how much her nipples poked out of the material, making their
presence known for any and all who would see her. And, to her dismay,
the utter dismay and shame of knowing they would be so easily seen
only made her nipples harder, painfully so, in fact, and they jutted
out all the more.
There were panties this time, but as Bree held them up, she knew
they would hide less then her shirt. The fabric was so shear that,
even held aloft before her face, she could see right through the
amazingly small undies. Even the gusset, which appeared thicker
then the rest of the seemingly bare-existent garments was translucent.
With a sigh, she put them on, surprised by how snuggly they fit
her twig legs and thighs and how the band held so tightly against
her boney pelvis. They were too small, even for her, but she knew
she had to wear them.
The pants were much looser, but hardly more concealing. Thin, like
gauss and white, the tone of her skin was easily seen through the
material. They tied at the waist and hung down to her ankles, and
the shape of her thin legs was remarkably easy to follow from foot
to hips through the pants. Bree was sure that, if she had any public
hair at all, anyone looking at her from ten feet or less would be
able to count each and every one through pants and panties.
She frowned as she sat on her trunk, waiting. Her feet couldn't
reach the floor, so she kicked them out and back, rocking nervously
on her seat. Her stomach was knotted and twisted, painfully so,
in anxious dread. There were many things she would do without care,
without worry, without the slightest bat of an eye, but going out
of the house was not one of them. She found it utterly horrid.
Men leered at her, usually with visible, vile lust. She could almost
hear the lewd thoughts swimming through there minds as they stared,
picturing her naked and servicing them in hundreds of filthy ways.
From young boys to old, dirty men, she could feel their desire for
her body. But that wasn't so bad, not really. She was used to performing
for men, used to rousing their lusty whims, and often satisfying
the same. She preferred to play for them and with them, it felt
much safer with those men then the ones she would come across once
out and about.
But women were worse. Far worse. Sure she had played with women,
too, but even after pleasuring them, when it was all over, they
seemed to despise her. Even during, sometimes, they seemed to hate
her and her body even as they used it for their own enjoyment. And
still, those women were, by far, much better and nicer then the
ones out side. The ones that truly hated her, the ones that would
and could take no delight her body at all, and thought of her and
nothing more then a sick, twisted little thing. They would sneer
and stare and call her names. Not always to her face, but she heard
their whispers when she walked by. And even when they said nothing,
she could feel their loathing, feel it burning from their eyes and
into her as she passed.
Bree shuddered again at the thought, and hugged herself tightly,
hoping, wishing that she would not be taken out today, not taken
somewhere and pranced about for all to stare at and lust over or
But she knew there was nothing else - no other way. The cloths
she wore were chosen just for that, just for such torment. There
was nothing else. She would have to sit here and wait.
The minutes trickled by, gatherings into hours before her door
was open. Her body trembled as the locks turned and the doorknob
twisted. She was sore from the hours of waiting, and her stomach
hurt. Had she eaten anything, she never would have kept it down,
not that she felt hungry. Not that she had food to eat, either.
He came and grabbed a fisted-full of her long, waist-length hair.
He didn't pulled her; he didn't need to. The straight, brown locks
were a lease of sorts, and he did not tug and yank unless he had
to direct her path or get her attention. She knew where to go, and
offered no resistance. There was no need for him to pull.
He led her to the van, and she sat up front with him, shying away
from cars that passed on her side, trying to sink down deep into
the high seats, conceal her presence from the world that zoomed
passed her. From time to time, when they were stopped at red lights,
she could glance at the vehicle next to her and see the eyes looking
back. Sometimes their were men who called out to get her attention,
whistles and clever phrases to make her look at them. A few women
called out as well, but their words were never nice.
Bree bit her lip and did her best to ignore everything, to keep
her mind focused and her terror down. Her composer fell when she
saw it loom out before her - their destination she knew as soon
as it met her gaze. Her body shook with fright and once more the
air escaped from her lips and refused to return. She wanted to cry.
