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< a problem?"

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!