Request: Business trip story
 

A few years ago I run across a story of two business colleagues having to spend the night in a single hotel room with a single bed after the hotel made an error and gave away one of their rooms. Any one know where I could find it?
Thanks

Try this.
http://search.literotica.com/search....iness+trip&cid[]=&db=text&date_from=&date_to=newer&sort=relevancy& sort_order=desc&author=

Thanks but i don't think it is
 

Thanks,
But....link doesn't work for me and if it is the threesome story than it is not the one \i am looking for.
if it is not please repost the link
Thanks Again

Copy and past that whole line.

I think the story you're looking for is called Business Trip from Hell by John Knuckles. I've also been looking for it. I found Parts 1 and 2 here

https://flatandfaking.wordpress.com/...john-knuckles/


Does anyone have links to Parts 3 and 4? The ones in the above link are from Writing.com which is dead now

Part 3
 

"Mr. Jeff Jones, my patience is wearing thin. Do you have anything left to say?"

"Uh... um..." the young marketing director stammered. His cheeks were bright red. All the eyeballs in the conference room had zeroed in on him like a laser -- and the baby-faced employee was wilting under the pressure. With a tremble in his hand, he wiped his forehead with his handkerchief...

"Uh... um..."

"Spit it out, Jeffrey!" Rachel Queen demanded. "Stop stalling!" The fiery CEO sat at the head of the long conference table, staring down at her cowering cast of executive employees. There were 12 in total, with an age-range of 24 to 72; Jeff Jones was the newest (and youngest) addition to the "Queen Team." A natural-born charmer, he cost Rachel a mint to sign to an exclusive contract. Lauded throughout the fashion industry as a "boy genius," Mr. Jones had a reputation for being a rainmaker, but around the office he seemed to spend most his time flirting with his cute coworkers. Like he was Brad Pitt, or something!

But never Rachel. Not even once. Not even in passing.

Not even when she took the first step and initiated the flirting...

He was one of two male employees at Queen Swimwear. (The other, Melvin Mutton, was the creative director and graphic artist. Messy Melvin was cursed with acne and had an unfortunate habit of jamming his fingers up his nose while farting, so he wasn't exactly a highly sought after romantic prospect.) But Jeff was handsome and tall... the ladies alternated between mothering him with home-cooked meals during lunchtime -- and trying to seduce him, like they were Mrs. Robinson in the hallways! Ooh!! It made Rachel SICK how her Queen Team acted like empty-headed bimbos around him... like -- like he was some prize! Bleah!!

What made HIM so great any way? Screw Jeff Jones!

"Um, I -- I... well, the new swimsuit line, the Queen Angel Razor, will be hitting the shelves next month... uh," he rambled. She had to admit, he looked kind of cute when he was flustered.

"Tell me something I don't know, little Jeffery!" scolded Miss Queen, leaning back in her leather chair. With her tailor-made business suit, flawless makeup and perfect hair, she was absolutely stunning. And with her large, overpowering chest and wide, womanly curves, she was also as intimidating as a battle tank.

"I -- I just received the new photos of you modeling the Angel Razor... I've arranged displays at Victoria's Secret, um, at Frederick's of Hollywood... um..."

"Show me the new photos, little Jeffrey! I haven't seen them yet. This is MY company, and nothing goes to print without MY direct approval."

"Y -- yes, ma'am..."

Jeff nervously hit the multimedia projector. Immediately on the large TV flashed an AMAZING photo of Miss Rachel Queen wearing the skimpy, air-thin Angel Razor bikini. It looked like the photo shoot must've taken place in French Polynesia in late July or early August. And Rachel looked... wow.

Wow! I mean... W-O-W!!!

Even the hetero women at the table gasped at how beautiful Rachel looked in the photo. Her skin... her hair... her breasts... why, she had the physique of a goddess! The other women were DRIPPING with envy! The image was every bit as iconic as Raquel Welch in "One Million Years B.C."

Nobody could look away from the TV: There was their world-famous CEO, oiled and radiant, with her big, firm breasts, tight stomach and long, supple legs... she was simply breathtaking. And with her flawless body regally adorned in the new Angel Razor swimsuit, there was no doubt in anyone's mind that the marketing campaign would be worth millions. Maybe even billions. Because it was more than her body that commanded their primal yearnings: It was the expression on her face.

Confident. Take-charge. Fearless. Glamorous.

It was quintessential Rachel Queen.

The conference room buzzed with lust and envy! THIS was what all the girls would sell their souls to look like! Bravo! Their boss had done it again.

Miss Queen smiled. Her large breasts jiggled slightly as she arose from the table to admire the image on the screen. Her executive team stood with her and applauded.

"Y -- you've never looked better, ma'am!" stammered Jeff.

"Three cheers for Miss Queen!" cheered Melvin.

Everyone cheered!

Jeff looked to his feet and blurted: "I... I've always had a crush on you, Miss Queen... I tried to hide it, but... you're so sexy and hot in that picture! Um, uh... you probably wouldn't go out with a -- a pimply-faced LOSER like me... right?"

"Awww!!" sighed the girls. They were heartbroken that Jeff had chosen their boss instead of them! It -- it wasn't fair! But... how could they possibly compete against the great Rachel Queen? Just look at her! Just look at that incredible image on the TV screen!

It would be pointless.

Rachel was grinning from ear to ear. For a split second, she pretended like she was tempted. But then her expression changed entirely:

"I'd NEVER go out with you, Mr. Jones," she hissed. "You're just a prepubescent schoolboy, while I'm a natural-born adult woman. A REAL woman! And from what I hear," she added, motioning with her fingers, "you don't quite mesure up in the MAN department! I'm talking hung like an inch worm! Ha!"

Jeff loked like he was about to burst into tears! All the girls stared at the so-called office stud in astonishment... which quickly devolved into hoots of laughter.

"Ooh, too bad," one of the ladies teased. "I thought Jeff was a stallion! But I guess he's just a baby pony with a teeny little crayon!"

"I can't believe I wasted my lasagna supreme on Needle Dick!" said another.

His colleagues burst into giggles. Jeff covered his face in terror.

But then Rachel had a puzzled expresion on her face:

"Does... does it feel warm to anyone else?" she asked. "Why... why does it feel so warm in here?" She sniffed the air suspiciously...

Jeff stared in surprise at Miss Queen's crotch. A sinister smile spread across his boyish face:

"Miss Queen! You've just PEED all over yourself! You naughty, messy little girl!"

"What?!" screamed Rachel. She looked down at her midsection in horror: Her entire front was drenched!

"Oh God!!" cried the CEO. She desperately tried to cover herself from her employees. This... this... this couldn't be happening...!!!

But it was too late: Everyone in the room was pointing and laughing.

"Look! Miss Queen had an accident," laughed Jeff. "That gives me an idea for another concept for the Angel Razor... let me show you a second photo that I had commissioned."

He hit a button -- and immediately on the TV was a brand-new image of Rachel Queen.

Only this time, she wasn't on the beaches of Tahiti. She was on her back, sprawled atop a hotel bed. The picture must've been taken late at night, because Rachel looked exhausted. She was squinting at the camera with a weary haze in her bloodshot eyes. On her bottom half, she was wearing the Angel Razor, only it wasn't fitting as well as before. Her soft belly hung gently over the waistband, showing off her tummy's "pouch."

But on her top half, she was topless.

Not "topless" like the Photoshopped images of her big tits and bouncy cleavage in a skimpy, Queen-designed bikini top. And not "topless" like the sexy glamour shots she once took in dim lighting, where she played peekaboo with her breasts, coyfully holding them in her hands.

But topless.

Completely, 100 percent TOPLESS.

The lines in her rib cage, the blemishes and birthmarks on her skin, her lack of ANY cup-size, her unusually pink little nipples that had hardened into adorable itty-bitty nubs... there she was, on the conference room TV, for everyone to see. And with the clarity of the super-HD television on the wall, EVERY detail of her chest was FULLY exposed. Even the small stretch marks on her tits and all the juicy goosebumps around her nips!

"Notice carefully," lectured Jeff, pointing with his finger. "See those cutesy-wootsy little boobies? There's no firmness at all! I think it's because she's been hiding her tits under 10 pounds of stuffing for the past 20 years. Miss Queen must've smothered the firmness right out of 'em! And don't overlook our CEO's potbelly. See her gut? With Rachel's 'natural-born' chubbiness, we can market Queen Swimwear to plus-sized adolescents. You know... fat little girls."

"N -- no!" protested Rachel, her face aghast. Her inner thighs were still leaking urine -- it was HORRIBLE! She grabbed a bunch of papers from the table and tried to mop herself up. "NO!! We -- we are Queen Swimwear! We sell sex appeal! We don't market to plus-sized fatties! Now, please -- take that picture DOWN!! Get it OFF the screen!"

"But it's an untapped audience demo!" Jeff argued. "Think of all the tubby, flatchested little kids who'd give anything to be attractive. You know: The kind who look just like you do -- once you strip away your Photoshop editing and silicone falsies, I mean. We can make millions! All we have to do is strip you naked... and publish a 'before' and 'after' shot!"

"NO!! You -- you --"

"That's actually a prety good idea," remarked Belinda, the company's CPA. "Because if these swimsuits can make a titless butterball like Miss Queen look attractive..."

"NOOO!!!! STOP!! DON'T LISTEN TO HIM!!"

With a line of urine still running down her leg, Rachel was in a full-blown state of panic. Her heart felt like it would burst out of her chest!

The whole room was buzzing! Everyone was talking and laughing and pointing... at HER! They were laughing at -- at Rachel Queen!

"Hold on, folks -- this marketing report ain't over yet. There's more!"

Jeff hit another button on the multimedia projector. And up popped a new picture:

This image still showed Rachel on her back, laying topless on the hotel bed... but now it was worse. Much, MUCH worse.

Because it wasn't just that she was topless. She was also bottomless.

And instead of wearing a sexy swimsuit, she was wearing a fat, puffy diaper!

A... a diaper!

And her expression was hideous! Instead of looking sexy and elegantly made-up, she was plain-faced, freckled, and grinning like an idiot! Drool was even dripping down her chin!

"Nooooo!!" wailed Rachel. "How -- how did you --"

The picture on the TV was almost impossible to believe: Miss Queen stripped of all her clothes -- all her jewelry, her makeup and even her cherished silicone falsies -- gurgling like a sex-starved sl*t, showing off her tiny titties, giving the crowd a good, long view of her REAL "natural-born" body.

The way she looked WITHOUT the magic of post-production Photoshop.

But... in a diaper?!

All her employees stood up to examine the image more closely. Several put on their glasses. Others took pictures with their phones. One woman exclaimed: "Holy moley! Look at her tits!"

"What tits?" sneered another. "She has no tits! My 11-year-old daughter has bigger tits!"

"Tsk, tsk," chided an older lady. "Rachel Queen must be nothing but stuffing! How shameful! And she struts around in her fancy clothes like she's the cat's meow! She deserves to be in a diaper!"

"Yeah," agreed Alice, the fulfillment director. "Just look at that mess on the floor. She's a bad widdle girl who had an accident!"

"I call this line my Princess Puddle-Pants collection!" joked Jeff. "Perfect for the b*tchy fashion executive with a secretly flat chest and a bladder control problem!"

Everyone laughed. Everyone! And that image on the TV... how... HOW did Jeff get that picture?! Topless?

AND IN A DIAPER?!

"NOOO!!" bellowed Miss Queen. "Don't look! Don't look!" She leaped atop the conference table like a crazy person and pounded at the multimedia projector with her fists, yanking at the wires. Bam! Bam! Bam! SMASH!!

But dammit -- the stupid machine STILL wouldn't turn off! That -- that horrible image stayed stubbornly on the TV screen!

Christ almighty...

Her flat chest and micro-nipples... out in the open! Her jelly-belly and baby fat! And the worst indignity of them all: The always-impeccably dressed CEO was somehow cooing like a moron, wearing nothing but a diaper! But how? HOW?!

"Oh, Miss Queen," called Jeff, holding a diaper that he had apparently kept in his briefcase. "Looks like you had another messy-whoopsy! Come over here so we can change you! Melvin -- grab her and hand me the talcum powder!"

She felt Melvin grab her ankles.

"Good. Now pull down her pants!"

She felt his grubby fingers penetrate her waistline.

Her face turned ghastly white:

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!"

Then --

Rachel awoke in a cold sweat. She was panting....

Phew! It was just a nightmare... THANK GOD it was all just a terrible, awful, rotten nightmare. Whew...

But then she felt down under the covers... and touched her thighs, crotch and belly.

They felt warm and wet.

Oh, no!! She... she WET herself! She peed in her sleep! In real life!

