Aren's Comeuppance

Karen closed the door behind her as she entered her hotel room. Walking towards the closet where she'd hung her clothes she thought of the dress she'd picked out to wear to her ex-niece Christy's wedding that day: an elegant, floor-length, royal blue A-line dress with half-length sleeves. She'd had to go back to the dress shop four times in order to get it tailored correctly. The first girl working there clearly had no idea what she was doing but, eventually, the head seamstress listened to her and made the correct adjustments.

However, upon opening the closet, the dress was not there.

"Where did I put it?" thought Karen, looking around the room once more. She was sure she'd hung it up in the closet. Suddenly she felt her phone buzz. She saw it was from the person (or people?) who'd recorded a video of them having sex the night before and was threatening to share it online.

How's the dress?

I can't find it! What did you do with it?

Your dress is fine, it'll be returned while you're at the wedding, in the meantime we got your another dress for you to wear.

Karen started typing a reply when she realized that there was a medium-sized box sitting on her bed. In her haste to find her dress, she'd ignored it.

Rushing to her bed she opened the box to find a scarlet red dress. The dress code for the wedding had specifically requested that everyone wear muted blues, greys, and blacks. Karen had fought for the royal blue dress and Christy had finally acquiesced and let her wear it. However, this dress was beyond the pale and would surely stand out.

"I can't wear this dress," Karen thought to herself. "Christy said we couldn't wear red."

Karen was shocked when she realized that she cared how Christy felt, albeit just a little.

I can't wear this!

Well, you don't have to go.

Not go? After everything she'd done to get this wedding set up. No, she was going to go to the wedding. She had other things she could wear. One of the other outfits she'd packed would have to do.

A quick search around the room revealed that no, she did not in fact have other things she could wear. Both of the suitcases she'd packed along with all of her outfits were missing.

WHERE ARE MY CLOTHES

Relax. We said you'd get them back. And we got you a new dress! Why not try it on?

"Fine!" Karen said to herself through clenched teeth.

Karen stripped off the pants and shirt she'd worn on her trip to the hotel's salon and opened the drawers of the dresser where she'd unpacked her underwear after arriving at the hotel. Her underwear had also disappeared.

You took my underwear? What the fuck is wrong with you? I can't go to the wedding without wearing underwear. I'm going to kill you.

Hey, we're not total monsters. We got you new underwear to wear with the dress.

Karen returned to the box on the bed and found that under where the dress had been there was a bag that contained underwear.

Opening the bag she pulled out a red bra and matching thong.

***

"Where did you even get these clothes?" asked Dave.

"You know how there's that room filled with suitcases downstairs?" replied Alice, gesturing towards the stairs at the far end of the hotel lobby.

"Yeah," said Dave. "They're the bags people have left behind. We're supposed to try to return them."

"Right," said Alice. "But there's like a million rooms in this hotel. Even if only .01% of people staying here forget a bag that we can't return, that adds up to a ton of bags we have to deal with every year. Plus, there's all the other stuff guests leave behind in their rooms!"

"Wait a minute, did you give her someone else's used underwear? That's disgusting!"

"What? Dave! No! It was brand new and unused. It was literally still in a bag from the shop where it was bought and the tags were still on it. The dress had been worn at least once, but it just hadn't been picked up from hotel dry cleaning. The shoes seemed like some cheap things that look okay but probably won't last long. I think the owners left them here on purpose."

"Ooh, well, I guess that's okay then," said Dave.

***

Karen stared at the red bra and thong she was holding in her hands.

"Maybe I can just wear the underwear I'm wearing now," she thought, then looked down at herself. In an effort to make the salon trip less hellish she'd put on her "comfy" undies. The panties were large and both they and the bra she'd been wearing were, she had to admit, somewhat ragged looking. She looked at the dress again and she knew, just knew, that she couldn't wear those underneath as they'd definitely cause visible panty and bra lines.

"It's just for a few hours," she muttered to herself, stripping off her panties.

