Shopping Trip

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 hate.

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 Mall.

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 fellow shoppers.

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 it.

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 ass.

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 mind.

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 her hand.

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! The police!"

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.