[ENF] La Belle Chic

[karaban]

A while back, I found this story that I wrote several years ago. It was in the immediate aftermath of the financial crisis, when corporate malfeasance was something people were thinking about. This story was, perhaps, an attempt to get some revenge for some ruined lives. It's a clothes-eating bug story, which is hardly a novel idea I know. I was aiming for the farcical intensity of Tom Sharpe, instead I ended up with the silliness of Benny Hill. FAIR WARNING: one of the women stripped in this story is a BBW.

'La Belle Chic' magazine wouldn't have come top of any list of the nation's best employers. In fact, it would have been near the bottom, on every score. The hours were long, the work was hard (and distinctly unglamorous - airbrushing tiny imperfections, organizing bizarre riders, being shouted at by superiors), holiday leave was permanently suspended for all but the most expendable employees. 2% of employees were also sacked at the end of each month as a result of the magazine's 'stacking' system of performance evaluation - no matter what level of performance they'd previously achieved. The result of all of these injustices was an angry and resentful workforce, but what made these stressed-out cubicle-dwellers even more mad were the antics of the magazine's publishing board. Never had a more loathsome bunch been found in a boardroom - they were the worst of the worst. They'd taken 400% pay rises at the same time as freezing or cutting everyone else's. They bullied, cajoled, shamed and humiliated staff repeatedly. They gave Marie-Antoinette-ish interviews to glossy Sunday magazines about how only their genius kept the enterprise afloat. Not a nice group, is what we're saying.

It had long been an article of faith among our downtrodden heroes that these despicable people needed a come-uppance, and that it needed to be as dramatic as possible. After work, occasionally, they would gather in the largest room which wasn't covered by CCTV, which was a medium-sized stationary cupboard. It was unbearably crowded, but they didn't care, because man or woman, they were desperate to get revenge, or at least a tolerable working environment.

Late one Saturday evening, when all normal people their age were out flirting, popping pills, failing to pull, and sizing
up kebab shops and pizza parlours, one of these clandestine meetings was taking place. The mood was somber, as it often was at these events. However, it wasn't to stay that way for long. The tide was about to turn. Miriam, a copy editor working a seven day week who'd slept for about 3 hours in the last week, pushed open the door, struggling for breath. "I've got it!" she exclaimed. When she'd got her breath back, she explained what had happened. One of our antagonists in the boardroom, a Mr Matthew Pintler, had come on to her at work. She'd been disgusted, but on the off-chance of finding something useful, had returned to his ridiculously expensive apartment. While he was shouting at somebody down the phone in another room, she'd struck gold.

Recently, all of the men on the board had given themselves an all-expenses paid holiday (in the corporate jet, obviously) to Thailand. The purpose of the trip was ostensibly to 'supervise' a fashion shoot taking place in Phuket, but it turned out that these guys had in fact only used the trip to sleep around with hookers and ladyboys. The moronic Mr Pintler had not only kept a written diary of their sexcapades, but had also taken pictures of all the action. Miriam discovered the whole lot in an Ermenegildo Zegna shoebox stuffed under the bed.

The staff at the meeting were thrilled. It took but a matter of seconds for them to agree that obviously they should
blackmail the board with exposing this material unless working conditions improved. So the following Monday, a delegation of them did so. They met with a hostile reception.

Now, our motley band of heroes were a generally capable bunch, but experienced blackmailers and swindlers they weren't. They were playing a game that only devious people can naturally thrive at. Miriam, whose closest previous flirtations with criminal behaviour had been unpaid parking tickets, hadn't made a copy of the documents. And, that night, while her bosses ensured that she worked on into the night, doing yet more unpaid overtime, a group of masked men broke into her pokey apartment. They stole jewellery and electrical items, to make it look like something other than what it was, but when Miriam returned home well after midnight that night and saw the devastation, she knew instinctively that amongst the missing items would be one Ermenegildo Zegna shoebox. What she misjudged, however, was who was responsible.

It wasn't the dopey men on the board, so stupid they'd actually allowed themselves to be photographed in flagrante with hookers. No, it was the much smarter, much much more devious and much much much meaner women of the board who had arranged the break-in. It was a power-play between themselves, and it was very successful. They held a meeting, presented the evidence, and after a few simple threats, the men of the board agreed to sell them their shares and resign their places on the board, in principle, in exchange for the shoebox meeting a fiery end. They would be moved into well-remunerated advisory roles, consulting gigs or whatever they wanted, but they were told in no uncertain terms that their days of real power at 'La Belle Chic' were over. And that was that.