Holding the thong in her hands she noticed that it still had the price tags attached. She looked around for something she could use to cut the tag off, before finally just using her teeth to bite through the thin piece of plastic that attached the tag to the underwear.

She stepped into the thong and pulled it up her legs. At the back the material went straight up her butt crack, while at the front the thin material hugged the lips of her vulva, giving her a prominent cameltoe.

"Ugh, how does anyone wear these?" she thought to herself, trying and failing to adjust the thong so it was more comfortable.

This is barely even underwear!

you can go without it

Karen glared at the phone, willing whoever was on the other end to be hit by a car. Unfortunately, her ability to cause cars to crash through the lobbies of hotels didn't seem to be working that day.

Looking at herself in the mirror she realized that if she hadn't just had all of her pubic hair waxed off at the spa it would have been visible around the edges of the thong. She felt a brief moment of relief that nobody would see that, before the idea of her freshly bare pussy nauseated her and she quickly moved on.

The bra was, to Karen's relief, not sheer, but after removing the tags and putting it on she discovered that it was both of the "push-up" and "shelf" varieties. Her breasts were already fairly large, but she generally did her best to de-emphasize them so she wouldn't look like some of the trashy younger women she saw. This bra, however, would give her considerable cleavage and only barely managed to cover her nipples.

"This is fine, this is fine," she mumbled, trying to convince herself that nobody would notice her breasts had grown two cup sizes and were desperately trying to escape the bra.

That was before she put the dress on.

She slithered into the tight dress and at first tried to convince herself it wasn't that low cut, but as soon as she looked at her reflection in the mirror those thoughts went out of her head. The dress was not just low cut, it was very low cut. Her breasts would have been on display without the bra, but with it, her breasts were pushed together into what seemed to her to be more than ample cleavage.

Thinking quickly she removed the dress, took off the bra, and then put the dress on once more. Maybe nobody would notice.

Turning around she looked at her reflection again. This, she felt, was more acceptable. There was still cleavage, and more of it than she was truly comfortable with, but it wasn't the scandalous amount she'd had before. She was about to find her shoes when she realized something was still bothering her about the dress.

She turned back to the mirror and her eyes went wide. Through the thin, semi-sheer fabric of the dress, her large nipples were prominently on display. There was no way that she could wear this without the bra (even if it did barely cover her nipples, at least it did something to hide them).

I can't wear this! Everyone will think I'm a harlot!

Sure. Everyone will think that. You're right. But...

But?

The alternative is that everyone knows you're a harlot. We still have that video afterall.

Karen gritted her teeth. She was going to get through this and then she was going to get revenge. She put on the bra and the dress and set about looking for her shoes. Those were missing as well. Of course. Sighing, she returned to the box on the bed. At the bottom, she found a shoebox that contained a pair of red four-inch stiletto heels. They were, of course, open-toed so that her red-painted nails were visible. It wasn't until this point that she realized there were no pantyhose, tights, or stockings so she wouldn't even be able to hide her toenails using those. She put on the shoes and looked at herself in the mirror.

She thought she looked like a porn star. Heavy makeup the girl in the salon had plastered her face with (she hadn't had a chance to remove it yet) and cleavage out to there in a red dress that everyone would notice. Could she do this? "At least it's knee-length," she thought to herself before realizing that was hardly any consolation.

Her phone had been buzzing while she had been looking for her shoes and she'd been ignoring it, but now when it buzzed again she finally looked at it, prepared to be angry at whatever new thing her blackmailers had sent to her.

Instead, she saw several missed calls and messages from her ex-husband Steve asking if she was still coming since everyone else was already at the wedding and they were waiting for her. She looked at the clock and realized that somehow time had escaped her and she only had a few minutes to decide.

Another buzz.

She saw there were several texts from her blackmailers asking if she was still going to the wedding. She looked at the most recent message.

Remember, if you don't do this, everyone will see the video.

I'm coming

She sent the same message in response to both texts she'd received. Then shuddered remembering that when she'd said the same phrase the night before it had meant something very different.

