Emma

The next day was Saturday. I was nervous when I got up in the morning. Kevin had hidden all my tops except my old, small ones. So I was going to have to wear one of those infront of my mother.

But I didn't need to worry. When I got up my shirts were all back in my wardrobe. I don't know when Kevin put them back.

So I spent an uneventful weekend. I went to the cinema with a couple of friends. I barely saw Kevin, and didn't see any of his friends at all.

I was becoming obsessed with showing off. All I could think about all weekend was the thought of exposing myself to the boys. Of all I'd done so far, and all that might come. I longed for the weekend to be over. For my mother to go back to work. For me and the boys to have the house to ourselves.

It wasn't because I was attracted to any of my brothers friends, I wasn't. I wanted to be the central figure in their fantasies. Who's fantasies was irrelevant.

When I got home from school on Monday, my shirts had once more been removed from my wardrobe.

On Monday, we played volleyball again. I wore my little shorts and a pink vest top that was tight across by breasts and cut low enough to show a decent amount of cleavage.

On Tuesday, we switched to a dance game on the Xbox. We took turns playing 1v1, winner stays on. The boys made sure I won most of the time. Kevin setup the monitor in the corner where the sofas met. So the 4 boys not playing could watch me bouncing and shaking through the dance moves.

I had become addicted to exhibitionism. To having the guy's eyes on me. I loved the hunger and lust in those eyes. It was like a drug and I was hooked. It's all I wanted to do.

The boys were all 24 or 25, men really, not boys. But none of them had ever had a girlfriend, or had a girl even slightly interested in them. So to have me spending time with them. Especially under dressed and shaking my large chest, was something they never got tired of.

The dance game was less physically demanding than the volleyball, so I could play for much longer.

But it didn't give my chest as much bounce as jumping for the volleyball. And it didn't give me the excuse volleyball gave me to wear my little shorts. So I had to wear jeans. Though if I was honest, the boys seemed more interested in my chest than the rest of me. So maybe the jeans didn't matter.

So while I loved the extended time in the spotlight I got from the dance game, it was somehow a lesser thrill because volleyball topped it.

The jeans issue was solved on Thursday. When I got home from school I found that Kevin had taken all my jeans and longer skirts out of my wardrobe. All I was left with was little shorts and short skirts.

I didn't realise it at the time, but this was setting a new president. Up to now, I had been choosing my clothes. First I had adjusted my school uniform. Then I'd put my tops in Kevin's wardrobe. But this time, Kevin and his friends were the instigators. They had removed my jeans. And in doing so were dictating what clothes I was allowed to wear.

But none of this occurred to me at the time. I was just happy to have an excuse to expose a little more skin. So I put on a pair of short shorts and waited for the boys to come home.

Thursday was mostly the same. The boys watched me dancing along to the Xbox. But now I was wearing small shorts.

On Friday we did both Xbox and volleyball, which was a double high. And then it was the weekend. The boys disappeared, and my "mother friendly" clothes magically reappeared in my wardrobe. But the rhythm had been set, and I knew that when the weekend was over, the boys would come back and my clothes would disappear.

And that's exactly what happened. It was Monday that I realised that, by accepting the disappearance of my jeans the previous week, I had allowed a subtle shift in the dynamics.

I got held back at school; some other girls were messing around in class and we all got detention. So the guys were already in the house when I got home.

They heard me come in. Kevin came out to the hall. He looked my unmodified school uniform up and down. But didn't say anything. Somehow I felt guilty for being caught in properly fitting clothes.

"We're going to play some Just Dance on the Xbox. Do you want to play?" He asked expectantly.

"Sure," I replied.

"You need to go and get changed first," he added. Then turned back into the lounge without waiting for a reply.

Up in my room, I quickly stripped and put away my school uniform. I'd been hiding it, so Kevin didn't find it. I didn't want him to know I had one that fit properly. I suppose that was moot now he'd seen me in it. But I still hid it away.

Then I started to get dressed in my 'showing off' clothes, as I now thought of them. I normally had a shower first, but I was desperate to get downstairs and display myself in front of the boys.

I started with a pair of panties and a school hockey skirt. It was very short and flared out nicely when I moved. It was intended to be worn with a pair of undershorts. With my regular panties it felt very risky, even if they were full bottomed panties.