However, not for the workers. From there, things got worse. Their new female bosses gave themselves an even bigger pay raise and, drunk with power, removed what few remaining perks there were to this already shitty job. The need for a dramatic come-uppance hadn't disappeared - in fact, it was greater than ever.

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Richie was one of the stranger employees at the magazine. He didn't have much to say to his colleagues, and they were frankly grateful. The feeling was mutual. He was a bit strange. He was an expert in the mechanical side of camerawork, and was used as such on photoshoots. He attended the stationary cupboard meetings, but never contributed much. He was abused and bullied as much as any of the other staff members, but he was a quiet, shy, retiring type who seemed to internalise his treatment. He also had a variety of weird hobbies, like battle re-enactments, stamp collecting and taking machines apart to see how they worked.

So when he spoke up at a subsequent Saturday night stationary cupboard meeting, nobody was expecting anything much. What he was about to produce, however, was going to change all of their lives for the better. First, he informed them of the backstory - he'd been on the ill-fated Phuket photoshoot. After the work was done, and it was clear that his bosses just wanted free time to go sexpat, it'd been made clear to him that he was to make himself scarce for a few days. Of course, he'd been absolutely fine with that, and had started trekking deep into the jungle in the mountains. First the tourists started to disappear, and then there were fewer and fewer locals, until he'd travelled far from human habitation. He explained that one of his passions was collecting rare insects and animals, and then he produced, out of his pocket, a small perspex box. The box was sealed tight. Inside was a grub, which flashed multiple colours all over its length. It was writhing around in a frenzy.

"We need to go to the parking garage" said Richie, and nobody questioned him, such was the unusual authority in his voice.

Downstairs, in a corner just outside the view of the cameras, they gathered around a car. Richie took off his jacket and put it on the drivers seat.

"Watch" he said, in that same tone of voice.

He undid the seal and the box and, with a great deal of haste, threw it into the car and slammed the door shut. If the assembled crowd were surprised at the speed with which he did this, his reasons quickly became clear. The tiny bug started eating the jacket, quickly and methodically. Within less than a minute the jacket had completely disappeared. The onlooking crowd stared in amazement.

"This one's dead" announced Richie, pulling another box from somewhere. He took out the grub and dropped it on Sandra, a copywriter who was standing next to him. She screamed and leapt backwards, terrified that the grub was going to eat her clothes. But of course, it was dead. Her fear wasn't the only thing that made her jump, though.

"It TICKLES!" she shouted.

Richie smiled a deep and beatific smile, and began to tell them his plan.

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The following Monday morning a board meeting was due. Long before its participants were to arrive, early in the morning, a curious observer could have seen a fascinating sight. Two furtive figures were entering a maintenance room in the building, from which there was access to the air conditioning ducts, just big enough for a man to crawl through. One of these figures was our hero Richie, and the other was the head of maintenance for the building, a petite lady named Jenny. Both were dressed in overalls.

Once inside, Richie looked at Jenny, and she caught his eye.

"Is it really necessary?", she asked. The artificial light was just good enough for Richie to make out her bottom lip
quivvering slightly.

"Yeah." He looked at her intensely. "Waste of good overalls otherwise. And in any case, it's more important to be fully dressed later."

She sighed. She knew he was right, but it was still uncomfortable anyway. She was game for a laugh, but this was a bit much. Besides, the possibility that things might go wrong was still present. But, here she was. She unzipped her overalls, and stepped out of them.

A moment or two later, and she'd slipped off her bra and panties. He had taken his clothes off too, and they awkwardly stood, looking at each other, naked. Richie didn't like to stare, but he found it difficult not to. Jenny had an athletic build, a cute face and an attractively dishevelled pile of dirty blond hair. Her breasts were small but pronounced, with small pink nipples that stood fairly erect. She had a significant patch of pubic hair, distinctively darker than her hair. He managed to avert his gaze. An erection now would be embarrassing, and in any case, he'd be getting plenty more in a minute.

"After you", he directed.

With another sigh, she removed the grate from the end of the air conditioning duct and began a somewhat undignified naked crawl through the shaft. He followed at what was, to be honest, a fairly indiscreet distance, bringing a carefully sealed bucket with him. As Jenny progressed ahead of him, crawling on her hands and knees, he couldn't resist looking up at the pale pink skin of her small, delicate ass, the lips of her pudenda just a few feet in front of him, and he couldn't quite believe his luck. He knew, with a finality that startled even himself, that this was going to be the best day of his life.