Scared out of her wits, Rachel looked to the other side of the bed: Her junior employee, Jeff Jones, was still sleeping soundly just inches away, snoring in a gentle rhythm. Like he didn't have a care in the world...

Rachel wanted to cry! After all she had been through! It was bad enough that Jeff Jones had stolen several glimpses of her private anatomy. God, that was embarrassing! And it was bad enough that her b*tch ex-employee had taken advantage of her injured back and tricked her into exposing herself in the lobby -- kidnapping her falsies in the process. But for her boy-faced, soon-to-be-fired employee to discover that the legendary Rachel Queen is a... a... a flat-chested bedwetter...?! With HIS big mouth?! Everyone would know! Everyone in the industry! She'd be a -- a laughingstock!

She would rather die a thousand deaths then let her nightmare come true...

Very quietly, Rachel lifted the covers off her body. Jeff was still soundly sleeping...

Her covers were soaked! How did they get so wet?! But the scent of urine was unmistakable. She looked down: She was still wearing her sexy designer dress, but one shoulder strap had snapped in half. And of course, the top half of her dress now hung uncomfortably loose, since she no longer had her silicone inserts to prop it up.

Her face burned with humiliation...

Beneath her was a puddle of her own piss. And her ultra-absorbent dress fabric had sucked-up the piss like a sponge, drenching the poor girl from her bellybutton to her knees. She was absolutely soaked!

She slowly wiggled herself up in the bed, rising towards the headboard, trying to sit up -- her efforts undermined by her injured back. Ow! Ow! Every movement was painful as hell. But Rachel was careful not to scream. In fact, she didn't even make a single sound. She couldn't risk waking Jeff up... and getting caught like THIS!

While wiggling, her dress top dropped down, exposing her breasts.

Again.

And all at once, Rachel Queen's bare little titties hardened in the cool hotel air. Her secret shame was on display one more time! It was almost like her underdeveloped breasts were mocking her...

"God, if you get me out of this... PLEASE!!" begged Rachel in silent prayer. "I -- I'll dedicate my life to being good! I'll go to church every Sunday! Just PLEASE get me out if this!! PLEASE!!"

Wetting the bed!! How... how could she have done this?! Rachel Queen didn't have bedwetting accidents! Not since she was a kid! She vaguely remembered swallowing a bunch of pain pills that Jeff gave her with a small cup of water -- two small white pills, and one blue diamond-shaped pill with a "V" on it, if she remembered right -- but that was all she had to drink. How... how could this have happened?!

Just then, Jeff rolled over in his sleep. His arm began to fall towards Rachel in slow motion -- aiming straight for her soaking wet crotch!

"Eek!" squealed the CEO, redirecting his hand to the nearest non-wet thing she could think of:

Her tiny little tits. Both of them.

His palm slapped HARD against her boney little nips. SMACK!! It stung! The pain throbbed, shooting shockwaves up and down her body.

Grumbling softly in his sleep, he squeezed and rubbed her breasts -- not just her nipples, but the entirety of her tits. (All of it... such as it was.)

The tips of his fingers pressed down on her intimate flesh... first one breast, then his hand slid to the other... and back again. His hands were big and strong...

Despite the urgency of her wet clothes, Rachel paused. She... she couldn't move. She knew that she HAD to move... but she couldn't. She couldn't! The way his rough hands felt on her lovely lady lumps... the way she was being rubbed, touched and squeezed...

All she could do was lay there... and let her junior employee MOLEST HER TINY TITS!! She -- she had no choice! It was almost as if his large fingers had possessed her soul, imprisoning her to the warm, wet bedsheets...

Before she knew it, she was moaning softly under her breath. She... she just couldn't help it! And then, almost subconsciously, her hands shot inside her soaked panties. Miss Queen's thighs widened. Her hips began to buck in the bed as she played with herself...

All the while, Jeff Jones was STILL rigorously massaging her tits in his sleep! Christ!! His fingers felt SO damn good!! And it had been so long since the career-minded CEO had been touched. Oh, God!! Her sensitive, girlish nipples were on sensory overload!

She pulled his covers slightly down and peeked at him. He wasn't wearing a shirt... maybe just a pair of pajama shorts. Lord, he was SO muscular and handsome! Rachel closed her eyes and imagined how GOOD it would feel if Jeff Jones FUCKED her... how all the other girls would give ANYTHING to be groped by the gorgeous, beautiful Jeffrey Jones! Mmmm...

Rachel worked the tip of her middle finger inside her pussy -- and without any warning, her panties immediately exploded with a brand new bodily secretion.

"Oh, no! What... what's happening to me?!" she whispered.

The sensation was incredible! She bucked her hips just a little bit harder...

In all her years, she had NEVER been horny like this!

She pushed her middle finger halfway inside of her -- in, out! In, out! Then her second finger.

Grunt... grunt... grunt...

That's when Jeff readjusted himself in his sleep -- and with one hand still groping her tits, he reached his other arm over and slapped it down on her wet dress -- right over her waistline. And when his bare arm made contact with the soaking fabric, he suddenly stopped snoring!

Jeff sat up in bed and turned on the lights.

Rachel was frozen with fear! She... she couldn't move! She just sat there -- like a statue -- in her urine-soaked dress, paralyzed with unholy dread. Why... why couldn't she move?! SHE NEEDED TO MOVE!!! Her eyes were glued open and her lower lip quivered. Those cute little nipples of hers were fully exposed(!!) to her junior employee once again -- and while Jeff was staring, her rock-hard nuggets got even harder. Most remarkable of all, her hand was still clearly inside her wet panties, fingering herself...

It took Jeff a good 30 seconds to process what he was seeing:

"Miss Queen... what the fuck are you doing?!"

"I -- I -- I...."

The horny CEO didn't know what to do! She felt like a deer caught in the headlights! Her exposed little tits... her hard nipples... her fingers stuck in her sn*tch... the fact that she was THIS CLOSE to cumming... or the fact that she had wet the bed like a naughty schoolgirl... which was more disgraceful??? She gulped. Her brain felt so slow...

"Miss Queen! Did you... did you go wee-wee in the bed?!"

Rachel suddenly snapped out of her trance. She pulled her fingers out of her pussy and jerked the covers over her head!

"No!!" she screamed, hiding under the sheets. "I -- I was drinking some water. And -- and it spilled! G -- Go away!! Please!!"

Jeff sniffed the top of the sheets.

"You DID wet the bed! This is PISS! What are you, an adolescent?!"

She shook her head back and forth beneath the covers, desperately trying to convince her junior employee that she wasn't a bedwetter:

"Please, Jeff -- you've got to believe me! This was water! Water! That's what we'll tell everyone! Please!"

Jeff looked down in disgust. "It's bad enough that you wet the bed like a bad little baby. But you were taking advantage of me! I... I remember now, Miss Queen... it's all coming back to me: You were making me rub your meager little boobies while I slept -- as you masturbated! How... how could you violate me like that?!"

"NO!! Jeff --"

In a fury, Jeff threw the covers and blankets to the floor. There was nowhere left to hide! Once again, Miss Queen's bare little boobies and piss-stained clothes were fully visible to her much-younger subordinate... and her inner thighs were glistening with a liquid that MOST DEFINITELY wasn't urine.

But everything under her was soaked. And her "husband" looked furious:

"For Christ's sake! We have a big meeting tomorrow... the last thing I wanted to deal with was THIS: A bedwetting CEO whose bathroom habits are as immature as her chest! Fuck! I need this commission, Miss Queen! And as my 'property' in this Kingdom, I'm liable for the damages when you can't go potty like a big girl. Dammit! Your pee-pee escapades are gonna cost me! Well, it's gonna cost YOU too!"

The angry man stood up, sat in a nearby hotel chair -- and pulled Miss Queen over his knee!

"Jeff! What are you doing?! Let -- LET GO of me NOW!!"

"I'm just doing what's culturally appropriate, Miss Queen."

He lifted her dress high over her ass, raising it to the upper-middle of her back. Her wet, skimpy panties clung to her body like a second layer of skin; the delectable crack in her ass and the inviting cleft of her camel toe stared back at him.

"JEFF! Put my dress down THIS INSTANT! Or I swear to God, I will --"

Then he yanked her wet, warm undies down to her knees! They were still dripping!

"NO, JEFF!! NOOOOOOOOooooooooooo!!"

His boss' bare ass was exposed!

And it most certainly wasn't the Photoshopped ass of an airbrushed swimsuit model... but the ample butt of an aging businesswoman who didn't always have time to eat healthy.... or exercise regularly... and because of her lack of sex life, she hadn't maintained her, ahem, "personal grooming"...

Her chubby buns wiggled wildly in his lap, bobbing up and down, giving her "husband" one helluva show! But trying to preserve an iota of modesty, Rachel clenched her butt cheeks together so tightly, you'd need a crowbar to open them! She would NOT let Jeff Jones see what was between her cheeks and legs! Oh, no! Never! That was PRIVATE!

Jeff grinned and loosened his wrists.

"You nasty pisser! Your fat ass is gonna pay for what you've done!"

SMACK!! SMACK!! SMACK!!

It was almost surreal: The great and powerful Rachel Queen was bent over her underling's knee, getting a bare-assed spanking!

And it HURT!! It hurt SO MUCH!

Each smack stung like a snake bite -- but the most humiliating part was how her hairy pussy was violently rubbing against his knee with every SMACK. Oh, no! Her clit was electric! Sparks were flying! With each new SMACK, her pussy lips opened just a sliver more -- and in between each SMACK, her hyper-charged clitty was being pulled up and down over Jeff's coarse leg hairs and pajama fabric...

SMACK!! SMACK!! SMACK!!

"Oh, GOD!!!" cried the CEO.

"Miss Queen, I've NEVER known a woman whose body looked so DIFFERENT when she's out of her clothes! I'm gonna teach you some respect!"

He started spanking her even harder -- and by now her pussy lips were opening obscenely wide, rubbing themselves nearly all the way open on his legs. She could feel her sticky vaginal secretions dripping all over his shorts...

SMACK!! SMACK!! SMACK!!

"Stop! Jeff! I -- I'm sorry! It was an accident! An ACCIDENT!" she shrieked.

Her PUSSY! It was being stretched! She was practically GAPING!! OH, CHRIST ALMIGHTY!!

"Please! It -- it was an accident!! OOOOH!!"

"Like HELL it was an accident!" Jeff thundered. He reached down and pinched her sensitive little nipples.

"Ow! Oooh!! My titties!! JEFF!! Let GO!! You -- you can't..."

Then he pulled and tugged -- hard!

"AAAAAHHH! MY TITTIES!" she yelped.

"It was no accident -- well, maybe the bedwetting was, but it certainly wasn't an accident when you tricked me into fondling these pathetic little mosquito bites!"

SMACK!! SMACK!! SMACK!!

"I'm sorry!! I'm sorry!! OWWW!!!"

It was almost unbearable! Her naked butt was getting spanked -- and her small boobies were being yanked -- and she was being forced to lay over the lap of her 20-something employee in piss-drenched clothes and APOLOGIZE TO HIM... while her pussy lips were wedged TOTALLY WIDE OPEN!

She bit her lip, determined not to cry. Somehow, someway she MUST find the courage... she WOULD NOT give him the satisfaction of making her cry. Only babies cry! Jesus, do you hear me?! Please: Don't let me cry!! She still had her pride...

But with every SMACK, her clitty was becoming dangerously close to erupting. The feeling was near-orgasmic... Her breathing quickened. Her heart rate soared.

Grunt... grunt... grunt...

She was SO CLOSE...

...but just before she climaxed, Jeff pushed his boss off his lap and dumped her on the floor. He stood, towering over her.

"You filthy skank!" he swore, pointing at the damp spot on his pajama shorts. "Now you've gotten me wet with your piss! ...At least, I think this is piss. It's kinda gooey."

Rachel was too stunned (and WAY too sexually frustrated!!) to speak. The pain from getting her ass pounded was almost unbearable... but the shame from being humiliated like this was infinitely worse. He -- he PULLED DOWN HER PANTIES AND SPANKED her! She struggled to think...

Right in front of her, Jeff lowered down his pajama shorts and stepped out of them. He was now... naked!

And "Little Jeffrey" was anything but little: He was HUGE! Rachel had never seen a cock so big. And -- and it wasn't even aroused! Lord! If it looked this big when it was flaccid, she wondered what it would look like fully erect...

"See?!" he demanded, holding up his pajama shorts. "You got my clothes wet. This is gonna stain. You're a vile, nasty creature!"

But Rachel didn't look at his shorts. She couldn't take her eyes off his cock. Christ! It was long and thick... and perfect...

"You could've at least warned me that you're a bedwetter, Miss Queen. Now my pajamas are ruined!"