The monstrous thing loomed before her, and the thing she was aware
of was walking towards it, his hand on her back, pushing her forward.
She felt like a sacrifice being taken to the monster, the little
girl meant to appease the crazed beast. The glassy mawls open wide
before her, and with little effort, he pushed her through. It didn't
take much - she walked and he directed with simple pressure on her
back. She didn't need to think or feel or do anything at all, only
respond the way she always had, the way she had been trained to.
And she did, without fail.
And then she was amongst them, the crowds of people. The bumped
into her, on purpose she though. The men to try to get a feel of
her body against there - she figured even in passing quickly, anyone
could feel the grazing of her hard nipples against their skin. The
women, she guessed, bumped her to be rude, to show her they were
better then her. She shied away from them when she could, but with
so many people, it was hard to do.
He took her to a store, a lingerie store full of the clothing she
was used to wearing, though never wore out of the house. He whispered
his command and pushed her forward towards the store. She had to
go in alone.
Timid as a mouse, she walked around the store, slowly checking
out every item as if it held some magical property. She lingered
around the men in the store, particularly the ones with women near-by.
She felt the men wanted her. She knew the women hated her for it.
And as she went, she would collect some articles, the small, frilly,
revealing things that men loved to see her in before they ripped
them off of her. Many of the guys in the store seemed to be noting,
with amazement and lust, these garments.
And then, as they watched, she went into the dressing room to try
the outfits on. It was a simple matter to slip out of her shirt
and pants and panties and to slide into the lingerie she had gathered.
The first was a corset, the smallest size they had that when pulled
as tightly as she could, barely held onto her waist. She slid on
the small pair of matching crotchless panties and snapped the thigh-high
stockings in place. Taking a deep breath to steel her nerves, Bree
walked out of the changing room.
She strolled boldly onto the floor, out in the open for all eyes
to see. She kept her own gaze solidly forward until reaching the
center of the floor, where she turned and peered out of the store,
catching his eye as he stood watching. She struck some sexy poses
for him, doing her best to ignore the whispers that erupted around
her. And, after a few moments, she walked back into the dressing
room to change outfits.
She could hear the commotion she had caused - voices humming beyond
the changing room door, speaking in low tones of the disgusting
display, the vile temptress whore that had just displayed herself
to them all. Some of the voices sounded appreciative, and she knew
she had captured the fancy of a few men in her audience.
And now she wore a cute pink baby-doll, fluffy edging, utterly
see through, with a matching g-string. Taking another deep breath
to steady herself, she stepped out into the store again, letting
the eyes fall upon her. They had waited for her, her audience, waited
for her return, and now all eyes seemed upon her. She was terrified.
She never got more then a few steps out when an older woman grabbed
her arm and hauled her back into the changing room. She began to
yell at Bree, "What do you think this is - some sort of peep
show? This is a store, not a strip club for you to tramp about,
making a scene!" The woman was furious, berating her for being
a dirty slut of a girl. "What's a girl your age doing in cloths
like this anyway? Get out of this store before I call security!"
Bree never said a word. Before the woman's harsh glare, she stripped
off her cloths, only to receive a cold look as this lady analyzed
her skin-and-bones frame, and changed back in to her own cloths.
And once she was dressed - and her outfit seemed to bring another
disapproving look into the sales clerk's eyes - the woman grabbed
her by the arm and dragged her out of the store. "And I don't
want to see you in here again!"
Bree, trembling from the humiliation and fear, stumbled amongst
the throng of people until he was once more behind her and steering
her, leading into the large department store. He led her to the
woman's area of the hip and trendy place, and with a shove sent
her on her way to roam through the assortments of outfits that she
would never wear. In the lingerie shop, she had recognized cloths,
but here, it was all foreign. She rarely wore anything like these,
so concealing, and she had never picked anything out for herself
before. Any thing she did wear was always left in her room, much
like this morning.