Eventually, they reached the grate above the boardroom, and lay down next to each other. The metal of the shaft was uncomfortably cold. Jenny shivvered, partly with the cold, and partly with the realisation of how unutterably ridiculous this would look if anyone else could see them. She'd asked him if they could at least take towels with them to lie on, even if they had to be naked, but he'd refused. The bugs would attack the towels, eat the towels, and the incredibly ticklish bodies of the bugs would cause Jenny and Richie to thrash around. The clamour of the metal air conditioning vent right above their bosses heads would lead to an investigation, and they'd eventually be found and humiliated. There was no way Richie was going to shoot himself in the foot. If they were naked, the bugs would go where they supposed to, straight down.

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The board meeting started late, and by this point Richie and Jenny were cold, naked and fed-up with each other's company. Only the certainty that his plan was going to work had kept Richie there, and only some plaintive begging from Richie, who needed another person to help him with the bucket in the confined space, had kept Jenny there.

Gradually, the women of the board took their seats. They might have been the most cold, callous and b*tchy women ever to walk the face of the earth. Nevertheless, even our maintenance woman and heroic geek, who between them had basically no clue about fashion at all, could tell that they were staggeringly well-dressed and immaculately put-together. There were tens of thousands of dollars worth of clothes in that room.

They began their discussion. They were even more loathsome together than when they faced their employees, it turned out. The whole conversation revolved around milking the magazine for whatever they could, and the various ways they were going to make life still further hell for their underlings. On the rare occasion that the topic moved on from this, it moved on to incredibly vicious and hurtful catty put-downs directed at each other.

To take his mind off the anger he felt at the words coming out of their mouths, Richie directed his attention instead to what each woman looked like. There was the head of commissioning, Ruby, an African-American woman, the only one at the table. She had straight black hair to her neck, and was wearing a pink pantsuit that probably would have been too bold for any other boardroom, and that was expensively failing to hide the heft of her ass. Next to her was Xiang, whose job title and role Richie was unsure of. She was at the magazine because her father was somebody important in Chinese politics. She'd decided that fashion was her thing, he'd pulled some strings, and here she was. She was manically spoiled, and while her role might have been unclear, her temper tantrums were anything but. They could be heard for miles around. She sure was hot though, and today she was wearing a tight green dress, accentuating her bosom, larger than might be expected. The dress was short, very short, and showed off her magnificent legs to great effect. Those legs ended in a pair of beautiful black high-heeled shoes.

On her other side was Mandy. Mandy was plump if you were being kind, overweight if you weren't, and fat if you were being horrible, which her fellow board-members always were. Don't waste any sympathy on her though - as financial officer, she was repsonsible for the rotten pay deals that the employees got. She made sure she never suffered even slightly though. On that day, she was wearing a charcoal pantsuit over a fuschia sweater. Despite her weight, she had an attractive face, with expensively-managed long black hair that parted in the middle of her head. Beside her, at the far end of the table, sat two women wearing very different clothes. One was Cassandra, who was stunning. She was a supermodel, quite literally, one of the most famous in the world. She was conventionally gorgeous, with long blond hair, tanned skin and big tits. You'd have had difficuly telling on that day, though, as she was the only person in the room who wasn't dressed like a million dollars. In fact, she was barely dressed like ten bucks. She was so utterly sure of her beauty that she'd turned up to the meeting in a white tracksuit and chunky white trainers. Cassandra was perhaps a scintilla less awful than the others gathered around the table, perhaps owing to her quite startling stupidity.

Her agent sat next to her. The agent to the modelling talent, Karen wasn't on the board, but was so important that she attended anyway. She was the epitome of the career-driven superb*tch. She had three cellphones on her, which she continually answered, rudely ignoring anyone talking to her. She spoke in a tone that might have aimed for 'no-nonsense', but which had landed squarely at 'cruel and unkind'. She was wearing an utterly businesslike, but nevertheless obviously expensive, grey pantsuit over a grey blouse. She had her wavy brown hair bunched back into a ponytail, and wore a pair of stern looking glasses. They looked all business, but in truth she was nearly blind without them.

The two women next to her fought more than any of them. The first was Madison, who was the artistic director for
photoshoots. She was very elegant, tall and thin, with a fairly flat chest. Her face consisted of a pinched nose and a
permanent expression of disdain, bordering on disgust, for everyone and everything around her. She was wearing a simple, elegant, and obviously expensive plain black dress. Beside her sat a woman who nearly everyone who saw her agreed was the most beautiful in the whole world. Octavia was the copy editor, and was of Italian descent. She had just the most incredible body. It was curvy in all the right places, slender in all the others. Her breasts were big and pert, but not too big. Her behind was voluptuous, but not even slightly fat. Her olive skin was heavenly to behold, and her face . . . well, it was just unbelievably beautiful. She was wearing a black and white chequered dress with matching high heels, quite modest really, but with a body like that, she knew she didn't need to show off. Despite all her beauty, though, she was possessed of a powerful and fiery temper, always ready to erupt at the slightest provocation, which, of course, her peers were always providing.