Almost as if she were under a trance, Rachel reached up -- and grabbed Jeff's penis in her hands.

"Yo! Fuck! What are you doing?!" he exclaimed. "Let go of my dick!"

Rachel didn't hear a thing. Mesmerized, she started stroking his penis... feeling it grow in her fingers... he.. he was a GIANT!!

"Miss Queen! Stop!"

Instead, Rachel leaned forward and tried to suck his dick...

"I said, STOP!"

Jeff grabbed Rachel by the hair and threw her roughly down, freeing his cock from her grip. The force of slamming into the floor seemed to snap the spellbound CEO out of her trance. Suddenly aware of her surroundings, Rachel quickly tried to hoist her dress over her tits and explain:

"Oh my God -- Jeff -- I don't know what -- I --"

The young marketing director responded by gripping his boss by the ankles. He was still naked...

"You b*tch! You think you can play with my cock whenever you want? Just because I work for you? That's sexual harassment! How would you like it if I did it to YOU?"

With a sudden sharp yank, Jeff pulled Rachel's ankles to her ears! Her knees were now pointing towards the floor, but her pelvis was pointing at the ceiling. And with her panties still wrapped around her knees, her hairy vagina, engorged pussy lips and pink, round anus were now spread COMPLETELY wide open! He could see all of her most cherished, most private body parts! Everything!

"Nooo!!! Let me goooooo!!!! JEFF!! Don't look at me!! Not like -- like THIS!! NOOOO!!!"

But he didn't let her go. He reached down, ran his fingers through her thick, curly pubes, and GRABBED HER CLITTY!

"OH GOD!!! OH GOD!!! MY TENDER LITTLE CLITTY!!! JEFF!! NOOOOO!!! NOT MY LITTLE CLITTY!!!" she wailed.

Jeff shook her clitoris hard: "See? How do YOU like it when someone grabs YOUR genitals, Miss Queen?"

"OOOOOHHHHHH!!! PLEASE!!! S -- STOP!! I'LL DO ANYTHING!! PLEASE!!! J -- JEFF!! LET GO AND COVER ME UP!! YOU'RE GONNA MAKE ME --"

He shook even harder, sliding in a finger. She was so slippery! With his other hand, he pushed the tip of his pinky into her anal cavity...

"MY ASSHOLE!! MY ASS!! MY ASS!! OOOOH!! JEFF!!!! LET ME GO!!!! I'M ABOUT TO -- I MEAN, YOU -- YOU'RE MAKING ME --"

Grunt! Grunt! Grunt!

"OHHHH... I'M ABOUT TO CUUUU --"

But milliseconds before she could finish, Jeff released her from his grip and let her go. All at once. His orgasm-starved boss looked up at him with drool running down her chin.

"I'm disappointed in you, Miss Queen. First you danced around in the hotel lobby in your panties. Then you tricked me into sharing a room with you. Then you took advantage of me when I was sleeping. And now you're molesting my man-meat?! You're a sexual predator. For shame!"

And he stormed off to the bathroom.

(But once he was out-of-view, he started cracking up. This was going too perfect! He owed the hotel doctor big time! Jeff looked at the pills again: Vicodin, Percs... and this new extra-strength experimental Viagra that hadn't been FDA-approved yet. He read the side effects: Unusual dreams, bedwetting, mental slowness... and uncontrollable sexual urges!)

He marched back out again, this time with a towel wrapped around his hips.

Meanwhile, Rachel was still on the floor, scared out of her mind, looking like she was on the verge of tears:

"Jeff! Please -- I am so sorry! I -- I don't feel right... my head... I don't know what..."

He ignored her, walked over to the hotel phone and hit a button:

"Hello, operator? This is Jeff Jones in room 232. My wife had an 'accident' and wet the bed."

"Jeff!! No!! You -- you -- don't tell anyone! It was water!" Rachel cried. But Jeff paid her no heed:

"Yeah, that's right. We'll need a new mattress for sure -- she soaked all the way through. NO WAY am I gonna sleep on it. What? Yes. Where is she right now? Well, the floor. What? Oh, okay. No, that makes sense. Thanks for understanding."

Jeff put down the phone and spoke to his boss:

"Get your fat ass off the floor, Miss Queen. The hotel is gonna send us a new mattress and cleaning supplies. But they told me to keep you off the carpet. It's imported from Italy and they DO NOT want your disgusting piss and pussy-juice to get all over it."

The young employee pointed to the balcony.

"Go out there, Miss Queen, and strip! Right now! I'll hose you down!"

Rachel looked towards the balcony. It oversaw the busiest street in the city! And they were only on the second floor! Even though it was nighttime, it was still swarming with tourists. Anyone walking by could see her! Anyone!

"No, Jeff! NO!! Please! Don't make me get naked on the balcony!"

The young marketing director thought for a moment. Then he grabbed Miss Queen by the arm, opened the hotel door -- and pushed her out into the hallway.

Her loose-fitting (and pee-soaked) designer dress had fallen down to her bellybutton, giving anyone passing by an eyeful of her tiny tits... and her wet panties were still wrapped around her knees...

"STOP!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! LET ME BACK INSIDE, YOU BASTARD!!!"

"The hallway floors are marble," explained Jeff. "This way you can't stain them -- and more importantly, this way the hotel can't bill me for the damages."

Rachel looked around the hallway, her stomach doing flip-flops. Waves of pure terror ran through her body. She could hear the elevator doors ringing and opening -- and the voices of men and women laughing, walking to and from their rooms. The crisp hotel air made her wet clothes feel cold and heavy...

"Now give me your dress so I can throw it in the shower!" demanded Jeff, impatiently holding out his hand.

"But --"

"The sooner you get out of your clothes, the faster I can throw 'em in the shower and let you back inside. So hurry up and strip! Unless you WANT to stand around the hallway, stinking like a urinal."

"Please! Jeff! L -- let me change in the bathroom! Please! I -- I beg you!!"

"No can do, Miss Queen. They told me on the phone not to let you on the carpet in your wet clothes. So strip!"

Rachel's eyes watered. She was about to cry. "But -- but..."

"But WHAT?!"

"I -- I don't want you to see what I really look like when I'm totally naked! PLEASE!! Jeff... don't strip me completely bare! Please! A woman needs to maintain a sense of mystery. Have pity on me. Leave me with my... my dignity!"

Jeff shrugged. "Suit yourself. But you hear those footsteps? I hear someone coming. Listen to the voices: I think it might be Genevieve Princess, your ex-employee!"

"Not Genevieve!" gasped Rachel.

"Yup, I forgot to tell you, but Miss Princess is next door to us. Small world, eh?"

Oh, HELL NO!! There was NO WAY she was going to let Genevieve Princess catch her in the hotel hallway, wearing a pee-soaked dress! It was bad enough that Genevieve had kidnapped her falsies -- but this...

NO!!

Rachel immediately started stripping in front of her 24-year-old underling. First she pushed her dress past her hips and down to the floor. Then she rolled her wet panties the rest of the way down her legs and stepped out. She looked him dead in the eye and waited.

The legendary Miss Queen was now completely naked. And Jeff just stood there with a goofy grin on his face, enjoying the sight!

She was as naked as the day she was born.

Sure, he had seen parts of her body before, especially while punishing her, but this was his first opportunity to see her as she really was. And she looked... well...

It was an "interesting" body, to say the least.

With her extremely flat chest, hairy muff and flabby potbelly, she certainly didn't resemble a model anymore. The pale outline of VERY conservative tanlines could be seen on her pink skin, and she had the posture of an immature little girl. She was shaped like a bowling pin. The transformation was remarkable! But even in her "reduced" form, there was still something about her that was VERY sexy and VERY fuckable.

Jeff picked up her clothes with a smile.

"Thanks, Miss Queen! I'll be right back."

He returned to the hotel room with her clothes -- and closed the door behind him!

Rachel Queen was stuck in the hallway, as naked as a jaybird! She could barely breathe! OMG! No! NO!! He... he TRICKED her!!

NOO!!!!

She banged on the door: "Jeff!! Let me in!! This isn't funny! JEFF!!!"

The footsteps and voices were growing louder... there wasn't much time!

"Jeff!! Open this door!! NOW!! PEOPLE are coming!!"

She was pounding her fists at the door with all her might -- almost to the point of hysterics! Getting caught NAKED IN PUBLIC... God... all her greatest fears were coming true...

"Oh. My. God. Is that... RACHEL QUEEN nude in the hallway?!"

Rachel's jaw dropped. Without even looking, she knew exactly who that was.

Genevieve Princess. Her ex-employee.

"It is! It IS Rachel Queen! In the flesh...literally!"

The pink-skinned CEO turned her head. Genevieve was walking her way -- and two Arab gentlemen were walking with her.

"Oh, I can't wait to introduce you to my old boss, Rachel Queen! Not only does she own her own company, but she's also a VERY busty swimsuit model! She's FAMOUS for her huge tits and PERFECT body!"

Rachel was beside herself! This... can't be... happening!

There was nowhere to shield her body... nowhere at all. No plants or ashtrays -- NOTHING. And the footsteps were getting louder!

Not knowing what else to do, Rachel pressed the front of her body to the wall right by her hotel door, which, of course, exposed her plump buns to all the guests in the hallway. It was less than ideal (to say the least!), but at least this way, her hairy pussy and embarrassing little titties would be hidden...

Rachel felt a woman's breath on her neck:

"Hello, Miss Queen. So lovely to bump into you. You're looking awfully... cheeky tonight!"

"H -- hello, Genevieve!" Rachel croaked.

One of the gentlemen said something in Arabic.

"Miss Queen," Genevieve happily asked, "my friend Akbar wanted to know why your tushy is so red. Were you punished for being... bad?"

God! She had forgotten about her spanking! Mortified, Rachel pressed as close to the wall as humanly possible. Her pussy was now pushed directly against the engraved lettering that listed the room number.

"N -- no! Nobody spanked me! That -- that's crazy! Now GO AWAY!!!"

Genevieve sniffed the air.

"What is that yucky smell, Miss Queen? It smells like... like..."

"Piss!" shouted one of the Arabs, who clearly knew more English than he was letting on.

Genevieve wrinkled her nose: "It DOES smell like piss! Eww! Miss Queen! Did you... did you PISS yourself?! Oh, my!! Is that why your husband threw you out of the room? Are you... a bedwetter?"

"NO!! It's not true!! I -- I just lost my key, that's all!!"

There were now tears rolling down Rachel's face. She didn't want to cry -- especially not in front of Genevieve -- but she had reached the point of no return. Her knees were shaking. She pressed with all her might against the wall -- deathly afraid of exposing her front.

"Are you sure, Miss Queen? Or do we need to investigate more closely?"

"NOO!! YOU c*nt!! GET AWAY FROM ME!!"

Then -- to her relief -- her hotel door swung open. Jeff had obviously showered (and was looking as handsome as ever in jeans).

"Miss Queen!" he called out. "Okay, come back inside. Let's get you cleaned up."

"Cleaned up?" asked Genevieve. "From what? Why does she need to be cleaned up?"

"Well, she had an accid --"

"JEFF!! DON'T SAY IT!!"

The young marketing director laughed.

"Fine, I won't embarrass you. Just hurry up and get inside. I'm tired."

But Rachel didn't move.

"Miss Queen?" he called again, growing impatient. "Did you hear me? Get inside. Don't make me spank your bare butt again."

"Aha!" crowed Genevieve. "I knew this was the ass of a freshly-spanked girl! You sure worked her over!"

But Rachel still didn't move.

Jeff stepped outside: "Miss Queen? Why are you still standing naked out here?"

"Because... I -- I'm stuck!" she squeaked.

"How can you be stuck? You're not wearing anything."

"My... my pubes are stuck in the sign!" she squeaked. "I can't move!"

Everyone was now doubled over in laughter -- including the other hotel guests walking by.

"This -- this isn't funny!! Help me!!"

"Good Lord, Miss Queen!" teased Genevieve. "Your PUBES are stuck in the sign?! How freaking hairy ARE you?!"

"Shuddup!!" cried Rachel. "Your tits have more plastic than Mel Kiper's hair! So you can just SHUDDUP!"

Genevieve glowered in rage...

"Help me, Jeff!" Rachel yelled. "Cut me free! Don't you have any scissors, or something?"

"Scissors? Of course not. They won't let you on a plane with scissors."

"Wait," said Genevieve. "I have an idea."

The ex-employee retreated to her nearby room. Ten seconds later, she returned... holding a razor.

"What... what are you doing?!" Rachel squealed.

Genevieve bent down to examine her ex-boss' crotch. She lifted the razor -- and started shaving her long, thick, curly bush... Swipe! Swipe!