The shock came when I opened my bra draw. It was empty. It took me a moment to realise what had happened. To realise that when Kevin had come to take my tops and jeans, he'd taken all my bras too!

They expected me to go downstairs, and play the dance game without a bra on. This was new. This was scary. This was incredibly exciting. Just the thought of it had me hotter than I'd ever been.

It wasn't just the idea of dancing around in front of 5 guys with just a little stringy top and no bra. Of my unencumbered breasts shaking and bouncing for them. It was also that they had made it happen, not me. By stealing my bras they were setting the rules. They were saying 'You're going to dance for us, and you're not going to wear a bra while you're doing it.' The idea of giving them that control was intoxicating.

It occurred to me that I did still have the bra I had worn to school. I considered putting it back on. But I was too excited by the idea of going braless Infront of Kevin and his friends.

I shut the empty draw and chose a vest top from the pile on the shelf. I picked the most conservative option available to me. The weave of the material was close enough that not even a hint could be seen through it. While the hemline still showed the upper slope of my boobs, it was higher than most of the tops available to me.

I put the shirt on and inspected the result in my mirror.

It was very obvious I wasn't wearing a bra. Like all the tops Kevin had left for me, I had brought it years ago, before I had big boobs. It stretched tightly across my breasts. Molding itself to their shape like a second skin. Without the padding of a bra, my nipples were clearly visible. Even in a normal state they would have been prominent. But they were erect with lust and formed two distinct tents in the smooth round curve of the material.

I tried a little hop. Even to my eyes, the movement under the shirt was shocking and a little hypnotic. For the boys it would be mesmeric.

It was too much. I couldn't go through with it. It was thrilling and exciting. Just thinking about it had my heart racing. But it was too much. I was too shy. I couldn't do it. I'd have to put the bra I'd worn to school back on. And maybe even talk to my brother to get the rest of my clothes back. It had been an Amazing couple of weeks; the most amazing of my life. But we'd come too far and now it had to end.

Just as I came to the decision, and it was a firm and final decision, there was a loud, insistent knock on my door.

"Emma," my brother called. "We're ready to start."

Then the door knob twisted and my bedroom door swung open.

They were all there in the corridor outside my room, crowding around the door. I'd turned at the sound of the knocking so I was facing them; braless tits and erect nipples straining against stretched fabric.

My instinct was to cover up. To bring my arms across my chest, or turn my back to the door. But I fought the instinct. Fought the screaming inner voice. I just stood there, exposed and vulnerable.

The boys huddled around the door, pushing each other for a better view. Eyes locked on my overfilled shirt and the tents created by my bullet like nipples.

Nobody said anything for a full two minutes. Two minutes is a long time to stand silently while a gaggle of young men ogle you. Finally my brother broke the silence.

"We've got Just Dance setup and we're ready to start," he said. "Are you ready?"

I didn't respond immediately, and the boys stood waiting for my reply. I had 2 voices screaming in my head. One was saying, 'No Emma, this is too much. You've gone too far. This has to stop.' The other was saying, 'They've seen you now. There's no turning back. Go for it.'

The second voice was backed up by my encouraged breasts and pulsating pussy. There was only ever going to be one winner.

"I'm ready," I replied, my voice shaky with nerves.

Bobby was my opponent for the first song. The other 4 boys took their places on the sofa.

Bobby selected a song and put it in single player mode. There was a brief introduction to the song and then the game started to direct me to dance.

I started to follow the moves. Bobby had put on a slow song, maybe he had sensed my nervousness. Or maybe he didn't want to miss the big show. His position as my 'competitor' didn't give him a great view.

The dance game had my hands on my hips, and rolling them one way, then the other. It had me dropping my right hand across my body to my left hip, then high in the air to my right.

But all the moves were slow and relatively sedate. Even so, my unfettered boobs swayed and bounced along to my dancing.

It was hard to concentrate on the dancing. I tried to follow the game on screen, but I kept getting distracted by the lust filled eyes staring at me. When the game finished I had a pitifully low score. So low that somehow Bobby had won.

"Good win there Bobby," Paul said. His voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Yeah," Frank added. "You chose a nice slow song, and backed it up with a win. Nice work."