And finally, at the near end of the table, aloof and uninvolved in the bitter disputes, sat the executive editor, Pam.
She was slightly older than the others, with a head of platinum blond hair. She wore a pair of black sunglasses, which
she was never without. The magazine was her toy. She had built it up, and she was justly famous for it. She had lied, cheated, connived, stolen and fought to be where she was today, and it was her life. Her whole reputation lay with it. She was dressed in a white skirt and jacket, with white high heels. She seemed cold, almost lifeless, casting a bored eye over the squabbles of her charges. She despised and distrusted all of them, but they were good at their jobs. She just wished they were less hateful.

The conversation intruded on Richie's consciousness again, and he realised with a start that he was lying on a boner. He thought quickly and hard about a time he'd been to the beach with his grandmother, and when it had subsided, he gave a silent signal to his nude companion. She acknowledged it, and he undid the seal of the container next to them. As quietlyas they could, they turned it upside down, and watched as the little bugs scurried under the grate, along the ceiling, and towards the walls.

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As hard as it might be to believe, the quarreling executives in the boardroom didn't even notice the flashing,
multi-coloured bugs racing down the walls. You had to give it to them - their concentration on being hateful was total. So the bugs scurried down to floor level, and began racing towards the well-dressed women sat around the table. They were hungry and determined, and they made the journey in a matter of seconds. Peering down through the tiny holes in the grate above, Richie and Jenny silently urged them on, inwardly cheering in an ecstasy of excitement. How was it going to go down? They didn't have long to wait.

Octavia was the first to feel a tickling sensation on her feet. In the middle of an important point about how Madison was an untrustworthy cow who couldn't do this, or any other, job properly, she didn't immediately react, but within a second or so the tickling sensation on her feet made them feel like they were on fire. Quite out of character, she let out a girlish giggle, but the surprise the other assembled ladies felt at this was short-lived. As the bugs swarmed over feet and ankles, they all felt a fiery tickling sensation. Almost as one, they bent down in their chairs to see what was causing it, and the sight that greeted their eyes was both terrifying and sickening, all in one. All across the floor were thousands of little bugs, hungrily charging toward them from all directions. A lot of people don't like insects, and these precious women, used to clean surfaces and a sterile existence, were no exception. A collective shriek was raised, loud and brash and insistent, painful to the ears. In the vent above, Richie and Jenny plugged their ears. In the office outside the boardroom, hidden from view by a pair of blinds, the screaming was taken as a signal, and delighted workers put down their pens and abandoned their keyboards in anticipation. But more on them shortly.

Inside the boardroom, the women had taken what must have seemed like a rational step. They had climbed onto the boardroom table, standing back to back, presumably following the logic of ancient fortification builders that high ground is the best for defensive actions. And indeed it was. From on the mahogany table, they were able to brush off the bugs from their expensively waxed legs, and for a brief period the war was fought to a stalemate. However, not all of the women were wearing skirts or dresses - some were wearing trousers. Unfortunately for them, trousers just gave the bugs more determination, and worse than that, a place to hold, cling to and hide in. The four women affected were Ruby, Mandy, Cassandra and Karen. Mandy was initially affected worst of all. Substantially larger than the other ladies, her trousers were correspondingly bigger too, giving more folds for the hungry bugs to hide in and chew on. As she squirmed and wriggled and looked down, and felt the horror of their bodies brushing against her skin, she saw to her dismay that they'd already eaten most of the material up to her knees. Another few seconds and she'd be wearing a pair of pin-striped shorts! On top of the tickling pain throughout her legs, the thought was too much to bear, and only semi-consciously, she undid her belt and dropped her trousers to her ankles, ceding them to the bugs.

As she did this, a security guard elsewhere in the building, tipped off by the screaming, reached across his desk, flipped a switch and began running towards the office outside the boardroom. The blinds blocking the sight of the chaos inside electronically parted, and the anterior office, now full with every employee of the entire magazine, raised a roar of laughter at the sight before them. The first thing that most of them saw was the woman responsible for slashing their pay and benefits, grown large off her plunder, pulling her trousers down and baring a substantial pair of white knickers with a lacey pink lining.