"You can thank me later, Miss Queen! Besides, your garden was overdue for a mowing. Yuck! It STINKS down here! Abdul, Akbar -- come look at this thing!"

To the CEO's horror, both Arab gentlemen knelt down to study her pussy. They leaned in and took a whiff --

"Piss!" an Arab declared. "She piss herself! I smell it! And look at all that hair! I can't even see her hole!"

"Noooooo!!! Stop looking!! And I DID NOT PEE ON MYSELF!!" she lied, stomping her foot for added emphasis.

"Don't move your legs like that, Miss Queen," Genevieve chided. "I might accidentally cut one of your plump pussy lips. Yikes! I've never seen pussy lips stretched out like this! Were you just PLAYING with yourself... after showing off your nice, big tits and firm six-pack in the lobby? Ha!"

Rachel Queen was now awash with a sensation of such intense, excruciating humiliation, the word had lost all meaning. I mean... just look at her:

The powerful CEO and supermodel of Queen Swimwear had undergone a startling metamorphosis. She was now a red-bottomed girl in her birthday suit, pinned to the hotel wall, stinking of piss. And her "model" body had been revealed to be woefully ordinary. "Earthy" might be a kind way to put it. Her bruised and misshapen butt cheeks shook like stereo speakers.

And her ex-employee was gleefully shaving her pussy in the hallway while everyone stared...

"Shucks!" exclaimed Genevieve. "I got as far as I could from this side... but couldn't get close enough to free you. Guess I'll have to begin again from the other side! Hee hee!"

"Oh, no!" cried Rachel, stomping her foot again. "Stop, Genevieve! You're shaving all my hair! Stop! Don't -- don't leave me bald! Please! You - you'll ruin everything!"

"What's so bad about being bald?"

"I don't wanna be bald!" she cried, now bawling like a baby. Her nose was running as well. "With m -- my small boobies, if I -- if I..."

"If you WHAT, Miss Queen," asked the busty ex-employee, still shaving away.

"If I don't have any pubic hair, I look like a... a..."

"Like a WHAT, Miss Queen?"

"Like... like a fat little naked girl!" she bawled.

Genevieve snorted. Both Arab men were doubled over again. Even Jeff was laughing.

"Then I've got good news and bad news for you, Miss Queen," she said. "The good news is... you are now FREE!"

With one final swipe of the razor, Rachel separated from the sign! She had escaped! Thank GOD!! She stumbled away from the wall and into the hallway...

"The bad news is... Miss Queen, I hate to break it to you: You now look like a fat little naked girl!"

Rachel was still in a daze, but she saw Jeff, Genevieve and the two Arab gentlemen staring intently at her. She looked down:

All of her pubic hair had been shaved away. All of it! She was as bald as a cue ball. But instead of looking prepubescent, this was unquestionably the pussy of an older, mature woman: Her pussy lips drooped down, and her plump clitty stuck out like a pinky. But the rest of her:

Her belly wobbled as she stumbled. Her pointy little nips shook like the needle of a seismograph. She staggered by a mirror -- and started to cry even harder.

"Nooooo!" she sobbed. "What have you done to me?!"

Just then the hotel crew walked by, carrying a new mattress. The leader pointed at the flat-chested girl with the hairless sn*tch.

"Sir? Is this little girl the bedwetter?"

Genevieve roared with laughter!

"You DID piss yourself! This is too much! Bwahahahahaha!!"

Rachel just stood there, helpless and naked in the hallway. Families, teens and businesspeople were walking by... she couldn't take it anymore:

"Wah! Wah!" she cried. "Wah! Wah! I wanna go home! Wah!"

"Okay, we changed the mattress and cleaned the carpet," said the leader of the hotel's maintenance crew to Jeff. "Just make sure your little girl doesn't have another accident. In fact, let me give you this..."

He handed Jeff a diaper.

"NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!" screamed Rachel, her hands over her mouth.

It... it couldn't be! Her nightmare!

It was all coming true...!

END OF PART THREE

Thanks so much

Do you have Part 4?

Yes, I do:-)

part 4 by John Knuckles
 

Rachel Queen only slept in the finest lingerie. There wasn't a nightie in her closet that cost less than $2,500.

The top French designers eagerly sent her their latest lingerie, typically months before their naughtiest new designs debuted on the runways of Paris, London and New York City. Louis Frey Vandurant was her favorite; he personally offered Rachel his sexiest new robes, nighties and jammies (plus holiday invitations to his castle in Loire). The lingerie he designed was obscenely glorious: Bright, vibrant colors, erotic cuts and composed of the most luxurious fabrics available. (Then, under an assumed name, Rachel shipped her new nighties to a tailor in Trenton to have her falsies permanently sewed-in; after all, if another 9/11 were to happen in the wee hours of the evening, she certainly didn't want to be caught in, ahem, her "diminished" natural state!) Sometimes, when she was alone in her apartment at night, she'd slip on her leather boots and strut in front of her bedroom mirror in her skimpiest Vandurant nighties! The thought of how AMAZING she looked made the CEO smile...

That's what made her current predicament so dehumanizing:

She was under the covers, topless, snuggling in bed with her much-younger junior employee. Her falsies had been taken away... along with her slinky designer dress and undies.

And because of her earlier "accident" when she wet the sheets(!) like a bad widdle baby, she was now wearing nothing but a large, puffy diaper. Not just any diaper, mind you: A diaper that had been secured with a "belt" of duct tape... to make sure she couldn't remove it on her own.

And it was a diaper that was far too puffy for her to... er... "scratch" the ungodly itch that radiated from her privates. She -- she couldn't even play with herself!

Rachel choked a sob and buried her face in her hands.

Jeff Jones, her 20-something employee, was sleeping contently with his arm around her, gripping her loose tummy-fat with his fingers. His semi-hard cock poked at her pampered ass and he rested his thigh on her hips. Still feeling the after-effects of the experimental Viagra he gave her, she tried a few times to pull his hands up towards her breasts. Rachel closed her eyes and imagined how GOOD his big, strong hands would feel on her naughty nipples... how HOT it would be to surrender her flesh, her sex and her soul to him. The thought itself was BEYOND absurd: Rachel Queen -- the most ruthless CEO in the fashion industry -- in a diaper, getting sexually dominated by her junior executive! Nobody, and I mean NOBODY, would ever believe it!

But... that was part of the turn-on...

And now she couldn't help but fantasize about locking horns and fighting with her young, impudent challenger... slapping him in his handsome face... getting throttled in return... and VIOLENTLY thrown down on the hotel bed... oh, God! Jeff Jones peeling off his clothes while she watched... his cock growing hard... she struggles to get away, but he somehow catches her... he shreds her dress and strips her of her undies, licking his lips... he flips her and manhandles her... he wants her so badly, he's overcome with raw lust... Mmm!

Rachel's hips began to buck and her pussy moistened...

While her suboordinate softly snored, she grabbed his hands and raised them up her pale belly, towards the upper-half of her torso -- not all at once, but v-e-r-y, v-e-r-y slowly, as not to wake him. The older woman tried to breathe as quietly as she could -- no easy task, since her body YEARNED to moan...

She looked over at her young employee: Sigh... he was so fucking CUTE when he slept! The perfect plaything -- and his hands were so large and powerful! Rachel wet her mouth in anticipation: Any moment now his long fingers were going to SQUEEZE her aching tits! Oh, baby! But juuuuust before his fingertips reached her poor throbbing nipples, he grumbled unexpectedly and pushed his arm down, returning his fingers to her fleshy midsection.

"Sorry, pookie. I need something more substantial to hold on to than those jellybeans you call tits. Your beer belly will be just fine."

"Wh... what?!"

"Go back to sleep."

WHAT?!

Rachel fumed in despair at her powerless state: Damn that Jeff Jones! DAMN him! He now knew all her private, intimate details: The size of her underdeveloped breasts, the shape of her big ass -- hell, he even knew that her belly stuck out farther than her chest! DAMN HIM! After years of carefully protecting her image and wearing padded clothes, this little TWERP had systematically stripped her of her clothes, her falsies, her reputation, her dignity... even her pubic hair! All that would be horrible enough... but now he had actually done the impossible and stuck the great Rachel Queen in a... a DIAPER...!!

Rachel tried to go back to sleep... but it wasn't easy.

3:17 a.m.

"Jeff! Jeff! Wake up!"

"Wh... what's going on..." He squinted at the hotel clock.

"I -- I have to go to the bathroom."

"So?"

"My back hurts! I need help getting out of bed! Please! It - it's an emergency!"

Jeff grumbled and rolled over. "Use your diaper. Good night."

"JEFF! I will most certainly not use a diaper! Now help me this instant!"

Cursing under his breath, Jeff sat up and stumbled out of bed. Half asleep, he staggered over to his b*tchy boss.

"What's taking you so long?" she snapped. "Help me up, stupid!"

She impatiently held out her arms -- like a noble women demanding to be served by her errand boy. But instead, he scooped her out of bed in his muscular arms and cradled her body high in the air -- like she was an itsy-bitsy kid! Rachel was suddenly at least six-feet above the floor, with her bare feet limply dangling to the sides.

She felt so small and childlike!

Jeff looked down at Rachel's girlish micro-nipples and leered at her like a cocky frat boy. Ha! Barely a pair of mosquito bites! Despite her D-cup reputation (and Photoshopped bikini pics that appeared in glamor magazines and billboards) her REAL bust was virtually nonexistent. Well, maybe some slight swelling in the region surrounding her dainty nips, but nothing more -- she wouldn't even qualify as an A-cup! The famously busty Miss Rachel Queen was as flat as an Asian preteen! Oh, if this ever got out...

She saw his eyes, squealed and quickly covered her tiny boobies.

"Excuse me! K -- keep your eyes on the hallway, Mr. Jones! Not my body!"

"...sorry, Miss Queen."

"Don't let it happen again, young man," she admonished. "How rude! Control your disgusting male urges!"

"...sorry, Miss Queen."

Rachel refused to drop the subject: "I am your boss and I demand to be treated with respect! You WILL NOT give into temptation and look at me like -- like THAT! What were you thinking?"

She hoped he would say that he was so turned-on by her beautiful body, he just couldn't resist. But instead:

"Oh, I'm simply trying to figure out why you're so difficult to carry, Miss Queen. Ugh!"

"Wh -- what the HELL do you mean by that?!"

"Sheesh.... You're so bottom-heavy! Like a weeble-wobble! How much do you weigh anyway?"

"N -- not that it's any of your business, but I only weigh 118 pounds! That's the weight listed on my official supermodel profile!"

She sucked-in her stomach and tried to look skinny.

"Well, there's a scale right here... I know I weigh 205 pounds. Let's do an experiment." He stepped on the scale.

"Stop that!" she shrieked. "G -- get off that! Now!"

Instead he looked down. "With you in my arms I weigh... let's see..."

"JEFF!"

"...346 pounds! You liar! Rachel Queen weighs... a whopping 141 pounds! Ha, ha! Mostly in her rump, since she's got nothing upstairs!" He playfully goosed her rear.

"F -- Fuck you! Asshole!! You -- you did it wrong!"

But her poker face gave her away. She was horrified! Tears were welling in her angry green eyes.

"You totally have the body of a weeble-wobble," he laughed, putting his boss back on her unsteady feet. "Fine, go do your pee-pee business. And congrats for not pissing all over the bed this time."

But she just stood there, still hiding her little nipples in her hands.

"J -- Jeff... can you please remove my diaper... sir?" She twiddled her fingers and looked up at him longingly. Her weight shifted from foot to foot.

"What was that, Miss Queen? I didn't hear you."

"I... I need you to change my diaper. Please! I -- I really need to go!" She stomped her little feet for added emphasis.

Miss Queen sounded so pathetic, begging for a diaper change! Jeff had to bite his tongue not to laugh.

"Are you SURE, Miss Queen? They gave you that pretty white diaper for a reason."

The frazzled CEO was hopping around, trying to cross her legs. Her big belly looked unusually distended.

"YES! I -- I need to make!" she cried, doing the pee-pee dance. "Hurry! Please! I -- I gotta make potty!"

"Calm down, calm down... okay, let's help you go tinkle like a big girl. Put your hands on your head and walk over here."

"Y -- Yessir!"

She put her hands on her head, revealing her small breasts to him one more time. Her tender nipples hardened at once. The SHAME of being seen topless in a diaper was almost unbearable! Oh, how she HATED how this JERK was allowed to look at her like this! But she needed to pee soooooo badly...

With choppy baby-steps, she quickly waddled over.

Jeff leaned back and laughed. "Good girl! You're listening so well!"

Rachel was in too much discomfort to protest. Her round tummy was about to burst! With a sly grin, Jeff slowly unraveled the duct tape, and after a few agonizing seconds, her diaper fell to the floor with a thud.