Booby blushed, but didn't respond.

So I had lost. Which meant Booby would take on the next challenger. It also meant that I would sit out the next 4 songs while all the boys had a go at taking on the challenger.

They went through the motions. I sat on the sofa silently contemplating my next dance. Each challenger picked their song. They all wanted to lose, and none of them were any good at dancing to start with. So the efforts were comical.

At last it came back round to my turn. Paul was the current winner. As the challenger I had to pick the song.

I'd spent the last 20 minutes physicing myself up to put on a show.

By the time my go came around I was pumped up, and horny as hell. I want to really work my body. I wanted the boys to cum in their pants just from watching me. But I didn't want it to be obvious.

I was dressed in a short hockey skirt and a too small top with no bra. So I was probably passed the point of being obvious. But at least on the surface, we still had the illusion of innocence. And I wanted to keep it.

So I couldn't go for broke. I had to pick a song that would minimise my display. I picked the same song Bobby had started the game with. It was the exact opposite of what I wanted. But I knew that this time Paul would make sure I won. Then I would be on for the next challenger, and the challenger chooses the song.

I danced much better the second time around. My apprehension had been replaced by excitement. So instead of feeling self conscious about my barely concealed breasts, I was thrilled by their movement. I still wasn't properly focused on the game. Every time I had to do a slightly erotic movement. My eyes would swing from the screen to the sofa, so I could eat up the reaction of the boys.

At the end of the game I had a bad score. But it was easily enough to beat Paul.

The next challenger was Kevin. He wasted no time in picking a song. It was called 'Night Junky.' I'd never even heard of it. But judging from the smirk on his face, it was going to provide me with the excuse I desperately needed to put on a show.

"What the fuck is 'Night Junky'?" Justin asked.

"It's a classic," Kevin replied. "Trust me, you're going to love it."

The song was an awful mesh of bad beats and worse lyrics. But my brother had obviously picked it for the accompanying dance. In my current attire, it was almost pornagraphic.

It started with a kind of chest thrust. Arms held at shoulder height, I pulled both elbows back, and pushed my chest forward. My arms came back to the front again, only to go back this time with my arms straight and my hands bushing backward. This repeated 4 times.

Another move had me putting my hands on my hips then leaning to one side, and rotating round so I ended up bending over facing the sofas head on. I had to hold it there for a while, and then you reverse back up.

My tight fitting top held my breasts firmly, but it was low cut so the position offered the boys on the sofa a view of my deep cleavage. Judging by the tented trousers, it was a view they very much appreciated.

But the most popular move was yet to come. It had me putting one arm behind my back, and the other straight up in the air. In this position, I did a 360 degree spin, ending with a little hop as I span back round to face front. I then reversed the move; switching the position of my hands and spinning the other way.

The effect this had on my freely moving boobs was spectacular. As I spin they swayed. The jump added bounce. And the position of my arms open up my scantily clad Body to the eager inspections of the 4 men on the sofas.

The dance cycled through these, and half a dozen less interesting moves. The anticipation as it built to a big move. The thrill of performing it. The dip when it finished. The lull immediately after. My emotions and hormones were yoyoing.

It wasn't a particularly demanding dance. But by the end of it I was glowing, almost panting from the shear erotic thrill of displaying my body.

The dance came to an end, and the Xbox announced that I was the winner.

"Dude, that song is fucking awesome," Paul yelled at my brother, and they high fives.

"How the hell did you find it?" Jason asked, as he too high fived my brother.

They were talking about my performance as if I wasn't there listening to every word. All be it thinly veiled as if they were talking about the song.

"I was going through the songs on Sunday. That one just kind of stood out."

"We've got to have that one again!"

"Yeah, who's the next challenger," Paul asked.

"It's Bobby again," Paul said.

"Aw man, really," Booby replied. He obviously didn't want to give up his seat on the sofa. "Ok, I guess it's my turn."

"And none of that shit you started with," Kevin replied. "I wanna see Night Junky."

None of them spoke to me. They just assumed I'd dance again. That I'd take on the challenger. I'd just stood there silently during the whole conversation. But as the opening bars to Night Junky started up, I got myself mentally prepared to go through the routine again. I knew the moves now, so I was sure I could top the previous performance.