She was able to calm herself, though, as she roamed aimlessly through
the racks and tables. Other then the over-eager sales reps in the
store, who she dismissed with a shake of her head when asked if
she needed assistance, it was easy enough to slip around and through
the cover of clothing racks, hiding from the prying eyes of her
And while she dodged such an individual, a pretty young woman picking
out nice slacks and jackets whose eyes seemed to constantly shoot
up from her searching to glare at Bree for a few seconds every so
often, Bree felt hands on her hips, holding her in place. She didn't
struggle, knowing who it was, though she flushed red-hot when the
hands yanked pants and panties down her thighs.
He was hidden behind a cloths rack, well concealed from the rest
of the store, but she, however, was easy to see, and as her rear
was pulled back into the blouses and her torso bent over ever so
slightly, she seemed far out of place in posture. There was nothing
there before her that any shopper could be shifting through - she
just looked silly, or worse, up to no good.
Bree was actually surprised when she felt the hot, hard head of
his cock pressing up against her asshole. She squirmed a bit, thinking
maybe he was mis-positioned, but his cock returned to its original
target and pressed inwards. No lube at all, not even a splattering
of spit to ease the entrance, he just held her hips, and pulled
back with his arms while pressing forward with his legs and weight.
Bree grit her teeth against the searing pain as his thick cock
pried her tight hole apart. She reached out and grabbed a cloths
rack standing off to one side and pushed back against him with all
her might, knowing the sooner her got inside, the better. She pushed
out, too, flaring her anus as best she could. She had taken him
dry before, and though never a pleasant experience she could bare
She was biting the inside of her lip to keep from crying out against
the hot anguish in her ass as the thick invader punched through
her sphincter. Tears pooled in her eyes as his dick slithered inwards
and up, but she never made a sound, knowing that not only would
it irritate him, making him fuck her all the more harshly, but it
could draw more attention to her, and that was the last thing she
wanted. She would rather take 100 cocks up her unlubed ass, each
one bigger then the last, then to be noticed by those around her.
She had expected a hard, heavy fucking of her sore rear, something
to leave her pained and damaged for the next few days, but after
a few strokes, he stopped his pumping and merely help himself buried
deep inside of her. And then there was a sudden rush of heat inside,
a spray deep in her bowels, and she realized what he was doing.
He was using her as his personal urinal - she was pissing up her
He held her still as he unleashed his stream inside of her. She
stood in silent terror that she would be caught, squatting in the
store, ass buried in the rack of cloths. If someone came up and
questioned her, he would pull out of her, she knew, and her enema
would could rushing out in flush of piss and shit into the clothing
- and it would look like that was what she was doing all along,
squatting against the blouses to relieve herself. She was nauseous
with fright at the thought as it played over and over again in her
But it was not so - no one saw her, and no one bothered them before
he was done. When he was finished, he began to withdraw, and though
now slick with wetness inside of her, with exist was even more uncomfortable
then his entrance: Bree needed to squeeze her ass as tight against
his cock as she could so that her bum would seal in his golden gift
to her and keep it from spilling on the cloths and carpet.
He was out, and her anus sealed up tight. A couple drops rolled
free, she could feel them on her skin, but he pulled up her pants
before they slid down her leg and they were absorbed into her panties.
She felt fool and bloated, and as she ran her hand down across her
belly she was sure she felt the liquid splashing about in side.
She looked down at her hips and was sure her pelvis was noticeably
fat and fuller.
His hand pushed her down to her knees, and Bree let her body follow
his heeding, concentrating all her efforts on holding the seal of
her sphincter. His hand took the back of her head and pulled her
face into the blouses. His cock was in her mouth, and she tasted
the salty bitterness of his urine mixed with the earthy tang of
her own ass. He was pumping his cock between her lips, and she,
lapping and sucking at his rod, hoping to unleash another reward,
bobbed her face in and out, the silken shirts grazing her cheeks
as she fucked his concealed cock with her lips.
"What are you doing?" a woman's voice demanded from behind
her. The cock was gone from her lips the moment there was a sound.