And with that, Rachel Queen was completely, 100 percent naked in front of her junior employee once again. To his astonishment, she courtesied!

"Th -- thank you, sir!"

Jeff gazed at her bare body, focusing intently on her freshly-shaven pussy: It was bright pink, but the most startling revelation was how the loss of her pubic hair had completely altered her body's appearance. Before, her thick, womanly bush had made it VERY clear that Miss Rachel Queen was a mature, older woman -- irrespective of her miniscule breasts.

And now?

With her flat chest, chubby buns, distended belly and hairless sn*tch, the legendary supermodel truly resembled a fat little girl. It was almost as if her adulthood had been taken away! Remarkable! And even though the diaper had been removed, for some reason she was still standing comically bowlegged.

"Please... help me onto the toilet," she squealed, raising up her arms. And so he did, lifting her by the armpits and depositing her on the seat.

She looked at him nervously. "Th -- thank you."

He just stood there.

"Um, you can leave now. Please." Her face burned in discomfort at being oggled while sitting naked on a potty.

"That's okay, Miss Queen. I'll just stick around and make sure everything goes according to plan. No offense, but your track record at going wee-wee isn't exactly stellar."

"But... I -- I can't make if you watch!"

"Just relax, Miss Queen."

The CEO curled her toes and fidgeted, forming an unhappy scowl. After a few seconds of stalling, the poor woman just couldn't hold it in any longer -- and the sound of her piss hitting the inside of the bowl echoed throughout the bathroom. Then, without warning, Rachel farted.

Her expression was priceless! Rachel's cheeks turned crimson and her eyes welled with tears.

"Oh, NO! I -- I'm so embarrassed! Please -- go away! I need my privacy! G -- get out of here!"

She farted again.

Jeff snickered. "Miss Queen! Sitting naked on the crapper, tooting up a storm! Well, let's try to neutralize your naturally stinky scent..."

He reached into her travel bag and pulled out a bottle of her most expensive perfume. He aimed carefully -- and sprayed right at her sn*tch!

But the perfume was alcohol-based. And her skin was so very, VERY sensitive from her non-lubricated shaving in the hallway:

"OW!! OW!! OH GOD!! IT BURNS!!!"

Rachel was waiving her arms hysterically, kicking her bare feet in the air. Her pussy! It felt like it was on fire!

"HELP ME, JEFF!! PLEASE!! IT BURNS!!"

Not knowing what else to do, Miss Queen started spanking her beaver, desperately trying to put out the wildfire. But her pussy still smoldered:

"THIS HURTS SO BAD!! OW!! OW!! OWWWW!!!!"

Jeff looked around the hotel bathroom and grabbed the first thing he saw: A bottle of mouthwash. He poured the contents over her blazing pussy.

Alas, the mouthwash was alcohol-based too...

"MY PUSSY!! OW!! OW!! OWWWW!!! NOOOOO!!!! THIS IS WORSE!!!!! OH HOLY CHRIST!!!!"

The prim and proper CEO was squatting in the buff, furiously shaking her shaven vagina, trying to air-dry her flaming-hot sn*tch. Jeff watched in amazement. What a show! The way her small nipples bounced when she shook herself! The way her entire pink pussy was gaping open!

"Stop staring and HELP ME!!!!!" she screamed. Tears were rolling down her eyes... she was in so much agony, she was huffing and puffing, desperately trying to blow cool air on her sn*tch!

This time Jeff squirted a fistful of hand lotion into his mitts, reached down to Rachel's aching pussy, and started massaging it in.

"It -- it still burns!! Rub harder!! Please!! Owwww! This hurts so bad!"

"Whatever you say, Miss Queen."

Jeff slathered his boss' crotch with another handful of lotion and massaged all the nasty crevices and creases of her denuded pelvis. His hand was making a loud SLOSHING noise as he rubbed, patted, gripped and squeezed...

"Owww! Oww! That -- that's better... ohhh... ohhhhhh..."

Jeff was squatting inches from his arrogant boss, massaging her aching hole with BOTH his hands -- and all 10 of his fingers! He was giggling like the Joker -- exploring every inch of Miss Queen's hairless vagina with impunity, making sure to remember every last inch with photographic detail: every birthmark, every wrinkle, every blemish. Rachel was bucking her hips to amplify the pressure of his fingers, grinding HARD with all her might.

Grunt... grunt... grunt...

With little effort, two of Jeff's fingers slipped inside Rachel's pussy.

"J -- Jeff! JEFF! You..."

A third finger was circling her puckered anus. The baby-faced marketing director stared at her nether region(s) and couldn't help but notice that Genevieve Princess' shaving left much to be desired: Long scraggly pubic hairs were clearly visible below her pussy, adorning her adorable butthole with a thin ring of hair.

"Yes... yes! Th -- that's it... Ohhhhhh..."

Grunt... grunt... grunt...

Then he stopped.

"Wh... what are you doing?" she whispered. Her hips bucked helplessly against the empty breeze.

But Jeff just looked at her.

"You... you're not done yet!" Rachel ordered in a weak, raspy voice. "I -- I still burn! Put your hand back! Quickly!"

She continued to buck her bare hips in front of him.

"Miss Queen, don't insult my intelligence," Jeff reprimanded. "If you want me to give you the greatest orgasm of your life, then say so."

"No! Honest! It -- it still burns, that's all! Rub me!"

Jeff shook his head: "Tell the truth, Miss Queen -- or no more touchy-wouchy!"

Rachel's sad eyes were ablaze and her lower lip jutted out several inches in a childish pout, completing her horrible regression: Yesterday she was the voluptuous, ass-kicking CEO and supermodel of Queen Swimwear. Her employees cowered in FEAR of her. Men DREAMED of kissing her lips. And now... the great Rachel Queen was a pouty-faced little girl, sitting naked on the potty, begging this snot-nosed kid to stick his finger back in her pussy. Oh, God...

With tears in her eyes, the great Rachel Queen finally caved:

"Damn you, Jeff!! I -- I hate you!! Fine, I -- I admit it: I want you to touch me!"

But Jeff still didn't move.

"Pllllleeeeaaasssse, Jeff! PLEASE!! I -- I need you to touch me!"

The young employee winked at her.

"First spread your nasty pussy nice and wide for me. And then I'll consider it. "

"O -- okay!" she sobbed, parting her legs and pulling her pussy lips apart, slouching down on the toilet seat. "Touch me, Jeff! Please! I NEED to cum!" She wiggled her little clitty for him and howled in humiliation...

"Miss Queen!" he exclaimed. "You look pregnant! Hee, hee! I had no idea your belly stuck out like that! Suck-in your fat stomach, for Christ's sake."

Indignant, she tightened her stomach muscles... and farted again.

Jeff snickered. Rachel burst into tears.

"Wah! Wah! This can't be happening! Wah!"

"This bathroom reeks," he said in disapproval. "If you're done with all your tooting, get off the shitter and out of the bathroom. Then I want you to lay down on the bed and spread your sn*tch again, Miss Queen. This time, try not to fart on me."

"Okay!" she sobbed. "I'm sorry! Don't tell anyone!"

Without waiting for his help, the horny CEO slipped off the potty and meekly crawled on her hands and knees, wiggling her body past Jeff's feet.

"Bad girl!" he said, swatting her on the ass.

"Ow! That HURT!"

Rachel had NEVER felt so thoroughly disgraced. It was unfathomable: Miss Rachel Queen was naked, crawling on her hands and knees -- like a little b*tch -- while her employee smacked her rear end! Jeff gleefully watched her big butt jiggle -- and her hairy anus wink back at him -- as she crawled out of the bathroom...

"I'm a fan of the woman's movement... especially when I'm behind it! Ha!"

Grunt, grunt, grunt...

Panting, Rachel pulled herself up on the hotel bed. She could feel her healthy ass cheeks wobble as she straddled the sheets, rolled to her back, and spread herself wide.

"I -- I've done everything you said!" she sobbed. "Please... you need to touch me."

"Maybe this isn't such a good idea, Miss Queen."

"No! NO!! You... you can't change your mind! PLEASE!! TOUCH ME!!" She kicked her legs high in the air. "TOUCH ME!! We -- we had a deal, Jeff! WE HAD A DEAL!"

"I know, but you threatened me with sexual harassment. Remember? How do I know you're not trying to set me up?"

Despite her angish, Rachel couldn't help but laugh: SHE was setting HIM up?! Seriously?! SHE was the one as naked as a jaybird, spreading her pussy on the bed! She had been stripped, shaved, diapered and humiliated -- and she was setting up HIM?! If only!

"I beg you... Jeff... PLEASE!! J -- Just... I need to be touched!"

Jeff adjusted his cock. "You want my big dick inside of you, Miss Queen?"

"Yes, sir! Yes, sir!" She was pulling open her pussy lips, offering herself on a silver platter... showing him all her most intimate parts... all the parts she had kept hidden from everyone else...

"I don't like condoms," Jeff declared. "And I ain't gonna wear one. Will that be a problem?"

"No sir!" she cried, bucking her hips without remorse, feeling her cunny-juices race down her pussy and into her ass.

Jeff reached down and stroked her throbbing, aching nipples! Rachel nearly orgasmed right then and there!

"Do you want me to cum in you?" the beautiful boy whispered in her ear.

"Yes! Yes!" she screamed, unable to contain herself. "Cum in! Cum in! CUUUUUMMMM IIIINNNN!!!!!"

Suddenly, a loud clicking noise came from the hallway. A familiar voice boomed: "You heard her. She SAID we can come in!"

The hotel door swung open.

Genevieve Princess, the hotel doctor, and half-a-dozen 20-year-olds walked right into their room!

Rachel froze in fear! She was totally naked, displaying herself like a crazed nympho to a brand-new audience of onlookers, including her bitter ex-employee! This was her greatest nightmare! Adding to her misery, she was sopping wet -- on the verge of climaxing -- and dripping all over!

"Is everything okay?" asked the hotel doctor, approaching the bed with a perverted grin. "I was making my late-evening rounds with my students, when we received a phone call from your concerned neighbor. She heard someone yelling in pain and asked us to check. Wasn't that nice of her?"

"I -- I'm fine," stammered Rachel, burning bright red and DYING of embarrassment. She crossed her legs and hugged her girly chest, praying for a miracle. "J -- just get out! Get out of my room!"

"Are you sure?" the doctor asked. "We can give you a complete check-up. It could be our new class project! What fun!"

"YES, I'M SURE!!! GET OUT, FOR CHRIST'S SAKE!! CAN'T YOU SEE I'M NAKED?!!"

"Tsk, tsk," scolded Genevieve, pointing between Rachel's thighs. "It looks like she wet the bed again. We better get that diaper back on her before she has another accident."

The students snickered.

"N -- no!!" sobbed Rachel. "I don't wanna wear a diaper! I'm a big girl! Just leave, Genevieve!"

The laughter grew louder.

"How old is she anyway?" asked one of the students. "Looking at her body, I'm guessing she's... oh... 12 or 13. Am I right?"

Genevieve cruelly grabbed Rachel's wrists and pushed open her thighs, forcing her to expose herself. Her embarrassing titties and clean-shaven sn*tch popped into view.

"Take a good look, boys!" the ex-employee chortled. "THIS is the body of a famous supermodel!"

All the faces hovered just inches from the disgraced CEO. She could feel their eyes rake all over her naked little body. Her nipples hardened... and dammit, her treacherous pussy wouldn't stop leaking!

"Yeah, right!" laughed a female student. "Some supermodel! I had bigger tits when I was in middle school!"

"Totally!" laughed her friend. "Her body is completely shapeless. Well, other than her big round belly. Round is a shape, right? Hee hee!"

"Ha ha! She looks like an Oompa-Loompa! She must be a school kid!"

Miss Queen couldn't believe what she was hearing! But Genevieve was so much stronger than her -- she just couldn't free herself from her grip... it was AWFUL! All those voices and faces mocking her nude flesh -- and being unable to do ANYTHING about it!

"No, I can prove to you she's not a school kid -- despite how pathetic her REAL body is," announced Genevieve. "Look:"

And with that, Genevieve Princess pulled Rachel's legs up in the air.

"Hey!! L -- Let me GOOOO!" gasped Miss Queen.

Instead, the blonde ex-employee pinned Rachel's feet behind her head, spreading the CEO's pussy and anus high in the air. She... she was gaping open! All of her holes were spread wide!

"NOOOOO!!"

Genevieve poked her finger perilously close to Rachel's sphincter. "See how hairy her bunghole is? All her curly little butt hairs? That is NOT the bum of a kid."

The doctor and students all peered in for a closer look.

"Go away!" cried Rachel. "Please! Go away! Wah!"