Luckily for Mandy, she wasn't alone in her humiliation for long. Through a similar semi-rational calculation, the other
women in trousers had come to the same decision. Better to sacrifice one item of clothing and stop that itching sensation, than defend it at that cost. Within a matter of seconds, the other three women had taken the same step, Ruby baring a pink lace thong and Cassandra a tiny pair of black panties. However, it was Karen's underwear that caused the biggest giggle amongst the onlooking workers, revealing as she did a pair of white panties with a teddy-bear and flowers motif. For such a renowned careerist b*tch to be wearing such an embarrassing item of clothing was laugh-out-loud funny, and unsurprisingly that was exactly the reaction it provoked amongst our heroic spectators.

The embarrassment for these women was of course severe, but at this stage they were so busy fighting off bugs that they hadn't even noticed that the blinds were open and they were on display. Nevertheless, if this was a small mercy, it wouldbe cancelled out by an even bigger embarrassment. As everyone knows from some point in their life, having your trousers round your ankles is a significant impediment to movement and good balance. All the while, all of the women were twisting this way and that, brushing off bugs and thrashing around in a reaction to the tickling sensation. One of the women, however, was, as usual, thinking ahead of the game. Pam saw an opportunity to humiliate a rival, and also reduce the insectile onslaught at her end of the table. She seized it. She reached down a hand, grabbed Ruby's naked voluptuous right buttock, and gave it a powerful shove. Ruby toppled, screaming, and fell from the table. It worked, sort of - many of the insects in the area gave up climbing the table to sate themselves on the easy pickings on the floor.

At the other end of the table, Karen had bumped into Cassandra, who had nearly fallen. One advantage of spending your life in high heels, though, is a strong sense of balance, and she resisted falling from the table. Balance doesn't equal intelligence, however, and her next action was, in retrospect, quite spectacularly stupid. She pushed back hard at her agent, pushing her with the flat of both palms on the chest. Karen never stood a chance, but one thing she did possess was rage, and a determination to hurt her recalcitrant charge. As she fell backwards, she grabbed Cassandra by her long blonde hair, and they both toppled, kicking and screaming, off the table and onto the floor.

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In the vent above, Richie gazed down with happiness, but also a determination to do better. The sight was, admittedly, amazing. Ruby dazed and confused, lying on the floor, a thousand bugs making short work of her clothes. On the other side of the table, Karen and Cassandra slapping each other, cat-fighting, pulling hair and digging nails in, all while, without them really paying attention, bugs were also feasting on their clothes. Mandy stood on the table with only her knickers on below her waist, apart from an increasingly web-like group of threads that used to be her trousers, wrapped round her ankles. While this pleased Richie, though, he was a perfectionist and wanted more. He was naked, lying there in the vent, and he didn't see why he and Jenny should be the only ones without any clothes. Nevertheless, at the moment, the war was being fought to a stalemate on the table-top. While being pinned into a circle by clothes-eating insects wasn't how any of the women on the table-top had envisaged spending the morning, they had successfully performed a rear-guard action. None of the bugs could climb their legs far enough to get the meal they so desperately craved.

Fortunately, Richie had prepared for this eventuality. There was a second bucket of bugs. He gave another signal to Jenny, who raced back along the vent to collect it. There was no point in silence now, it wasn't as if the women on the table were going to be concerned with some banging sound above their heads at this time. So as Jenny crawled back as fast as she could, her pert tits bouncing slightly on her chest, he took a screwdriver and undid the grate, throwing it off. The clang of metal against metal was so loud this time that it did attract the women's attention, but as they looked upwards, they merely looked into a shower of a barrelful more of the bugs. If there were any doubt about it before, they knew now that they were under attack from their own employees, and it dawned on them for the first time that the blinds were apart and they were on display to everybody. However, any lengthy contemplation of this embarrassing fact was cut short by the need to fend off this new threat.

The new threat was too great. Attacked from both above and below, the women had nowhere to go. Every second they spent pulling bugs off their shoulders and out of their hair was a chance for the bugs to clamber up their legs to the feeding grounds higher up. Within a matter of seconds, the women's defensive formation had been broken. Unable to cope with the tickling around her genitals, Octavia was lain on the table, thrashing around, laughing and screaming. Pam had gotten down onto her knees and rolled up like a hedgehog, trying to see if that would help. Xiang and Madison, the two most practical of the women, had given up on the table entirely and were forlornly trying to open the boardrooms' glass door, which was locked. They stood there, tugging it with all their might, as the bugs visibly ate through their clothes. Within ten seconds, Xiang's green bra and panties were visible in patches, as was Madison's small bra and plain black thong. Even though these women were basically looking straight at the employees at this point, they barely saw them, such was their focus on breaking through the door.

