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  • The Greatest Humiliation Story Ch. 06: Final

The Greatest Humiliation Story Ch. 06: Final

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Part 6: The Fall of the Queen

"Rachel!" I cried.

She was wearing her black biker boots with six-inch stiletto heels, black leather pants, tight top, perky breasts and a black leather jacket. She had redone her hair, giving it kind of a punk-rock look. (I personally preferred her longer hair, but she still looked smokin' hot!) Her lips were bright red and she was wearing her patented Goth mascara. With her sunglasses perched on her forehead, she looked as good as new. Best of all, her devilish grin was back, too!

I ran over and gave her a big hug.

"Whoa... calm down, kid! Nice to see you, too!" she laughed.

My heart sank: A... kid?! Did she call me a kid? I'm 18! An adult! And I desperately wanted Rachel to see me as an adult... to see me as a man. But now was not the time.

"I'm just glad you're okay... after, you know... what those terrible women did to you," I croaked instead.

She nodded and playfully ruffled my hair. She pointed to Timmy.

"Your friend," she said. "Can we trust him?"

"Rachel, I, uh... I've always, uh, admired you," stuttered Timmy, his face blushing. "I've always, uh, LIKE-liked you. And - and I can't help who my mother is. I know she has it coming! And - and I just HATE those stupid, no good cousins of mine! I HATE them!"

The brunette beauty nodded again and then turned to Mr. William Yard.

"So what was that you were saying, Dave? Was it: 'spun from the enchanted loom of Aphrodite herself'? Ha! Did you pull that out of your ass or what?"

Mr. Yard (or was it Dave?) laughed, and then replied with a thick blue collar dialect, "Aw jeez, Rach! I thinks I heard it from one of dem rom-com movies my wife makes me watch. Pretty good though, eh?"

"William Yard is really... Dave?" I asked.

"These guys are all buddies from the pool hall," answered Rachel. "Get it? P.H. Society? Pool House Society."

"Yeah, kid," chuckled Dave. "And do youze get my name now? William Yard? The nickname of William is Bill. Get it?"

"Bill Yard?" I pondered. Then my face lit up: "Bill Yard! I get it! Billiard!"

"You're pretty smart, kid," Rachel complimented, ruffling my hair again.

(And once again, a tent popped up in my pants!)

"How - how did your pool hall buddies pull this off?" asked Timmy.

"Not just friends from the pool hall. I've got lots of family that do construction," said Rachel. "Their crew was commissioned to build on this property anyway. As a special favor to my family, they all agreed to build a bit faster, and make 'special modifications' to the building. Then they'll tear it down and build it the way it's supposed to be when we're done. It's all a part of our plan."

I looked into Rachel's eyes. They were usually sexy-cool, seductive and mellow - but now they were burning with hatred. I mean, they were practically blazing!

"And now, those BITCHES are gonna learn a lesson they'll NEVER forget!"

Dave pushed a normal-looking panel on the wall behind the salon chairs. A secret door popped open. We looked inside the room: There was a couch, a cooler with drinks and snacks, a box in front of the couch - and three big TVs that were showing hidden-camera videos and audio of EVERYTHING going on in the locker room!

"Kids, go inside and watch," ordered Rachel.

And so we did.

On the big TVs, we saw Rachel, Dave and the other guy tiptoe into the locker room. Dave was holding an empty garbage bag. Rachel had scissors and some sort of spray bottle.

First they went to Abby's shower. Arrogant Abby was singing to herself, oblivious to the intruders. Her dress was on a hanger, and her high heels and girdle were in the locker. (As she boasted, there was NO bra or panties.)

Dave swiped her girdle and put it in the bag! Her towel, too! Then Rachel made a snip to the center of her dress and sprayed it with her bottle.

Next they went to Yvette's shower. Her wardrobe was much more elaborate than Abby's: Dress, slip, pantyhose, gloves, shoes, hat, bra, panties... and two silicone falsies.

Dave swiped EVERYTHING she had and put it in the bag! EVERYTHING, except her towel.

Last, they went in Mrs. Lovington's private VIP suite.

I expected them to steal her things, too... but they didn't. Not a single thing.

Instead, they examined her beautiful "Winter Princess" formal gown: Rachel carefully snipped in a few specific spots with her scissors. She then sprayed the dress with her spray bottle and put it back. She did the same to Mrs. Lovington's high heels.

Then they went to her locker: Rifling through her things, Rachel found a big girdle - and grinned ear-to-ear!

So it was true - the Queen DID wear a girdle! (And it was an enormous one, too - significantly larger than Abby's!)

But instead of stealing it, Rachel again made a series of surgical snips and cuts, then sprayed the girdle with the same bottle. She did the same to Mrs. Lovington's bra in six different places... and Lord, I got to tell you: That bra was HUGE! It made Abby's bras look like training bras!