"Yes, Miss Princess is quite right," acknowledged the doctor. "Class, examine this naked girl closely: In addition to her hairy anus, notice that her clitoris and vaginal lips are fully engorged. Do you see? Right before our eyes, her vagina is readying itself for further stimulation. See how POOFY her private parts have become? It's a textbook example of adult female arousal. Obviously, she is VERY attracted to her young male companion -- er, I mean, her husband."

As the class knelt inches from her body, Rachel felt Genevieve chuckle: "Is that true, Miss Queen? Does your 'husband' make your dusty old pussy all poofy?"

Rachel cried in despair. No! She couldn't admit that -- not with Jeff in the room! Her harmless CRUSH on her handsome young employee was supposed to be a secret that nobody knew -- least of all HIM! Oh, God...

"I -- I..."

"What was that, dear?" asked Genevieve again. "I couldn't hear you, so speak louder: Does dreamy-weamy Jeff Jones make your pussy all poofy?"

Rachel saw Jeff to the side of the bed, smirking like the cat who swallowed the canary! That pompous, arrogant JERK!! That chauvinist PIG!! NO WAY would she give him the satisfaction of saying those words out loud! Never! Not as long as she had an ounce of strength left in her body!

"Noooo! Noooo!" she screamed. "He doesn't, I swear! I -- I hate him! Do you hear me?! I HATE JEFF JONES!! I HATE HIM!! I HATE HIM!!"

"Well, there's only one way to find out for sure," the doctor said. "Jeff, please touch her clitoris. Let's see how her body responds."

"NOO!!" wailed Rachel, twisting and turning, battling with all her might to get free. "NOO! I HATE HIM! NOO!"

But alas, for all her twisting and turning, the only thing Rachel accomplished was giving the audience an incredible peep show of her hairless pussy and hirsute anus from every conceivable angle: Her nipples bounced and her belly shook, but her aching privates remained 100 percent uncovered. She was MUCH weaker than Genevieve; she couldn't even budge her arms a smidgen... and Jeff was now just inches away, reaching down...

"NOO! HONEST, I HATE HIM! PLEASE -- PLEASE BELIEVE ME!! NOOOOOOO!!!!"

Jeff's rough, calloused fingers ran up and down Rachel's inner thighs. Genevieve snickered as her "fearless" ex-boss whimpered and cried!

From the corner of her eye, Rachel saw the smug, condescending expression splashed across Genevieve's face. Her nose was in the air and her fat silicone breasts heaved up and down. She was smirking at Rachel with an obvious sense of superiority. Grrr...! Instantly, a mighty rage built inside the mind of the outraged CEO. That... that b*tch! That evil, fucking b*tch!! No! No matter what, she wouldn't give that c*nt the satisfaction either! Fuck Jeff Jones and fuck Genevieve Princess! She was still Miss Rachel Queen, dammit!

"Fuck all of you!" Rachel spat in fury. "No matter what you say or do, I'm still a REAL lady! A supermodel -- with class and dignity! And you people are filth! Lower than filth! You're lowly peasants! None of you are worthy of a sophisticated, beautiful, mature woman like ME!"

But instead of looking upset, her marketing director smiled sympathetically.

"Aw, Miss Queen, you're such a grumpy little girl! But maybe it's just gas."

And with that, Jeff pressed down on Rachel's stomach.

The naked CEO farted.

"Nooo! Wah! Wah!" she bawled, her face burning red with embarrassment. "Nooooo! I'm SOOO ashamed! Wah!"

Rachel immediately lost all of her remaining composure, bawling her pretty eyes out while everyone pointed and laughed. This -- this couldn't be happening! Not to her! Jeff... Genevieve... the doctor... all those faces... they were LAUGHING at her!

"A beautiful, sophisticated, classy woman, eh?" giggled Genevieve. "More like a tubby-wubby farty-pants!" She quickly pressed down hard on the belly of her ex-boss to try for herself:

Rachel tooted again.

"Nooooooooooo! Wah! Wah! Wah! Wah!"

With the sounds of laughter ricocheting throughout the room, Genevieve grabbed Rachel's tiny nipple. "Tsk, tsk, stinky-poo. No more pretending to be a big girl. And we're going to put an end to this 'supermodel' silliness. We both know you've got the body of a fat little kid. Apologize for trying to fool everybody."

"Ow! Ow! I'm sorry!" she screamed. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry I tried to fool everybody! I -- I don't have the body of a supermodel! I -- I admit it!"

"And what DO you have the body of?"

"A -- a fat little kid!" she wailed.

This was music to Genevieve's ears! After suffering for YEARS under Miss Queen's tyranical rule and predatory business practices, the biggest b*tch in the galaxy was finally getting her comeuppance! Good! Serves the c*nt right! She tugged Rachel's nipple even harder and demanded, "Now tell us what you REALLY are, you tubby-wubby farty-pants!"

The naked CEO looked mortified.

"I'm a -- a... tubby-wubby farty-pants!" she cried. "Rachel Queen is a tubby-wubby farty-pants!"

Jeff grinned. "Aw, isn't she precious!" He nonchalantly pushed his long, bumpy finger inside her pussy, and wiggled until he reached his knuckle.

"J -- JEFF!! JEFF!! Ohhhhhhh..."

Miss Queen's hips were swinging like the gears of a watchtower. Her drippings were racing down her body...

"Admit it, Miss Queen: You don't hate me. You love me. Tell them! Tell them how much you love me."

He partly withdrew his finger and gripped her swollen clitty with his large thumb. Then he rubbed his fingers back and forth.

"OH, GOD!!! I -- I CAN'T CONTROL MYSELF!! PLEASE!! N -- NOT IN FRONT OF GENEVIEVE AND ALL THESE PEOPLE!! PLEASE -- I BEG YOU!!"

The much-younger employee began massaging her clitty with two of his now-soaking fingers -- and gently tickling her curly anal hairs with his third.

Grunt... grunt... grunt...

"Ooh, I think you're going to make her cum!" teased Genevieve. "Does tubby-wubby farty-pants need to cum-cum?"

"STOP!! STOP!! OHHHHHHH..."

Jeff put his other hand on her throat and forced her to gaze into his eyes. "Say it, Miss Queen. You want me to touch you. And admit that you love me."

Rachel could hold out no longer. It -- it was all too much! She had been stripped of all her shoes, clothes and undies! A crowd of people examined all her private parts! She had been poked and prodded and manhandled!

"Yes!" she cried. "Yes! I -- I want you to touch me! Wah! Oh... I want you t -- to touch my pussy! Please, Jeff! I -- I love you! Wah! Wah! Oh, God! Tubby-wubby farty-pants wants to cum-cum! OH, GOD!! OOOOHHHHHHHHH..."

And with that, Rachel Queen's pussy reached supernova status and EXPLODED. Her entire body erupted in a long, sustained orgasm:

"OOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHH... JEFF!!! I -- I LOVE YOU!! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

Her vaginal juices squirted all over the bed, reaching as far as the nearby wall. He released her body from his hands and watched her tremble, shake, moan and groan.

"Eww, look at the mess she made," complained Genevieve. "Gross! You better get another diaper on her fast."

Grunt... grunt... grunt...

Rachel was still twitching in a wet, pink heap, but Genevieve's words shocked her from her bliss:

"N -- no! No diaper! Please... touch me again, Jeff. Please! That -- that wasn't enough. Jeff! TOUCH ME! TOUCH ME!"

The frantic CEO offered the inside of her hips to her junior executive: Yes! Jeff, my love! My sweet little clitty. Touch me! Fuck me! Do it! While everyone watches! She closed her eyes and waited in breathless anticipation...

But when she looked down, she saw Genevieve and the doctor putting that AWFUL diaper back on her! Like she was a helpless infant!

"No! What are you doing?!" she cried.

"Did you hear the racket the hotel made when they replaced your mattress the first time?" complained Genevieve, taping the diaper shut. "It's late and I need my sleep. No way am I going through that again. Be a good tubby-wubby farty-pants, put on your diaper, and go straight to bed."

"B -- but I'm still so horny!" Rachel sobbed. "Now I can't even touch myself!"

"That's a good thing," Jeff noted. "We have a big day tomorrow. I don't want you to be up all night, playing with her puss-puss. Now thank Genevieve and the doctor, and let's go back to bed."

While the doctor secured her diaper with duct tape, Rachel looked at her enemies:

"N -- no! I don't wanna!" she blubbered.

"Pookie," lectured Jeff. "I know how desperately you've fallen in love with me, so do as I say. Now thank them!"

"Dammit!" she pitifully cried: "Fine: Th -- thank you!"

"My pleasure, cutie-pie," said Genevieve, kissing her ex-boss on the top of her head. "Good luck tomorrow with your business meeting. I know the Crown Prince can't wait to meet the sexy, curvy, busty supermodel, Miss Rachel Queen! I hear he's having a pool party -- everyone will be wearing a bikini. Good luck indeed! BWAHAHAHA HAHAHA HAHA!"

Rachel gulped. She looked down at her itsy-bitsy boobies, pink flesh and white, puffy diaper...

END OF PART FOUR

Thanks for posting this. Do you have any of the other stories by John Knuckles? The one featuring a District Attorney and another one featuring a News Reporter?

I have plenty Knuckles's stories..., just I am not sure, if I have a permision to post them... (I will post just the one named Strip Club Owner).

The Strip Club Owner Vs. The Young D.A.
 

The Strip Club Owner Vs. The Young D.A.
by John Knuckles

A rising political superstar is ensnared in a humiliating web of blackmail - and stripping

Barbara rifled through the thick packet of papers in her hands and frowned. There was a serious, determined look on her youthful face. Her high heels rested atop her mahogany desk and she leaned all the way back in her leather, executive-style recliner. Her office was by far the largest.

For good reason.

An outsider might naturally assume that she was poring over legal minutia - studying court cases and reviewing new evidence. After all, this was the city's District Attorney office building. Lots of paperwork in law, right?

Despite her young age, Barbara was the District Attorney. The boss. Numero uno. The buck stopped with her.

That's why an outsider might be surprised to learn she was reviewing her upcoming TV appearances and planning dinner-dates with mega-donors. Her paperwork had nothing to do with case law or recent arrests.

"Hmm... the FOX morning show?" she asked herself. "Or maybe that new one on NBC? And the night before... which billionaire's grandson do I have to meet for dinner? Gross - better not be that Wallace boy! Hmm... maybe I can get away with just a cup of coffee the next day..."

Barbara's father was the former Governor. Her uncle was a Senator. Her grandfather was a two-term President. She came from political royalty and she knew how to play the game. Hard ball when necessary. It was the family profession, after all.

And it didn't hurt that she looked the part: a tall, lanky body with long brown hair, a determined face, pouty breasts and piercing eyes. Simply put: She was a knockout. Instead of being even the least bit sl*tty or bimbo-ish, she effortlessly exuded class and elegance. It radiated from her. Barbara wasn't the bleach-blonde Playboy Playmate with fake tits who had to fuck her way to the top; she was the all-American Princess. Okay, if this were Hollywood, she might not win the part of the busty beauty queen - but this was NOT Hollywood. This was politics. Also known as show biz for ugly people.

A Hollywood 8 was EASILY a Washington 10.

Barbara had IT, whatever IT was. The camera LOVED her, but she was careful not to reveal too much. Barbara firmly believed that a true lady must maintain an air of mystery at all times. There was something almost girlish - virginal and wholesome - about her public image. She was NOT the kind of girl who'd give the paparazzi a crotch-shot when exiting her limo - not in a million years! Other than a flash of her thigh or a fleeting peak of her delicious cleavage (which the political fanboys would drool over on social media sites), she always kept her body covered.

She wouldn't even allow herself to be photographed in a one-piece bathing suit.

But she aggressively pursued photo opportunities with "respectable" media outlets, especially when she could be filmed in an evening gown, or a sexy-smart business suit. The young heiress was shrewd custodian of her glamorous image. Image was everything. And the image she projected was one of brilliance, sophistication and beauty. She could battle like a barracuda - but do it while looking like the woman of your dreams!

And if she played her cards right, she just might end up kicking her high heels over the desk in the Oval Office...

With minimal tabloid attention, Barbara graduated from the Ivy Leagues. Her political connections quickly landed her a plum appointment to a mid-market District Attorney's office. Now she simply had to manufacture a few positive media headlines, avoid any embarrassments, build her donor's list... and then maybe Mayor. Then Lt. Governor. And then...

Big time.

She made her first splashy headline by clamping-down on the city's red light district. Prostitution, strip clubs, gambling... she forced the police to arrest and frog-march all the leading players. After decades of peaceful coexistence, the club owners, patrons, strippers and pimps were now getting regulated out of business - or winding up behind bars.