She was wrong though. She'd only watched the (fake) video of someone (supposedly) fucking her once before deleting it. In her mind, she'd been replaying it over and over again until it was much more explicit than the few grainy shots that Alice and Steve had managed to edit together into something that approximated an amateur sex tape.

She looked at herself in the mirror and quickly ran a brush through her hair a few times before pulling her long brown hair back and securing it with some hair clips. At least she still had those.

She began to get out her makeup so she could fix what had been done to her when she saw another text from Steve that just said

Hurry up

.

Strengthening her nerves Karen shoved her phone into her purse and walked out of her hotel room. Nobody could ever see that video.

With every step down the hall towards the elevator, Karen's now prestigious cleavage jiggled. Karen tried taking shorter steps, longer steps, walking faster, and walking slower, but nothing could stop her breasts from visibly bouncing and shaking with every step.

Karen got out of the elevator and realized with a groan that she'd managed to get out on the mezzanine floor. She turned to go back into the elevator but saw it was already on another floor. Instead, she headed towards the main staircase hoping that she could navigate it in heels.

As she descended the staircase to the hotel lobby it was everything she could do to keep her breasts contained within the dress. If ever someone had breasted boobily down the stairs, it was her at this very moment.

As she walked she realized that the thong she was wearing seemed to be seemingly sliding deeper into her ass and pussy. She desperately wanted to try to pull it out or readjust it, but looking around her she saw two hotel clerks standing behind the reception desk. She couldn't let them see her adjusting her underwear, even if they were just the help.

Seeing Karen hesitate at the bottom of the stairs Dave called out across the lobby. "Can I help you, ma'am?"

"No, thank you," Karen replied, her voice much louder and shriller than she had anticipated. Turning away she quickly started walking again.

She made it to the wedding hall just in time. She'd hoped that she would be able to get to her seat unnoticed but that was not to be as her seat was near the front of the room and she was the last guest to show up.

Karen walked down the center aisle of the room, trying to ignore every head in the room that turned towards her as she jiggled her way towards her seat, fighting the urge to run or cry. Her skin began to flush from embarrassment, though few would be able to notice due to all the foundation she was wearing,

After what felt like an eternity, she took her seat next to Steve who glared daggers in her direction. She almost said something but then thought better of it. Instead, she sat there silently throughout the ceremony. Her calm slowly returning.

.....

"What. The. Fuck. Is. She. Wearing?" hissed Cristy to Steve after the ceremony had finished.

Steve could hear the capitals in Christy's voice.

"I have no idea. I haven't even talked to her in weeks. Maybe she's having a mental breakdown or something. Wearing a dress like that is very unlike her."

"I can't believe she's wearing that. I can't believe she's even here! I didn't want her to be here but she just would not stop asking about being invited. Why does she always need to be the center of attention? What's wrong with her?"

"I spent twenty years wondering that myself," replied Steve, sighing. "She's a very selfish woman. But let's just do the photos and then I'll try to get rid of her."

"The photos!" Cristy almost squealed. "She can't be in the photos!"

"Look," said Steve, surprisingly calm. "We'll do some photos with her, she'll leave, and then we'll do more without her. Hell, we can even get the photographer to "accidentally" delete all of the ones she's in."

Christy managed to get her breathing under control. "Okay, okay. Let's just get this over with."

.....

Karen stood rather awkwardly with the families of the bride and groom after the ceremony. Usually, she would have insisted on talking to others, but she was afraid that if she did so much as breathe wrong her breasts would pop out of her dress.

Finally, the photographer finished taking photos of the bride and groom and started ushering everyone towards where the family photos would be taken. Any other day, Karen would have insisted on being in the front row, but for once in her life she let others shuffle her around so she was in the second row, behind some other folks. She didn't want the massive cleavage she had on display to go down in history by being recorded in photographs.

The photographer began taking photos when, suddenly, the stiletto heel of one of Karen's cheaply made shoes snapped. She spun her arms around in an attempt to stop falling, but all she managed to do was push herself forward instead of backward.