A few more seconds went by, with absolute panic consuming everyone in the room. Ruby had fainted where she lay, and was completely naked apart from her pink ankle-boots. Octavia was near her, having gotten off the table. She was crouched like Pam in a foetal ball, completely naked and fully aware of it, trying to hide her breasts and bush. Pam was still on the table in the same position, not yet completely naked, having successfully defended her chest area by her swift action. Cassandra was naked. She'd just punched her agent in the face, knocking her out, and was now sat over her prone, naked body, panting with satisfaction, momentarily unaware of her surroundings. Xiang and Madison were still tugging at the door, with bugs eating their clothes by the second. Xiang's furry bush and Madison's small tits were already fully on display, and the rest wasn't going to take long. Mandy rushed over to join them into trying to tug the door. She was also nearly fully naked, but she sheer size of her matching white and pink bra and panties had given the bugs a challenge. Already, though, her surprisingly small pink nipples were showing through holes in the bra.

Outside in the anterior office, a signal was given to a security guard, and he walked back towards his office at a
leisurely pace, reflecting on the need to give the bugs time to do their work. He sat down in his swivel chair, opened a pizza box and ate a slice of pizza. Then he looked up at an enlarged picture from one of the high-definition security
cameras the board had installed, smirked, and ate another slice. Then he looked up again at the surreal image on the screen, decided it was to his liking, and pressed a button.

These board members had been very fond of spying on their employees, what with their network of cameras throughout the building, but they hadn't been keen on being watched themselves. Both the blinds around the boardroom, and the lock on the door, were remote controlled, and to be closed during the meetings. Now that security obsession was going to come back on at least some of them. As the security guard pressed the button, Mandy, Madison and Xiang, now all completely naked apart from their high heels, were tugging on the door. Suddenly, the pressure against them completely disappeared. The door swung back and struck Mandy straight in the face, and she fell backwards, smashing into Madison and Xiang with the sound of naked flesh smacking naked flesh. As she toppled backwards, she fell on top of them in a nude pile on the floor.

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This event was so surprising for all concerned that there was a pause, almost silent, when nothing happened. A few of the bugs tried to race out of the room to attack the workers, but they were bloated and sated with fabric, and were easily trodden on and squished. The rest remained in the room, those who had eaten most contentedly entering a cocoon state from which their young would emerge in a few weeks time.

Suddenly, another piercing scream rent the air, and there was a flurry of activity as naked legs and torsos unfolded
themselves on the floor, and the women, in a sudden flurry of flesh-colored activity, picked themselves off the floor.
Cassandra was the first out of the door, a tanned blur of white trainers and bronze skin, with her left hand over her
crotch and her right arm tightly squeezing her ample tits. Six more women followed in quick succession, Pam and Octavia immediately behind Cassandra, Pam tightly covering hersef but Octavia holding one breast in each hand, giving the onlookers a close-hand view of her furry landing strip. Then followed Madison and Xiang, genitals covered by hands and athletic legs moving as fast as possible. Mandy followed, slowed down by the bountiful wobble of her enormous breasts, each of which was barely being covered by a hand. As the women ran past the assembled employees, our delighted workers gazed at their bare bottoms as they fought their way throught the crowd. And what a contrast! Cassandra, Madison and Xiang all had very pert, athletic buttocks. If they had had numbers painted on their torsos, and if the latter two were wearing more appropriate footwear, they could easily have passed for contestants in one of those nude fun runs that the larger nudist resorts put on. They looked as if nude exercise came fairly naturally. Pam, and especially Mandy, on the other hand, weren't in such great shape. Their buttocks had the pale glow of a bottom that never leaves a swimsuit, and both bums bounced and jiggled as they ran in a most amusing manner. The sight of Mandy's large, naked bum wobbling as she tried to make her way through the assembled workers was not one they were likely to forget in a hurry.

Still, distractions were all around at this point. For those not immediately pushing and jeering the naked women, and who glanced back at the boardroom, another surprise was around the corner. Super-agent Karen had come to, and quickly realised that she was being left behind. At first, she had felt around for her glasses, which had been knocked off her nose sometime during her catfight, but now she judged she didn't have time. It was urgent not to get left behind! She launched herself off the floor and into a sprint at a surprising pace, but her eyesight, bad as it was, failed her. She crashed heavily into the glass window of the boardroom, 5 feet from the open door. The collision knocked her out again, and those onlookers who heard the crash witnessed the humiliated agent naked, pressed against the glass. She slowly slid down the window before crumpling at the floor.