Worse, Barbara also targeted their side-businesses and peripheral investments. It was having a devastating impact on the owners' cash flow.

Dale Smith owned half the city's tittie bars and massage parlors... as well as numerous other "curious investments" that he preferred to keep off the radar. In his early 40s and slyly charming, he pleaded with Barbara in private office visits to turn a blind eye. (And not only in office visits - in restaurants, community events and dinner parties. Despite occupying different professions - er, more or less - they shared similar social circles. It wasn't a big town.) A pragmatist, he even offered to donate to her Political Action Committee. (An optimist, he also asked her out on a date.)

She turned down the date but accepted his donation - and then prosecuted him anyway.

One year later, he was nearly ruined, but had somehow managed to stay out of jail. Barely. Only a few of his businesses remained open. And the final nail in his coffin was just delivered this morning, when Barbara won a court order to immediately halt work at Dale Smith's chemical plant, finding his alleged work in hypnosis and mind control "less than fully credible," despite Dale's impassioned pleas. He had tied up his last penny in this investment...

And now the once-mighty strip club king was on his last leg. Everyone knew it.

Good. Let him keel over and die. Victory! Barbara was going to use his broken corpse as a stepping stone for better things. Governor, Senator, Vice President...

President!

So imagine her surprise when Dale appeared in her office at the end of the day, his hat in one hand... bottle in the other.

"Well, well, Mr. Smith," she smirked. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Look, Babs -"

"My name's not Babs, you filthy low life! I'm the District Attorney, not one of your skanky sl*ts! My name is Barbara!"

Dale put the bottle on her desk. "Please, Barbara... please... I know I haven't always been a model citizen, but I'm a legitimate business owner. I'm not just a strip club baron - I invest in real estate, research & development, and honest new ventures that provide real jobs."

"Yes, you have many front businesses," she curtly replied.

"It's not a front!" He pointed to the bottle on her desk. "See that bottle? The chemical plant, the one you just shut down out of spite, had been working on this formula for three years! I've spent millions on the research and development. And now they've done it! I swear to you, it's new technology that will change the world!"

Barbara laughed. "Right. Your magic mind control drink. Get serious, Dale - the court found it was just corn syrup and vitamins. It's a sham."

"If you're so sure, why don't you take a sip?"

The young attorney paused. What the hell, she thought. With her late hours in the office and constant rounds on the cocktail circuit, it had been a struggle to maintain her body (although she was careful to wear clothes that masked her imperfections). Proper nutrition was often neglected. And the court did rule that the drink was harmless...

She downed the bottle in one long gulp. Three seconds went by.

Barbara stood up, stretched her arms out, and declared in a robotic voice: "Oh - no. I - am - under - your - spell. Should - I - undress, - Master? Should - I - get - naked - for - you?"

Dale looked embarrassed. "It... it doesn't work that way."

She exploded with laughter. "No kidding, Sherlock! Now get out of my office!"

Shame-faced, Dale turned toward the door and opened it.

"Oh, one last thing, Sherlock. Everyone! Listen to this!"

He stopped. So did everyone in the hallway and nearby offices.

"As the D.A., I get to be there when we finally arrest you. It's one of my job perks. Not only that, but I also get to be there when we frisk you, strip you and do the prerequisite FULL body cavity search! Can't wait to see that itsy-bitsy little weenie of yours, Dickless Dale! We'll find out EXACTLY what your lifestyle is overcompensating for! And gee, wouldn't it be a SHAME if some of those pictures were somehow leaked to the press? Oh, we can't wait to meet the REAL you! Just some food for thought, Mr. Strip Club King. Now... goodbye!"

With the echoes of laughter ringing in his ears, the strip club king sulked out...

An hour later, Barbara was out of the office and in the parking lot, walking to her new BMW, humming a happy song, daydreaming about the White House. Her ass swayed back and forth...

Dale was standing right by her car.

"You? Get away from my Beamer, you creep," she threatened. "We have nothing further to discuss. For now."

"I know, I know," he sadly admitted. "You win. I give up. But I just wondered, what did you think of the flavor?"

"Flavor? What are you talking about, jackass?"

"Of my drink, I mean."

The young D.A. rolled her eyes and gave an evil smile. But instead of tearing into Dale with a vicious insult, she answered: "It was citric-based and tangy. Very sweet. And a hint of cherry. It was yummy."

Barbara's face looked surprised. She quickly added: "Actually, it tasted like cough medicine. I - I hated it! I knew it was a scam!"

Now it was Dale's turn to smile. "I see. And I was just wondering, why are you such a lying b*tch? Are you on the rag, or something?"

The nerve of him!! But instead of slapping him, she answered honestly: "Not until next week. My menstrual cycle is very consistent. My heavy discharge day will be on Thursday."

What did she say?! She put her hand over her own mouth in shock. "I - I have to go!" she cried, reaching for the car door. "I'm getting out of here!"

"Stop. Don't go."

Barbara instantly stopped moving. "Why am I listening to you?! Wh - What's happening to me?!" she cried. The scared heiress looked around: They were out in public. It was early evening. Most of the cars had left the parking lot, but a few were still parked. Every now and then, a person would walk by in the distance. My God!! These were her coworkers... her underlings... her colleagues. The same people she was planning on leaving in the dust!

"H - help!" she yelped.

"Shut up! No more screaming. Speak to me softly. Understand?"

"Y - yes," she whispered, scared out of her mind.

Dale positioned his iPhone on her car so it faced the young attorney. It was recording.

Barbara instantly calculated the implications: "Please, turn that off! No cameras!! Let me go! I - I need to go home! If I'm not home in exactly 15 minutes -"

"Repeat after me, Barbara: Say to the camera, 'I give consent to Dale Smith to film me and record me, and use any of the images however he sees fit. Everything I say and do on camera is out of my own free will.'"

"I - I give consent to Dale Smith to film me and record me, and use any of the images however he sees fit," she nervously repeated. "Everything I say and do on camera is out of my own free will!"

"Dale can upload the videos and pictures anywhere he wants. Even on porn sites," Dale added.

"Even on p - porn sites!" she gasped.

"Good. Now let's do the interview everyone's been dying to hear. Question one: What the fuck is up your ass, you uptight b*tch?"

"Nothing is up my ass, you jerk!" she angrily retorted. "My ass is perfectly clean, because I showered after my morning poop, thank you very much!"

She instantly clamped her mouth shut with both hands and stared wide-eyed at the cell phone recording her. What the fuck!! She - she can't talk about her bathroom habits on camera! Dale chuckled out loud.

"Ha ha! Thanks for sharing. Use much toilet paper?"

"No toilet paper. I only use baby wipes. Because my skin is sensitive! Otherwise I - I get a rash. And I - I only needed two. Then I showered." Her entire body was blushing - and she desperately wished she could tie her tongue into knots! WTF?!!! Her carefully constructed image!! How could she say this?!!!! Worst of all... it was the TRUTH!

"Where, exactly, you you get a rash, Babs?"

"Stop! Don't call me Babs, asshole! Dammit! I - I get a rash around my a - a - anus. It - it gets itchy and hurts!" Her faced heated and her eyes were ablaze with rage.

"Ha ha! You're even a pain in your OWN ass! Ha ha! Okay, a more serious question: What in the world do you have against strip clubs?"

"They're gross!! M - Men shouldn't be able to see women like that! Women are to be honored and respected - not treated like a hunk of naked meat!! Besides, a lady should only reveal her private parts to her dearly beloved - certainly not to strangers! Our nudity is an extra-special gift! They're called PRIVATE PARTS for a reason! It's - it's a secret! Because of people like you, we're turning into a nation of sl*ts and skanks!"

"How puritanical. When was the last time you were laid anyway?"

"It's been five long year!" she wailed.

Had... had it really been that long? Five years??? Her knees buckled... her forehead dampened...

He laughed. "I guess you've been forced to take matters in your own hands... so to speak."

"Yes! I get very h - horny!" Her eyes widened in dread. That camera!

"You do?"

"Yes!!" she admitted, her face bright red.

"How often do you play with yourself?"

"Every day! Always in the morning, sometimes in the evening, too! In the shower! Whenever I can!" The young D.A. felt all her blood rush to her face. No!! Oh, God no!! But she knew it was true: As early as this morning... scrubbing herself in the shower... she woke up extra-early just for this purpose... just so she would have time to give herself a toe-curling orgasm before work.

"What do you use?"

"My fingers! All of them!"

She hung her head in shame. Her face burned...

"Ain't you an eager beaver! Let your fingers do the walking, do you? Our Babs is a dirty little horndog. Who knew? So what do you like to fantasize about, Babs? Let's hear your private fantasies!"

She tried to clamp her mouth shut. No! She could NOT admit this!! Not to him! Not while being recorded!

But she couldn't stop herself from answering: "I - I fantasize about being dominated... of being stripped in public... everyone gets to look and touch my ass, tits and pussy... and then I fantasize of being spanked and - and forced to cum... while everyone watches!"

No!

She closed her eyes and shook her head violently. NO!! This was something she would NEVER admit to ANYONE!!! They could water torture her, and she'd deny it 'til her dying day. But here she was.... admitting it freely, revealing her deepest, darkest secrets to a small town strip club owner...

"Wow!! I didn't see that one coming!" Dale laughed. "Very interesting. Very interesting indeed! So if I told you to strip off all your clothes and spanked you... right now... you'd be into that?"

"Yes!" she cried.

"And if I made you stroke your poor, wet pussy until you climaxed - while an audience cheered... that would make you incredibly hot?"

"Oh, yes!! Really hot!!" She cursed herself and howled in humiliation! "And - and sometimes I squirt when I get excited! I - I squirt a lot! I make a mess!"

OMG!!!! Her deepest secrets!! She was telling him everything! What was wrong with her?! That drink!! It - it COULDN'T be real... could it???

"Ha ha! Babs is a squirter!! That's too much! Well, good for you, Babs."

"Shut up! M - My name's NOT Babs! And - and - that fantasy stuff, I didn't mean -"

"Ha ha! No, a squirter - that's great! Really, squirters are very popular. Some men are really into it. So good news, Babs: If this legal-political stuff doesn't work out, at least you'll have a career option."

"Fuck you!! How - how dare you!"

"A squirter, eh?" he continued to chuckle. "We'll need to explore that more thoroughly. But in the meantime, I'll do you a favor and let you live out your fantasy. Strip. Let's see what the great and powerful District Attorney looks like beneath her clothes."

"Nooooooooo!!!! I - I can't! Not out in public! Not for real! Please!"

But despite her protests, Barbara pulled off her jacket and obediently layed in on the street. She stepped out of her heels. Her fingers trembled...

Dale was holding the iPhone and aiming it at her body.

"No! Dale! Stop! Let's make a deal!"

She unbuttoned her shirt and slipped it off. Her firm bra was tightly pinned to her chest and showed a bit of her fleshy cleavage poking out of the top. Her stomach extended out, showing the beginning of a small potbelly. Barbara's tummy was considerably chunkier than Dale had anticipated.

"Very sexy, Babs! Maybe I can get you a gig in one of my strip clubs! We gotta keep an eye on your beer belly, though. Keep going..."

"Fuck you! And my name's not Babs! Stop calling me that!"

Barbara unzipped her sexy skirt and wiggled her way out, shaking her hips until the skirt dropped to her feet. She was now just in her bra and panties. And WOW... her young, lanky body didn't come even close to matching the airbrushed pictures in Vanity Fair! Pear-shaped and slightly chunky, her heart was pounding a mile a minute...

Her bra: Black and stately. Thick cups. Appeared to be a Wonderbra.

And her panties: Pink. Skimpy. Thong.

VERY skimpy. I'm talking, "fuck-me-now-and-I'll-be-your-wh*r*" skimpy!

But... her ass really wasn't in shape for a thong. Not since those late nights on the cocktail circuit. Maybe not since college. Besides, it seemed so out of character for her!

"A thong?! How come a puritanical nag like you wears a thong?"

"Because I - I like how they make me feel!" she tearfully admitted. "They make me feel s- sexy! I - I like thinking about the pretty panties on my private parts, and how nobody around me knows I'm being n - naughty!"

"You wanna feel naughty? Maybe I can help. Turn around and shake that thing!"

The powerful D.A. turned around and pointed her ass cheeks at Dale. What a sight! Her rear end had a nice round shape when covered - but uncovered, it had its share of blemishes and a bit of thickness...

"Stop calling me Babs! You - you can't make me...!"

Despite her protests, she bent over and shook her ass like a drum! The heiress was waving her bare cheeks as hard as she could in broad daylight! Her pale, white ass rippled and danced in the cool air.

"I appreciate the effort... but Babs... no offense, but you ain't got the body to wear a thong. Your butt is too fat! That's just silly."