Bree whirled her head around to see one of the sales reps standing
above her, hands on her waist.
Bree couldn't speak at all, could barely breathe as this woman
towered above her. She gasped, then coughed, just trying to take
a breath, and the load of piss in her rear threatened the escape
in a great tide of foulness, but she managed to clench tightly and
hold on a little longer.
"I was . . . was just," Bree's voice was soft and the
sales woman leaned in to hear her words. "I . . . had dropped
something," Bree lied, her face flushing. She knew the woman
didn't believe her - Bree was too shocked and embarrassed at being
caught to have been doing nothing inappropriate, but as there was
something else for the woman to do.
"Well get it and get up. I'm keeping my eye on you - I don't
want any trouble."
Bree smiled weakly and nodded. Appeased, at least a bit, the woman
grunted and shambled off.
She had only gotten about ten feet away when he struck, punching
Bree in the lower stomach. It wasn't that hard a hit - she had received
much worse during sex - but the shock of it doubled her over. Worse
still, with the added pressure of the impact and the surprise of
the hit, she lost a hold of bowels.
The hot stream flooded, unchecked, into her panties. In a second,
they were soaked through and the flush of piss washed into her pants.
Her cloths were too shear and flimsy to really contain it, and a
sputtering stream of yellow-brown liquid sprayed into the air. It
only lasted a few moments, then the stream died down as her hole
was plugged momentarily by the more solid shit in her bowels, but
the soggy mess could not damn up the pressure inside, and soon,
that too rushed into her skimpy underwear.
Bree was mortified, and despite her efforts, she could not regain
enough control over her anus to stop the flow of her enema. She
look around, eyes wide in horror, but the sales rep hadn't noticed
and was still walking away as she shit herself. The mess in her
panties continued to build, and obeying the commands whispered to
her from where ever her was watching her blight, she reached down
between her legs, cupped the mass in her hands and slid it forward
in her panties, making room for the rest. She continued to transfer
the thick, gooey mess, spreading across her skin, shifting it about
to the unoccupied places in her underwear until her entire waist
was covered, and as her ass continued to spew forth this disgusting
mess, she was left with no choice but to spread it out of her panties,
forcing it past the bands up to her belly and down her thighs. Her
pants were soaked completely through and clung to her legs, making
them completely transparent, though adding a tinge of yellow-brown
color to her skin tone. The carpet was soaked and a puddle formed
about her feet.
She was crying, humiliated beyond imagination by this torment.
And as his behest, she rubbed her hands across her chest, wetting
down the blouse at her tits, making it cling to her skin like her
pants, and her tits showed through though they were naked. Her body
trembled with fear, and her eyes looked about, seeking out any on-lookers.
To her amazement, no one seemed to have noticed.
The hand returned and once more she was pushed down onto her knees.
He pulled on her hair to tilt her head back, and then the hot thick
cum rained down on her face. Long streaks of it shot across her
cheeks, into her eyes and hair, and down her next onto her shirt.
He was cumming on her to release his pent up desire - she knew that.
He would be fucking her for hours tonight to quite the burning lust
that boiled in him from witnessing her debasement. This was just
to add to her utter mortification - not only was she a immature
panty-shitting pig, but with a face covered in cum, there was no
doubt how whorish and trashy she truly was. There was no question
to her character now, all layers were peeled away and she was exposed
as the worthless cum-rag she was.
As she rose to her feet, only able to see from one eye from the
spunk that covered her skin and dripped from her face to her blouse,
she saw once more that she was alone, and her debasement unwitnessed.
But even as the thought, and the wonderful feeling of relief it
brought, entered her mind, she felt him place a pair of jean in
She nearly broke down and cried, nearly fell back to her knees,
nearly screamed out in horror at the idea. But she didn't - she
just turned, scanned the room for the nearest cashier, and started
off in that direction.