The nude stampede outside was pushing on, however. As these corporate titans left the main office floor, they ran out into the corridor, frantically trying to open doors. All were locked! At each door, they pushed, scrabbled and wrestled with the door handles with a truly ferocious need, but all to no avail, until at last, they reached the door for the stationary cupboard at the end of the corridor. Mandy had reached it first, and twisted the door handle with all her strength, not really expecting it to give. It did, and she fell forwards, and so did the other women who had, at this point, caught up to her. For the second time in as many minutes, Mandy found herself in a naked pile with her hated colleagues, though this time at the bottom of it. Pam it was who had been the last in line, and who now found herself lying on her back on top of the pile, with her luxuriant pubic hair the highest point of the heap, as if were some sort of ghastly, hirsute cherry on a cake. The employees, barely a step behind them, were gathering at the open doorway, laughing, jeering, wolf-whistling and jostling for space to be able to see the sight in front of them. And what a sight it was!

The writhing continued for a few moments as everyone sought a space to breathe that wasn't blocked by perfumed skin. In less than 10 seconds, the situation changed again. A large, muscular white man, topped by a well-polished head and looking slightly uncomfortably stuffed into a grey uniform, appeared in the doorway, moving onlookers aside. He was followed by another who looked strikingly similar, only a black equivalent. Finally, a very sought-after photographer also pushed to the front, and began taking huge numbers of pictures on burst mode. The laughter of the gathered workers was drowned out very quickly by the high-pitched screaming and thrashing of the ladies on the floor.

At a signal from the security guards, the laughter died down, and the photography came to a stop. It had felt like an
eternity, but in reality it was only five seconds or so. One of the guards started talking. He introduced the options.
They could sell their controlling shares in the magazine, he said, or they could spend the next week looking at naked
pictures of themselves plastered all over the city. A stunned silence followed for a second, as the board members staggered to their feet and attempted to digest what they'd heard. It didn't take Pam long to find her voice though, and she exploded with rage, cursing and threatening legal action. While the other ladies modestly attempted to cover their genitals with their hands, she had no care for that. She shouted, ranted and gesticulated, the thought of her current circumstances not paramount in her mind.

The details of her arguments need not detain us. For in the end, there was no choice. The choice may not have been 'fair', but neither had their treatment of their staff members. One by one they cracked. First Mandy pushed her way forward, making sure to use much more force than strictly necessary as she did so. She shakily added her signature to the document. The chastened women gradually joined her. As they did so, they were handed a large towel to cover themselves.

When at last Pam had given in, voice choking, and signed the papers, they were all guided to the front door of the building, past hushed ranks of workers. At the front door, parked so its rear doors were right in front of the main entrance, was a mini-van. The women were ushered into the mini-van, and the security guards, who seemed to have become spokesmen for the whole enterprise, informed them of the arrangements. In the back of the mini-van (which was clean, but had had its seats removed) was a large hamper of clothes, second-hand clothes that the female staff had spared in anticipation of the occasion. The van would drive the women home, and they would never hear of the days events again. There was one more humiliation, however. The employee who had lent the towels very much wanted them back, and so as our desperate executives reached the comparative safety of the step into the mini-van, one of the security guards whipped the towels of them. It was embarrassing, but compared to what had gone before, it made little difference. As they crouched down in the back of the van, and began to rummage through the hampers of clothes, a pair of workers got into the front seat.

__________________________________________________ ____________________________________________

As the women had been guided out of the building, they had been essentially dazed, unable to process the situation fully. Now, in the relative safety of the back of the mini-van, shielded from the eyes of the staff members, both confidence and anger were quick to return. Stressed, frantic, greedy hands started grabbing the clothes basket and its contents. Quickly, the women started pulling clothes out. Ruby sn*tched a pair of pink and white shorts and fell backwards onto the floor, pulling them on as quickly as she could. Mandy had grabbed a pair of long white trousers and a white T-shirt with a fading volleyball team logo on. Had she had time to examine them more closely, she might have noted how they didn't really fit her body shape. Cassandra and Madison had both grabbed at a simple black dress, and tussled over it as if it were a prop from a tug-of-war scene in a Roman costume drama. Cassandra had the extra strength, and eventually ripped it from Madison's hands, tearing a fair amount of the seams. For good measure, she gave Madison a slap that echoed round the van like a gunshot. Ruby and Mandy, possibly out of some long-dormant sense of duty, tried to intervene, and restrained Cassandra. At the same moment, Pam, who had been the last to enter, grabbed a frankly hideous pair of grey undershorts just as Octavia did so. Octavia tugged back, and Pam, overflowing with rage, leapt towards her. She hit her target dead-on, with perhaps more power than even she intended, as they flew backwards, into the unsecured back door of the van. It burst open, and the two rivals spilled out onto the tarmac. Some of the office workers had started filing back into the building, but they quickly turned around to see this new development.