They continued sorting through her things: Rachel held an item that she didn't immediately recognize. The other guy whispered in her ear - and she covered her mouth to avoid laughing. I couldn't identify it either... but Timmy did:

"Uh, oh - they found Mum's fake bum!"

"Huh?"

"Mum's fake bum. She wears it under her panties. Supposed to make her tush look good. She's terribly secretive about it."

I squinted my eyes and stared again... and it DID look like a round, hollow female butt! Like a butt-cap!

The other guy took something out of his pocket and rubbed it on the inside of the artificially ass. They then carefully put everything back and left.

Moments later, the secret door popped open. Rachel looked in, smiling her devilish smile! She then sat right between Timmy and me, grabbed a beer from the cooler and took a long swig. (Since Timmy and me were only 18, we were drinking Pepsi.) She propped her black leather boots on an empty brown box that had the word "Sybian" printed on it and sighed contently.

"What were you doing with the scissors and spray bottle?" I asked.

"You'll see," laughed Rachel. "But I'll give you a hint: The spray bottle is a transparent, limited-holding superglue. It works on contact, then loses its stickiness. But it only works for half-an-hour, tops. Then it evaporates. Poof! Builders use it to place lightweight items vertically, so they can see what it looks like before they install 'em. Works great on clothes, too. Can't even tell when you've used 'em! Unfortunately, it doesn't last very long...!"

I began grinning.

"I think I get it!" I grinned. "But what was Dave's friend doing with Mrs. Lovington's... er... her... um..."

"You mean her fake ass?" laughed Rachel. "It's a delayed-reaction silicone lubricant. More toys from the construction yard. Takes about 30-minutes to get going, but then it gets greasy-slick."

"What about all the shampoos and conditioners?" asked Timmy. "Did you tamper with those? You're not going to make them bald, are you?"

"I'm not that cruel. No, I didn't tamper with Abby or Yvette's shampoo. Fucking with a girl's hair is... the lowest of the low."

Rachel absentmindedly touched her much-shorter locks, and her face turned pink. There was the brief sting of embarrassment swelling in her eyes, but it quickly faded.

"Well, what's in store for 'em will be MORE than enough, trust me! But for Lacy? The Queen Bitch? Well, let me put it like this: If she's really a natural blonde, she had nothing to worry about. But if she isn't... we'll know! EVERYONE will know!"

I had one last question. I pointed to the brown box she had been resting her feet on.

"Rachel, what's a Sybian?"

"It's a, er... female pleasure-product. Kid, don't ask me to explain! You'll see soon enough: We secretly placed it in the Queen's on-stage throne. Dave installed it inside the throne's cushioning. Heh!"

"I - I'm not a kid," I tried to say, sitting up in my chair to look as tall as I could. "I'm 18! Just... just wanted you to know that I'm, y'know, not a boy... but a man."

She playfully squeezed my knee and then stood up.

"C'mon... big man! Time to get back to the main part of the building. Keep your mouths shut and enjoy the fireworks!"

We did what we were told and closed the secret panel. Rachel, Dave and the other guy headed for the front door.

"Wait - you guys are leaving?" I cried. "What about the styling and makeup?"

The other guy looked at me like I had rocks in my head: "Yo, kid! I operate a frickin' bulldozer for a living. I know nothin' about no hair-styling!"

"Just watch!" laughed Rachel, blowing us a kiss. "When the bitches emerge from the locker room, tell them the P.H. Society gentlemen had an emergency, but will return later."

And then they left.

For what felt like an eternity, Timmy and me waited.

And waited.

And waited and waited. The anticipation was KILLING us!

Mrs. Lovington came out first. She was wearing her beautiful gown and high heels. There was no makeup on her face and her hair was damp, which was unnerving; it was only the second time I had ever seen her bare-faced. But "Mr. Yard" was right: Her skin WAS glowing. She looked good. Damn good.

(I studied her ass with a newfound suspicion. I concluded that her butt-falsie must be flawless, because her rear-end looked PERFECT! Nobody would ever suspect a thing.)

"Where are the girls?" asked the Empress. "Still in the shower? That figures."

She looked in the mirror: "My word! I look... BEAUTIFUL!! Those oils REALLY work! Oh, mirror, mirror on the wall: Who's the fairest of them all?"

"You are, Mum," sighed Timmy. "You are."

"Damn right I am. Now... where's William Yard, Mr. Smith and Mr. Jones? I'm ready for my hair and makeup!"

"They said they had an emergency and will come back later," I said.

Mrs. Lovington looked at her Rolex, then gazed longingly at the dazzling assortment of makeup and hair items by the mirror.

"Hmm... there's really not any time to dillydally. As the Queen, I can't afford to be late. I'm the most important one. Well, I guess I can do my hair and makeup myself... but the P.H. Society owes me a raincheck!"