Time seemed to slow down for Karen as she tripped forward, falling over the person in front of her, and practically dived into the front row. As she fell her left breast, seemingly fed up with being confined, popped out of her dress as the flash of the camera went off.

She continued her ungraceful fall towards the floor, though she managed to get her arms out in front of her to soften the landing. Upon impacting the floor the skirt of her dress continued and flew up and over her head, revealing her thong-clad ass to everyone in the wedding party. A thin piece of flimsy fabric was all that stood between her now bare pussy and the gathered crowd.

Karen lay on the ground for what to her felt like minutes, though it was only a few seconds before someone helped her to her feet. She heard people muttering about how she "always had to be a prima donna," and was ruining the day for the bride. Her face flushed red with embarrassment as she desperately tried to explain that her shoe had broken, holding up the pieces in her hand. "Her own fault for wearing such ridiculous shoes," said someone, though Karen couldn't identify who.

After a few moments things had settled down and most people, at least, had accepted that Karen hadn't thrown herself in front of the photo and flashed the photographer on purpose. Everyone lined up again, this time with Karen barefoot, and the photos were duly taken.

After the photos, Steve approached Karen.

"Hey Karen," he began, in a manner that seemed strangely gentle considering the death glares he'd thrown at her in the wedding hall and how much they'd argued last time they'd been alone together. "You don't look like you're feeling great."

"What--" began Karen before Steve cut her off.

"I think it might be a good idea if you go back to your room and rest instead of attending the dinner."

Karen was about to complain. To insist it was her right to attend the dinner and eat the meal she had spent 45 minutes on the phone arguing with the caterers to have specially made for her, but she looked around at the glares she was receiving and realized that Steve had given her an out.

"Yeah, that might be a good idea," she managed to say before Steve clapped her on the back.

"Great. By the way, have you met Tanya?"

Steve gestured to a woman in her twenties Karen hadn't recognized who'd been sitting next to Steve in the wedding hall. Was this his date? Had she been replaced so quickly by a younger woman?

"Maybe later," Karen mumbled before heading back towards her room, not even noticing the photographer was gathering everyone up for another round of photographs.

***

"What do you mean she's going back to her room? The wedding isn't over yet?" Alice was staring at Dave who'd come hurrying up to the reception desk with a worried look on her face.

"Look, all I know is that she's carrying her shoes in one hand and she's right behind me." Dave looked back and saw Karen entering the lobby.

"Shit, I haven't put her clothes back." Alice gestured to the suitcases behind the hotel reception desk. "We have to delay her or something."

"Here, take this," said Dave, grabbing a keycard from behind the desk. "Room 609 is empty, it's the one she was originally supposed to stay in. I'll text her and tell her she has to return the dress she's wearing there."

Alice grabbed the keyguard and bolted towards the elevator, frantically jabbing the close doors button and letting out a sigh of relief as they closed before Karen could get to them.

Dave checked to make sure Karen wasn't looking in his direction and pulled out the phone they'd been using to text her.

***

Slowly walking barefoot back to her room Karen no longer cared about the way her breasts nearly bounced out of her dress with every step. She approached the elevators and pushed the up button.

Her purse buzzed and she realized she had another text.

She thought about ignoring it. She wanted to ignore it. But she dug the phone out of her purse and looked at the message.

Go to room 609 ifyou want your clothes back

She wanted to complain, to yell, to say that she didn't deserve to be treated this way, but she felt so defeated by the wedding that she decided she'd just do it. Maybe now she could find out who had done this to her.

The elevator dinged and she went inside, pushing the button for the 6th floor. At least it was the same floor her room was on.

Emerging from the elevator on the 6th floor she saw that room 609 was as far away from her room as you could get. She considered giving up and just going back to her room, but remembered that all of her clothes, including her pajamas, were gone. Sighing, she turned and started walking.

*****

The second the doors of the elevator shut behind Karen, Dave grabbed her suitcases from where they'd hidden them behind the front counter. Putting the "back in 5 minutes" sign up at the reception desk he bolted for the stairwell and ran up them as fast as he could. (This was not actually very fast considering he was carrying two suitcases.)