As Pam and Octavia had gone crashing into the door, they had taken the hamper and the majority of clothes still inside with them, and it had started rolling serenely back towards the onlookers. Ruby, who was still tussling with Cassandra and Mandy, made a grab for the hamper as it flew past, but succeeded only in unbalancing, and she fell out of the now open door a second after her colleagues. Mandy and Cassandra fell too, but only onto the floor of the van, close to the exit. One woman stood to gain.

While her fellow board members had been screaming, slapping and grabbing, one woman had capitalised. Staying out of the fray, Xiang had taken her chance, and had quietly put on the clothing that had fallen near where she was sitting. It didn't matter to her at this point that these items were merely a white thong encrusted with fake plastic gems, and a snugly fitting denim jacket. Xiang may have been greedy, spoilt, mean, b*tchy and cruel, but she was possessed with a deal more cunning than her partners in crime. She was smart enough to know that no matter how stupid her clothes looked, her situation was more pressing, and she was smart enough to realise that this was an opportunity to take. She stepped towards the door with great purpose. Mandy was struggling to her knees, her legs tangled in the white trousers she had been attempting to put on. Xiang waited a second, seized a huge naked butt cheek in each hand, and gave her an almighty shove. Mandy toppled onto the pavement like Mrs Salt disappearing down the rubbish chute. Cassandra saw what was happening, and leapt to her feet, but Xiang had a greater desire and purpose at this point. She pushed Cassandra, and she, too, fell from the step. Xiang, thinking quickly, slammed the doors shut, shouted 'DRIVE!' at the top of her voice, and slumped down, happy, as the van pulled away. She looked over at Madison, still completely nude bar her heels, splayed out angularly, and wondered whether she too should have been expelled, but as she looked at Madison, rather unfamilar feelings started to rise up inside her, pity, even a tiny hint of kindness. As Xiang smiled at her, Madison's already traumatised, rapidly-reddening face started
to register a new emotion - confusion.

Xiang glanced out of the back window as the van picked up speed. The scene unfolding was no less ridiculous than any that had gone before. Ruby had given up attempting to dress, and was sprinting along the pavement as fast as her outfit of pink shorts and pink heels would let her. Her voluptuous tits were bouncing all over the place, and a crowd started to converge around her, jeering. Pam and Octavia were both still naked, and were quarreling about the clothes they were grabbing, oblivious to the situation they were in, consumed only by their hatred for each other. From her viewpoint, Xiang could see Pam's rather flat, pasty-white buttocks, and Octavia's whole olive-skinned body, from her expensive shoes to her well-defined thighs, her slightly hairy bush, her flat stomach, her beautiful bosom, her stunningly beautiful face, sadly contorted with rage. Nearby was Mandy, her back facing the van, struggling to pull the tight trousers over her thick thighs, her huge, naked, globular buttocks glistening in the sun. Cassandra stood aloof, wearing the ragged black dress. She looked dazed and confused, but the wreckage of her career must
not have sunk in yet. A faint flicker of a smile was playing across her face. It wasn't to last long. Suddenly, a pink streak emerged from the building entrance. It was moving incrfedibly fast, but Xiang, blinking, recognised that it was Karen, still totally naked, snarling and with a fury not known outside of gothic fiction. Karen had only one target - Cassandra, and as she smashed into her, it was obvious that the drama wasn't over.

The sight had, naturally, drawn a crowd, and this sort of scene doesn't stay a secret for long. Thousands were converging on the sidewalk, laughing, pointing, taking pictures and video with their cameraphones, uploading and saving. Another van, fighting to push through the throng, quite conspicuously had a satellite dish on its roof. Amongst the crowd were the employees, none happier than Miriam, Richie and Jenny, now fully-clothed and high-fiving and cheersing with their workmates. Xiang slumped backwards as the scene receeded from her view. She contemplated looking at Madison, but instead she closed her eyes, thought of all the places in the world she had never been, and decided to think about a different career after all.

[FLP00]

I like EUF much more than ENF, but this story is very well written. I like how you took your time to strip the girls naked. It made me love every moment in which a little area of skin got exposed.

I also like the wide variety of mean b*tches that you used, both physically-wise and personality-wise

Clothes-eating bugs are an old gag, but they can still be played brilliantly. Good job.

[ob45lol]

Good story. Where can I find other clothes-eating bug stories?