It was the same sales rep as before, the one who had caught her
on her knees, face in the clothing rack. If she had had any ideas
about what Bree had been up to, she would know for sure now. At
first, the woman did not even look up, as though she knew who was
approaching and did not want to favor her with eye contact. Bree
had hoped she would see her from afar and kick her out of the store
without every really seeing Bree up close, her humiliation revealed
in all its hideous glory. But that was not to be. She would have
ignored Bree for much longer, except the stench of shit and piss
hit her full force after a few moments, and she stumbled back, eyes
wipe with disgust.
"I would like to - "
"You filthy, disgusting beast!" the woman shrieked as
her eyes first saw the cum-glazing on Bree's face, then her dark,
hard nipples poking through the clinging, near transparent fabric
of her shirt. She couldn't see below Bree's stomach, but her eyes
focused on the tips of the brown streaks that rose up the girl's
torso, streaks of shit smeared across otherwise pale white skin.
The woman gagged, then retched, barely keeping from spewing up
her lunch at the sight and smell of the dirty whore-pig before her.
"Out!" she shouted. "Out! I should call security!
A few other customers where gathering around now, and Bree could
hear them talking - not even trying to keep their voices down. "What's
that smell?" "Ew, gross - is that?" "Look mommy!
That girl had an accident!" "Check out those tits!"
"What is that on her face?" "You can see through
her pants!" "Gross!"
Bree wanted to bolt, but she couldn't. Not until she bought the
jeans. He had handed her a handful of crumpled, single bills, and
Bree made a point of slowly pulled each dollar free, straightening
it out, and then setting it on the counter. Sixty dollars, sixty
singles from the wad, and each one she handled with care, as if
fragile. All the while, tears streamed down her face, and she sniffed
back her sobs as the people gathered around her to point, laugh,
stare, and shout at her. Security was there, at the counter, by
the time she was done, and at first, noticing the cum on her face,
the large man smiled, as if thinking he could get something from
a slut like her for not turning her over to the police, but then,
it seemed, he caught scent of her. His expression soured, and he
grabbed her by the arm and began to haul her away.
She was afraid he would take her and keep her in the hold. Maybe
the police would come and lock her up. She didn't know, but if he
took her away from all these people, anything would be better. But
he dragged her outside and shoved her out into the parking lot.
She still had the jeans in her hands - she couldn't have left them,
after all, since the shit on her fingers had stained them the moment
she touched them. At least they were paid for.
She walked around the outside of the wall, forlornly stumbling
along past the shoppers coming and going to cars. When she got to
where he had parked, the van was gone. He had moved it, she knew
instantly, so that she would have to walk around the packed lot,
looking for it. She was so broken and disgusted with herself, she
didn't even care anymore. She walked by people, her face low but
not hidden from view. Most just gawked at her or rushed away, but
plenty of them shouted lewd remarks at her, calling her many foul
names. And she deserved every single one.
She found the van at last, but when she tried to enter, he would
not let her. Not dirty as she was. He had a box of small, 6 oz water
bottles in the back, and Bree snapped from her numbness when she
realized what he expected her to do. But she did it - she stripped
off her piss-drenched, shit-stained pants and shirt, and she dropped
her mush-laden panties to the pavement and stepped out. Naked for
all the shoppers and drivers to see, she poured one small bottle
of water on her face to wipe away the dried, flaking residue of
cum. And then another bottle and another.
There was so little water that it was difficult to actually clean
herself. She guessed it took at least half a hour, maybe much longer.
The horrified shouts and lewd names slowly changed back to cat-calls
and lusty remarks as the filth washed away, leaving only the appearance
of the naked, horny slut girl, bathing herself in a mall parking
lot with bottles of water.
Wiping the last of the mess away on the now ruined pair of jean,
Bree, clean at last, climbed into the van and sat naked in the front
seat, in plain sight of all those around her, for them to gawk,
and leer, and degrade her with their slanderous words. Her only
comfort from this horrid, terrible day was the hope that, at last,
when she got home, she would receive a wondrous reward.