Within minutes, the Queen had brushed and styled her long blonde hair, reapplied her makeup and placed her crystal tiara back on her teased blonde locks. She truly did look like royalty!

"There!" she exclaimed, fully satisfied with her appearance. She looked again at her Rolex.

"Timmy, dear: Tell your gorgeous cousins to join me at the Festival when they're finished. And when you see Mr. Yard again, please thank him on my behalf. Now, ta-ta! It's time for the Queen to accept her crown! Now tell me, how do I look?"

"You look beautiful, Mrs. Lovington," I said.

An evil smile formed on her face. She patted her pocketbook like it was packing an Uzi.

"I also brought some photos of that naked little runt Rachel! If any of her loser friends even DARES to mention her name, well, this will be a Festival that nobody will forget! Ha, ha, ha!"

And with that... she was gone.

About ten minutes later, there were loud sounds coming from the locker room. Timmy and me went back into the secret room to see what was going on:

Yvette and Abby had gotten out of the shower. Yvette was toweling herself dry; Abby was naked, searching for her towel. (And seeing Flabby Abby in the buff shocked me back to reality: Instead of being the sexy girl in the formal gown, her large belly stuck out and wobbled, her fat ass shook, and her big, saggy tits swayed like the bell of a watchtower.

"I can't find my towel!" Abby complained. "You must've took mine!"

"Like, take a chill-pill," retorted Yvette, rolling her eyes. "Maybe it got lost in that big ass of yours!"

Abby scowled, crossed her arms - and then reach over, yanking the towel away from Yvette!

"HEY!" screamed "mature" Yvette - and for the first time in a long time, her not-so mature body was unveiled: Tiny tits, narrow butt, hairless snatch and a little-girl body.

Yvette tried to grab back the towel, but the much-larger Abby easily fended her off with one arm, continuing to dry herself off.

"There. I'm done," smirked Abby after a few minutes, tossing Yvette the towel.

"Yeah, but it's all wet now after mopping up your fat body!" muttered Yvette under her breath.

"What was that?!" challenged Abby.

"Nothing... nothing," sighed Yvette, attempting to dry her body with a damp towel.

Abby took her pretty gown off the hanger and looked in her locker:

"Oh, no! My - my girdle! I can't find my girdle!"

Yvette snickered. She was just about to say something catty, but when she walked over to her locker area:

"Like, what the fuck! WHAT THE FUCK!! All my clothes are gone! ...EVERYTHING! It's ALL GONE!!"

"Ooh, I'll bet stupid Timmy and his creepy little friend are trying to play a prank on us," grunted Abby, baring her teeth. "Let's go kick their ass and get our stuff back!"

"But... we can't go out like this!" whined Yvette. "What if those cute P.H. Society gentlemen see us? Hey, give me YOUR dress! I can wear it while you wait."

"Oh, no you don't!" warned Abby. "You're not stealing my dress. Go wrap that towel around your body, or something."

"But - but - it's not like you can wear it without your girdle, Abby!" whined Yvette.

"Can too!" Abby insisted. "I've lost lots of weight! I'm now slender and trim!"

To prove her point, Abby sucked in her flabby belly as much as she could, put the gown over her head, and pulled and yanked and tugged and struggled until it somehow covered her body. But to say it fit tightly was an understatement: She looked like three-pounds of blubber trying to fit in a two-pound bag!

Abby wrapped the towel around her midsection, then tucked the leftover towel into the top, attempting to create the illusion of tits. But trust me, she wasn't fooling anyone!

Seeing that the bitch-cousins were about to exit the locker room, Timmy and me snuck out of the secret room and quickly shut the door. We had just gotten back when the two angry girls had arrived:

"You little shits!" screamed Yvette. "Give me back my clothes! ALL my clothes!"

"Yeah!" yelled Abby, walking stiffly in her way-too-tight gown. "And give me back my, um, secret beauty item. AUNT LACY!! AUNT LACY!!"

"Mum isn't here," Timmy said, trying not to snigger. "She already left for the Festival. And Mr. William Yard and his colleagues will be returning shortly."

"Well, give us back our clothes!" screamed Yvette. "Or - or -"

"Or what?" I smiled.

"Or - or I'll punch you in the face!" she cried.

She made a fist with both hands, swinging wildly in the air, throwing hooks and uppercuts...

...when her towel unraveled, falling down to her feet!

"EEEK!!" shrieked Yvette, looking down at her tiny little tits and bald little pussy. Her nude body looked so small and innocent! She then looked to us and saw us staring, and a jolt of humiliation rocked her body.

"Ha, ha, ha, ha!" Abby laughed, pointing at Yvette.

"SHUT UP, ABBY! THIS ISN'T FUNNY!"