"I know!" she growled. God!! He was getting all this on video!! She must DESTROY that iPhone, if it's the last thing she did!! "Of course I know my ass is too fat! I own a mirror, dammit!!" GOD, this was humiliating! "I'm a little bit heavier than usual, that's all! B - but I didn't think anyone would see me like this! Especially n - not you!"

"This ain't your lucky day. Take off your bra. Let's see those nice titties! Fat girls usually have great tits!"

"Noooo! Dale!! Please - I'll call off the investigation - I'll -"

Barbara reached to her back and groped at the clasp. All at once, her bra tumbled to the earth.

And there the Political Princess stood... topless.

She wasn't stacked at all! Her tits were small, thin and saggy. Her nipples pointed down and swayed back and forth. Dale was VERY surprised by the sight. When supported and smooshed up by her Wonderbra, her chest was impressive - full and perky... but naked, her real titties were revealed as horribly undersized and... well... droopy. Skinny.

Almost stringy.

Barbara's eyes read his face, and the young attorney burned with embarrassment. He was sneering at her naked body! Instead of lusting after her, he was sneering! The fact that he found her saggy little titties so bloody AMUSING made her blood boil!

"Uh oh! Problem area! What the fuck is this?! Not Dale Smith stripper material after all, with those saggy little things! Guess I can't hire you. What's your breast size, Babs?"

"Please don't make me say it!" she cried.

"Answer me, Babs."

"32-A! You can't tell anyone! Please! I beg you! I don't want anyone to know that - that -"

"Know what, Babs?"

She burst into loud sobs. "Know how pathetic my poor little tits are!" She couldn't believe she was admitting this! "I - I can't help it!"

"Eh, cheer up. I've seen worse. Mostly on old ladies. Now take off your thong. Let's see what else Miss D.A. is hiding under the hood."

The D.A. looked around. The parking lot was now almost entirely empty...

"Oh, God! This can't be happening!!" Barbara wailed. "This - this is a nightmare!"

She pulled her thong off her hips, down past her thighs... and down to her ankles. Then she stepped out. Her arms were by her sides. Her large hips and thighs shook slightly in the early evening wind...

Dale panned down with the camera to check out his enemy's pussy. Eureka!

She was completely shaved. And very, very pink. Her pusy lips hung low and her rosy little clitty was clearly visible.

The big, bad D.A. was now 100 percent nude. The Next Big Thing was standing outside, in public, as naked as a jaybird. And her actual body did NOT match her Photoshopped image!

Instead of looking like the perfect Princess, she looked like... a chubby housewife! Or a naked aunt!

"What are you going to do to me? I - I need to get dressed," she whimpered, biting her lip. "Please! Have mercy on me!"

He smiled and caressed her face, massaging her neck. Her nipples crinkled and grew... her clitoris began to tingle...

"Hop on the hood of your car, Babs. Spread your legs and put on a show for me!"

"But - but - what if someone sees me?!" She nonetheless perched on the hood of her car and kicked her legs high in the air, posing her body like a porn star. The Strip Club King held out his phone and recorded every scandalous detail - from her rosy clit and gaping pussy to her wobbly little tits to her embarrassing fat rolls. Barbara had never felt so dirty... so used... so completely, unbelievably exposed. Dale even made her get on all fours and bark like a dog while slapping her own ass!

"Arf! Arf! Arf!" she sorrowfully woofed. Slap, slap, slap... OMG!! Barbara's entire body was burning with hatred, fear and soul-crushing humiliation. Tears rolled down her face and a thin line of drool was dripping from her chin. Her poor, stringy tits slapped around wildly. "Arf! Arf!" Slap, slap...

"Good puppy!" Dale laughed, petting her ass.

"Arf! Arf! Arf!" Slap, slap, slap...

He eventually put down his phone and helped the young D.A. off her BMW. For the first time in her life, she was too ashamed to make eye contact with someone!

"Please don't show that video to anyone! Dale! I beg you! I - I'll be destroyed! Let me get dressed... we'll pretend this never happened. Please!" She wrapped her arm around her tits and hid her pussy in her hand, trembling in the evening air.

"Sorry, Babs - no can do. Because of all these recent court actions, my bottom line has taken a real beating. Cost of labor is a backbreaker. And my clubs could always use another dancer... even one with runny egg-tits and a fat ass!"

"N - no!! You can't! A stripper?! Me?! You can't be serious! I - I'll be ruined!"

Several hours later...

Barbara peered out from behind the strip club curtain. The crowd was getting restless. In the audience were men... some old enough to be her grandfather, others young enough to be her boyfriend. OH NO!! There were also a number of her coworkers! The idiot secretaries sitting with those pervy young lawyers - all of whom had resented her! She would ridicule them... browbeat them... rule by fear. That was how she instilled respect.

N - Nooo!!! If they recognized her... if they saw her naked...

She looked at herself in the mirror. She scarcely recognized herself. So maybe they wouldn't either...?

Dale Smith had brought her out to Dale's Watering Hole's always-popular "Amateur Night Tit-Off!"

It was held once a week. Men from all over town would plan their schedule around it. It was THAT popular. The biggest feature was the amateur tit-off: The local "talent" would shake their tits and get naked on stage. Whomever earned the most cheers won $5,000. With the economy being what it is, women with the biggest, most voluptuous breasts would travel a 100+ miles to compete for the jackpot.

Barbara was the last contestant of the night. The main event.

And to her horror, all the women had beautiful, gigantic tits - that jiggled and bobbled to loud screams and cheers! Some of the skanks tried to gain an edge by also showing off their perfect asses, bending over and shaking their derrière for the audience!

The hotter the girl, the louder the cheer.

The young D.A. trembled in fear, as she thought how HER body looked in comparison - and this RIDICULOUS bathing suit that Dale had forced her to wear! It wasn't even a real piece of swimwear! It was like lingerie, with long strings running down from her neck, over her tits, and down to cover her pussy. On the back was a thread-thin thong that did NOTHING to hide her big bare butt.

Her body just wasn't built tor an outfit like this! And she knew it!

"And our last dancer for amateur night," boomed the emcee, "is a total newcomer. Looks like she knows how to party! Welcome her to our club, boys: Miss Babs!"

Barbara nervously stepped onto the stage, wearing high heels and that revolting outfit...

...Unfortunately, this was the kind of outfit that accentuated ALL her flaws: Her tits were flat and droopy in the suspender-like straps, and her giant ass shook like stereo speakers! Her hips jiggled and thighs rippled. She was hideous!

Her tall, lanky frame, small bust and wide ass was built for evening gowns and swanky business suits - not suspender lingerie and a sl*tty thong.

Barbara smiled weakly and shook her meager tits at the crowd. Her hair was teased and her face was caked with unnatural makeup. She looked like WORSE than a skank - she looked like a skank wannabe!

"According to my notes, Babs works in a law office... I guess she makes coffee for the boys, or something," the emcee said. "She has 32-A tits and likes to masturbate whenever she can. Also says here that she uses baby wipes because of the sensitive skin around her anus and fantasizes about being spanked and dominated. ...Eh?! Okay, that's weird. Anyway, aren't her little boobies cute? Give her a loud cheer, guys!"

Babs smiled stupidly and jiggled her tits... she braced herself for crass cheers and off-color comments... here it comes:

But instead, she was heckled: "Boo! Get your fat ass and titless body off the stage! Booo!"

Flustered, the you heiress didn't know what to do - so she shook her A-cups harder...

"Booo!!!"

"Come on, give her a chance," the emcee said. "Let's see how she looks naked. Maybe she'll redeem herself. Who knows? Babs: strip!"

OMG!! With a lump in her throat, Barbara unhooked her outfit. She... didn't want to. She desperately didn't want to! She would've surrendered all her worldly possessions not to! But she obeyed nonetheless...

The skimpy attire fell apart fast... leaving her all bare.

Completely nude. On the stage. In high heels. Her small, stringy titties, pear-shaped hips, big white ass and shaved kitty! The lights felt so bright. All those eyes, staring at her every last detail. And she saw Dale standing in the back, telling his camera man to continue filming...

And she was going to be President one day!

The audience was quiet at first, soaking in her naked body.

Then, incredibly, the crowd... booed.

They booed! They booed HER!

And they mocked her body: "C'mon! Get her fat ass off the stage! We want someone hot!"

"Look at those saggy titties! I say they're SMALLER than 32-A!"

"They looks like deflated balloons!"

She heard a colleague say: "Hey, she looks kind of like..."

No!!! NOOO!!!!

"Booo!"

"Booo!"

"Whoa!" called out the emcee. "I hear you! And according to club rules, if an amateur gets booed, what happens???"

"She gets spanked!!" called back the crowd.

Barbara's mouth dropped.

NOBODY had told her THAT part of the contest.

Dale walked across the stage and grabbed the young attorney by the arm. "Okay, Babs - listen up: I'm gonna beat your pale ass on the stage, and you're gonna rub your pussy while I do it!" he whispered. "And when I get to the tenth spank, you will have the biggest orgasm of your life!"

"Dale! Please don't!" she whispered back. Tears welled in her pretty eyes. "Not here! Not with everyone watching! Don't do this... in the name of all that's good and holy. Please - please leave me my dignity!"

He leaned right into her ear and spoke so sharply, it made the hairs on her neck stand up: "Stop complaining, Babs. This is your fantasy, not mine. You're the sl*t, not me."

She shook her head in protest - but they both knew it was true! This - this was SO MUCH like her fantasies - getting stripped and spanked. But those were just silly, harmless fantasies. This was REAL! He - he couldn't do this to her! She couldn't do this to herself! Not now! Not here - in Dale Smith's scummy strip club! Not by Dale Smith! Not in REAL life!

"It's showtime!"

He flipped her over his knee and massaged her pale ass cheeks. She gasped! He spread her wide... so wide she felt the cool air tickle her anus and pussy. A lump formed in her throat. In all her years, she had NEVER been exposed like this! Dale examined her tender asshole with his thumb, rubbing and pushing against her opening. Then he gave his thumb a sniff.

"Good news, Babs! Guess the baby wipes really work!"

"F - fuck you!! How dare you, Dale! My name's n -"

His hands tugged at her tender nips. Hard. Over and over again.

"Ooh! Oooh! Oooooohhh!" Her breathing quickened...

She gaped at the faces in the crowd.

"Ain't it funny how the table has turned, Babs?" he jeered. "Now go diddle your neglected little clitty."

"Yes sir!" she cried in despair.

Her fingers shot down to her pussy, and she began fingering herself lewdly...

One!

The first spank shocked her like an electrical jolt. "Ow!"

Two!
Three!

"My ass! You jerk! Ow!! My ass is on fire!"

She was rubbing, moaning, groaning... her feet were kicking... Dale's pants were getting wet from her juices...

Four!
Five!
Six!

"Oh no! I - I'm getting SO horny!! Damn you, Dale!!"

Her whole body trembled... sweat was raining off her body...

Seven!
Eight!
Nine!

"I'm telling you, this skank looks kinda like... Barbara! From the office!"

"Oooohh!! Oh God!! OH GOD!! NOOOOOOOOO!!!!" she screamed. Her fingers were inside and outside her pussy, pumping furiously...

TEN!!!

He pushed her to the ground.

She rolled on her back, spread her legs, massaged her hairless pussy rigorously, bucking her hips back and forth, rocking for all she's worth -

And EXPLODED!!!

She squirted all over the front row! Those pervy lawyers... stupid secretaries... loathsome low lives... Dale grinning from ear to ear...

No.

No!!!

NOOOOOOO!!!!!!

"Wow... did you see that, folks?!"

The audience erupted into LOUD cheers!!

"This isn't happening!!!!" Babs cried from the floor. Her legs were still obscenely spread, her pussy wide open...

The cheers grew even louder.

Barbara staggered to her feet, her thighs and c*nt soaking wet with her juices. She was panting... still woozy from her orgasm.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I do declare, we have ourselves a gusher!" the emcee declared. "And a new winner of the $5,000 jackpot! A Babs in need, indeed! What a finale!!"

The would-be President watched the flashes bursting from the audience's cameras. In a strange way, it reminded her of her dream of being Leader of the Free World - and reporters following her everywhere. She liked that dream. In a haze, she waved and smiled back. She waved, dignified and stately, despite being bare-ass naked and having a visibly leaky pussy.

"Maybe that's why her tits are so puny!" yelled a joker. "She drained 'em dry so she could turn on the water works!"

"OH, GOD!!! WHAT JUST HAPPENED?!!!"

Babs sobbed and ran, butt naked, off the stage, hiding her face in shame! A trail of slime followed her...

Dale grinned. Things were about to get interesting in this town.

I don't think there are any issues if you repost his stories with full credit to the Author. People also repost other authors here like Shaw.