Flushing, Yvette covered her body in her arms, shot us a nasty look and bent down to picked up her towel. (I got to say, it was awfully nice seeing the REAL Yvette again!)

"Ha, ha, ha, ha!" Abby continued to laugh.

Abby's laugh was loud and obnoxious. Her whole body shook with laughter...

...and then her beautiful gown started to split over her belly, right over the belly-button! It continued to split until her entire stomach stuck out! It looked like the scene in Alien when the monster appears!

"OH, NO!!" Abby cried.

She looked down - and to her dismay, the tear-line kept steadily growing: In fact, it continued spreading south until her pussy and thunder-thighs were showing, too!

"NOOOOO!!"

I guess Abby had been trying to grow-out her pubic hair, because it now looked all stubbly - like Indiana Jones' five-day-old shadow, or something.

"You got a prickly pussy, Cousin Abby!" giggled Timmy. "Like a cactus!"

"SHUT UP, YOU CREEP!!" she yelled, covering her vagina and stomach with her hands.

Yvette looked out the front door window, desperately rewrapping her towel:

"Oh my God! People are coming! Abby! PEOPLE ARE COMING!!"

Abby ran over - and yanked the towel off of Yvette!

"Hey!" cried the naked girl.

Abby wrapped the towel around her stomach and bottom-half.

"ABBY!!"

The larger girl shrugged her shoulders: "You're on your own, Yvette!"

Panicked, Yvette ran over to Timmy and me, hiding her body in her arms:

"Boys! PLEASE! Let me have your shirt and pants! PLEASE!! I'll - I'll do whatever you want! PLEASE!! I - I beg you! There isn't much time!"

Timmy and me looked at each other. Huh? Whatever we want? ...What did THAT mean?

Yvette dropped her arms to her side:

"See? I'll - I'll let you look at me naked body! Look! LOOK!! An adult woman is standing fully naked in front of you! You can see everything!"

Timmy and me didn't move. This was so unlike Yvette! We were too stunned to make a sound...

"You want to touch my tits? Go ahead!! Touch them! You can! I - I never let anyone touch my tits! But you can do it! Here!"

She actually grabbed our hands - and forced them directly on both her boobs!

I felt her small nipple swell and crinkle in my palm, and then I gripped her soft surrounding skin. Enjoying the sensation, I twirled the tip of her nip in my fingers!

"NOW GIVE ME YOUR CLOTHES!!"

"I dunno, Yvette," replied Timmy. "I think I'd like to keep my clothes. Thanks anyway."

"How about my pussy?" she shrieked, turning to me. She grabbed my hand and stuck it right on her warm, hairless vay-jay! "See? Isn't that nice! My pussy! You're touching my pussy! You - you're a STUD!!"

It actually WAS nice. VERY nice! The heat radiating from her vagina nearly melted my skin! I rubbed my finger over her pussy's opening, working the tip of my finger insider her!

"See?" she shrieked, while my finger was still partially inside her most sacred place. "You - you got to third base with me! With ME: Mature, beautiful Yvette - the hottest girl in town!! You can go all tell your friends! Now PLEASE!! GIVE ME YOUR CLOTHES!!"

"Thanks, Yvette," I answered, withdrawing my finger. "But not good enough. No thanks. Do you have any other ideas?"

"WHAT?!"

With fear in her eyes, Yvette looked back at the front door. Suddenly - without any warning - she threw herself flat on her back, spread her legs as wide as she could, and pulled her pussy lips open:

"LOOK!!" she cried. "Look inside my pussy! I'm showing you - I'm showing you EVERYTHING!! Nobody on earth has seen me like this! LOOK!! My most private hole! My clitty! My puss-puss! LOOK!! LOOK!!"

And look, we did! Yvette was literally fingering herself, letting us watch her twiddle her clitoris, showing us the intimate details of her inner-most charms!

"Yvette!" hollered Abby, pointing to the window. "People! They're nearly here!"

Now operating at a DEFCON 5, Yvette scrambled off the floor, scouring around the building for something - ANYTHING! - to wear! Anything at all...

...and hanging on the corner, she saw the pink, little-girl dress.

Choking a sob, Yvette ran over and slipped it over her head.

"Aw, you look adorable, little Yvette!" I giggled.

"I HATE YOU!!" she screamed.

With the fabric's flat top, she no longer had ANY illusion of breasts. The dress fluffed at the bottom, hanging awkwardly off her body. Her legs were longer than Rachel's, meaning that the dress covered less of her upper thighs. She looked more ridiculous than Rachel did!

The front door swung open: Standing in the doorway was Sister Angelica and a dozen little orphan-girls... only these were NOT the well-behaved girls of storybooks, but unruly, scary-looking kids. They even scared ME... a tiny bit, I mean.

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